Stargazers

There are a lot of things about this time under quarantine that will change me forever, many of them beautiful gifts. It reminds of me that last week before my babies were born. They were late, and each day the waiting was interminable, but I spent the time doing things I would never normally have done. Making friendship bracelets, shopping for mysteries at a used bookstore, going to brunch with my husband on a weekday. How to spend time in an innocent, innocuous, easy way when you are bigger than a house, it's hot as hades (July), you don't want to spend money, etc.

These days, when everything is closed (even the parks), money needs to be saved, and we are all together with no place to go, we are finding new activities, new patterns, new ways of being with each other, new hobbies, and new interests.

The girls have opened a bakery in the playroom and it seems whenever we bake one thing we bake two things at a time. So far Confetti cookies have been a big hit, but we've made our classic family Chocolate Chippers, sugar cookies dyed and marbled to resemble the planet earth as seen from the moon, Magnolia Bakery cupcakes (while retelling the story of when I wouldn't let Kris have a bite of mine when we were dating -- he ordered banana pudding instead, if you can believe it), and pound cake. We made a pizza out of potatoes. Kris cooked a turkey for Easter (our first bird).

We started out with family movies nightly, but that was when we had no kitchen or dining room and every meal was eaten huddled around our coffee table in close proximity to the TV. We watched a lot of classics from our childhood (Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Back to the Futures 1-3, Ferris Beuhler's Day Off, A Princess Bride) and some contemporaries (Frozen 2, Forward, The Princess Diaries 1-2).

We've planted seedlings. We've weeded like we've never weeded before.

One night we went for a walk after dinner and watched the stars come out. It was dark, and I pulled the girls in a wagon. We looked at the moon, we noticed a bright star in the sky that turned out to be Venus. The longer we walked, the more stars we could count. We saw Orion's belt appear. It was exciting.

My father started coming over once a week to give astronomy lessons. I downloaded the stargazing app. You hold your phone to the sky and it shows you what constellations you can see. Last night we noticed two stars above the moon -- the heads of the twins of Gemini, Castor and Pollux.

To me, there is nothing more magical, an activity I imagine I'd take up in the best version of my life, and one I certainly wouldn't be doing if not for the quarantine.

I've often time found times of great tragedy and disruption to be teachers. It's uncomfortable to admit but sometimes when everyday life is grinding away I wish that something would disrupt it, snuff out all the momentum and hit the pause button. Unfortunately, I have found that only tragedy and waiting for babies can really slow time -- to recenter and refocus life. The hope is that we will carry these new, slower rhythms with us in the future.

The Odyssey

I sit here watching Wimbledon waiting to go to the hospital for an 11am appointment to be induced. I don't need to pack a bag because my bag has been in the car for a week! I had no expectation that I'd be 10 days past my due date and counting. None whatsoever. But that's the way these things go. I've been hooked up to the baby monitor 4 times in the last two weeks and all reports are that the baby is doing great. Great heartbeat, great bloodflow. I've had 2 ultrasounds and she looks a little squished but otherwise seems to be enjoying herself, moving around doing dance routines as we get poked and prodded. A showoff. Apparently your amniotic fluid levels have to be above 5 to be considered safe... Mine were at a 10 yesterday. They estimate her to be 8 lbs 10 oz, but could be up to a pound off either way (yikes!).

But when my doctor came in yesterday examine me, after all this good news she said, "The baby is perfect, she's doing great. Much better than you are." Maybe the nurse had told her that I was clearly having a nervous breakdown when she came in to check on me. Or maybe she could just see it in my eyes.

I have been kidding that the baby knows I needed a vacation. I did, surely. And it's been really nice to have some time off to gather myself before her arrival. Our parents have been awesome about watching the Pipster and she has been super eager to have sleepovers, so I've been able to get a lot of R&R. Frankly I miss my little one a bit, clearly more than she does me. But it bodes well for her in this transition that she feels so comfortable out and about. But there are strategies to waiting. For a while I employed the "tomorrow, it'll definitely be tomorrow" tactic. That starts to wear on you after a week.

A few days ago I decided that if I felt good (some days are better than others) I would just go about my business as if I wasn't 41 weeks pregnant, and stop worrying about arrival times. But that puts you into a delusional state. There is no baby! Labor and delivery? What? I just wasn't feeling mentally prepared anymore, or in the frame of mind that we were about to become a family of 4. And that was unsettling. The other thing that pops into your head is that everything's just fine until it's not -- like you're waiting for something bad to happen.

I don't know what happened to me as I stared up at the fluorescent lights in the doctor's office, listening to her little heartbeat running around 160. I just lost it and it was hard to get back. I think maybe it was a way of the universe nudging me to communicate my wishes with my doctor when I might otherwise have told myself to buck up and keep waiting. What came out of my mouth was that I couldn't go any longer than Thursday. She recommended we schedule an induction because my body, in her opinion, was ready.

So I had orders to call the hospital this morning at 5am to confirm my 6am arrival time. I set my alarm for 4:45, hopped in the shower, and... They had a crazy night and there were no beds available (!!!). Call back at 9. Luckily the Mister only had 1 sip of coffee and was able to go back to bed to get some more sleep. After trying for about an hour to go back to sleep myself, I came downstairs and low and behold, "Sneakers," my favorite Robert Redford movie, was on. I used to have it on VHS! What luck. I feel asleep on the couch and woke up a couple hours later to Breakfast at Wimbledon. Called the hospital at 9. They promised me they'd have a bed ready and everything set for 11. A much more civilized time for my fashionably late baby.

I thought I'd take a few minutes to record this epic journey to the starting line before life totally changes and I don't remember what it's like to have two free hands.

Man I am excited to meet this little girl. Keep you posted.

Current Events

Went to the U.S. Open the Tuesday after Labor Day to see the mens' 4th round and women's quarters in a night session. Federer and Wozniacki both won in straight sets, so we got out at a reasonable hour which is nice in my old age, but slightly disappointing compared to 2005 when I saw Agassi beat Blake in a barn burner. Still glad I went and my date declared we should make it a yearly tradition, which is exactly what I've been wanting someone to say to me since I was 14. Victory tastes sweet.

Now I can work on getting to Wimbledon.

Did a sketch for a friend's birthday card yesterday. I need to revive my hobbies or I'm in danger of dissolving into a hybrid couch potato/barfly in my free time. Right now it feels like I'm dabbling in everything and it's not sticking. I've got a Le Carre book languishing on the bed stand, a stalled needlepoint project (I told you, I'm old), and a twice a week running schedule. Ugh.

While waiting for the train home from the Open, my friend and I were talking about current events. I admitted I don't really follow the news anymore. I read the New Yorker and follow NPR via my Facebook feed (it hurts me to come clean about that, I usually refer to it as a "news feed."). It took a long time for me to inquire more about ISIS. Because really, do I want to know more about these people? It's disgusting.

I spent most of my twenties engaged and enraged about the death and suffering caused by the ignorance and righteousness of this country -- that's your takeaway when you study American History at NYU. But at about seve months pregnant with my daughter my fascination and anger turned to sadness, and I realized in order for me to live powerfully I couldn't do it anymore. I've transferred that over to Mr. SevPrez and now he fights the good fight on that front.

I confessed to my friend that I went through old journals and correspondence when we moved and found evidence of a smarter, wittier, more relevant, firecracker version of myself. I was so sure of myself and my opinions! I used to write better. I was unabashed.

Am I a complete milquetoast? Does that come with the territory of marriage, motherhood, and mid-thirtydom? It's disorienting to feel you've lost your shine, but with that comes humility, and with humility comes the opportunity for grace. I do slightly less embarrassing things and make much better sartorial decisions. I can finally cook. Everyday my daughter eats, sleeps, and dances. So if I'm a bit of a dud, at least there's that.

Still. Gotta finish that book, sign up for a race, learn needlepoint, and get to Wimbledon. These are great projects and I should keep them alive. Never give up.

All Is Well

I was talking to a close advisor of mine about the sensation of tuning into truths that have always been there. 

Lately I have been experiencing a sense of inner peace that I don't believe I've ever felt -- certainly not as an adult, or without the aid of any substances. Not joy, not contentment, not accomplishment, not mania. What it feels like is this: I am going to be OK, no matter what anybody says or does or what happens. I am going to be OK.

On the "You Made It Weird" podcast with Pete Holmes, which is usually quite bawdy and funny, Deepak Chopra said something that I can't stop thinking about. When he said it, it was like it infected me, and I'm grateful that I'm at a place where wise messages can get inside and transform me, rather than just be something to intellectualize. He said: "I don't have bad days or grumpy days because, essentially, I don't mind what happens. I mean, I don't control the total universe. And yet every moment is a conspiracy of the total universe. So why would I fight the whole universe? Once you've let go of your idea of how things should be, nothing ever goes wrong. So in my world, nothing ever goes wrong."

Hillary Clinton said "Take criticism seriously, but not personally." Yes.

Lou Reed wrote, in "Magic and Loss" (which I personally believe is more powerful as prose than song):

They say no one person can do it all,
But you want to in your head.
But you can't be Joyce
so what is left instead.
You're stuck with yourself
and a rage that can hurt you.
You have to start at the beginning again.
And just this moment
This wonderful fire started up again.

When you pass through humble,
When you pas through sickly,
When you pass through
I'm better than you all,
When you pass through
anger and self deprecation,
and have the strength to acknowledge it all,
When the past makes you laugh
and you can savor the magic
That let you survive your own war,
You find that there is a passion
and there's a door up ahead not a wall.

Resonant messages from those who have passed through this thing before me. I share them here in case my future self needs reminding. I share them here with you.

Yard To Table

Boston lettuce, collard greens, and romaine lettuce.

Mr. SevPrez was inspired to plant a vegetable garden in our backyard this spring. I was extremely skeptical, knowing that I wouldn't have much to contribute. Until two weeks ago I was getting home at 7 every day, with not enough time or energy to take care of my existing obligatgions. And my track record is not good. I have killed cacti. I have barely been able to keep potted flowers on our deck alive... I always start out with the best intentions, but with plants I tend to have the wrong instincts.


Thankfully Mr. SevPrez refused to listen to my nay-saying and went ahead with the garden. He chose a sunny spot in our yard, measured a plot around 4 by 16 ft, and started digging. Apparently, it's all about the soil. And we knew we didn't have good soil, as we can barely grow grass in spots of our lawn. Somewhere underground there is a pool that previous owners filled in when they had a baby. So we have issues. But he dug on, and double dug, and got a few bags of good soil from the nursery, and started composting. And it seemed to be working: Mr. SevPrez announces with great pride and excitement everytime he finds a worm. Apparently attracting worms to the garden party means you are doing something right.


Flash forward a few months and we have been enjoying the "vegetables" of our labor. All three of us have had collard greens sauteed in garlic and oil. Our lettuce varieties are growing fast and furiously so we've had lots of crispy salads, which is extra fantastic because even though I love salads, I hate buying salad greens at the grocery store because they always end up going bad before we can eat them all.


Is there anything worse than having to throw out spoiled vegetables? Not only did you manage to avoid eating the healthiest thing in your fridge, nature's bounty went to waste. Double whammy. I have really enjoyed composting because if I am forced to throw out any spoiled product, I don't feel so bad knowing it's contributing to future harvests. We also generate a lot of peels from making homemade baby food so it's very satifying to put it all somewhere that it will do more good.


Aside from all the herbs we've got going on, we are looking forward to beets, zuchini (Baby SevPrez's favorite veggie), leeks, onions, bell peppers, and jalapenos. Tomatoes will come in late summer. We planted blueberry bushes that should yield a couple pie's worth of berries in about a month. And we have a little pot of strawberries that the birds kept beating us to before we got nets.

The early bird gets the strawberries.

I am happy to say I am a garden convert. It's amazing to watch all the veggies grow before your very eyes. And there is nothing, nothing more exciting than being able to say, "I'll be right back, I'm going to pick the lettuce for dinner." Nothing.

Mr. SevPrez wanted me to share this quotation from the book that inspired it all, The Earth Knows My Name: Food, Culture, and Sustainability in the Gardens of Ethnic Americans by Patricia Klindienst: "If you cannot see where your food comes from, you are doomed to live in ugliness." Pretty heavy. But when we haven't gone grocery shopping all week and manage to throw together a healthy salad for lunch because we can walk outside and harvest our own lettuce, it all feels very light.

P.S.
Thanks to my readers who asked me where I've been. Sorry for leaving you hanging! More to come!

Progress

Since my last post I've been doing the January thing... Eating more green vegetables in my dinners (then, against my better judgement, following it  up with Twizzlers AKA poison, and waking up feeling terrible). Cleaning out my closet (triumphant without caveat). Going back to the Power Center where I have found that my fears of working out with 18 year old Division I scholarship athletes has been replaced with the even grimmer reality of working out with 13 year old boys. A horrifying situation for sure, but when I get past my urge to run out the door, I find it's actually an opportunity to put my middle school gym class feelings of inadequacy and isolation to rest once and for all -- which is not to say that I don't always finish last in all the exercises, or that I don't feel like screaming out "You know I had a baby 5 months ago!!!" but I'm getting there. Actually I find that my mom tendencies are more predominant -- I want to yell at the kids for being obnoxious, half-assing everything, and not doing all 3 sets of reps. Then I just tell myself, they are kids, and not your kids. Let them learn life's lessons at their own pace, which, after all, is the only pace at which anyone learns anything anyway. 


Yesterday morning I was mentally patting myself on the back for not buying anything in the month of January (sure it was only 12 days but it felt like SO much longer) when I got an email from my boss alerting me to a flash sale of brightly colored pillows on One King's Lane that she felt I just couldn't miss. Damnit! I ended up buying two pillows for our new couch (which still hasn't arrived yet). At checkout, next to the total you're spending, it says "You're saving $X amount!" which triggered all my rage and shame about our American consumer culture and made me feel like a stooge for making the purchase. But I did love the pillows, and we will give them a good home, and I can use them in any of the rooms of my house for a long time so I got over it. (Also in this category: I am looking to get a rug for P's room and have decided only to get a rug she won't grow out of and that we can use in other rooms. I had visions of a baby pink rug on the curb in 8 years.)

At the end of the day I will never be a minimalist.  
Hopefully just a manageablist.

Next. I was cleaning out my desk at work (for maintenance, I'm not going anywhere) and couldn't bring myself to toss this very old doodle. Ridiculous. This morning I decided to scan it and get over myself. I feel better, even if it is only a slip of paper. Does this count as posting a drawing? I have been meaning to draw something for a while now. Sigh.

Admit it: this would be the illest print on a pillow.
Totally worth keeping for 4 years.

Full disclosure, I also bought a bunch of watercolor markers yesterday. I think I must buy art supplies every winter, since all I aspire to do is stay in all weekend and make stuff (which actually happens once a year). Which is probably why I am so creative in all my fantasies about what our lives will be like if we move to Maine. Promise to post something I make with them soon, since that will further justify their purchase. Also I swear I am going to get my office organized, which means all my art supplies will have a beautiful nook to dwell in. More fantasies!!

And coming up: Stolen Goods Bake Shop will be popping up at The Market at Porta for Valentine's Day, on February 11th, noon to 4. We'll be bringing some excellent alternatives to Whitman Samplers that you can impress your valentines with. Thank me later.

Oh! And little P is rolling over, sitting up, and eating solids. Time flies!!!

Happy January.

The List Is Back

This morning over blueberry pancakes I had a little therapy session with Mr. SevPrez. I have been staying up til 2am every night with the feeling like I'm waiting for Santa. I have always been a night owl and now that I don't have any reason to set my alarm I'm showing my true colors. Waking up in the morning knowing there is nothing on the agenda, really, except birth this baby is a bit emotionally overwhelming, seeing as how I have no control over whether it happens or not. Couple that with the incredible heat wave we had over the last few days that made it really difficult to spend any time outdoors, and the fact that everyday I feel more pregnant and more uncomfortable, and it's physically taxing as well. Let's just say I'm sick of the couch, and we have watched every movie made in the last year.

I have a real need to feel productive, whether it's at work or at home, and I realized this morning that I really miss my lists. I kind of stopped writing them since I have been kidding myself that everyday delivery is imminent. No wonder I've been feeling so lost. So when my session with Dr. SevPrez was over, I made a little list and we set out on an expedition to run some errands and cross some things off.

We went to the Red Bank Antique District to look for a set of vintage drinking glasses, since I keep breaking them and we are a very thirsty family. We were just about to leave empty handed when I noticed an area we missed, and low and behold, we found a set of 8 glasses for $25. They are pretty awesome and harken back to a set I got in Brooklyn many years ago that has since died.

And we stopped at a craft store so I could just bite the bullet and get some embroidery floss to make friendship bracelets. I had a nice set of contractions earlier while making this bracelet and it was the perfect thing to focus on. Of course the contractions since went away or else I would not be writing this, but I finished the bracelet and it's ready to give to a friend as part of her birthday package.

A Must Read

I cried several times when reading the article "Letting Go" by Atul Gawande, in the August 2nd issue of The New Yorker. It's about modern medicine and the art of dying, or rather, how inadequate modern medicine is at preparing people for death. A must read for anyone who feels that meditating on the end of things is a powerful way to live, or anyone who's life has been touched by a terminal illness. It made me want to be a Hospice nurse, or go find some Hospice nurses, look them in the eye, and shake their hands. 


You can read the article online here. It's pretty long, but life is short, and if you read the article, it'll make sense why you should take the time to think about it. 


I didn't want to be a downer and post the link on Facebook, but then I walked by this storefront on the way back to my office at lunch, so I took it as a sign that I should share it somewhere.


Frivolous side note: neon pink masking tape is awesome. Must get my hands on some.

What's For Lunch?*

Some big changes are afoot in the SevPrez household. Mr. SevPrez is embarking upon the road to another career and going to grad school in September. As such we are switching gears from a couple of bon vivants to a hungry student and a starving artist. Only I don't think we'll actually be all that hungry or starving, because we have been cooking up all sorts of great meals at home in lieu of dining out. Our spirits will be hungry and starving, not our appetites. I'm looking forward to the change.


I've started bringing my lunch to work instead of dining at fine establishments in lower Manhattan. This affords me more time to do other stuff on my lunch break (which I still get, and take.) Lots of walking, park-sitting, reading, sun bathing of the shins (a fruitless endeavor, for sure), taking pictures, and drawing.


These last bits have been inspired by my purchase of the Maira Kalman retrospective book, Maira Kalman: Various Illuminations (of a Crazy World). I got over my grief of narrowly missing her exhibit at the ICA in Philadelphia enough to carry the book from the shelf to the register of McNally Jackson. The book is a gigantic reminder of the things I should be doing with my life: things I will be happy to have done on the day I die. Lucky for me, these things don't require that I quit my job and start over. All I have to do is work on a little something every day.


I've been reading lots of good, inspiring things and trying stuff that I don't think I'm all that great at in the hopes that one day I will be better. Mainly I am searching for ways to call forth my life. The resulting pursuit is quite enjoyable, magical even. 


This is all a preamble to my request, dear readers. Please bear with me as I post some of the proverbial fruits of my lunch breaks. You may follow the blog for other reasons, or not enjoy the first drafts of my artistic endeavors, but it's helpful for me to share, and sharing is why I have a blog in the first place. Nobody likes a miser.

It has to be stated that I drew this Vaseline jar from memory, since I could have googled the label on my Blackberry when I wanted to remember it better. I had to draw it after I read a rant by Dave Eggers and got that old Flaming Lips song stuck in head. 


*PB&J on whole wheat. Ate it at 11:30 and it hit the spot in a big way!

May Day, A Spiritiual Heyday

Today's a pagan day, a day for fires, flowers, dancing -- we are opening the gates to the heat of summer and everything that comes with it. As such, I wanted to give a shout out to the WaterFires of Providence, Rhode Island. The whole family was in town for a late Easter celebration and we went downtown on an unseasonably warm Saturday night to check it out. 

It is just as it sounds, a simple spectacle of wood bonfires burning in metal cauldrons perched just above the water of the joined rivers of downtown Providence. Music is played. Gazing crowds gather quietly on the banks. It's a return to a more primitive form of entertainment, and a reassurance that us humans, we pretty much dig on the same stuff. We can't resist sitting in a big circle and staring at a fire. It's our DNA, it's who we are.

Then this May Day morning I listened to Leonard Cohen on "Fresh Air." You know I kind of forgot about him, but I went through a serious LC phase in college, and hearing him brought back the memory of finishing the first semester of sophomore year and retreating back to my housing project of a dorm room, opening up all my windows, blaring "New Skin for the Old Ceremony" at a level only 19-year-olds can tolerate, and attempting to take a nap. Do you think I was trying to telegraph that I was sad? Holy mackerel.  It was the last day my crew of friends would be together before we sprinkled ourselves around the globe for the next six months. Two of my best friends came in, pulled me out from under my comforter, and cajoled me into accompanying them downtown to pass out flyers for some show. 

The verve and panache with which they passed out these flyers cannot be described with words -- all I can say is that I have been walking the sidewalks of New York City for ten years now and I have never seen anything like it before or since. You couldn't not take a flyer. It was a gorgeous display of enthusiasm, the kind of thing that makes you believe that having a great time is always an option.

God knows, sometimes you just have to put the Cohen away and keep to the sunnier side of things. But today's for the natural, for the beautiful, for everything and everybody exactly the way it is. As Buddhist nun Pema Chodron writes, "Life does continually go up and down. People and situations are unpredictable and so is everything else. Everybody knows the pain of getting what we don't want: saints, sinners, winners, losers. I feel gratitude that someone saw the truth and pointed out that we don't suffer this kind of pain because our personal inability to get things right...We no longer believe that there are people who have managed to avoid uncertainty."

Did you know that Leonard Cohen lived at a Zen Monastery for five years? Yeah, neither did I.

Tonight I crack open the ol' compact disc collection in search of his old albums, and play them loud, listen to this aging Pan, savoring my dip into the lows with the knowledge that it will pass on like all things. I leave you with an excerpt from Cohen's poem, "The Street."

I know the burden’s heavy

As you bear it through the night

The guru says it’s empty

But that doesn’t mean it’s light

From The Book of Longing, 2006. You can hear Cohen recite this and other poems, during his interview with Terry Gross here.

Melting Down over Melting Cookies

Last night I was supposed to make cookies for my husband to give to various clients and friends. I have probably made these cookies, alone or with my brother, more than 100 times. They are the family recipe of all family recipes. Rice Krispies are what make them special. 

Having just read a crazy article in the Times about how important the treatment of butter is to baking,* I was careful to only use my butter when it reached room temperature, whip it for almost three minutes before adding the sugar, and keep the dough chilled until it was ready to go into the oven. I made a double batch, excited to spread the gospel of the Chocolate Chipper this holiday season.

But the cookies failed. What a terrible feeling, watching them spread farther and farther out, refusing to rise, instead bubbling in an unsavory way. I would swear that I measured everything, especially the baking soda, correctly. It is a reminder of why so many people hate baking. There is no salvaging a failed baked good, you just have to throw it out, take a deep breath, and move on.

My only consolation is that this has happened to my mother and brother (the real champion of this recipe) several times: it's not us, it's the cookies. In fact, it happened to my brother when he first tried to make them for his future in-laws, at their house (no hiding the failure). This after talking them up for an hour. He didn't blink, and threw the dough right out and started over. That's the spirit!

I didn't have it in me to do that last night. I felt too angry and powerless. I didn't even have the husband to complain to, he had already gone to bed. I am hoping to get another batch in the oven tonight. I gotta get back on the horse.

By far the worst part about this whole incident is that there are two pounds of delicious chocolate chip cookie dough in our fridge, and but I can't have any of it because of my sad, lactose rejecting body. It's too bad we don't have any kids: "Please eat all mom's useless cookie dough. She can't bear the sight of it, or the idea of throwing it out!"

Merry Christmas, and good luck to all you bakers!

*That butter article was the most emailed article over the last 24 hours. I guess it really is cookie season!

Let Go or Be Dragged: Day Changers

Though I get the Daily Dharma, and I am a professional guru of inspirational quotations, sometimes I get stuck. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and haven't quite managed to recover. I am definitely being dragged around by my mood, so I am turning my attention to a way to lose myself in the outer world so my inner world will unlock and let go.

The Daily Dharma didn't do it. The Writer's Almanac was a temporary respite: it's Emily Dickinson's birthday, and the day that William Faulkner accepted his Nobel Prize. Not Bad.

I put on some red lipstick. That goes along way. Getting closer.

My mom joined Facebook! That really had me smiling and chuckling to myself. I thought I was in the clear.

But I still feel a little funky. In the final analysis, I think I just have to grant myself this time to be however I need to be. So I'm not in control. I guess that's where the "Letting Go" part comes in. 

Ah yes, it's all starting to make sense.