An important weekend for the women…

(Sweet Carrie above.)

This weekend centered around women, not necessarily by design but due to the circumstances around me. My boss scheduled our holiday celebration on Saturday night, a great idea after letting the hustle and bustle of the season fade. We were initially scheduled for a dinner party at Spin in the financial district of San Francisco. There was a double booking at the last minute, so we switched from ping pong to bowling.

Rick and I decided to splurge and book for two nights at the Marriott Marquis right in the heart of the city between Market and Mission. 

We made dinner plans with our friend Paul on Friday night at a fabulous Mexican restaurant next door. We didn’t realize when the event was first scheduled that the Women’s March of 2020 would be taking place on Saturday, right in front of our hotel. The older I get, and likely also because I now live in such a rural environment, I’m not the biggest fan of large crowds. I cheer on the participants, but you will not likely find me amid the masses.

Rick and I decided it would be fun to be decadent and stay in our hotel room all day, order room service, bring our books and computer, play games, and only think about leaving the room late when the crowds dissipated. As the weekend progressed, I couldn’t have been happier with a slow day to process my feelings.

Some of my readers may remember me writing about the passing of my friend, Carrie, a few years back. Our dinner plans on Friday were with her husband, Paul, and a wonderful woman, Lisa, with whom he has recently started spending time. Even though it’s been over two years since Carrie’s passing, I still find my throat closing and my eyes welling up when I think of her. Rick kept glancing my way throughout the dinner, worrying that I might not handle the evening well.

And he was right to be worried. I’m nothing if not emotional; sometimes, I don’t do the best job of masking my feelings. At times during the dinner, I could see myself from a bird’s eye view, completely split emotionally speaking. Part of me still wants to rage at the injustice of my friend’s early passing, yet here I was being called on to meet this new friend of Paul’s, who I must admit is an undeniably lovely woman. The battle within me quieted quickly as I genuinely enjoyed the conversation, the fantastic food, and getting to know this new woman that I could envision as a friend. That’s when I learned that Carrie was not far from us in spirit and was sending her love our way.

We parted ways reasonably early as they had another event they needed to attend that evening. Rick and I made our way back to the room to settle in. Rick continued to look at me sideways, probably still waiting for the dam to break. And, of course, I did end up crying a bit, but they were just tears that still needed to be shed over losing my friend so unexpectedly. And I’m sure they won’t be the last. But with the prospect of Paul having such an incredible new companion, there is at least a new light for me to consider.

We awoke Saturday morning, enjoying the comfort of a Marriott bed. They are the best! It was great not needing to rush anywhere. I yawned and stretched and slowly reconnected with the world around me. I knew that the streets below me were filling as I lounged. I was happily cocooned 29 floors up. Once I was awake, I opened my phone and received not one but two disturbing messages.

The first was from our friend Janet telling us that our friend Ann’s mom was suffering from congestive heart failure and that they would be putting her on hospice care. God bless those hospice workers, God’s angels on earth, to be sure. We exchanged texts and tucked the sad news in our hearts for continued prayers.

Next, I read my niece’s blog post about her sister’s breast biopsy that had just taken place. Within minutes, I was texting my niece Wendy to send my support and love while she awaited the results. We, too, exchanged texts, and I tucked away Wendy alongside Ann in my heart. So much emotion, and it was only 10:00 o’clock.

The morning progressed, and Rick fell back asleep, snoozing quietly beside me. I welcomed a few moments to myself playing solitaire on my computer, letting the tears intermittently slide down my cheeks. The thousands of women 29 stories below me lining up on Market offered their strength. I kept thinking about what lovely creatures women are.

And I love men just as much, but that’s another post. These 24 hours had been a lesson about females– my friend Carrie, Paul’s friend Lisa, my friend Janet passing along the news about my friend Ann fearing the loss of her mother Janet, my niece Wendy worrying about breast cancer, my niece Margie, the messenger. I had to pause to realize the women in my life are a force.

Feeling my need for reinforcement, I texted my sister-in-law Lorene, not telling her anything about the day but just saying I missed her. We both typically move at lightning speed, and it’s a toss-up whether we find time for a phone call, usually not. But my phone rang within two hours, and I can’t tell you how nice it was to discuss my day with her. She, of course, offered her unconditional support, which can always be counted on, but more important than that, it was just good to hear her voice, to laugh and commiserate.

I also closed the afternoon out, texting with my friend Colleen, positive subjects about our lovely daughters and babies on the horizon. 24 hours embracing women on the 29th floor of the Marriott, I didn’t even need to go downstairs to where all the action was. It’s a day I won’t forget any time soon.

To the women in my life, past, present, and future, those who have passed, and the new friends I see on my horizon, I love and thank all of you for being the amazing people you are. And to the ladies who marched this weekend, thank you for your efforts and your commitment to making the world a better place.

Apricot jam

Once a year if I’m lucky I settle down long enough to make apricot jam… not just any apricot jam, but my Julie’s jam. Losing our loved ones is probably one of the hardest lessons we have on earth. And while time has healed my broken heart enough to carry on, I can on any given day cry thinking of my dear friend. I wouldn’t even venture to change that. My way of thinking, tears are merely a measure of how much I enjoyed my friend. They come with the territory.
Julie made pretty much the best apricot jam around. And now, thanks to her, so do I. Her recipe, much like she lived her life, cuts no corners. She would spend three to four hours, stirring the apricots to cook them down. The whole process takes the better part of a day, and every minute spent is rewarded two-fold.
Jam day now feels like I’m spending the day with Julie. I reminisce with her all during the day. We watch a few good movies as I stir for hours. This year we watched a couple of cute Amazon Prime movies with Diane Keaton. Julie left me her copper jam-making pot, so inevitably I send pictures to her sons to let them know it’s apricot jam day. And if I’m lucky, we end up laughing for an hour on the phone, just like I would have done with Julie had I been cooking with her. Life continues to delight me as it teaches me that the threads that weave throughout any family tapestry pass down through the generations.
I thank heaven for angels disguised as friends, for copper jam pots, for apricot trees and for children left to carry on such a beautiful legacy.

United hearts

I’ve talked about our friends, Janet and Lalo before.  I like to refer to them as a couple of posers, angels trying to pass as humans.  They are simple people who love the earth and its inhabitants, are not extravagant, just kind caring people who do some pretty damn nice things for others … often.

Lalo has been creating mosaics for years.  Lalo spent his life teaching, and one of his early mosaics was for the school district he was teaching at in Fresno.  They still proudly display it today.  Over the years he has created more mosaics than he can probably count, for friends and loved ones.

In the last few years, Lalo was able to retire.  One might ask, what does a retired angel do with his time?  Well, the answer is, he does more mosaics, of course.  But what I love is that he’s branched out.  A  few years back he started creating amazingly beautiful mosaics for wineries, without being asked, or paid.  If Janet and Lalo enjoyed visiting a winery over time, he would just show up one day with this mosaic masterpiece that seriously, if the winery were to commission an artist to create anything even remotely as nice, would be extremely costly.

Instead of anyone asking or even understanding what he does, Lalo just moseys into the winery in his unassuming way, presenting the owner with his magnificent creation.  Really?  How many people would do that?  When we heard about one of his first ones, we came along for the unveiling.  I kept thinking to myself …  if I was the owner of this winery, I would be blown away.  Lucky day … jackpot.

That day, I decided that I wanted to do my part to create a buzz. I want his work to be known as “A Lalo Sanchez,”  but preferably before the artist dies.  I’ve been joking with him since, and told him one day I would post about him.  Of course, the mere mention makes him shake his head and look away with a giggle … you know those angels, they won’t take much credit.

I have been waiting for the right story, and last weekend my mind finally began the process of putting together this post.  Once again we were graced with a visit from Janet and Lalo.  Since it was so cold out (this angel doesn’t like the cold) we decided to do more inside work than outside, so Lalo brought along his current mosaic project, a surprise for an old friend who likes to race.  We set up camp on our kitchen table, each of us taking a side to work on, and for the better part of two days we worked to complete the mosaic.

It’s been a long time since I did a craft.  I sewed and stitched and quilted for years and always found the process of creating enormously enjoyable and therapeutic.  These days my artwork happens in my garden and on my computer, and I equally love that, but there’s something about creating a work of art with your hands, something that takes shape as you continue to painstakingly work at it, right before your eyes … just the thought of it makes me breathe deep and shake my head.  It’s so satisfying and I think just damn good for your soul.

What I found interesting as the weekend progressed, was the number of minutes that would pass between anyone needing to speak.  Four people sitting intimately around a small wooden table not uttering a word for 20 minutes at a time, that’s interesting to me.

Studies have found that when humans sing or chant together, their heartbeats synchronize.  Think about that … to me, it’s just such a confirmation that we are all so connected in more ways than we will ever know, and that we communicate not only through our words, but maybe even more so through our bodies, our energies and our minds.

I was contemplating that when we sat so quietly piecing tiles together, wondering if our combined energy was hovering somewhere just over our heads, uniting in the magnificence that can only be described as love, creating not only something of beauty, but something that would continue into the world bringing perhaps a harmony or a positive energy.  And at that moment, I understood just how important Lalo’s work is, all of those numerous Lalo Sanchez’s that are starting to add up  around the state.

To date, the  lucky wineries include Tobin James in Paso Robles, Bodega de Edgar in Paso Robles, Klinker Brick in Lodi, Idle Hour in Oakhurst, and Ziveli in Fresno.

One of his latest major projects was for the Fresno Fire Department.  They used the mosaic to help solicit donations.  And his newest project, he will be working on something for the Shriners in the hopes that it can raise funds for such a great charitable organization.

I hope to get my hands back on some tiles again soon, but in the meantime I will be just as thankful when my fingers find themselves on my keyboard.

If you happen to be at any of the above wineries, you might want to ask to see their Lalo Sanchez, and make sure to emphasize his name if you think of it.

Namaste

Julie, a lesson in human grace

It’s interesting to me that the last post I wrote addressed a fear that life might not provide enough to blog about.  The last few weeks have been filled with more than I can fit in one blog, maybe not even five.  Last night I woke up as is my way, at about 2:00 in the morning, my mind ready to formulate my blog post(s).  I’ve come to welcome the interrupted sleep, as it means I’m ready to continue on this journey with you, my readers.
I tossed and turned for at least two hours, my tears falling softly upon my pillow as I recounted the blessings and sorrows of my life.  I always feel a little bad for Rick on these nights, as I wrap my arm around him for comfort, and then turn away as my mind wanders into writing mode. We shift back and forth together, sleeping dancers, for however long it takes me to finish formulating my thoughts, piecing together the story as I would a quilt, layering the colors and feelings until the vision is as beautiful as my mind’s eye.  (Might not have mentioned I’m a quilter.)
In the wee morning hours, my mind usually finds comfort in my ideas for the upcoming post, and I am finally able to drift off.  It’s such fun to make my way to the computer to hopefully return to the ideas that kept me from sleep.  And in more cases than not, it’s with gratitude and enjoyment that I return.
The past few weeks have been filled with much movement and change moving forward, but at the same time looking back, which is what I want to address in this post,  a return to the past.  I don’t know about you guys, but I see patterns in my life.  I seem to pass through periods that delve into one subject over and over again.  Lessons come to me from all avenues about a particular subject.  And when that happens, I think  to myself that I have something to learn or to reconcile, and in some wonderful instances, just a cherished memory to embrace.
I have found myself revisiting many of my private historical landscapes. An unusual number of memories for such a short period of time have sidled up next to me hitching a ride which I’ve been more than happy to offer up, memories of loved ones who have left this earth, and also loved ones who I’ve chosen to take a different path from.  Either way, the disconnect of yesteryear was in most cases painful and difficult, so the reconnect has been nothing short of blissful, but also extremely emotional.
These memories deserve their own post, in honor of my past, so I will focus only on one in this post, my memories of Julie.
Julie is and was a lesson in human grace.
Julie … if  you know me, you know that Julie was my gal … my Clarence (angel) … my mentor, my life teacher, and in the end, one of my dearest friends.  I am sure my readers can relate and replace the character on this page with the names of their loved ones.
I lost a larger than life angel from nothing more than a human condition.  It took me aback, and it also took me years to reconcile my loss.  But I never lost site of what I’d learned from Julie …
A Love Of … not in any particular order … laughter, helping others, cooking, children, her children, cleaning, rising to the occasion, doing your best, being the best of a friend/neighbor/loved one … and what I know she would want me to add is, doing something kind for another without looking for any reward.
When I met Julie, she was in the prime of her life, and I was beyond lucky to tag along on her journey with Chris, her youngest son… Paul, her oldest … and Chuck, her husband.  I was 26 when I moved in across the street from Julie.  Because of Julie, I do believe in love at first sight, because I fell head over heels in love the first time I met her, and that love never wavered.  I was a very unaccomplished young cook, putting it mildly.  And Julie was probably the best cook I’ve ever known.  I used to joke that she could put dog food on the table, and you’d walk away remarking how great the meal was.
We began what would become a cherished experience, cooking together, shortly after we met.  She took pity on me, or probably more likely my husband, and took it upon herself to teach me to cook.  For years once every few weeks about 4:00 I’d get a call asking if I was free to come learn another of her amazing dishes.  I’d drop whatever I was doing and make my way quickly across the street.  She would teach … I would learn … but mostly we just enjoyed those hours together laughing and sharing whatever was new in our lives at that time.  Julie ranks up there with Ron, who I’ve spoken of in previous posts, in terms of people that not only influenced my life, but changed it significantly.
Julie left about eight years ago, and a few months back, her husband Chuck finally made his way to meet her once again.  I have no doubt that they are dancin’ in heaven … she did so love to dance.
A few weeks ago I visited her youngest, Chris, and his lovely wife, Jenn, at their home in Florida for the first time.  It was so special to finally have and make the time to spend with them.  I felt such pride seeing the amazing man Chris has become, and enjoyed getting to know the lovely woman he has the blessing to be married to.  Both of Julie’s sons are amazing people… of course, they were raised by Julie.
As we entered their home, I stopped in my tracks … Julie was everywhere.  I had not anticipated this.  Our room had her bedroom set.  Pieces of her furniture adorned most rooms, artwork on the walls, a basket I recognized on a table, a teapot in the kitchen.  Chris and Jenn, of course, have added a great deal of their own decorating choices to their home, but even their taste, gorgeous but simple. reminded me of Julie.  She could create a space on a shoestring budget that you just couldn’t get enough of, a combination of good taste and good will went into her home … and visiting Chris and Jenn’s home surprisingly took me back.  I fought the tears for probably the first hour or so, but as I gave in and let the feelings wash over me, I quickly found that I LOVED being in and amongst her things.
For a few precious days, I basked in my memories and felt her close.  I laughed with her son like I used to laugh with her … and once again I was reminded that life has such gifts to receive if we reach back for them … so often, we find reasons not to.  (Reminder to self:  take time, make time, remember tomorrow is never a guarantee.)
There’s so much more to this blessed story that I will undoubtedly post about in time.  But for now, I just wanted to share this experience with you all in the hopes that you might find yourselves in my story.  If I’ve learned anything in my 62 years, it’s that we humans are far more alike than different.  We choose to show up dressed in unique garb of different colors, but that’s what makes it so much fun.  So many flowers to enjoy in the garden.  (I think I’ve said that before, and probably will many more times.)
Before I close, I just wanted to welcome my three new readers this week, even when I wasn’t posting!  Awesome … and blogging news,  wait for it … I now have 200 followers.  Compared to many bloggers, that may not sound like much, but for me, that number sounds like heaven.  Two hundred souls joining me on my journey … I breathe it in, then breathe it out in such gratitude.  Can’t wait to connect with you guys soon, lots to catch up on.
Namaste

Friends

Friends are one of life’s extraordinary gifts. They aren’t souls that gravitate toward us because they are part of our family, a work associate, or some other mandatory connection that you enjoy (or not). They enter our lives randomly, and the connection is immediate. Some call it chemistry, and there is definitely that. There’s an ease in their presence, an absence of a need to try too hard, and, in most cases, a shared sense of humor. I’ve never had a good friend that I didn’t laugh with … a lot.

My experience has been that friends come in all shapes and sizes and for all different lengths of time. Some will only be with you for a specific part of your life, for as long as needed. I have thought of those friends as my outside circle. 

My inside circle has always been something altogether different, and those relationships have, in most cases, passed the test of time. Maybe because I was an only child, my friends took on an elevated importance in my life. 

A few days ago, my dear friend Cindi sent me a text asking me to call. At our age, it’s never good if a friend texts you asking you to call. Not to be negative, but it’s usually news they don’t want to deliver via text. And sadly, my suspicions were correct; we had lost our dear friend, Carrie. What compounded the hurt when receiving the news was that I didn’t even know she was ill. 

Life is interesting … some friends leave you for whatever reason with a great deal of noise and drama, and some leave so quietly that you didn’t even know they were planning to go.

Carrie came into my life in my young thirties … our girls went to preschool together. Our children were three years old in a class with a fantastic teacher. Four of us mothers gravitated to one another just as our children had. It was a toss-up who was enjoying who more, the kids or us moms. Between us, four women, we had nine children, but this class in particular consisted of my Amy, and then Natalie, Taylor, and Stevie, three girls and one boy. 

We all shared a few precious years together, but in the last year of preschool, Mindy, who was Stevie’s mom, developed brain cancer. We lost Mindy in a short time. Losing anyone is hard, but there are a few circumstances that rip your heart out more than others … namely, a child dying or a young mom leaving behind her child.

We grieved Mindy’s loss, feeling we had been granted a stay, but reminded that the gift of enjoying our children grow from babies to toddlers to adolescents and then to adults was not to be taken for granted. 

Carrie and I lost touch for several years as our children were not in the same school district, but about ten years ago, we reunited. And just as most old friends find, it was like no time had passed. I enjoyed all her same sweet personality traits like it was yesterday … the way she told a funny story, giggling all the while telling it, her fabulous sense of humor, and the look in her eye as she finished the tale asking only with her expression for your take on the hilarious narrative she had just shared with you. They were such crazy life anecdotes about aging parents and the like, and always full of the ridiculous, so it was great fun to join in and share the humor with her.

Carrie and Paul visited us a year and a half ago, spending a great weekend hiking. As I piece together this story in hindsight, it was perhaps after that visit that she became ill, and my mom also began to decline. As our lives went in separate stressful directions, neither of us knew what the other was up to, and it wouldn’t have been unusual to lose touch for months or even a year. There was that comfort between friends that we would reunite with stories to share when the time was right.

And it was time to reconnect; I had been thinking of her for a month. She was on my list… I’ll never think of my list quite the same after this.

Our original circle of four is now two … a new reprieve, a new lesson about appreciating the gift of watching our children become adults, perhaps marry and become parents.

Cindi said something interesting when we talked, “I imagined this conversation in your blog.” She was correct; this would make its way to my blog about crossroads, change, aging, loss, health, stress, fitness, yoga, renewal … in other words, life.

To Carrie, in the heavens above, I send my love and, sadly, my regret. I know you are beyond such earthly cares, but I hope you know. And to my readers, get on the damn phone and call any loved one you have been thinking about, or text or do whatever you do to share that blessed connection you feel with them.

Namaste

The photo is of my daughter, Amy, on the right, Taylor (Carrie’s daughter) in the middle, Natalie (Cindi’s daughter) on the left, and sweet Mindy behind in the oversized white collar. Like mother(s) … like daughter(s)…always laughing.