Oh Really? What I Learned from my old Journals

My mom handed me a pile of books and pictures.  Here, she said, it's a few of your things I thought you would like.  Four journals -- fifth grade, 7th/8th grade, 11th grade and one from my semester abroad during my senior year in college, some love letters from my first boyfriend and a jumble of pictures from my childhood.   I spent an emotional late night in the guest room of my mom's new house, with the door closed, reading, crying, laughing, remembering while the kids all slept and Mark was back at our house.  There was so much there to think about, but I haven't processed it all yet.  Here's just one observation about those girls.


This girl wrote:  "I am so ugly and dumb.  I am so ugly and dumb. I am so ugly and dumb." And she underlined it a bunch of times, because she felt so badly about the spelling group she was in.

This girl  (on the left) thought she was too fat for a bikini and oh so desperately wanted a boyfriend and to be popular.

This girl loved her adventure in Europe.  She was so broke, and so enthralled by everything she ate, drank and saw.  "I had something wonderful tonight -- it was a mix of chick peas, lemons, garlic all mixed together and served with pitas.  I loved it!"  It must have been hummus, and it sure made a good first impression.  She wanted to see the world, she thought her life was a big adventure. She felt like she had nothing to lose by trying.

I think about these girls and how they formed the woman I have become. I still feel so timid about my abilities and being vulnerable.

This woman is afraid of what will happen if she says her dreams out loud.  

 I want to go back to talk to those other girls and tell them not to be so afraid and I want to talk to that college girl to remember what it felt like to be so fearless and confident.  

I feel like this woman better set some high goals, and then achieve them to do those other girls proud.  Be bold!

My Mom Spoils Me

We had a four day weekend for Rosh hashana  and I took full advantage.  I pulled up to the middle school with the car packed, an Ernest marathon in the DVD player and a bag of healthy-ish snacks and within minutes we were heading south on I-95 toward Delaware.  My mom lives with her boyfriend in Bethany Beach.  The first two days felt like summer, with temps in the high 80s, warm enough for an ocean swim and afternoon at the beach. Saturday cooled down, so we drove to Assateague to explore on rented bikes and see some of the famous wild horses.  

But that's not how she spoils me.

She makes dinner.  She won't let me touch a dish. She scoops up laundry before it hits the floor.  She loves my kids.  She reads them stories and sits on the floor to see what they're drawing or playing on the laptop. She saves magazines she thinks I'll like.  She makes me coffee in the morning.  She listens to my stories.  She cries when I go.

I suppose you could say, she mothers me.

Voracious. My reading choices.

I keep a side bar of the books I've read all year as a way of keeping track for myself. I read rather voraciously, and as you can tell, my selections are all over the place.  My friends and I often trade book recommendations and I tend to forget all but the last two or three, so the list helps.

I got my Kindle last Christmas and I read now more than ever. I love having a book at my fingertips at all times with the option to impulse buy to my heart's content.

Hence, this entry.  I just had to laugh at myself.

I read two really heavy books on Auschwitz recently (Mark asked if there was any other kind) and I needed something frothy to follow up.  I went with I'm with the Band by Pamela Des Barres, the self-proclaimed world's most famous groupie which led right into Wonderful Tonight: George Harrison, Eric Clapton and Me by Pattie Boyd.  Pamela Des Barres wins for biggest hippie and Pattie Boyd for most lonesome, though she does remind us constantly that three of the world's greatest love songs were written for her.

If you look at it, I have quite a few celebrity memoirs over there, which is my Kindle's fault.  They're generally like long people magazine articles and at the end, the Kindle gives you a few more recommendations.  A few clicks later and Rob Lowe has made way for Rosie O'Donnell.  It's a slippery slope.

What are you reading these days?  Do you read celebrity memoirs?

jump in. Barcelona.

I'm so far behind, I don't know where to begin.

If you stop posting, does the blog still exist?  If no one posts, but no one's looking, does it matter?

Whatever.

Summer, as usual, has sped by.  Less than three weeks until school starts, and I'm filling with dread.  Just thinking about getting back on that crazy treadmill of pick up, drop off, homework, lessons, tightly packed mornings -- ugh.   Summer vacation rules.

We spent 17 days of this summer in Europe.  Gulp. Yep. It was pretty awesome.  I have a moving-to-Europe for a few years fantasy. I have quite a few ex-pat friends who were here for a few years and I so envy their chance to drop into another culture for a bit and then dash on home.

The thousands of photos can overwhelm me.  Come September, I'll have more quiet computer time, but now, I have to get it in bits when I can.  So, here's a few from Barcelona on our big adventure.

 I love the little black bathing suit we bought Jack in France.

 I was imagining the phone conversation here. "please pick me up. I can't take the metro today."

Big milestone to travel abroad with a kid with so many food allergies.  Biggest stressor was on the return flight when they handed out the peanuts to half of the plane before reaching our row.  I hadn't thought of asking them to hold the peanuts.  We don't know if his allergy is airborne (it appears not to be), but the allergist will only say, we don't really know.  We were four hours from NY when the plane was filled with peanut smells.  I was a nervous wreck and would not let Jack leave his seat.  He eventually fell asleep, and soon the peanut smell faded. 

 We only made it to the line for the Picasso museum.  Jack had one of his bathroom-issues kind of day, and there was wailing and stomach clutching in line.  We had to punt.   (this guy was not at the museum, just outside a shop.  We were scared to touch him b/c we were convinced he was a mime.  Alex took this picture and he also videotaped my freaked out approach.)

watching people watching pictures

I love to go to art museums alone.  Sometimes I get lonely, when it's time to have a cappuchino in the cafe -- so much better with husband, friends or kids -- but when it's time to wander and soak it in, I like to feel like I'm almost invisible.

Last night, I went to the Met.  I wanted to watch the people watching the art, since I just saw some great photos of that....somewhere.  Forgot my camera, but had my new little iphone.  It's not the same as my camera, not even close, but it's okay to play with.

First, pictures of people looking at paintings that matched their outfits.  I am going to go back and explore this idea further.  It was surprisingly easy to find, and it amused me to no end.  I love having a little mission in mind.

 

In this case, it matched her hair.

 

Next, a little hipstomatic time with the Greeks.  (they might have been Romans -- I didn't read the tags). I'm imagining the sculpters enticing the young models to take off their clothes for the session.  It may have been like an ancient casting couch.

my besties

24 Years ago, or so, I met my best friends.  We didn't click on the same day, we kind of tumbled together and stuck through four years of college.  I remember those days so fondly it sometimes aches.  We did crazy things and we had each other's backs like nobody's business.  Most of all, we laughed and really, we just loved each other.  I now see these girls (they will always be girls) once a year, when I'm lucky.  We email and talk, but not all that often.  The great world spins.  We hang on.  

This year, we met in New Orleans, LA for a four day weekend.  One of us couldn't make it (the past decade has been dotted with pregnancies, babies -- those things that keep you home) but she will always be there in spirit.

For four days, we regressed. Counseled.  Laughed.  Cried (that was only me, I think) and of course sang, danced and caroused until the wee hours.  We are a lot of fun, doncha know.

These are my besties.  

Just for the record

Hullo?  Anybody home?

I have fallen off the face of blogger Earth.  No reason.  I just dropped the ball there for a while, and didn't feel the least bit guilty about it.  I over-volunteered this month and last and was having a bit of a scramble.  Still not out of the weeds, but there's hope.  Always hope.

Well, even if I'm the only one who sees them, I'm posting some of the pictures from my digital 2 photography class.  This class has kicked my butt a bit -- again, wishing I had more time for it -- but it's so good to be pushed out of that comfort zone once in a while.

Our first project was portraits.  I started out with the idea of shooting my identical twins to capture what makes looking at twins so intriguing.  I see them so much as individuals that it surprises me when people say they can't tell them apart or refer to them as "the twins."  Somehow, I thought maybe I would play up the similarities though, since the similarities make them special too (and they enjoy it).  But in the end, I just see them as I see them --  as individuals.  And, I think, that's how these portraits turned out.