A Shitty Day

This is Maverick. This morning, Maverick pooped in the house
three times, forcing me to come to a very important conclusion about my life. Thank you Maverick.  

It's Monday morning and I wanted to carry my birthday-weekend-high well into this coming week. I wanted to sleep in. But my son texted me. "Can you like get up and go get me some candy for my Physics presentation?" "When is it?" "Can you basically like go right now? My class is at 9:30am."

Oh, don't get me wrong. It's not as if Peter and I partied the weekend away. Hardly. As a matter of fact, we were back at our hotel room before 10pm. We were watching TV when the couple in the next room returned. I know this because I heard every word they uttered, groaned, and well, you get the picture. Their headboard must have been right next to ours. Over the course of the evening, I heard the people upstairs take a shower and the people downstairs repeatedly flush the toilet, all the whiles knowing full well, they could hear us as well.
     It was a cheap hotel. The only one Peter could find on Priceline, his portal of choice when booking a hotel room. Since it was the only one listed in the small town we were going to go, he didn't bother reading the reviews. He should have. It was awful.

Did it spoil my weekend? Nope.

For my birthday on Friday, Peter bought me a couple of sweaters. They were nice. Over the weekend, I proceeded to buy other things I wanted as birthday gifts to myself. They were nicer.
     Was I upset that one of the sweaters he bought looks like the eight I already own or that it didn't fit? No.
     He got mad props for taking me to a weekend destination that I'd longed for but never vocalized. Somehow he knew and that's the best gift of all.

So, still flush with love and happiness, instead of sleeping in as planned, I happily awoke, got dressed, and went to head out to the nearest store to buy my son crucial elements for his impending presentation - candy.
     But no, not so fast.
     First, I had to clean up the three piles of poop my son's dog had left all over the house. I dumped his dumps into the toilet only to clog the drain. I unclogged it, mopped up the spillage, washed my hands, then washed them again and off I went.

     After briefly searching for the least labor-rights violating, most environmentally friendly brands of store-bought candy, I debated whether or not I had time to get some coffee too. His class wasn't for an hour. I decided I did.
     But then, coffee in hand, as I turn the ignition, nothing happens. No lights, no radio, no power. OH no!
     I repeatedly push the gear shift into place. I turn the steering wheel. I flip the ignition. Nothing. Nothing. Nah...Then mysteriously, it clicks and I am saved from having to call my husband in Brooklyn to ask what I should do. I am free to accomplish this task that seemed so simple but this morning is nearly unsurmountable. And much to my surprise, I'm still in a damn good mood.

I drop off the candy, come home, post on FB about this ridiculous day (It's only 9:00am, mind you!), when after responding to a comment, I realize, yes. That's it!
     "Shit happens." I wrote Dolly. Yes, it does.
    Sometimes, there are no explanations. There are no good reasons, that we are aware of. Most times, things happen and we can either accept them, be haunted by them, be controlled by them or we can shrug our shoulders and decide not to take on that burden and go about our day.
     The world will keep turning. Your life will most likely keep going. And you will survive.
     How you choose to feel about it, that's totally up to you. I know, I know, it sounds simple (Psst! At 52, I now know, it is! It really is!) and not everyone reaches this conclusion at the same time. But trust me. Take a look at a situation (good and bad) and practice seeing both ways. Conceiveably, every situation has a good and bad side. You keep doing that and keep recognizing the positive, slowly you start to not only believe that the world is on your side, you actually stop feeling the negative.

Shit happens. It certainly does. But, you know what? You can pick that shit up, throw that shit out, decide not to give a shit and move on..That's what I choose to do. Get rid of the shit and move on.

Birthdays from Hell.

It's the eve of my birthday. 

I have a funny feeling every year this date rolls around.

Since marrying Peter, I have had an issue with my birthday. It seemed to matter more than ever that he recognize the day of my birth more than anyone else. For some reason, his acknowledging it meant more than any birthday party my mom would throw for me, birthday celebration my friends would show me or birthday wish my children bestowed on me.

One year, I asked to take a writing class. Instead, he got me a night at the Ritz Carlton. I was heart broken.

One year, he showed up at my job in Boca Raton with a cake he baked himself. I was embarrassed.

Another year, my 40th year, he offered to throw me a party, inviting all of our friends in Gaborone, but a few days before, I was so mad at him, I cancelled it giving our "pending divorce" as the reason.

Then, two years ago, he got things right. Was it that he brought me flowers - not the long stemmed roses he'd bought me one year, but the tulips I had asked for? Did he pick out a beautiful timeless sweater instead of a tight-ill fitting one that I made him return? I can't even tell you the details because I don't remember. The next year, the same. He 'nailed it', as one of my son's friends has been known to say.

What did he do differently? I don't know. Maybe it was the year that lead up to the birthday? Maybe he paid closer attention to me. Maybe he was present when he was with me, instead of closed off and distant. Maybe he showed me how much he loved me and enjoyed my company. Or maybe, now I could see, hear, and feel these sentiments and most importantly, believe them.

How many birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, weekends...moments, really, throughout our lives together had I refused to see, feel, believe the love he gave me? Why spend so much time worrying, wondering, and wasting love? Why, indeed.

I'm over 50 this year. Plenty of birthdays behind me and hopefully plenty ahead. But reality is that there are far more in the past then in the future and when I look back, I hope I remember the glamor of a night at the Ritz, the decadence of the delicious mocha chocolate frosting, the party that took place anyway because our friends rallied behind me during an especially vulnerable year.

As I look forward, I have no idea what the future holds, but I know, I have much to look forward to.
I have experienced amazing, sad, fun, funny, and mysterious things. Just in the past year, I've lost an aunt, two adoring and adored pets, signed on to start a new project, further released my able and amiable daughter into the world, thanks to his GoPro, watched my son smash his handsome face into the side of a mountain and listen to the Pediatrician tell him he's lucky he didn't lose an eye, got a puppy, gave my husband the beginnings of my long overdue memoir, and called myself a writer, once again.

At 52, my son will get his driver's license and finally face the dreaded college admissions process, my daughter will turn 21, my mom faces cancer treatment on the heels of her sister dying of 'complications brought on by cancer', and with the love of my life and the best friend I could ever hope for, we'll be fixing up a tiny cabin in a hundred acre wood so that he can fish, so that I can write.

Good and bad, it's going to one hell of a year!

A Bow to Bowie

http://www.superstarmagazine.com/how-under-pressure-sounds-without-music-freddie-mercury-and-david-bowie-a-cappella/

The first thing I saw on FB was, "David Bowie dead at 69". I searched the Internet hoping it was a hoax, but to my dismay, it was true.

I'm in my 50's so I lived my teenage years with Bowie as an icon. A daring, handsome, ambiguous rock star  that didn't just wear the persona while performing, but truly seemed to be made of stardust. He was brilliant on and off the stage, in front of and behind the camera.

There was a guy one year ahead of me in school who idolized Bowie, so much so, that he dressed, spoke, strode his way through high school being called David. It would have been silly but he really was that cool. I can only imagine how devastated he is today. 

It's not as if I've even seen him live. I'm not an avid concert goer although I've been to see icons like the Rolling Stones, U2, Genisus when Peter Gabriel was still the lead in huge auditoriums, and people like Sarah McLachlan in more intimate venues. 

Unlike so many celebrities today, he didn't really live his life in the public eye. Sure there were stories, most of them seemed to be more urban legends, but for the ever evolving performer, he only shared his public life with us. 

His songs are familiar to my kids not so much because they are still played on the radio, but rather because they are part of pop culture in Adam Sandler movies, on the Big Bang Theory, and as memes. 

For me, David Bowie's passing is a shock and a heartfelt sadness because Cancer has plagued the lives of my family members recently and I can't imagine him suffering these past 18 months. The indignity of the disease, as I know from watching my aunt die from it just a few months ago, makes me feel the more sorrowful because he knew the time was near. 

And yet, this is what I've said so often. We die the way we lived. He released a new album and a video on his birthday just days before he passed away. He was able to say good bye to those nearest to him and those of us who admired him from afar. He was able to increase his immortality, never truly disappearing from our world with a new music and a new music video. 

While I profoundly feel that the world lost a genuine legend, a bit of glitter, a whole lot of shine...we were so lucky to have lived during his time.
"Pretty soon now you're gonna get older,
Time may change me,
But I can't trace time."

"There's a starman waiting in the sky,
He'd like to come and meet us,
But he thinks he'd blow our minds,
There's a starman waiting in the sky,
He told us not to blow it,
'Cause he knows it's all worthwhile."

#DavidBowie  #AdamSandler "Starman "ZiggyStardust 

Grateful and Regretful - The Croc that nearly got away

It's that kind of day - you know the kind where everything you do reminds you of a time and place. You're grateful for the memory, regretful that it had to end. Stories from our life in Botswana were not always pleasant, but where would we be and who would we have become without them?

...in the midst of writing about our time in Bots...have I told you the one about the croc that nearly got away?