Off The Grid

Sick Days

If I was laying low last week, this week I’m laying even lower. How’s that possible? I’ve been sick. I’m talking achey-all-over-headache-runny-nose kind of sick. But no fever. That’s an important distinction because I operate under the old “starve a fever, feed a cold” principle. And my appetite definitely hasn’t been surpressed. So, I’m going with the flow.

I’m on the road to recovery now, but here are some thoughts I had while on my sick bed/couch:

Fireworks after January 4th are ridiculous, especially in the morning.
Prince George (Kate and William’s new royal heir) isn’t even out of diapers and already he’s made People Magazine’s list of intriguing people.
Wheel of Fortune is relatively easy.
Jeopardy is impossibly hard.
A true friend will bring you red beans and rice with fresh bread from the local green market.
A sick child will bring out the maternal instinct in even the most non-maternal of mothers.
Animals are a great comfort.
Animals that want to be close to you can be suffocating when you can’t breathe.
The movie Death at a Funeral is just as funny the third time.
You never get as caught up during this downtime as you think you will.
The view lately

January 5, 2014 6

Laying Low

I had it all planned out. This week’s post was going to be New Year’s related. About fresh starts and new routines. About sticking to diets and exercise plans. It was going to be very motivational. And then it rained.

Trouble is, now (and you should read this as a whine) I don’t feel like it.

I love “bad” weather. There’s no pressure to be doing something outside or productive. There’s no pressure to be doing … well, anything. And so, I’m not. And neither are the animals. And just in case you’re feeling motivated to do something this weekend — let these quotes talk you out of it. It’s still the holidays.

The best kind of rain, of course, is a cozy rain. This is the kind the anonymous medieval poet makes me remember, the rain that falls on a day when you’d just as soon stay in bed a little longer, write letters or read a good book by the fire, take early tea with hot scones and jam and look out the streaked window with complacency.

~Susan Allen Toth

The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain. ~Author Unknown

There’s always a period of curious fear between the first sweet-smelling breeze and the time when the rain comes cracking down. ~Don Delillo

I like people who smile when it’s raining. ~Author Unknown

All was silent as before —All silent save the dripping rain.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

December 29, 2013 3

Beginning Again

My mother has accused me of not practicing what I preach.

Two Sundays ago, when my post on meditating came out, I rolled into the kitchen all sleepy-eyed and looking for coffee at eight a.m. and she asked, “Did you meditate this morning?” knowing full well I hadn’t.

When I think about it, there are lots of things I’ve stressed the importance of doing that I don’t necessarily do on a regular basis. In fact sometimes, I’m just laying around on the couch, not exercising, eating right or being positive, but watching lots of bad TV and languishing in resentment. Then, right before I succumbed to feeling like a total fraud, my friend Rhonda said something I hold on to. She said it was enough to inspire others to meditate and that I would succeed in developing my practice when I was ready. How very Buddhist of her, no?

So Rhonda and I began texting each other as encouragement to try and complete 10 days straight of meditation. Another friend commented on the original post that anything done for two years straight becomes a lifetime habit. Two years?! What happened to 30 days? 30 days seems possible, but two years is completely unrealistic. And I’m not even trying for 30 until I can master 10. So far, Rhonda and I have been texting back and forth a lot of 2/10’s. Until a few days ago, I got a 4/10 text from her. For all I know she’s almost there. Meanwhile, I’ve stalled out altogether. But even with my half-hearted attempts, I’ve been meditating two to three times a week during the holidays. Not bad, right? A for effort.

The point is, you can always begin again. Another friend observed, trying to meditate during the holidays is like trying to diet — you’re fighting a losing battle. Maybe. But who knows? Maybe I’ve managed to take a little stress out of the equation this month, too. And I’m that much closer to keeping those New Year’s resolutions when the time comes. And, perhaps most satisfying, I’m more likely to be able to say I’ve meditated when questioned by my mother. Although, meditating for spite is probably defeating the purpose. So, don’t feel you have to wait till the beginning of the year, first of the month, or a Monday. Start now. You can always start over.

December 22, 2013 3

Let Her Eat Cake

I’ve always hated my December birthday. Combo gifts, birthday presents wrapped in Christmas paper and a general “two birds with one stone” approach to what was supposed to be My Special Day always left me feeling gypped.

I never got this treatment from my family, mind you, but from those people a kid cares about most from the onset of school straight through to graduation — other kids. Actually, it wasn’t so much that they celebrated my birthday with Christmas in so much as they ignored it altogether. Kids born during summer months might have experienced the same thing. Question: If a birthday falls during a school vacation, does it exist? Answer: Not really.

There are gripes as an adult, too. You can’t have a party because everyone’s out of town. That or your party falls on the same night as some holiday affair or other. In general, everyone’s partied out. And they’re too full, hungover, stressed out or broke to come to your party, so don’t even try.

As you can tell, I’ve had some time to think about my opinion on the matter. My whole life, in fact. But this year, I’m changing my mind. I’ve decided to embrace my December birthday and all the years that come with it.

So, if you too were born on this month, there are several reasons to be happy about it.

For starters, you can and should eat whatever you want. The diet’s been blown since Thanksgiving anyway. And the holidays are just naturally chocked full of goodies. In what other month would you have chocolate rum balls in the fridge? Or a box of Russell Stover’s on hand — just in case somebody drops by?

As the years add on and “what I’m doing for my birthday” becomes less and less important, December is a great month full of activities. Instead of lamenting about spending another quiet night at home, there are plenty of holiday invites to choose from. The fact that it just so happens to be my birthday means there’s double the reason to celebrate.

I know of no other month with such great potential for goofing off. Three-day weekends, personal time and half-days galore. The 40-hour work week doesn’t stand a chance. And maybe it’s just because I’m a homebody, but the short days of December work for me too. I know I risk ridicule for saying this, but I like being curled up in my pajamas by five o’clock on a cold, rainy night. As a matter of fact, I’m writing this on a cold, rainy night and it’s 4:53 so I’ve got some changing to do. I’ll end with a quote that sums it up for my new, favorite month and great time to have a birthday.

“Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.”

~Hamilton Wright Mabie

December 15, 2013 6

My Bathroom, My Temple

Hot on the heels of my post about how I wasn’t getting any sleep, comes some practical advice on how to get some. Meditate.

I know, I know. You’ve heard it before. But maybe it’s always seemed (to borrow a term) a little “woo-woo” to you. Like you have to start drinking wheatgrass, growing your body hair and raising chickens to be any good at it. (Apologies to friends of mine who do these things.) But research shows the benefits are undeniable.

Meditation can help improve your ability to focus, sleep and fight infection. It’s also been shown to reduce cases of stress, anxiety, depression and addiction. Wait. Addiction? This last one got me. How on earth can meditation help with addiction, you ask? The answer made sense.

Take the example of food addiction, which is a good one for me because I love food and am always trying to watch my weight. (It’s probably a good example for everyone since we are smack in the middle of the gluttonous holidays.) Meditation can make you more able to notice cravings so you can stop before you succumb. It strengthens the muscles of attention, making it easier to let go of the “good-at-the-time” idea of consuming Hershey’s Kisses, french fries or an entire bag of Oreos. And meditation makes it easier to cope with stress, thus making it easier to avoid using the pleasure of a gallon of Rum Raisin ice cream as a crutch in the first place.

I think we can all agree it’s good for us and we probably should be doing it. So let’s take the mysticism out of it. No one’s asking you to have an out of body experience – just close your eyes! And try not to think about anything. Ahh, the catch. It’s this last part that’s hard. I find it helpful to focus on my breathing. Or try a guided meditation.

And yes, believe it or not, there’s an app for that. At Headspace.com you can sign up to receive daily guided meditations on your phone or lap top. And the best part is you can start easy – just ten minutes a day! Who can’t carve out ten minutes?

After I had committed mentally to doing it, I realized my problem wasn’t an issue of time. It was more location related. I needed to find a quiet place where I wouldn’t be interrupted. And then it came to me. The bathroom. People are always commenting on how relaxing and spacious it is. If I do it first thing in the morning, everyone’s still asleep – even Frankie! And there’s a perfect corner cabinet that doubles as a “shrine” or place to put things like a timer or incense. So, I’m shooting for ten minutes a day, for ten days. Beyond that, I can’t commit. I’m really not ready for chickens.

December 8, 2013 3

The Importance of Proper Sleep

This is what good sleep looks like.

It’s 3:00 a.m. Saturday morning and although someone in the house is sleeping soundly, it’s not me. I’m doing it again. Taking on too much and striving to find the balance. I’m still looking.

Ever since completing my book, I’ve been under the impression that the pressure I felt to be writing would ease up a bit. Not so. The self-imposed finish-the-book pressure has been replaced by the similarly self-imposed get-it-published pressure. There are queries to write, agents to contact and publishing houses to research. There’s also new writing to submit to my writer’s group, proving to myself and to them, that a writer without a book idea is still a writer. And let’s not forget the commitment I have here. To this blog and all of you. Though as my friend Mary puts it, no one’s holding a gun to my head.

I’m just as busy as I’ve ever been, if not busier. So why did I decide this would be a good time to start a new business? Either I’m glutton for punishment or a closeted martyr. Maybe I thrive on complaining about how busy I am, all the while piling on paperwork like I’m striving for a promotion. Maybe I’m out to disprove the theory that disabled people sit around all day and watch television. Maybe, I just didn’t think.

See, I got sucked into the same business I wrote about my friend having. The business that’s all about making your home smell great? Well, lately my home smells like warm apple pie, but I’m half asleep and there’s a mountain of dishes in the sink. And I say “got sucked in” because I’m kind of run by my emotions. I liked the products and the marketing. It’s called Pink Zebra and there’s this adorable little zebra mascot. When I joined the team of independent consultants, they welcomed me “to the herd.” I’m a sucker for that stuff. And when something feels right, I throw myself in — all in. But again, no one put a gun to my head. My life is busy because I keep it that way — I have to face that.

But something’s gotta give. Especially after the holidays, when I (and the rest of the world) head back to the gym. For right now, that thing is sleep. I’ve been hitting the pillow far too late each night and waking around 2:00 a.m. when Frankie wants to go outside to do potty dance circles for a half hour. That or I wake up with a start, unable to move, pinned in my too-small bed by a dog on one side and a cat on the other. And I can’t go back to sleep. My mind is racing with new business ideas or I’m crafting sentences in my head for my next story. Some people call it the witching hour. I call it the genius hour.

So no, this post really isn’t about proper sleep at all, except to say I’m not getting any. A friend and I noticed that I tend to write about the things I need to work on. It’s not that I’m so great at being healthy, letting go or getting organized (well, I am pretty good at that,) but I try to inspire myself, too. And in case you were really looking forward to reading about the benefits of obtaining a full eight hours, I’ll tell you that chronic lack of sleep can lead to excess weight gain, high blood pressure and a weakened immune system. Plus, sleeping feels good. Especially on these cold nights and rainy mornings.But don’t take my word for it, I wouldn’t know. You can ask Frankie. After he wakes up, of course.

November 24, 2013 2

These Days

As much as it pains me to start a post with “kids these days,” I have to. The holiday demands it. So here goes. Kids these days have no idea how great Halloween used to be. Today is a safe, watered down version. Like paying to see an R-rated movie and finding out it’s PG-13. Or worse yet, that it’s been edited with lame words like ‘gosh-darn’ and ‘fudge.’

We used to have Halloweens like those scenes in E.T., with hordes of kids packing the streets. We’d think nothing of sitting down at some stranger’s kitchen table to close our eyes and stick our hands into a big bowl of brains and eyeballs (cold spaghetti and meatballs). Back then, Halloween meant walking door to door, not riding in the backseat of Dad’s car, or trick-or-treating at Publix. And we never trick-or-treated with our parents. (Unless we wanted to be ridiculed by the entire student body at school the next day.) And when I say “we,” I mean myself and most of you, as I assume I have very few readers under the age of 20.

I remember taking my full-to-the-brim pillowcase home to Mom, dumping it on the living room floor, and heading back out again. I asked a friend’s daughter how well she did and she said she got “tons” of candy. That meant a third of one pillowcase. Nowadays, there’s lots of candy in the house in the days after Halloween, not because it was received, but because it was never given away. We had about a dozen trick-or-treaters in my neighborhood, more if you count all the parents.

In fact, now that I think about it, Halloween hasn’t been all that great since my childhood. I guess there were some fun costume parties in my twenties and thirties, but for the most part, the 70s were my heyday. And I guess that’s as it should be. Halloween is for kids. And not having any kids of my own … I suppose Frankie is the closest thing I have and he’s liable to bark at strangers, and can’t eat the chocolate anyway.

But now that I moved to Mom’s, the holiday’s looking up. For those of you that don’t know her, my mom’s really just a big kid at heart. She was so excited, we were outside by 4 o’clock. She had bought us ridiculous styrofoam wigs. I was willing. It was a super easy costume. Frankie had a jockey on his back, so I guess that made him a horse. He didn’t seem to notice his rider, so I guess he didn’t mind much either. We invited over a few of my friends, mostly hers.

As we passed out candy to a small number of trick-or-treaters, I was reminded of an important lesson. In a world that changes constantly, we have to live in the present to really get enjoyment from it all. It’s hard not to compare the present to Halloweens past, but by constantly lamenting, you’re liable to miss it. Everything changes. And everything can do so in a millisecond. Kids grow up fast. I don’t like to think about it and he’s still a young pup, but there are only a limited number of costumes in Frankie’s future. I heard somewhere that in hindsight, we were always happiest right before everything changed. Today is tomorrow’s fond memory. Don’t miss your happy.

November 3, 2013 5

Mad as Hell

I’m not ready to make nice I’m not ready to back down I’m still mad as hell and I don’t have time to go round and round and round

~The Dixie Chicks

Something’s been eating at me for quite a while now. Well a couple things, really. I’m not one for confrontation. I figured the anger I felt would just, well … go away. It hasn’t. Apparently, unexpressed anger doesn’t work that way.

It came up again, as it always does, literally around the house. It comes up when I’m sitting sideways at my inaccessible kitchen sink. Or when I fall off the too-narrow walkway in my power chair. Or when I have to call someone to fix the dishwasher that was improperly installed.

Let’s just say, I have a few unresolved issues with the contractor who did our renovation. Don’t get me wrong, I have a beautiful place. In the end, and for the most part, I’m happy. I’m sure it could’ve been worse. You hear nightmare stories all the time about contractors leaving unfinished work, never to be seen again. Ours wasn’t as bad as all that. If I were to call him right now, he might even pick up the phone. Maybe.

When the latest of these issues came up, I was sitting with my mom and issued forth my standard response. I called the contractor a few choice names. Mom, who used to join me in this game of profanity, simply shrugged and told me I needed to get over it. Get over it? She used to be just as mad as me! And now here she was, the picture of Zen, telling me to move on. But apparently, she had done just that.

I decided there might be something to this whole idea of getting over it when I realized I was still nursing a wound from over seven years ago. Some cowardly man-child I had dated broke up with me in an email, you see, and I still wished him ill will. Talk about get over it! I mean enough is enough! He doesn’t know I’m still mad. And if he did, it would probably only make him feel like a super stud! Luckily, chances are slim to none he’d actually stumble across this blog. So really, the only person I hurt by holding on to my bottled up anger is me. Seven years. I might be dangerously close to becoming bitter.

If you also have one or two things you’re holding on to, here are some ways to start letting go of your resentments and learn how to forgive and forget:

Write about it. If you watched it this past week, you already know I was inspired by The Voice, my latest guilty pleasure. Songwriters (like The Dixie Chicks) and writers have an advantage here. I feel better already, having called my ex a cowardly man-child on the Internet (maybe Mark Zuckerberg was on to something). Just kidding, of course. While I can’t condone public name calling, here are some things that might help. Keep a journal. Write a letter and throw it away. Take a piece of paper and write the person’s name at the top. Then write down every single injustice, real or perceived, and what impact it had on you. End each one with “but I choose to forgive you and move forward.” Tear your paper into tiny pieces and burn or release them.
Visualize or meditate. Reflect on the person, sending then kind and loving thoughts or prayers. Think about a postive attribute of their personality. Everyone has at least one. Develop your compassion. I’ve found it helps to picture them as they once were, an innocent child. Before life got in the way, gave them issues, and hardened them, as it does us all. It’s a lot harder to keep feeling anger towards a child.
Reflect on examples of patience. We all know someone like this. Maybe you have a friend that doesn’t gossip and never has an unkind word to say about anyone. The kind of person you would feel guilty and petty ranting to. Calling that person to mind helps you evoke a sense of patience.
Give a gift. I like this one. Maybe because I really like giving gifts. I can’t see mailing my ex a gift after seven years, but maybe I could send it anonymously. I think the point is the whole process. When you give the other person a gift — especially something you value — then you break the dynamic of your resentment. You shake things up within yourself. You have to think of the other person as a human being with needs. You have to think about what they might like. And if there’s mutual resentment, then you may shock the other person into seeing you differently.

It’s not easy. This is all still a work in progress for me. But it’s a start. Good luck!

October 27, 2013 4

The Sweetest Things

I don’t want to be one of those people that start something and never finish it. I do make a lot of the same New Year’s resolutions year after year, but I usually end up doing whatever it is I’ve resolved to do — eventually.

Of course, I don’t want the “soul space” I’m creating (and blogged about last week) to take that long. So I’m writing about my progress to keep myself accountable. And it’s interesting to find that when you take small steps towards the thing you want, your goal often meets you halfway. Opportunities come about and doors open up, as if the universe is in complete cooperation with you.

Last week, a friend just happened to have a book she loaned me that tells you exactly how to construct a raised flower bed. And what flowers grow where. Next, someone helped me set up wireless speakers, so I can hear music all over the house. Then, I got an invitation to a party that introduced a friend’s new business, which just happens to be all about making your space smell great. The line of all natural, soy-based wax “sprinkles” are perfect for me, because they melt in an electric simmer pot (for those of you worried about me burning the house down.) I chose the scents of Coffee Buzz, Ooey Gooey Caramel, and Spiced Vanilla. But there are also scents like Warm Apple Pie and Fresh Raspberry. Sweet. Or I should say, yum.

So, progress is being made. My writing coach said something fitting last week that struck me as profound. She said, “What you want, wants you.” It’s wonderful to start operating under this priniciple. I believe we all have a creative side that yearns to do something. Even if it’s been buried or you’re not currently doing it. You don’t have to be an artist in the obvious way. I think even the most repressed accountants have dreams of learning to play the guitar. (Sorry, accountants. Maybe your dream has always been to work with numbers, but I kind of doubt it.) So join me as I dig in the dirt surrounded by my favorite coffeehouse scents. What have you always wanted? Take a step toward it. It may meet you halfway.

Surrounded by the sweetest things: good friends and good scents

Save

October 20, 2013 0

Category

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: