Not All Who Wander Are Lost

J.R.R. Tolkien is the source of the title of this blog post. The past two and 1/3 years have been a period of transition, of finding new aspects of my self. These years were a time of learning, of networking, meeting new people and making new friends. This time was often marked by feelings of grief, of feeling a loss of self, a loss of accomplishment. There were many days when I just couldn’t see what the future could possibly be and could only focus on all that I felt I had lost.

But this transition time was also an opportunity for connecting to my family and being a presence to my family in a way that had never happened before. Being home for Ellie’s last year of high school, for Peter’s return home from Chamberlain, for Jim’s own journey through his Masters program was important and satisfying. My own life seemed to be drifting, but theirs weren’t and I was there to help, to support and to simply be a presence. Cooking dinner each day an sharing that evening meal was a new and often welcome time to bond and be a family. I was quite fond of that part of my daily schedule.

As time went by, I became more used to being home during the day. I had a routine to follow. Up early at 5:30 to exercise, read the paper, eat some breakfast and then check email, shower and head to my office by 8:30. It wasn’t my former routine of heading to the city, but it was a comforting routine nonetheless.

While sometimes I couldn’t quite see what to do next, I was never without activity. I would read about both publishing and later nonprofits when my interests turned in that direction. I had tweeting to do and, of course, job boards to check. I had clients to work for and then projects around the house to further. Since we didn’t know if we would be staying in our house, I did lots of purging and streamlining of over ten years’ accumulation. I kept a daily log of all my outreach and contacts which gave me the satisfaction of seeing what I had accomplished and a roadmap.

Having worked in an industry which was undergoing tremendous change and upheaval and having been lucky enough to have been pretty successful in that industry, a big part of my “wandering” involved trying to understand what my next steps should be. I worked hard trying to re-imagine myself. I tried many paths to finding that next stage. Often it felt like I was heading down a path only to find that it failed to lead anywhere or perhaps it led somewhere, but the destination wasn’t what I needed.

Early in the process I spent a week with my former author, Dick Bolles. He described the transtion phase as being in a blue light. It was a time of limbo, a passage which was undefined in form and duration but through which one must travel. It was an apt characterization in many ways.

The end to this period came out of the blue and, as so many had predicted, from one of many contacts which came to fruition many months later. My wandering was done and the feelings of frustration, of worry about the future, of feeling of no value, came to a quick end as joy and excitement over a tremendous new opportunity took over.

Suddenly I was getting ready for my first day of work. Jim was there to memorialize the process. Putting on work clothes had a whole different feeling when I was doing it to head to a job rather than another meeting or interview. I anticipated that first day with great excitement and happiness. I wasn’t really nervous, but incredibly thankful.

 Two weeks into my new professional life, I remain as excited, grateful and happy as ever. I get up to go to work with eagerness. My new colleagues are all extremely nice and have been most welcoming. I adore being part of the organization and relish the prospect of making a contribution. With Jim substitute teaching, mornings are busy as we both prepare to head off to work.

I may have wandered, but I am no longer lost. As time goes by, I know the journey will take on a different meaning and I hope that it will come to represent a time of discovery, not loss, of re-definition, not loss of self-definition. A kind of re-boot which will have given me a new orientation and a refinement of my values.

Field Trip with Lauren

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Last Friday was my planned outing day with Lauren. When Lauren took me to the Orchid Show at the Botanical Gardens, we planned a follow-up trip to Venamy Orchids.

I met Lauren at the Rye Metro North train station and we headed up to Brewster to Venamy Orchids.

This is pretty much orchid heaven and we had a delightful time walking up and down the aisles looking at all the various orchids. Dendrobium, Phalaenopsis, Paphiopedilum, Oncidium, Cattleya, all the glorious orchids were on display. Actually, there seemed to be an abundance of giant white Phals with elegant, drooping efflorescence. They were breathtaking and clearly the main item for Mother’s Day.

Selecting was tough. I had limited myself to only two orchids. I knew exactly what I wanted: Hawaiian Sunset Pupukea. I had one years ago and it had the most fragrant and gorgeous blooms. The other orchid I was aching to buy was some sort of gloriously outrageous Paph. Of course, they didn’t have any Hawaiian Sunset Pupukea which was a bummer. They didn’t have any Paphs which were blooming. I dealt with this disappointment by purchasing on beautiful little Phal, a very healthy and vigorous (if unknown) Paph and an Oncidium with three spikes!

Lauren was much more restrained and bought a truly captivating Phalaenopsis.

After Venamy, we headed to Armonk and found a great place to eat. Of course, we never stopped chatting. Ellie had emailed us good wishes and mentioned the words “ice cream” so that was next on our agenda. While we licked our ice cream cones, Lauren admitted she hadn’t been knitting. Oh, horrors. So there was nothing else to be done but to use her i-Phone to find the nearest yarn store.

That meant a journey to Scarsdale and Sticks and Strings. While I displayed incredible restraint, Lauren purchased some very good-looking Koigu for some socks. A great project to get her knitting juices flowing again. It was tough to hold back because I dearly love Koigu, but I also have an unmentionable amount of it.

I drove Lauren back to her beautiful block of brownstones in Brooklyn with her trophies. We had a great day of complete fun and indulged passions.

Orchids, ice cream, yarn and lots of conversation. A truly perfect outing.

All-American Weekend

This past weekend was a long-awaited treat. Alex is back in Maryland for three weeks on a special training exercise and last weekend was our opportunity to drive down to Hagerstown and spend two days with him. The only downside was that one of our five would not be with us. Ellie needed to stay at Smith and prepare for exams. Since Peter was closer, it was less difficult for him to join us.

It was good to have Peter along–not just for his native charm–but as a second driver on the five-hour trip to Hagerstown. We followed the same route Ellie and I drove when she visited Dickinson. Once you get past Allentown, the country is very pretty. Lots of farms, stone houses, green fields and cows. I was happy to knit for five hours straight.

We had planned to get to Hagerstown just as Alex was getting off work. We ran a little late and so did he so we met up around 5. He looks fantastic. He is so forceful and mature looking. Peter may be an inch taller, but Alex is all muscle and with his short haircut, it is pretty easy to see he is a Marine–with or without the uniform. Alex just celebrated his 24th birthday so we combined a little celebration with the visit. I baked a rhubarb cake, his father brought some craft beer and we brought presents.

Hagerstown seems to be quintessential America as it stands these days. The town is a succession of malls filled with every big box retailer you can think of. Interspersed with these malls is a complete selection of every fast food place you can think of. There is actually a small historic district in Hagerstown which they are working to ramp up, but it is dwarfed on all sides by interstate highways and the aforementioned malls. It is a major transportation hub and there are distribution centers everywhere. There are also truckers everywhere and the mall parking lots make great overnight stopping places for the truckers. There aren’t many fine dining establishments. This gave us an opportunity to become one with America when we ate. As an example, I include a link here for one reviewer’s top ten restaurant choices in Hagerstown. #1 is Outback Steakhouse.

We stayed in the same Courtyard by Marriott in which Alex was staying. I love these hotels. They are all alike so you always know where things are. They have a little restaurant and serve wine at night. The decor is attractive (and always the same) and the rooms are clean. They even have the same pictures in the bathroom so if you spent too long in the bathroom, you might forget what city you are actually in. I am always insanely happy to stay in these places. It means I am traveling and seeing new things.

Hagerstown has a strong German influence so it was completely appropriate that we dined Friday night at Schmankerl Stube Bavarian Restaurant. Most notable were the choices for beer. One could order two, three or five litres of beer. They won’t serve five litres to just one person. The birthday table near us had ordered all the three litre glasses, so Alex ordered a two litre which was actually a boot. He didn’t actually finish which was just as well. Over at the birthday table, things got louder and louder as the litres got lower and lower. One of the attendees was about to head to boot camp and Alex went over to wish him well.

Saturday morning we were up and out pretty early. Since we were deep into Cracker Barrel country, we headed there for breakfast. We love Cracker Barrel. I am proud to say I have introduced several former colleagues and friends to the joys of smoked meats. I thank Jim Brannigan for first introducing me to the dining and shopping wonders at Cracker Barrel on a long ago trip to Ingram Book Company. I was able to mortify my fellow diners, but taking photos and one nice lady stopped to offer to take our picture. I just love torturing my sons.

After breakfast, we settled in at a table in the lobby to get some work done. Peter had a paper to finish for Biophysics, Alex had Marine paperwork to do, I had my final project for my NYU class and Jim is always happy to surf. We worked quietly for several hours. It was a bit grey and cold out and this was a perfect opportunity to hang out together and get something done. Late in the afternoon we went to see Jason Statham’s new flick, Safe. We all love his movies and this one was fun.

The wait at Ruby Tuesday’s was 45 minutes. It was Prom Night and this seemed to be the destination of choice for large tables of couples all dressed up for prom. They were having a good time and it was fun to see them. When Ellie heard this was the pre-Prom destination of choice, she was a bit shocked, but the Hagerstown kids were completely happy. It was actually refreshing as opposed to the over-done, over-expensive Prom events we have witnessed. I think these kids may have been having a better time.

Sunday the weather was gorgeous. The sky was a brilliant blue and the forecast was for a high of 70. Just the perfect weather for a visit to Gettysburg. But first, what would a Sunday morning in Hagerstown be without IHOP? Are you getting the all-American there here? I had a lovely omelette with fresh fruit, but I can tell you most people dining were going for a high-calorie intake. And it wasn’t the first time…It was tough getting the boys to pose outside IHOP, but, I had compromised my long held refusal to dine there, so, really, what could they say?

Gettysburg was about an hour’s drive. It was one of the most impressive–in many senses of the word–things I have ever seen. The battlefield is huge. Seeing it and walking much of it gave new meaning to this pivotal point in the Civil War. They have done an excellent job of creating the experience of understanding the action, the scale of bravery, desperation, death and destruction. We followed the Confederate line and then the Union. Just thinking of the heat, smoke, confusion and horror of the attacks, the difficulty of the terrain, the horror of those days was awe-inspiring. Alex was a tremendous asset as he has done a lot of reading on the battle and we enjoyed his perspective in addition to the information provided on plaques, recordings and memorials. Even Peter was drawn in to the drama walking uncomplainingly for hours until we were too tired to continue. It is not a one day undertaking and I look forward to going back to cover the Union positions more thoroughly.

Happily, we had planned to head home Monday morning so we had one last evening with Alex before we would have to part. Since we don’t know how long it will be until we see him again, every moment counted. Steak was on the menu for our Marine. A tall order in Hagerstown, but we found the Longhorn Steakhouse. Part of a national chain, it was actually pretty good. Lest you think we were drifting from our all-American mall theme, the address was the bucolic setting of 1000 Prime Outlets Blvd. It served us well and was clearly the most upscale restaurant in Hagerstown–out of reach of Prom Night for sure.

Monday morning we had a brief glimpse of Alex before he headed to work and we hit the road home. It was a great weekend with lots of fun, some adventure and the only thing which would have made it perfect would have been having our fifth with us. But you can bet that there were many phone calls, texts and photos shared throughout the weekend to make her as much a part of things as possible.

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Bud, the Bird

A member of the Frost family who doesn’t get a lot of ink, but should, is Bud, the bird. Bud is a budgie, a parakeet. Bud lives in his cage which is hung in a corner of the living room.

For the first years of Bud’s life, he was allowed to fly free around the house. He loved to fly up to the top of the mirror in the dining room. There he would sit on a perch and admire the incredibly beautiful parakeet he saw in the mirror. He would stay up there for hours and on his perch was a clip to hold a spray of millet. Our cat, BuzzBomb, was mildly interested in Bud, but she never tried to eat him. They co-existed remarkably well. Sadly, we lost BuzzBomb to old age and Bud could fly with no feline worries whatsoever.

Then we got the cats.

At first all was well. The cats, Zena and Zoe, were kittens and they couldn’t really cause much trouble. But that tranquil period ended. That is why Bud’s cage is now hung from the ceiling in the corner of the living room. There is a carefully constructed open area around the cage. No furniture or launching pads are near Bud to keep the kitties from leaping and hanging on to Bud’s cage–as they were want to do. It must have been a terrifying experience for poor Bud.

We have had two near misses with Bud and the cats. Zoe once had Bud in her mouth and he suffered a puncture on his chest. It was horrifying for everyone, but Zoe. We were so worried about Bud, but he recovered. Bud is a very strong and brave bird.

Bud joined our family in August of 2000. We got him in Canaan, CT and for a long time Bud traveled back and forth to the country with us in a portable cage. He was a very adventurous Bud. Bud is a very friendly bird. He loves it when his “flock” sits in the living room with him. He sings a lot. He will sing when music is playing or just a cappella. When Jim plays the piano, Bud will often sing along. The best moments are when Dakota joins in and we have a trio with Jim on the piano, Bud singing his birdsong and Dakota chiming in with a doggier sound.

Bud is a pretty old bird. The average parakeet lifespan is 5-9 years. Some parakeets have lived as long as 20 years, but that is very unusual. Despite the rigors of living with two cats, Bud seems quite healthy and happy. Although many times we might seem almost to forget Bud perched in the corner of the living room, he is an integral part of our family. Our house would be much emptier without him. Here’s to a long, long life, Bud, the bird!

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Pinterest

Pinterest is kind of like a visual blog. At least, that’s how I see it. I have been having fun making boards which can collect visual images of things which resonate for me. I can’t really see the enjoyment of the platform for posting fashion, shopping, etc. but then I am not that much of a shopper. I see it as an extension of what I think and write about here.

I have 11 boards now. They cover Things I Love, Books and Reading, Philanthropic Interests, Knitting (of course), Gardening and Dakota has his very own board. He is a Pinterest pin-up.

29 Glorious Years–And Counting

Today is our 29th wedding anniversary. As Jim and I are want to say, usually with a grimace, “29 glorious wonderful years…” The grimace is actually for show. The years have had their ups and downs, but there is no one I would have wanted to spend them with than Jim. LOML is his nickname. Love of my life. It is accurate.

Jim and I actually met 31 years ago. I was working at Warner Books as an assistant and this new guy started as an assistant to the publisher. He was pretty cute. My friend, Jill, and I decided to check him out and we invited him to lunch in the cafeteria. He spent the entire 45 minutes working on a crossword puzzle. I decided he was a loser and ignored him for the next six months. Finally, in late winter a bunch of assistants all went out one evening and I ended up sitting next to Jim. You know, he wasn’t actually that bad. He was funny and smart and not the complete dork I had thought he was.

Continuing his streak of cluelessness, nothing happened. Hours were spent with Jill and I discussing why this guy wouldn’t ask me out. Did he not like me? Was he gay? What wasn’t happening here? Finally, I got tired of waiting and I asked him out and I also asked him what the problem was that he hadn’t asked me. He said he didn’t have enough money to buy me dinner. I told him I could jolly well pay for my own dinner and that was that.

We began to see each other. Jim lived at Riverside and 105th Street. His apartment was the top floor of a brownstone and he had roof access. The view was fantastic of the Hudson River all the way up and down the West Side. That was the only good thing about the apartment. It was a dump. There was a hole in the middle of the kitchen floor. An actual hole. The bathroom sink was cracked and he and his room mate had to keep a bowl in the sink to catch the water. It gets worse. The place was infested with roaches. They would crawl on them at night and they had a special hairbrush called “Killer” to deal with the problem. Needless to say, I never even sat down in that apartment. My apartment was much cleaner.

After we had been seeing each other a couple of weeks, I had a planned tennis vacation to the Caribbean. I would be gone a week. When I got back there was a postcard in the mail from Jim. I don’t remember what it said exactly, but I knew what it meant. To celebrate my return Jim wanted to make dinner for me. Obviously, this would take place a my apartment, not his. He pulled out all the culinary stops and made overcooked Shake-N-Bake. A gourmet triumph it wasn’t, but it was an example of this sweet and thoughtful fellow I had met.

My mom visited at Easter and was the first family member to pass judgement on my new beau. We walked Fifth Avenue in the Easter parade and had a good weekend. She returned home and filed a positive report on Jim with my father. He was due to visit shortly, but his initial curiosity and parental concern was partly satisfied by my mother’s report.

Two days later my father died. I was at the office when the call came. He just hadn’t woken up. To say this was earth shattering would be a tremendous understatement. I flew home to a complex and grief-stricken situation. Things were very complicated with my step-mother and all the attendant strains and misconduct that can take place in difficult situations. After two days I called Jim and asked him to come help me. I needed someone in my corner and my mother couldn’t do it.

Jim didn’t have enough money for a downpayment on a phone. He lived in a dump. He had work obligations as an assistant. We had only been seeing each other a few short weeks. He didn’t hesitate, but got on a plane and flew to Chicago. He had my back. With unfailing thoughtfulness and concern, he helped me through this difficult time.

When we got back to New York, Jim moved in with me. I was in deep grief and he lived across town without a phone. So he just stayed to be with me. He has never left. That is the foundation of 29 glorious years. We’ve had our share of troubles, but we have only grown closer. We are a team and we are best friends. Jim has taught me much about the value of quiet and constant support. Over the years we have grown kinder to each other and learned to cherish the things we love about each other and to accept the things we love less. I could not and would not want to imagine my life without my LOML.

We have been lucky to have three deeply-adored and cherished children. I wish for each of them that they, too, can find a life partner. Someone to share the days and nights and months and years with. I could not wish anything more previous for them.  Thank you, Jim, I am so very fortunate.

Kiss of the Sun

“Kiss of the sun for pardon. Song of the birds for mirth. You’re closer to God’s heart in a

garden than any place else on earth.” — Dorothy Frances Gurney

Yesterday was one of those absolutely perfect weather days. It was sunny. The sky was blue with just a few puffy clouds. The temperature was hovering just over 70 degrees. The spring flowers are in bloom and, despite our lack of rain this year, everything is just bursting forth into bud and leaf.

It was the perfect day to plant my garden and putter in the yard.

This year I am changing things up a little. The garden is still the same circular plot, but I have decided to forego the center fountain of sunflowers. There are two reasons for this. The first reason is that it is time for a change. This would be the third year and, while I loved the sunflowers, it will be fun to try something new. The second reason is that I have run out of space to rotate my tomato plants into and the only previously unused space is where the sunflowers were. I could not tell you which was the dominant reason. I wrestled with the “where to put the tomatoes” issue all winter long.

I am changing up the contents of the garden as well. This is radical stuff I tell you. There will be fewer tomato plants this year. I have skipped the small Black Pearl tomatoes entirely. Instead I am concentrating on your garden variety (sorry) big red, luscious tomatoes. I don’t have the space for so many and some of the more exotic heirloom varieties just didn’t produce that well. Also, the Green Zebra tomatoes confused me because I could never tell when they were ripe. They were always green!

In addition to tomatoes, I am planting eggplant, peas (for Jim), cucumbers (with trepidation since the last time we were swimming in cucumbers), carrots, lettuce and herbs. The rosemary, sage and oregano made it through the incredibly mild winter so I am adding three basil plants. I will also have chive, but I have that in a pot because it will otherwise spread everywhere.  I have completely abandoned the spoke pattern I used previously. This year’s garden is planted in concentric circles. Everything I have planted is from seeds except the tomatoes, eggplant and basil.

Last week Peter was essential in helping me rent the roto-tiller and get the soil ready. I spent some time yesterday removing any weeds around the edges, the stubborn grass which insists on growing through the fence. I raked the soil smooth and began planting. It was just warm enough to work up a sweat, but the breeze was fresh. It was a potent reminder of how much I love working in the garden. As with my knitting and so many other things I love to do, it is the process rather than the end result which gives me the most satisfaction.

As always when just planted the garden doesn’t look like much. It is more a promise for the future. But soon the seeds will sprout and it will become a garden, rather than a promise. Today we are supposed to have rain and that will start things off.

Poor, Lonely Blog

I am a poor, lonely blog, all too long ignored by my blogger. She should feel very naughty for letting me sit with nothing to say for so very long. Perhaps if you, my readers, would all write my blogger notes, she would be inspired, encouraged, guilted into writing me again.

Please write her, tell her she needs to mend her ways and write me again.

Tricoter

The first class compartment was old, but still in good shape.  The red plush seats were firm, over the back of each bench seat a mirror ran from side to side with hooks at each end for hanging outerwear.  Overhead ample metal racks kept possessions out from under foot and permitted the use of each of the six seats if the train was full.  The compartment was comfortable and organized and it felt like a train heading south from Paris should feel: romantic and timeless.

We were on a whirlwind trip to the Dordogne, the home of rich country pate and strong local wines. It was a thirty-six hour odyssey to attend the international publication event for a best-selling novelist’s first work in twelve years and we would spend more time traveling to and from our destination than we would actually spent at our destination.

I was traveling with a colleague, a good-looking man about my same age with whom I was only somewhat acquainted.  We were traveling with polite deference toward each other, not sure of each other’s likes and dislikes, but determined to be polite and professional.  I did know that he was very much looking forward to the fine wines and heavy meals the next few hours were sure to bring.

The train compartment was not ours alone.  At the first stop out of Paris, two older women joined us.  The women seemed to be of the same age, hair greyed with the passing years.  They were wearing comfortable traveling clothes and carrying shopping bags  and I was quite sure they had gone to Paris to visit family and to purchase the kinds of things not offered in their local shops.  My rusty French was adequate to exchange amiable greetings and then we rode on in silence.

Knitting in front of business associates always makes me feel exposed, vulnerable.  How can you take someone seriously who is holding needles attached to a ball of string.  The train swung gently back and forth and the movement was irresistible.  Four hours in a train, four hours with nothing to busy my hands, four hours just ideal for contented and reflective knitting.  The train rolled on and each passing minute was a lost opportunity.  What a waste to sit staring alternately at the pages of a book and the passing scene from the window.  How perfect to feel the soft wool flow through my fingers as I knit my way south through France.  To gaze out the window at fields and woods, small towns whizzing past and feel the fabric grow beneath my fingers, the train and the knitting forming the best of partnerships.  It was too much for me, I had to succumb.

I opened my work bag and with a defiant flourish pulled forth my knitting.  My colleague looked over and blinked with surprise to see needles and string, not a manuscript, emerge from my bag.  My hands quickly found their comfortable position and I sighed out loud with happiness.  “Vous aimez tricoter?” the lovely musical french phrase broke my trance. “Pardon?”  Rusty linguistic skills don’t fail me now… “Vous aimez tricoter?” the woman across from me wearing a brown cardigan repeated her question with a clear nod to the work in my hands. “Ah, oui. Je l’aime beaucoup.”

With warm smiles, both women opened their own carry on bags and brought forth needles and yarn.  Age and linguistic barriers began slowly to crumble beneath shared interests.  Knitting and chatting, the miles flew by as we discussed our projects and I slowly learned the vocabulary to go with our common passion.  There is a language shared throughout the world by all who love the process of creation with yarn and needles.  It is a common tongue whenever both are present.

Hedgehog Mitts

Hedgehog mania doesn’t stop with dictionary phrases or cute pictures. Amazingly, I found a pattern at Morehouse Merino for Hedgehog Mittens. I had to order the pattern.

Before I could begin the hedgehog mittens, I had to finish the sweater Ellie requested. This was the outcome of a visit to Northampton. Ellie complained of the cold. It is really cold in Northampton. She actually asked if I would make her a sweater. Given that none of my children have been willing to wear things I had knit for them since they started dressing themselves, this was a big deal. We headed straight in to Northampton Wools and bought some gorgeous purple Merino and a pattern of Ellie’s choice. It turned out quite nicely. I am pleased to report that Ellie wears her sweater constantly.

Emboldened by this triumph, I began the hedgehog mittens. I felt a certain impetus to knit quickly lest Spring overtake me and the warm weather obviate the need for mittens. The need for speed was somewhat hampered by the fact that the hedgehog mittens featured quills on the back of each hand. Each “quill” required using a cable cast on to cast on four stitches and then binding off each of the four stitches. A plain knit stitch separated each quill and each row of quills was separated by a row of knit stitch. Nonetheless, it was a little like climbing up and down hills with my needles and geometrically increased the number of stitches knit for each mitten.

Well, the mittens are done. They look pretty cute. They are wrapped and ready to post to the girl. Let’s hope for some cold weather for just a bit longer.

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