Coming Out

I'm warm in my belly today. This happens when it's cold outside and my work is keeping me contentedly busy (with the odd full-moon fallout mixed in) with envelopes and envelopes. It's the season of giving, and when you get a sense that people are taking that to heart, it changes your outlook. I'll get no fewer than ten calls before year's end by a donor being snippy or demanding, or screaming at me because I printed their acknowledgment wrong or not quickly enough. But it evens out usually.

I've got an at-home, no plans weekend ahead of me which is something I crave from time to time. I do have high hopes that we can get an early family dinner out somewhere tomorrow night followed by a stroll around the neighborhood to take in the lights. They do it big 'round these parts, and most of the displays go up immediately after Thanksgiving. I used to scoff at this, but you know, the season is so short as it is, I'm currently in a mental state where I approve of milking it for all it's worth. As it is I'm no hurry for the actual winter holidays to get here because I have a lot I want to do before then. Also, I dig the big build-up. And the seasonal comestibles.

Switching gears, here's my decidedly non-heartwarming music pick. I honestly can't help that I love this. I keep adoring Kanye despite everything he does to make himself unlovable. And after a decade or more of denial about Jay-Z being the best rapper of all time, I can no longer ignore the notion that he probably is, even if he's not my heart favorite. When I hear his voice come on a track I get a little shiver, like, you know this is gonna be some insanity. I feel so much better having gotten that out.

RIF, Pals

I've been doing some reading, guys. I'm always doing some reading, but I'm on an especially happy-making roll. I recently finished Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl--a hot recommendation when I was trolling for something to read on vacation--and it was fantastic. It was twisted in just the right way, and makes me wonder why I don't read more mysteries. I will certainly check out the rest of Flynn's work. Right now I'm halfway through John Green's The Fault In Our Stars, which I can't seem to read fast enough.

I am an unapologetic John Green fangirl. In my opinion, he does everything right and I admire and envy his smarts, talent and career. And I feel he's particularly on his game with this book. He really really gets it, I mean, writing about teenagers with cancer is a daunting task, and the irreverence with which he approaches it is actually reverent. He honors the experience of those living with cancer by making his characters normal, fleshed-out humans who diseases are their roadblocks but not their defining features. They are smart and funny and rude and they have crushes and want what we all want. Fun. Love. Friends. To go to Amsterdam to meet our idols. There's no preciousness here, and though I am sure I will shed some tears before it's over, I'm in awe of what he's accomplished. Kudos, JG. My brain crush on you won't be going away any time soon.

I've also been slogging (by that I mean slowly reading, not in a bad way) through the Game of Thrones oeuvre on my kindle. And I feel like this is the year that I wrap up Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell once and for all. Fine, maybe next year as we're already a month out, but I do so enjoy it, I think I'll miss it when it's over. Next on the list: Let's Pretend This Never Happened, and probably the Mindy Kaling book via the word on the street. I'm always open to and appreciative of recommendations.

For the toddler set, we're in a major Curious George phase, but this is a recent family favorite.

It is so lovely in every way. My boy also gravitates toward any book with animals so he can turn it into "Old MacDonald Had a Farm"-- I get such a kick out of hearing him "read" to himself, but if I never hear about that goddamn farmer again it will be too soon.

And Mike's reading this, which is a good example of why he's awesome.

Of course I shall subsequently borrow it.

Not that anyone was clamoring for the current roster in the House of JBP, but unsolicited sharing seems to be my biz. Support your local independent book retailer. Thank you, goodnight.



I don't want to talk about poor Matthew Sweet because whoa, but this is a cool cover of one of my most beloved songs.

Effect and Affect

Last night I polished off the last of Gram's chicken soup, with some toast made from her homemade wheat bread (which all by itself is probably last-meal worthy for me), and realized I had finally closed the loop on the first round of holiday madness. Most people have a satisfactory conclusion to Thanksgiving by Friday night, Saturday morning at the latest. They're ready to shake off the cranberry haze and escape the stifling embrace of their loved ones and move on the next thing. Obviously I'm not these people.

It's not like I wasn't happy to have some calm and order restored to my home when my guests cleared out on Sunday (we like to keep the party going all through the weekend). I did enjoy the quiet, the return to comforting routine and the reunion with my big cushy bed. Even the prospect of getting back to work was cool. I've just come to realize that an essential part of every great time for me is a brief period of mourning when it's done. I spent a lot of Sunday, into the evening, feeling blue and weepy because something I had looked forward to for so long had passed. This happens always. After my camping trip. After Mexico. I know it'll happen, hard, after Christmas because the next thing to look forward to will be so far off and undefined. But it's OK. For one thing, I know it's coming. It doesn't blindside me with its timing. I can predict the onset of that pit-of-the-stomach funk as sure as I can identify its cause. And it makes me appreciate my mental health, because I have the luxury of wallowing around in my deep purples. I know I'm all emotional because a good thing happened in my life that I didn't want to end, that's all. And I'm doubly lucky because I know that feeling won't last. I've never, ever in my life felt down--even in the midst of a secret bout of PPD--in a way that I couldn't see my way up. I've been sad and heartbroken and terrified in my life, but I've never once known what it's like to feel hopeless. And I guess the awareness of another example of dumb, in-born luck, goes to the top of my thankful list for next year.

I don't mean that to overshadow the holiday itself, which was a loud, colorful, awesome succession of days marked by feasting and toasting and family and friends. My boy got to go wild with his cousins, which was something I've always looked forward to. Our table was overflowing with loved ones from both sides, food was delicious and plentiful, wine flowed, grandparents and aunties and uncles were indulgent, Mike and I even got to have a night out, many a conversation was had, and it was a holiday like all the other holidays, and also very much unique to us and our people and the time in our lives. And last night, curled up on my couch with a hot, fragrant bowl of soup after a busy Monday while HR slept and Mike was working, I let go. Of any remaining blues. Of the lamentation of time and its swift passage, taking with it all that's great and awful. And started thinking about Christmas, of course.

Toast and Jellybeans For All!

In a matter of hours I'll be home, chilling with my dudes, receiving the first of our houseguests, maybe starting some food prep, maybe getting in a run before the festivating commences, more likely pouring a glass of wine and cutting to the chase. In the meantime I'll be trying to distract myself, wishing it was that time. Sure I have work to do, but how can be expected to focus when I have holiday on the brain? Exactly.

We've got a big crowd coming tomorrow, it'll be a tight fit around the table, but that's what really makes it for me. This year I decided to focus on simplicity for the day, keeping it low-maintenance and hopefully yielding maximum relaxation for us all (but especially the chef). Instead of doing anything elaborate or trying a new dish, we've scaled back to a really basic, traditional menu: veggies and dip, cheese and crackers, turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberries, roasted brussels sprouts and sweet potatoes. The baking elves from Maine will be bringing me pies (all for me, nobody else), and other family members volunteered to provide other bits of goodness. We've got it down to a science.

I wouldn't say that my sole purpose in life is to host Thanksgiving, but this might actually be the case. I'm not saying I am Martha Stewart caliber-- I do not even own an iron, can you imagine what she would say? Not to mention I cook exactly one dish myself, and that's really more of a condiment. It's just that how can I get so much insane joy from it if it's not my raison d'etre? Perhaps it's outsize relief from not having to travel anywhere after my trudge home tonight. Whatever it is, I love my November tradition.

Happy hearts to all and all.  Let's do this thing.

Accio Thanksgivium

I have a lot for which to be thankful. That might as well be the subtitle of this blog, it's the drum I'm beating at 3 a.m. when you're trying to get some sleep. I'm also pretty in-your-face about my love of Thanksgiving. It's my favorite holiday and always has been. Of course I appreciate that there's a national day dedicated entirely to the celebration of gratitude. But it wouldn't be honest if I didn't say that the dedication to the eating of delicious food is equally behind my adoration of the fete, if not the winner by a 1% margin.

It also makes me really happy just to hear what makes people happy. I didn't participate in the gratitude challenge that's going around, but I like to hear from those who do. There's so much good to focus on, even when times are tough. It hasn't been an easy year on a lot of people. Most years aren't easy on most people. But in the wake of some pretty awful occurrences, Hurricane Sandy being fresh in my mind, it seems like that's when people come forward with the highest level of thankfulness. There's something about that "it could have been worse" mentality that causes an immediate shift in perspective. It sounds like what I'm going to say next is that I'm thankful for natural disasters. Nope, I'm not. They suck. War sucks. Illness sucks. I don't want bad things to happen to anyone, ever. But they do. I know it's easy for me to say I'm so appreciative, I'm so grateful and this and that when my path is paved with fairy farts and mermaid kisses. I'm in awe that people are able to muster a feeling of basic gratitude at their lowest point, and I can only hope that I am one of those people when my number is inevitably drawn.

The point is, I don't harp on my everyday abundance to be annoying or to put up a front or convince myself of something. I know that the nature of life is so fragile, and I can't be out here writing about all that's wonderful in mine without attempting to make sure everyone who reads this knows I don't feel entitled to it. I don't apologize for what I have or how I feel about it, I just think it's disingenuous to make it look like I'm 100% copacetic and balanced with graceful awareness. There's tons to fear and lament in the big world, and the small one of my experience. I don't talk about it a lot, but it's always there. And I don't think my life is perfect or better than anyone else's. There are things going on that tear at me, and some of these things I'll write about and some I will never write about because they're not my story to tell. I'm believe I am a good person, and I try to be all the time, but I'm also an asshole sometimes. There's lots of ways I could be improved.

At the heart of it though, I just feel so unfairly fortunate to have what I have - the basic creature comforts (and then some). A good job. A great--ridiculously great--loving family and wonderful friends, all of whom I do take for granted sometimes but truly love and cherish. And I've got my own little family, a husband who is the literal, LITERAL best, and our HR, our healthy, growing, learning, amazing, stubborn, funny monkey of a boy. I'm going to display a bit of favoritism here, but it can't be helped. He is the greatest thing that ever came into my life.

It's all enough, and it's all too much for any one person. It's an embarrassment of riches. I don't forsee a life of great wealth for myself, but in all the other ways I've always been loaded and always will be. I'm lucky, I'm blessed, I'm whatever you want to call it, and I will shout my awareness of it from the rooftops until I croak. It's my protection spell, I guess. My religion.

I meant to come in here and make a list of 10 things I'm appreciating this Thanksgiving, like, the cast of Happy Endings and coffee. And then this happened.

Keeping On

Yesterday I turned 38, which was pretty cool since I had convinced myself about six months ago that I was already 38. So the cake and flowers and phone calls and general air of love and whatnot was simply birthday gravy. There was no sting from realizing just how many moons have come and gone in my life. That's not really my style, anyway. I feel that railing against aging is both pointless and, frankly, lacking in taste. Maybe if I were 102 or living in excruciating pain every day I'd feel differently about the passage of another year, but right now it seems kind of rude and ungrateful to bitch about getting older. I'm all about racking up the years, as many as possible. There's so much out there I haven't done or seen, and I'll be lucky if I can cross off one sixteenth of my never-shortening list, so every one I get, I'll do my damndest not to waste.

In terms of yesterday, it was super chill and therefore perfect. Unfortunately Mike had to work most of the day, but my darling boy decided to take the day off from morphing into Mr. Weinstein (his whiny alter ego) and played contentedly for hours, allowing me to sip coffee and finalize my Thankgiving menu and field messages. Later we went to the park on on the way home there was a real live pony just, you know, carting around another, smaller birthday girl and her guests. A pony, in the middle of a dense urban neighborhood. I've never actually wanted a pony-ride birthday party, but the point is, magic is everywhere. HR, who loves farm animals beyond any other thing, was blown away, and getting to see his reaction made my entire week.

Oh yes, and clearly I've decided to continue blogging for the time being. Happy birthday to YOU, then, am I right?

Song break: I just love the Lovin' Spoonful and always have. I chose to disseminate the lyrics to this song in the essay portion of my Sarah Lawrence application, and, looking back, I'm quite certain that it had a big hand in me not getting accepted. If I read that essay again now I'm sure I would come off as a clueless rube, and they had probably already fulfilled their clueless rube quota by then (to offset the clueless trust funders). Plus I'm not currently in a position to surmount the degree of mortification that reading my old stuff usually stirs up in me. I'd just like to state for the record that, though I do wonder what would have happened to me if I took the road more artsy-fartsily traveled, I'm happy where I ended up and how my life turned out. No regrets, John Sebastian, and thanks for all the secret stoner wisdom.

All Clips, No Content

As I chew on the fate of this blog, please enjoy some music.

I love the National. This guy's voice makes my whole body go liquid whoosh.



Brandi Carlile - the real deal.



Jack White seems like he's probably a tool, but if he keeps making music like this all is forgiven.



2Chainz, I can already tell, is gonna be a thing with me. NSFW video, but totally safe for those who enjoy a little ironic booty glorification.

Ruminating

Oh, hi Thanksgiving NEXT WEEK. Normally I've scheduled no fewer than three planning meetings with Mike by now, but my usual mania for the big show has been seriously diminished. I guess my week spent in a tropical vacuum knocked the sense of time out of my head. In any case, it's the hour to get cracking! How awesome it gets to be Thanksgiving already, is how I've decided to look at it (as opposed to, "Thanksgiving already. Crap."). For all you know, I may have already listened to some Christmas music for good measure. Ok I admit I did, it's finally sweater weather and I'm all in for the holidays.

After that extremely illuminating paragraph, you might understand why I'm thinking about taking a break from writing in here. I'm not sure yet if I'm actually going to, and I'm not taking a poll about whether I should, just letting you know if I disappear for a bit, it's not because anything's wrong. After my vacation entry yesterday, it got me thinking, yeah, this would be a good thing to write in a personal diary for my memory, but otherwise, what's the point of writing about it in a blog? It doesn't mean anything, it's just something I did. And that led to, what's the point of this blog at all? And maybe I'd better examine what I'm trying to do here because even though there seems to be no limit to the internet, the world really doesn't need to be clogged with more inane chatter from a human living a relatively unremarkable life. Over a decade of blogging I've experienced this (non)crisis a hundred times and something's always brought me back, but a thoughtful pause never hurt anyone. We'll see.

Now if Pete Townshend were a blogger, I'd say never stop putting out content. Even when he writes not-great songs they're still pretty great.

Did I Mention I'm Lucky?

These are the things we did on our vacation, in no particular order:
-drank some alcoholic beverages (but just a few... million)
-lounged by the pool
-swam in the sea
-danced on the sand with abandon
-ate some pretty damn good food, from sushi to tapas to late night room service nachos served on the balcony
-watched the sunrise
-survived the flea market
-went to Zumba class (a first for me)
-got massages (about half of us, I was already too chilled out)
-went to the hospital (long story - and he was just fine)
-celebrated the end of the seemingly endless election season (hooray for so many reasons! And I'm so proud of you, state of Maine!)
-read a little
-relaxed a lot
-made copious lists of "Resort World Problems" (such as, "when you can't see the ocean from your shower because you've fogged up the window from all the steam jets")
-slept as much as possible (shocking to nobody: our body clocks had most of us up too early for our own liking, but we appreciated the option to wake up on our terms)
-spent some serious quality time (I've not had a solid week with Mike since, probably, last time we took a vacation like this).

These are the things we didn't do:
-change any diapers
-hear the "Thomas and Friends" theme song once (except in our heads, where it lives permanently)
-have to be responsible for anyone but our own selves.

One more thing that six of the eight of us did:
-missed our kids like crazy, despite the diapers and midnight wakings and grating theme songs that come with the territory. And you know, it's good to miss your kids sometimes. It reminds you why you wanted to have them in the first place.

I know for a fact (aka Skype dates) that HR didn't miss us at all. He was too busy being spoiled by his aunt and uncle and cousins. He went to Gymboree and two different farms. He was showered with attention from preteen girls, which is sort of his raison d'etre. And he learned how to sleep through the night until at least seven. In retrospect, I left a changeling behind, and he changed back when we retrieved him on Saturday. But in all seriousness, it was an awesome experience for our family, and showed us that even if he's not completely cognizant of time and presence and absence and whatnot, our son is secure in that, when we leave him, we'll come back. I can never thank Mike's brother and his wife and their kids enough for being such true and loving sitters. Our boy was ready to come home with us when it was time, but he had a blast and obviously felt very safe and comfortable in their care, and it was great bonding for all of them.

The details of what we did, as listed above, are unimportant to anyone who wasn't there. Who cares about other people's vacations? I just have to go on record saying that we had the time of our lives, and it was due not only to the location or the sense of freedom, but also to the perfect alchemy of those in attendance. Mike and I had always wanted to revisit this resort since we went there five years ago, and even though we're quite good at being entertained in each other's company, we both thought, what a great set-up for a group of friends. And when we decided to use Mike's big birthday as an excuse to go, we started canvassing. The trip was open to anyone, there was never a formal invitation, but a week at a not-cheap resort was really a lot to ask of people so when a few couples showed interest (with the last minute addition of my sister and her husband, who I consider friends), we went ahead and booked. And I can't imagine a better outcome.

Partly this is due to our shared interest in being slothly and gluttonous and prone to rocking out at any chance. I'm not the only graduate of Fun School. But everyone was so go-with-the-flow, even if it goes against everyday personality type. Nobody was too sensitive about things or felt excluded, nor did anyone try to exclude. We did a lot of things as a group, but not everything. And it was cool, everyone was just cool. It was everyone's vacation, and everyone was free to do what they wanted. I would love to do this again, with the same group and/or with others (I feel like my brother and dad should have the chance experience the beauty of an all-inclusive at least once). But if I never get a chance again, I'll always look back at that week in the sun as one of the most fun of my life. Beautiful place, beautiful time, beautiful people. All the love.

This song is played as hell, but there's a reason I'm linking it.

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You

My vacation was beyond amazing. Beyond. I have no words for it. I mean, I'm sure I'll find some, but it's hard to describe something that's specific to one's own heart. And now it is over, which I can't quite believe, but that's OK. Moving on, moving on to the next good thing. I expect to do a full write-up tomorrow, when I have more time to settle my brain and get some cognitive distance. But today belongs to the Veterans.

Few people will disagree that war is a terrible, messed up thing. I can't believe that any person who has ever served in a war and survived could go on to lead a truly normal life again. No matter the circumstances that set a person on that path, be it voluntary or otherwise, fulfilling that specific duty is something I can't fathom for myself, and deserves the utmost respect. I'm a cynical person sometimes, and I consider myself a pacifist, but it doesn't change how I feel about people who make the ultimate sacrifice for their country. My grandfathers are gone, and I honor their brave memories, but there are plenty of people I know and love who have served, still serve in the military. There's no perfect song to express my admiration and gratitude, but this one just gives me the right kind of feeling.

Fun Expert for Hire

Halloween was a moderate success. We got to a few houses, and I think HR enjoyed himself, but probably would have been just as happy to stay home and watch Chuggington. It gave his parents a thrill, anyway, and we got some nice pictures. Maybe he'll never be into Halloween, and that's ok. We'll just wait and see what next year brings.

And now I'm about to go off the grid for a spell, and I couldn't be more psyched. I know it seems like I was just on vacation, and yeah, I guess I pretty much was. I'm on quite a roll in this life, and what can I say, I'll take and appreciate the good stuff while it comes. It's not like I think I need it or deserve it. The way I look at it, in plain, unquantifiable and extremely unfair terms, those who really need and/or deserve such things are the ones that rarely get a chance to experience them. I don't think I deserve or am entitled to anything but the basics like love and respect. Furthermore, it's not like I'm trying to pretend that my life is all that hard or stressful. It's got its moments, and sure it's great to be away from the office, and to get a break from the 24/7 gig that is parenting. But on the job front it could be a lot worse, and I knew what I was signing up for when I had a child, so I'm not complaining about the hours. My sainted husband, on the other hand, could really a vacation because he never, ever stops working. Ever. Not that he ever says a word about it, I just know. So this is for him, and lucky me, he likes me and wants me to come along so we can do what we do best together: have fun. I, in particular, am very, very good at unashamedly enjoying myself, it's probably my most marketable skill. It's right there, in my resume.

I know my boy will be in good hands and even though I'm prepared to miss him like I've never missed anyone in my life, it'll be good for us all. And I'll be back, all to soon. Hopefully with lots of stories. They probably won't be that interesting, because who really cares about other people's vacations? Also, my idea of fun has little to do with adventure and lots to do with lying about and eating and drinking. But trust it will be the bomb.

I already voted and it will be weird as hell to be watching the election returns come in with the Caribbean lapping outside my window. Somehow I think it'll be an appropriate setting for either result. And at least it will all be over.

So long for now!