Somewhere Over the Rainbow...

 

Yesterday in a nutshell: Helped rescue a bird. Met a strange dude who I'm forever referring to as "the merman." Voted. Ate donuts. Drove to IKEA, which was surprisingly calm and felt safer than some of the other places I've shopped during the pandemic. Watched the (recorded) debate and growled at the TV. Went to be exhausted yet maybe a little bit hopeful. This will all get better, right? 

Today I'm going to hunker down at home because that was quite enough adventure for one week. 

Have a beautiful day,

Rapunzel~

A Rather Blustery Day

 

Yesterday was another dreary one, raining on & off for most of the day. While I could have braved the weather and tried to walk, I didn't want to take the chance of getting stuck out there. So, I stayed home and planned to do all sorts of things with that "found" time, but instead I pouted and peered out the window and complained about the bikers who, despite the pandemic and pouring rain, still showed up for Biketoberfest and insisted on racing up and down the street near my house, ruining my quiet Sunday. Yes, I've become that woman, the crotchety old lady who just wants peace & quiet, dammit! If I have to be locked in my house, I want it to be as pleasant as possible, please. Grrr..

Anyway, I managed to salvage the day (and my mood, sort've) by crafting & cooking, watching TV & reading, as per usual. Thanks to my friend Benzaiten who told me about this new Hulu series, Love in the Time of Corona. It's sweet, thoughtful, and, of course, relevant. Chip and I watched a couple of episodes, and I look forward to more later today. 

On my hearth was this easy slowcooker recipe, Butternut Squash Red Lentil Stew.

I mostly followed the recipe, didn't bother sautéeing the veggies and spices beforehand, just dumped them into the Crockpot and cooked on High for a few hours until the squash was fork tender, then stirred in spinach and coconut milk until heated through. Since I don't typically cook with oil, I left that out as well, making this dish perfectly meet my whole food, plant-based no oil criteria. (WFPBNO). I topped with a sprig of cilantro & served over steamed jasmine rice. 

The Verdict: Absolutely delicious! It was just the right amount of spice for me, but a less heat-tolerant diner may want to cut down or leave out the cayenne. I regret that I can't make a prettier presentation; you'll have to trust me that it tastes much better than it looks!

So far, today is no less blustery but the rain has cleared out (along with the bikers!) and the skies are mostly clear. I understand that more wet weather is headed our way so I took my window of opportunity and hit the sand at sunrise. Ah..with my feet in the sand, wind in my hair & the latest Brené Brown podcast episode in my ears (thank you, Lily!), it was the perfect way to kick off my Monday. 

Have a Beautiful Day,

Rapunzel~

On My Hearth: Rainy Day Chili

 

This dish is so easy, hardly a recipe, yet when I've tried to be fancy and make other more complicated versions, I'm not happy. This one tastes the most like the chili my mom used to make, the one she'd put together on a chilly Saturday.morning and we'd "eat off of" all weekend long. Of course, Mom's version contained a pound of ground beef and was "sopped up" with white bread, but still..this invokes the same feeling of warmth and comfort. I have been making this chili for so many years, it's a family favorite and a go-to on rainy, dreary days or when we're craving a bit of hearty comfort food. 

Rainy Day Chili

3 cups (2 cans) cooked beans (kidney, black bean, etc)

1 1/2 cups frozen veggie crumbles (we like Gardein)

1 can diced tomatoes, fire-roasted for best flavor (to 2 cans)

1 envelope chili seasoning mix 

Diced onion and/or bell pepper, optional

Add all ingredients to a slow cooker and walk away for the day! 

At dinnertime, scoop and serve topped with vegan sour cream & cheese shreds, oyster crackers, chopped scallions..whatever you like. 

We like a nice big hunk of cornbread with our chili, haven't found a better one than the Trader Joe's mix. I veganize it by using Follow Your Heart egg replacer. 

Enjoy! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday was such a day. So windy & grey, I trudged through my morning walk, struggling against the wind for most of the 3+ miles. Though the colors of the sky weren't as vibrant as usual, even a muted sunrise is a joy to witness! 

It seems we have had quite a few of those grey days lately, doesn't it? And I don't mean just due to weather. The weight of the world, the worries over the pandemic, politics, etc. are bearing down so heavily right now. It's no wonder that so many of us are cooking and baking more than usual, and not just because we have newfound time to do so. I think there's a bigger reason for tidying up our homes, donning our aprons and heading into the kitchen. We're all so afraid, feeling so helpless, and we want to provide a safe place for ourselves and our loved ones. So we, especially women, do what we have always done. We make a home. We prepare a meal. We gather family & friends around our hearth and feed them comfort in one of the few ways we can. Cooking for someone is my love language, and I know I'm not alone in that. It's also a way I cope with my anxiety. When things get crazy in my life, or simply in my head, I cook. Chopping and measuring, mixing and pouring, these motions calm my spirit and quiet my mind while also producing something delicious to share. It's a healthy coping mechanism, and one I turned to many times this year, and, if the headlines are any indication, I'll likely be doing again and again. 

Rapunzel~ 

Reflections

 Confession: I'm not in a good place. As I touched on in my last post, I'm really having hard time. Emotionally. Mentally. And yes, I guess physically because they're all connected, right? I'm not sleeping well, waking up multiple times a night and then exhausted all day. My appetite is off, forgetting to eat and then forcing myself to choke down healthy meals instead of the comfort food I'm really craving. My mind is cluttered, my brain foggy. It's all I can do to get through the minimal chores to maintain the house, and the only real peace I feel is the 90 minutes I spent each morning walking the beach. I know I need help, that it's time to call in a therapist, because I know my anxiety and depression and how it can spiral really quickly. I've promised my family I'll make that call, but for now, I'm trying to process and figure out what's going on, why I'm struggling so. Here's what I've come up with so far..

I'm scared. I'm angry. I feel vulnerable. I am literally afraid to leave my house, and not just because of Covid. When I look deep inside my heart, I realize I'm also afraid of "them," the "others," the non-mask-wearing-confederate-flag-wearing-Trump-supporting-antiBLM-progun people who make up the majority of my town. I feel ok at home, safe inside my house with Rachel Maddow and Trevor Noah and NPR feeding me the news, two Biden signs and flag displayed on our property. I'm comfortable when I only talk to my like-minded friends & family, bemoaning the state of the country, collectively hoping & praying for change and seeking ways we can make a difference. But, it only takes a few steps from my front door to feel differently. One can't avoid the giant Trump flags on the millionaire's concrete walls, the multiple signs dotting the neighbors' lawns. It's obvious that we don't share the same political opinions, but it's more than that. Because to believe in him, to still actively support him, means so much more than Democrat vs Republican. What it means, to me, is that we don't share the same core beliefs or values. A vote for him is a vote for children in cages, for fewer rights for my LGBTQ community. Supporting him means that you don't support a woman's right to choose, no only whether or not to give birth but even for who can touch her body without her permission. By placing that sign in your yard you are in fact stating that you don't mind that the President of the United States sexually abused women. That he proudly boasts of his predatory habits, that he grabs women by the pussy and kisses them whether they like it or not. That he has had multiple affairs and has paid hush money to keep those women quiet. On and on and on it goes, one horrible misdeed after another to the point where we aren't even shocked anymore because nothing he does surprises us. Anything is possible with this man. Yet for his base, nothing he has done is vile enough to turn them against him, and that absolutely blows my mind! I understand towing the party line, I truly do. I was raised by Republican parents, my father used his last vote on earth to mark the circle next to Donald's name because, as he said with a shrug, "Who else do we have? He's our guy." No amount of discussion could change his mind, and it literally made me sick to put that ballot in the mailbox. So, I get it, those who have always voted Republican for one reason or another, but this time is different. This isn't normal. This election has more at stake that any other time in our nation's history. I don't think it's an exaggeration to state that this time it's a matter of life and death. 

When I go outside and I see the signs, or people blatantly ignoring the CDC's mask guidelines because it's only suggested and not mandatory in my city, I cringe, and then I seethe. I, who am open minded, so accepting of others beliefs, who embraces differences and tries my best to learn and grow from them, simply can't tolerate this. I have tried. I have made so many attempts to find common ground, see the good in people, but I can't do it. I just can't. This past election, this president, has created so much dissention that what started out as a line in the sand grew to a crater, and now it's so deep and so wide that I can't form a bridge across it. Indeed, I want to build a moat round my castle, bring in only the people who believe and feel as strongly as I do. We could brainstorm together, commiserate, weep and console each other with good food and hot tea and comfort. When one of us grows too weary to hold onto hope, our sisters and brothers will shore us up, remind us to fight the good fight, assure us that we aren't alone and that in the end goodness and truth will prevail. I desperately need to believe this right now, don't you? 

So, who's with me? I'll put the kettle on, you bring the biscuits. See you soon.

Rapunzel~

You're Aging Well

 

"I'm so glad that you finally made it here
With the things you know now, that only time could tell
Looking back, seeing far, landing right where we are
And oh, you're aging, oh and I am aging,
Oh, aren't we aging well?" ~ Dar Williams

https://youtu.be/aETWMI2XMnk

I recently celebrated my 56th birthday and, as is my tradition, I started the day with a long walk on the beach and a weepy listen to the beautiful song above. Since being introduced to it, and Dar herself, way back in the late 90's, it has become the birthday anthem for myself and the dear friends who discovered her with me. 

I had a wonderful day with family, blessed with delicious food & Kali-baked cake, generous, thoughtful gifts, cuddles from grandchildren and puppies..who could ask for more? I felt very special and loved. 

The next day we donned our masks and ventured out to the museum, the first real outing I've had since the pandemic. It was lovely to walk around, observing social distancing, look at the natural wonders and awe at the butterflies.

And now, back home and normal life, whatever that is. I admit, the situation is wearing on me. I'm a little depressed, a bit more anxious than usual, and unfortunately don't see an end in sight. I'm trying to remain hopeful, but between the virus, the politics, the civil unrest, and the wildfires, I'm overwhelmed and having a hard time seeing the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. I'm trying, really I am. Every day I wake up, take my sunrise walk, thank the Universe for another day on the planet, and try to do my best to make some sort of positive impact, however small. It's not easy, and I'm one of the lucky ones. I don't have to worry about where my next meal is coming from, or if I'll be able to pay my rent this month. I'm not afraid of getting shot in the street, in my car, or in my bed. I'm privileged. I know this, and I bear some guilt/shame  for even daring to complain when there are those so much worse off, who don't have the luxury of just staying home to stay safe. So, I'll try to be more grateful, less whiny about the small ways my life has changed. But I'll also allow myself to feel the grief and loss and the fear of the unknown, because that's real and true and honest and we all need to talk about these feelings to get through them, right? And I'll do what I can about the things I can control. I'll take the best care of myself and my family that I can. I'll support small businesses who share my values. I'll make donations to causes that matter to me. I'll stay present, keep learning and growing. And I'll use my voice and power November 3rd to help vote for change. Because whatever the "after times" look like, they have to be better than right now. We have to ensure that they are. 

Rapunzel~

The Way We Were

I have spent most of the quarantine on a huge project that has occupied my mind, my hands, and my heart. I have gathered up every single photo in my home, begun sorting & scanning, tagging & uploading, then finally filing digitally as well as physically. Since our family are avid photographers and since I inherited both of my parents' collections, this ads up to an enormous amount of photographs dating back to the 1950s. Some of them have been carefully preserved, dated and subject identified, but the majority were stuck in albums or haphazardly tossed into boxes over the years. To my credit, my own personal pictures, especially those from my daughters' younger years, were among the aforementioned, making them easy to sort & file. (Thank you, younger self!) Still, the task is daunting and several times I've closed the door to my craft room closet, thrown up my hands and declared myself finished, announced to my family that they will inherit the mess and can do with it what they wish. But that doesn't last long. A day or two later I decide to peek in, grab a stack, take a deep breath and begin again.

As you might imagine, the process has been not only challenging physically, straining my eyes, my neck, my back as I sit for hours sifting and scanning, but it's been emotionally draining as well. I've dredged up so many lost memories, dusted off forgotten moments in time, become reacquainted with old friends & lovers as well as past versions of myself I thought I'd left behind. Some of this has been happy and exciting, some absolutely wrenching. Letters from my mom, cards from my dad. Journals and calendars filled with stories, snapshots of my life at various stages. Adorable toddler. Awkward, angsty pre-teen. Young adult. New mom. Divorced mom. (Repeat). So much stuff, so much emotion! It can be overwhelming, so I check in with myself, only do as much work in one day as my body & heart feel able. I aim for an hour a day and then see how I feel. Sometimes that's enough and I move on, but other days I can spend four or five hours back there, holed up with my music & memories.

I get so caught up in the task, immersed in whatever era I'm working on, that when I emerge & pass by Beren, sitting in our dining room/pseudo office, I'm surprised to see him,  this person who wasn't a part of "that" life, at least another than a couple of snapshots & calendar entries from one blissful teenage year. Yet here he is, as is my current home, belongings, pets. And as I catch a glance of myself in the mirror, it's not the ten-year or 20-year or even 30-year-old self I see reflected back at me. Who is this older woman, and how do I reconcile her with those other versions? Is she who I expected to be, oh so long ago when I painstakingly sat and preserved those photos, those mementos, knowing that one day I'd be doing exactly as I am right now?

Probably not, and that's part of what I'm processing. As painful as this is, I also am driven, almost manically so, to complete this task, to have my life tidied and in order before...? Before what? Yes, before I die. Morbid, perhaps, but the reality is that I am on the other side of middle age and all that that entails. My memory is already not as sharp as it once was, and if I don't record the stories now, they'll be gone forever. I don't want my children to inherit a mess of random bits of my life, of their lives, without rhyme or reason. I want to sort it out before I pass, leave behind order instead of chaos. In thinking of it this way, I'm not "just" doing a mindless organizational project, or even a therapeutic exercise for myself, it's a labor of love for my family. A gift to them. And it's that mindset, that goal, that keeps me going, photo by photo, memory by memory, moment by moment.

Rapunzel~

This past Friday, my Lily graduated with her Masters in Social Work! Thanks to the Coronavirus, we had to cancel our family trip to be there with her which the most disappointing, heartbreaking part of this experience thus far. We all so wanted to watch her walk across the stage, receive that hard-earned diploma, cheer and weep with  pride. Take her to lunch after, raise a glass of sparkling cider in her honor. Instead, we had to do that through a virtual commencement and a Zoom meeting. 

It certainly wasn't the same, and not nearly good enough for her, for us, but we made the best of it and look forward to a real celebration once we're together again. (soon, goddess willing). 

Today is Mother's Day, and I'm filled with mixed emotions. Excited to drive to be with Kali &  Bambi & babies, but am missing Lily so much, nothing feels complete without her. I'm also missing my own mom, and am thinking how proud she would be of Lily, and how happy she was on her own graduation day. It was "only" an Associates Degree, but she was the first in her family to have any type of formal education, and she was very proud of that fact, as well she should be. I vaguely remember her own graduation day, but can't recall the date. I'm guessing 1986 or early 1987..

Congratulations, Mom. Your namesake accomplished something amazing! I wish you were here to see her. 

Rapunzel~

A New Day

Eight years have passed since my last post, and wow has a lot changed! I won't attempt to catch up on everything, just jumping in where I am now, and the stories will unfold as they see fit to do. I'm not even sure why I'm writing here again as blogging has become a bit passé, no? It seems to have been replaced with various other social media (Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, to name a few) it seems unnecessary and perhaps even redundant to also blog about one's life. Yet, here I am, doing just that. And it appears I'm not alone, I see other friends return to this format or to other ways they have expressed themselves in the past. One friend is blogging after a long absence. My daughter has created a virtual zine. Maybe it's nostalgia, a yearning for a simpler time, or the general trend toward less clutter, busy-ness, which for some of us includes idle screen time. Or, maybe it's the pandemic. Maybe we want to memorialize this, this insane moment in history, one which will be discussed, debated, dissected by generations to come. Maybe we want to leave our marks in some way, tell our stories in our own voices. Maybe we are facing our own mortality. Or, perhaps we simply have more hours now, stuck in lockdown, to think, to dream, to write, to create. To breathe. 

Whatever the reason, I see this collective inward turning as a good thing, a bright spot in an otherwise dark & scary place, and hope that on the other side we are better, stronger people for have taken this pause to draw inward a little, then reach out in the ways that feel most comfortable, most relative, to ourselves.  

So, as for myself, well, to be honest, there has been some relief mixed in with the anxiety and fear. Underneath the constant undercurrent of stress & worry, deep down, there's a peacefulness that comes with the realization that my social calendar, limited as it was, is now completely bare. I no longer feel the pressure to go out when I don't feel like, to socialize when I'd rather stay home alone, go and do and be something that isn't really who I am! I have kept my circle really small, and my commitments minimal, but still..there were many days when I would have prefered to sit on my couch and read rather than go out to dinner, for coffee, to lunch..whatever I felt that I needed to do to keep up with what was expected of me socially, societally. I always suspected that I was an introvert, but once I quit drinking two years ago I realized just how much that was true, how often I used alcohol to force myself to do things I'd have preferred not to do. With that came more knowledge about myself, and eventually acceptance for not being the someone I pretended to be. Or tried to be. Or felt pressured to be. I stopped apologizing for not being her, and summoned the courage to say no. No, I don't want to go to happy hour. No, I don't want to go to a restaurant where there is nothing healthy/vegan on the menu. I choose not to sit at a crowded bar and listen to loud music while squished up against drunk people. No, no, no. No, thank you. I found my voice, and discovered that the sky didn't fall after all. My real friends & family still love me even though I am sober now. My husband, though admittedly misses the "fun" times of drinking with me, didn't leave me and we have found other ways to enjoy each other's company that don't involve alcohol. Nothing bad happened, and so many good things did! 

So, all of this to say: I had already been a little bit isolated. I'd already turned inward, discovered new past times and picked up long lost hobbies. Baked and cooked, read & crocheted. Cleaned & organized. Embraced my homebody nature. That part hasn't been hard for me. Except, and this is a HUGE exception: my family. I miss my children and grandchildren desperately. Which is why, after 8 weeks of being apart, I took a calculated, careful risk and went to see them last week. And it was everything. Everything sweet and wonderful and poignant and beautiful and heartwrenching and I will never, ever forget the moment when A ran to me, arms outstretched and gave me the biggest, best hug I have ever had. Grabbing all of my grandbabies, holding my daughters tight, something I never really took for granted but is even more precious now. 

Now, we wait. We keep doing what we have been for the past couple of months, sit tight, be safe, be careful, stay healthy. Wash hands. Wear masks. Hope & pray that this passes soon while wondering what the "new normal" will look like. In the meantime, I'll keep looking inward, deciding what I'll bring with me from my old life, and what parts I'll leave behind. I think I'll keep writing, for myself, so that I will remember. 

Michele~