Today I learned to swear. Like…really. My family will tell you that like — for a million years — I haven’t been a big “swear-er”. Nope. Not super big. But — I did begin to swear — quite a lot — about a year ago…November 8th. Draw your own conclusions. Then…about six weeks ago R said to me — ‘ok, I know that you are expressing yourself in this way now….but it has been ten months….can you please stop now?’ Which I thought was pretty funny. When I lived in the South — when you wanted to comment…
Weeks ago, before we arrived, I was talking to someone about our upcoming adventure. “You know”, she told me, “my friends S and D did this a few years ago. They were just like honeymooners”. Later that day I was talking to R. I told him what she had said. “Guess what?”, I said. “We might be like honeymooners!”. ”yeah”, he said. “Like honeymooners with bad backs.” I have to admit this just poured all manner of cold water on my optimism…but optimism I continued to try to muster. Amidst the onslaught of feeling I described in This Piece,…
Today was my first day of school. Of course, I woke up a bit disoriented…did I bring my placement test? Una penna? Will I get there on time? R feeling a bit off so it is just me venturing out today. To get to my school I walk along the Naviglio Pavese — with its dinner boats, its dark water. Lots of biciclette and I walk all the way to the left so as not to get run down. It’s about a sixteen-minute walk to my school. I am trying to breathe the whole way. When I find the…
Avevo paura…ho avuto paura…avevo avuto paura. Prima, avevo paura delle molte cose. I have been afraid…I was afraid…I had been afraid. But now — now I am brave. The first thing that I was afraid of, when I arrived, was the shower. You know, the shower. As in — a way for me to become clean again after walking miles and miles through the city. Or after sleeping. Or after cooking with garlic. The shower is very, very narrow (la doccia è molto stretta — quasi troppo…). It is probably only about twenty-two inches square…and the shower entry is…
Allora…so…siamo arrivati. We have arrived. Today is Day Numero 6. When we arrived, at first, I was sure, absolutely sure that I was fine. I am fine. I am functioning. I slept (un po’) on the plane…so…fine. We took a MyTaxi from MXP to our apartment in the Navigli (canals) district. We found the apartment. We opened the door. Dark. Reeking of cigarettes. I will have to adjust, I thought. Next I thought: What the devil did we do? (or WTAF if you want me to use my full expression of our language…) We will be…
Here is my guest post today on Look For the Woman. What The Heart Wants
Eleven years ago we were getting ready to leave the house for the first seder at Jane’s house. Russ was just finishing the mowing of the lawn, our table was set with china and crystal for the next evening at our house. I heard a crackling sound coming from the kitchen. I knew that I wasn’t cooking that evening…so as I entered the kitchen I saw about a foot of smoke undulating at the ceiling above the door to the garage. I went outside and found the wall between the house and the garage aflame. Quick-thinker that I am, I…
It was just one of those beautiful mornings in early June in the way, way North…the kind of day which starts out bright at 5 – and just gets brighter. It was yesterday. They had hired a Guide, Ben and Rob did. He was “Big Jim”. Someone to teach them fly-fishing in the Canadian Rockies. So there they were, in hip waders, in streams. Just a flick of the wrist, it is said. There is a rhythm to it – flick forward and back. And back again. The sparkling sun on the water. Standing, standing. Standing for a bit longer. Nothing…
Among the adventures I have always wanted but never told was to be here, where I am. When we drove up we saw elk and moose and snow on the peaks. This, of course, ridiculous because I am so relieved that at home things are finally green and blooming and spring….but the snow on the mountains still makes me go “ahhhhhhh”. After yesterday’s odd restaurant encounter we decided to try the evening at the hot springs….and it turns out that I am old and fussier than I used to be about germs….and now I understand that I am truly a…
It was late afternoon and we hadn’t eaten since early morning. We were driving the TransCanadian highway and came to Canmore. We were super starving. Oh, I said, pointing….let’s eat at that place. The building was golden yellow which is sometimes a good idea and there was parking. And outside — a jackhammer. Like a machine gun…but with more concrete dust. We walked into the restaurant. Also yellow. Oilcloth table covers and green chairs. The owner was trying to drown out the jackhammer by playing loud music: “sexual healing”. The white board advertised Bison…
Last week I took the stage at the Madison production of Listen to your Mother (www.listentoyourmother.com) courage in hand, and told a story of aging and self-acceptance. I actually said that “stretch marks are the evidence that we have stretched ourselves for others…” — yet in the days immediately following that amazing day — and when the pictures came out — I was perseverating on the fact that I looked lumpy in my dress, that I looked intense and…tense…and was thinking how I could edit the beautiful work of Melissa Austin Photography so that I could look better, younger, on…
I love the scaffolding. The scaffolding. I love in the city to see scaffolding against a building. I love to duck under scaffolding to go into a store to score some tea. To window shop. Scaffolding is a reminder that the city is always changing. It is always becoming. Like me. I am not just an ancient grey building but I am rebuilding, renovating. I am being remade every day. I let you all know this by stenciling on my walls Post No Bills. Like the city, I am changing but I endure. At times I need the scaffolding. I…
She gave me permission to write this. We were all sitting on the couch watching the end of the basketball game. She, and the young one, and I. She looked at the vase of flowers and said, as Northwestern was losing the game, “Hey, those need more water”. She started to get off the couch, said she was dizzy, her legs collapsed under her. I caught her. I’ll get more water for the flowers, I said. Something didn’t feel right. I re-watered the flowers, hurried to the cabinet in search of a blood pressure cuff. It was over 180. Way…
When the taxi arrived the driver was anxious to share with me that he was from Lebanon – and that his mother died three years ago. He told me that she died alone, in a dark room, hastened by the neglect of his sisters and this, he would never forget. He wanted me to know that he believed in Karma. That he believed in Kindness. He said that with Karma there is no guarantee that things will come back to you…”but you never know,” he said. I wouldn’t say that he was the most careful driver, weaving a bit between…
I am telling this story against my better judgement. But apparently, it wants to be told. Special thanks to P for letting me tell it. So. She heard from a colleague that it probably wasn’t a good idea for her to buy that house because he had heard that it was haunted. Pish posh. The house was gorgeous. They bought it. It was pretty soon after they moved into the house that their little boy was having trouble sleeping. He mentioned the “grandfather” who was singing to him in his room. He bounced early in the…