mlwms

Five Months

Michelle — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 04:22:39 +0000

My coach Leslie always says “you can do anything for six months”. Her point is that it can be a job, a living situation, anything, really, and that you can tolerate it – and learn a great deal – in six months. I’m just about one month away from my six month anniversary here at my new job, in my new home, and not only have I been able to tolerate it, I’ve been able to embrace it like no other place and job in my life.

I went to the store today to get a salad for dinner. Jon’s working up in Napa all week this week, which is a wretched bummer, so rather than cook an elaborate dinner (which is now only appealing when I’m cooking for two), I went to get some greens, to be supplemented by the bag of strawberries patiently waiting to be devoured at home. Walking into the store, I saw what looked to be a familiar woman near the grocery carts, and I hesitated. I hesitated because for years, I lived in a place where there were people I was so determined to avoid that I sometimes didn’t leave my house on weekends. Anyway, I did not know this woman, but I realized that I don’t have to live with that anxiety or fear here. I even smiled at her, this stranger, as I walked into the store.

I made my own bed in Napa, created that uncomfortable living situation by being too raw with my emotions, to quick to trust false friends, too willing to define myself by my work. I know that I’m the same person – just the place has changed – but I feel empowered now to not make those mistakes again. I’m sure, at some point, I’ll grow weary of having to talk shop every Friday night when Jon & I are out and run into friends/colleagues/board members, but for now, I couldn’t be more delighted. Here, I feel embraced, welcomed, celebrated, treasured for who I am. My last couple years in Napa I felt like a hollowed-out shell where my job scraped my insides every day, attempting to get every last scrap of flesh from my exhausted mind and body.

So, this time, I get to try to do all of it with just a little more balance and a lot more confidence. I’ve gone back and read some of my past blogs, ones from six or seven years ago, and with the pain of those years as my context, I try to tell myself that I deserve this, I deserve to have landed in a place that challenges and inspires me, and that I deserve the love of the most decent, thoughtful, smart, and adorable man on the planet. I know that my job will be hard, that marriage is not easy, that many more trials await. But I have a foundation I’ve never had before, some sense of peace in my life, and a whole crop of new friends who bring me incredible joy.

If that wasn’t enough, I am marrying the love of my life in less than two months. So, if at any point, you hear me complaining about anything to do with my life, please kick me in the teeth.

gaudium

Michelle — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 20:35:00 +0000

I don’t know how many days of my life that I will feel unfettered, extreme, delirious joy. Yesterday was one of them. I was walking down a one-way street, a half-block from Pleasure Point Beach in Santa Cruz. I was holding Jon’s hand, and we had just looked at a wee beach house that we are considering renting when we move to Santa Cruz in early October. I said to him that I was about as happy as I’d ever been in my entire life.

A few hours later, we were in our room at a little B&B; near downtown, sipping Santa Cruz Mountain wines and getting ready to go to dinner. And we were lying on the bed and talking and he was grinning like a mad fool and when I asked him why, he pulled a ring out of his pocket and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him.

Apparently I met this questions with numerous expletives that I won’t repeat here, but a rated G translation would simply be, “really?” And apparently he actually said the words – he asked me to marry him – but I apparently went deaf and blind for about ten minutes as I couldn’t stop laughing and bawling. I think, somewhere in there, he heard my “yes”, which I probably repeated a hundred times.

I don’t know if everyone’s struggle to find love was as wretched and theatrical as my struggle. I’ve made so many bad choices, gone down so many stupid roads, sacrificed myself again and again and then chose solitude to keep from choosing badly yet again. And then, here comes this prince of a man, someone so thoughtful and kind and smart and funny and weird that every day, I try to be a better person, simply to deserve him. And he decides that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. Me, with my madness, and neuroses, and bull-headed crazy and need to fold and organize socks and to spend hours making tomato sauce and who hates televised sports and he loves me anyway and I don’t doubt him for a minute. And I wonder, how to hold onto this joy? How to feel a little bit of this, every day, for the rest of my life? And the only answer I know is to be the best woman I possibly can be, so maybe I’ll be lucky enough to keep him around.

I was the happiest I’d ever been even before he asked me to be his wife.

And, plus? He gave me the most beautiful ring in the history of beautiful rings. I’m assuming all newly betrothed women feel this way, and if that is so, then there is a heck of a lot more joy in the world than is reported in the newspapers.

more soon…

Michelle — Sat, 16 May 2009 08:42:00 +0000

I have a hundred things to write about, but for today, I think this sums it up:

Oh, and this:

I’m a little frightened by Amazon

Michelle — Sat, 13 Dec 2008 23:36:00 +0000

I realize I’ve been buying from Amazon.com for almost a decade, but how exactly do they know me so well? On my home page, under “Recommendations for You”, are the following:

iPod

countertop composter

3 books about writing

1 book about sewing

1 book about leadership and non-profit management

1 book about organic gardening

1 book about South American travel

various fantasy novels

wine geek acoutrement

cashmere sweaters

KitchenAid attachments

I feel pegged.

Michelle — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 22:25:00 +0000

I feel I can say with absolute certainty that every kiss does not, actually, begin with Kay.

a brief list

Michelle — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 21:03:00 +0000

of thanks.

I’m thankful to have a job. I’m thankful to be able to shape that job into a place I want to be, and my staff wants to be. I’m thankful for excellent support and strong autonomy where I work.

I’m grateful for my family, my dearest friends, my dearest love.

I’m thankful for my home, my kitchen table, my sewing machine, for alpaca yarn, for the color pink. I’m thankful for gorgeous vegetables, for the guffaw laugh of my friend Punky, for having four older brothers. I’m thankful for NPR and my yoga practice and whipped cream from a can.

I’m thankful for the strength I’ve found to change my body and to change my life. I’m thankful for what’s to come.

on vegetables

Michelle — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 21:17:00 +0000

There are things that turn me on, and sometimes, those things involve vegetables.

Let me e’splain.

I get all worked up over finding new ways to cook vegetables, or really, any other food bits that I’m willing to eat. (Which leaves out many forms of meat.) And about a month ago, I coordinated a CSA program that operates right out of my own back yard.

CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture. In a CSA, people basically “join” a locally-owned farm, pay a weekly, monthly, or seasonal stipend, and are allocated a box of organically grown, locally-produced, just-picked-that-day gorgeous vegetables. It’s a terrific way to support local farms, to avoid the burning of fossil fuels to transport fruits and veggies from far far away, and to eat organically. I’ve always been a wanna be “locavore” and a CSA allows me, at the very least, to only eat vegetables that were grown within a certain number of miles. It’s a beautiful thing.

Strangely, though, there are no CSA programs in Napa. All the land here is covered with grapevines or olive trees- or is wild and protected open space. There are small farms, but none large enough to support a CSA.

So I did some research in the surrounding communities, and found a terrific farm in Sonoma county. But it’s an hour and a half away, and the idea of driving three hours a week is not only impossible, given my schedule, but also sorta against the whole no-fossil-fuel burning thing. I realize Sonoma is a lot closer than, say, Chile, where most veggies are coming from this time of year, but still.

So I contacted the farm, and suggested they consider delivering in Napa, if, say, I could cobble together a few folks to participate. Turns out they had just become a supplier to the Napa Whole Foods, so they would be coming this way anyway. And after a few email chains, I found ten willing participants. So every season, those ten send me a check for 13 weeks; I send the checks to the farm, and the farm delivers 10 gorgeous boxes of veggies to my back yard once a week, where everyone comes by and picks them up after work.

This week, the box had fingerling potatoes, apples, eggplant, butternut squash, arugula, mizuna, green beans, radishes, peppers, and I can’t even begin to remember what else. Every week I’m challenged to cook veggies I’d not cooked before, and every meal is enhanced with these unbelievable greens (and reds and yellows and such).

Of course, I live in California, so I’m unbelievably lucky. We get winter vegetables here that most of the country can’t imagine, at least without a greenhouse. I also have both lemons and oranges ripening on my very own trees. Spoiled might be an even better word. But I think such programs will only grow in popularity as people become more aware of where their food comes from, the fossil fuels it takes to move those foods, and as the nutritional benefits of organic foods versus “conventional” foods become more widely known. I know I don’t want “baby carrots” (that come from regular bent imperfect carrots but that are sliced and diced and preserved in chlorine- yes, chlorine, that’s why they start turning white when the get a little old) that come in plastic bags that will exactly never decompose.

I don’t think these things are radical. I don’t really consider myself a leftist commie socialist tree hugger. I consider myself someone who does the research and wants to put only decent things inside my body. Again, living in California makes this all the easier, but there are some 3000 CSAs across the country and there just might be one somewhere near you.

In case you are wondering:

http://www.biodynamics.com/csa1.html

And, well, if you are interested in starting your *own* garden come spring time, well, that’s another blog.

cooking, knitting, and other fascinating events

Michelle — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 22:21:00 +0000

So… rather than the hundreds of other topics flying around my brain these last few months, I’m going to write about domestic chores I adore.

First and foremost, vacation has taught me that I really, really, really enjoy not working for a living. I’m hopeful I can do that more often. Once upon a time, I thought it would drive me crazy not to have a, y’know, “job” and all- that I needed “purpose”, “ambition”, “drive”, “meaning”, all that stuff. But right now, I think I could spend a week perfecting my baba ganoush recipe, only to abandon it to perfect french bread. Or, I could listen to NPR and knit all day. I think I could do that, and be content.

On the flip side, with the right company, I feel like I could follow my ambitions of five years ago and finally go to Africa in Peace Corps. So, I haven’t entirely lost my edge; I’ve just found some solace and peace in a wee bit of nothingness in my life, as opposed to constantly craving crises. Or, at least, I think I could find that peace, given the opportunity.

Alas, I still have to go to work every day, and most likely will have to continue doing so- in one form or another- for another 30 years or so. But the love I am finding in cleaning out closets, finding new uses for arugula, and tying colored ribbon around clean sheet sets is really revelatory for me, considering I’ve been a completely focused career girl for as long as I can remember.

I don’t know how age is manifesting in me, other than the typical ticking clock and the new crop of silver hairs my stylist fights with every time I get my hair done. (Seriously? Those things stick straight up. They are thick, wiry, and stubborn, and my stylist has to use some serious goop to get them to lay down with the rest of my highlights.) But I wonder if this nesting impulse, this love of hearth and home, of bubbling pots and clicking knitting needles and the sheer joy I feel when the yeast blooms for an impending loaf of honey whole wheat bread is all a result of age.

Or maybe it’s more that I’ve finally found my talent when it comes to arts and crafts. I’ve always been a wretched artist; even my handwriting is embarrassing. But I’ve always wanted to create, beyond the written word or song interpretation, and now I feel like I’ve found my niche. Maybe it was a disservice that traditional Home Ec had been cut from the school day by the time I was in 7th grade (and maybe I did myself a disservice by insisting on taking Shop so I could make napkin holders) but this, like so many other things in my life, is a joy that has come to me later than expected.

But I’m delighted it’s here now. And my baba ganoush rocks.

In brief

Michelle — Thu, 30 Oct 2008 22:01:00 +0000

Thursdays are usually my favorite day of the week. I’m always up early, and to work early, because I take an hour and a half out of my day to go to my favorite yoga class with my most favorite yoga teacher ever. And the class always colors my day in gentle, warm hues, fueling productivity while keeping me somewhat saner than usual as I navigate the madness of my work.

Thursday also means the next day is Friday, which is followed by two days generally spent in the house that I love, or with friends that I love and rarely get to see.

Today, however, I missed yoga, because of a wretched grant deadline, and we had the first rainfall and therefore the first dark day of the year. Truly, it was the first time that wet stuff fell from the sky since April. And although I find some comfort in the rain- it means I don’t feel pressured to get out and enjoy yet another perfectly gorgeous California day- I struggle with the darkness, and I know that with daylight savings just a few days away, we’ll be plunged into dark all the earlier.

But it was still a good day, for a few reasons: I work with really smart and fun people; we’re almost done with the grant; and there is such possibility in my world right now that how can I feel dimmed by a dark sky. I can’t help but obsessively watch the electoral map and pray for more blue. And I can’t help but daydream huge swaths of my day away. This is a turning point on so many levels, and I’m almost sick with anticipation.

on having children

Michelle — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 19:58:00 +0000

I turned 36 not too long ago, and my life is shifting in a way that makes the idea of having children a real possibility in the next couple of years. Well, I should say, that that idea of trying to have children is a real possibility. So many people I know and love are struggling with this right now, so all I can do is hope that when the time comes, my ovaries and uterus and his lil’ swimmers all cooperate, play nice, and aren’t too aged. But that may be the topic of another series of blogs, quite some time from now.

Now, all I can think about is: what is it going to be like? What is it going to be like giving up my fierce individuality and particularity (which entails everything to how I load the forks in the dishwasher to how I’m not accustomed to a partner of any kind) when first I enter into a relationship, and then when I (ye gods willing) bring forth another human into this world? How will I negotiate all of it? I really don’t know. I’m very curious. But I’m also terrified.

First of all, I’m the youngest of five, so, it may be possible that I’ve never, I repeat, NEVER, changed a diaper. I wasn’t one who wanted to babysit kids when I was younger and looking for work in the neighborhood; instead, I was the cat-sitter and dog walker. Cats and dogs I understand. But, um, a kid? Lucy and Barnaby may be the first babies I held since Sean Patrick and Lucas were born, lo over 20 years ago. And now I’m somehow supposed to figure out how to hold one, and feed it and care for it and know how to make it feel better ALL THE TIME? I really don’t know how much of this is encoded in the female DNA. I think most of it is learned, and I really haven’t had the chance.

I taught myself to cook through books and questions. I taught myself to run a non-profit the same way. I taught myself Excel by wandering through it for hours on end (and then asking my staff to make my spreadsheets do what I want them to do when I get frustrated). I don’t think that’s exactly going to work with a baby.

I feel really comfortable- and really competent- with infants, and with 20-year-olds. What am I supposed to say for the other 19 years?

What’s it going to be like if I’m lucky enough to get pregnant? How will I deal with the additional body issues? My mom says that the butterfly tattoo on my belly will look like a pterodactyl. That would be awesome. But. How will I not be scared all the time? What will it mean for my career? What if I have a baby and then never, ever want to work again? What if I have a baby and can’t wait to get back to work? What if I have TWINS?!

The thing is, I have no idea what it’s going to be like. I already feel woefully unprepared, terrified that between my inexperience and linear, particular ways, I might be a crappy mom.

But, maybe not. Maybe not. And the thing is, next to marrying the man I love, there is nothing that excites me more than the idea of giving it a shot.