A Few Notes on Disney

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of travel.  Disneyworld, a happy blur of thrills, family time, and bodily pain; Cassadaga, a slowed down escape from life as I know it; and Washington D.C., a reminder of what history and freedom are all about.

About Disney...who hasn't been there?  Do I really need to tell you what it's about?  This was a 7th grade grad trip for my thirteen year old son and his friends.  Firsts for us:  staying at a non-budget hotel (the Contemporary) and getting the park-hopper pass.  Is it worth it?  Depends on how much you've got to spend and what your physical limits are.  

In the past, we've always done one park in one day.  Cheaper, and less pressure to do everything you possibly can till the parks close.  I think I prefer that way.  The park hopper was convenient in that we could take advantage of the extra magic hours at whatever park was offering them without having to have been there all day, and we could jump to whatever park had shorter lines.  But I have to say that we stayed at the parks longer and walked around more than I ever have before.  I could barely walk towards the end of the trip.  I don't think I can take any more luxury park-hopper tickets.  I did like the Contemporary, but any onsite hotel would have been about the same.  They all have nice pools and come with the extra magic hours.  

One great thing I discovered about Disney this time...gluten free bread throughout the park!  This made me happy.  

I know that people say Disney world is fake and under the surface is an evil empire just waiting to take your money, yeah, yeah, yeah....  But we buy it.  And we love it.  And we keep coming back.  And we are happy when we are there.  They have mastered customer service.  And that is a real place where we have real vacations and real quality family time, and really experience people trying to make other people happy.  We are all desperate for a taste of that now and then.  I don't care if it's just big business.  I like knowing a place like that is around.

Yes, I'd be happier if the prices were a little lower.  But I've adjusted my expectations somewhat as I've become more attuned to the process and value of creativity.  And now I pay my money and treat the entire place as a gigantic work of art.  I value art.  People pay big money for art.  And it is priceless.  

So thank you Walt Disney, for making all our wishes come true, just for a few days.  

Most beautiful fake castle in the world!  And most wonderful kids. 

It's grainy, but yes, that is the full flower moon hanging in the sky behind us.  What a night.

I worry

This blog has been sorely neglected for the past several months.  Here are some reflections on life since 2012.

I have already recorded the losses of last year, and am usually able to put those behind me.  I'm more careful about going down the stairs.  What if I fell?  When I have an unidentified ache or pain, I'm sure it's a debilitating and terminal illness.   Life is short and uncertain.  I know that more now than ever.  My response?  Eat dessert first.  Enjoy the sweetness while you can.  Who knows how long it will last?

My oldest child, Michael, is about to go to high school.  How is that possible?  Granted, high school starts a little early in New Orleans Catholic schools--8th grade rather than 9th.  But still, next year, he's going to be roaming the halls with 18 year olds.  He's like a little adult in many ways, but...he's never been to Hooters.  And they're going to take him there!  Oh, the agony!  Innocence...bye bye.

And Isabella starts middle school next year--5th grade.  Ten years old, nearly 11, a charming young lady, growing and blooming, not like a weed but like the most beautiful flower in the garden.  People say she's all legs.  It's not really fair--shorts that look normal on other girls look shorter on her.  What's a mom to do?  Her beauty, her love of people, her kind and trusting nature...is that a recipe for disaster?  Thank goodness she's got brains to go with all that.  Still, she's a tween.  I worry.

Mostly I worry about losing them.  Not to death but to silence.  They are becoming teenagers, and in eight years, they will both be out of the house.  Sooner than that, they will realize the imperfections of their parents, pass the certain judgment only a teen can pass, and begin to prefer ANYONE else to us.  Will they come back?  It's okay if it's not right away, but one day?

In the midst of this worry, I'm trying to write.  I'm fascinated by my subject, a woman who lived in the fin de siecle, 1848--1930, the wife of a wealthy man who struggled to find her identity, her soul, and eventually her sanity.  The book has taken me from New York City in the 1880s to St. Augustine and Palm Beach in the 1890s, from dance halls to dressmakers, from New York society to Florida crackers, and from seances to asylums.  I could focus on it for hours, days even, and the writing makes me feel alive, worthy, connected to the universe somehow.

And then I remember that I have a family who still need me.  They seem independent, but that doesn't mean I should stop connecting as much as I can.  It is my most important purpose.

I struggle with that balancing act every day.  Today I know that my family may not be around forever. They have to be first right now, or I will most certainly lose them.  I will write when I can.  I will not give up my passion.  With it, I have more to give.  But every moment counts.

My husband's Aunt Doris told us after Katrina, "Worrying's a sin."  It sounded like a joke at first, to announce such a thing to two people who had just lost their house, their city, to unbelievable destruction.  But she was absolutely straight-faced.  God will provide.  God will find a way.  The lilies of the field don't worry, so why should we?

Deep down, I believe her.  Worrying is a waste of time, and worst of all, incessant negative thoughts can only manifest negative outcomes.  Who knows how the universe will intervene?  Who knows what chance happening will change everything?  I think right now, I will go hug my son, who's downstairs playing a computer game.  He will look at me like I'm crazy, but he will know I'm there.

No worries.

Ginger chicken and asian greens!

There is nothing like fresh greens in the cooler months to remind us that spring exists.  Tonight I made the most lovely dish inspired by whatever was in "the box" at Hollygrove market http://hollygrovemarket.com/.  I don't usually get the whole box, but this week it was filled with a variety of citrus and greens, not to mention sweet potatoes and shiitake mushrooms.  Grapefruit, Meyer lemons, Clementines, naval oranges, bok choy, totsoi, and rapini.  And local broccoli too!  Also available but not in the  box was ginger, but I had already picked up some of that at the Thursday market.  The wheels began to turn.

Totsoi, you may ask?  I have no idea.  But I googled it.  An Asian green.  So I googled "chicken and Asian greens" and came up with so many options!  Here is the one I based my version on:
http://recipes.sparkpeople.com/recipe-detail.asp?recipe=343699.  But lately I'm finding it impossible to stick to a recipe.  I looked in my fridge.  There were those shiitakes and part of a red pepper.  And a brand new bag of celery--ooh that would be good, too.

I diced a couple of chicken breasts I found in the freezer, marinated them for what turned into about an hour in the lemon juice, grated ginger, salt and pepper.  Meanwhile, I cooked some brown rice, and started chopping up the veggies:  Bok choy, totsoi, broccoli, and celery went into the steamer basket for a few minutes to soften them up.  I saved the red pepper and shiitakes for the saute.  The recipe called for steaming the chicken, but I just cooked it in a pan in some sesame oil.  Sauteed the veggies, adding the greens, garlic and soy sauce at the end, and served it all up to my family.  At least what was left of it after I kept picking at the greens while cooking them.

Isabella is the picky one, but she said it was the best chicken she ever tasted, eating every last bite plus what was left in the pan.  She tasted the greens but was not impressed.  Michael picked out the broccoli and ate it, but wasn't sure about all that other green and red stuff.  Victor and I polished off everything else.

I wish I had taken a picture of it while I was sauteing it.  It was so beautiful and fresh looking.  What should I do with the rapini?  Maybe some of those beans I froze in the summer would complement it.  Sausage?  I'll see what inspires me tonight!

Loss

This Thanksgiving week has not been what I expected.  I had a beautiful vacation with my little family planned...Atlanta for a few nights, Asheville for a few nights, and back home next weekend.  God had other things planned for me.

My Aunt Crin Del died on Saturday.  She was riding a brand new candy apple red scooter that she had posted pictures of on facebook and was so excited about.  She even said on facebook that her sons assured her it would change her life.  After a wonderful day of riding with her twin sons, Nick and Nate, she made a right turn, lost control, and was hit by a car, ending her life.

I am okay.  I am in West Monroe with my dad's family.  The love in this family transcends all.  We have lost so many wonderful people way too early in the last few years.  My uncle and godfather, Mike (who my son is named after) died of HIV related illness when I was in high school.  He was probably in his 40s.  And of course, my grandmother died when I was pregnant with Isabella, 2002.  Not tragic, but sad still.  Then my father died of leukemia in 2006 at 65.  My cousins Alex and Kelly both died in the past 4 years, at both in their 30s, one of leukemia and one of a rare genetic disease.  And now my beautiful, fun loving Aunt, my godmother, who left behind a legacy of wisdom and two beautiful boys.  I feel like I need to adopt them.  

And all this on top of the loss of Edmund, my late son-in-law, who died in September, tragically and so young, who I'm still mourning, and haven't even been able to blog about yet.  It seems destined to be a difficult year.  

I wish my dad was here to be with us all.  I wish I could have known Mike better. I wish I had gone to my cousin's wedding last weekend so I could have seen Crin Del one more time.  I wish I could share with her the books that I'm writing.  I think she would have really enjoyed hearing about it.  She would have understood giving a voice to someone who had none.  She was one of my people.  

But I still have many wonderful family members left, and I am vowing to cherish every minute I can spend with them.  Difficult, maybe at times, but worth every minute of personal connection.  I love them.  Crin Del, I will miss you.  Rest in peace.

Letters and such?

I know, I know.  I haven't been posting every day.  Did you miss me?  The good thing is, I have been writing.  Just not blogging so much.  I have a big list of topics to blog about, but am having trouble making myself do it.  The first topic on my list is "What does it mean to be a writer?"

One of my favorite movie moments is in Unforgiven, when someone in the company of a dangerous criminal identifies himself as a writer.  Gene Hackman's character, puzzled, asks, "Letters and such?"  The writer shows him the book he's writing about said bad guy, and Hackman reads, "The Duck o' Death."  "That's Duke," the writer corrects.  I love that scene.  It reminds me that once your words are put on paper, they take on a life of their own, and you never know what someone will make of them.

I've been calling myself a writer lately, when someone asks me what I do.  Otherwise, I am a household engineer, chauffer, Lego piece retriever, laundress, etc...  I like "writer" better.  But what does that mean?  Do you have to be published to call yourself a writer?

I write almost every day.  I've been lazy with the morning pages.  Artists Way, Week 11 has lasted about 12 weeks.  But if I'm not writing morning pages, I'm writing the book I've been working on this fall.  And if I'm not writing that, maybe I am writing letters and such.  Emails, facebook posts, thank you notes (on a good day) or actual handwritten letters, which happen once in a blue moon.

Have you ever received a letter that touched your heart in a way that no phone call or email ever has?  Some people have that gift, and I aspire to it.  I believe there is an art to the personal note.  I began learning it at camp, writing letters during rest hour.  I also learned that skill from my mother, who writes wonderful letters.  They meant a lot those six weeks of camp every summer, and still do on very special occasions.

A writer writes.  That's what they say.  So I guess I am allowed to call myself one.  Have I published?  Depends on who you ask.  I wrote a few things for my high school and college newspapers.  Does that count?

Well, good news.  It is the eve of the publication of my very first magazine article!  So there.  Amelie G magazine, http://ameliegmag.com, a nationally distributed New Orleans fashion and lifestyle magazine, is publishing an article I wrote dealing with food sensitivities and allergies.  I have had enough practice with that, as you know if you've read any one of my early posts.  After you've all (all 4 of you) had a chance to run out to your nearest Barnes and Noble or Whole Foods and buy the magazine, maybe I'll post it here!

I'm having fun writing.   This weekend, I will celebrate.

Here are some of my favorite quotes about words.  Enjoy!

A word is dead when it is said. Some say. I say it just, begins to live that day.
Emily Dickinson

Our words have wings, but fly not where we would.
George Eliot

The closer the look one takes at a word, the greater distance from which it looks back.
Karl Kraus

Uttering a word is like striking a note on the keyboard of the imagination.
Ludwig Wittgenstein

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew, upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
Lord Byron

An uneventful weekend

This is a weekend so rare, it only comes along once every few months.  I stayed at home with my husband and kids both Friday and Saturday nights.  We had no fairs to be at, no campouts to go to, no sleepovers with friends, no birthday parties, no galas, no fish fries or spaghetti dinners or bingo nights.  Just us.  Hanging out at the house.  I hardly knew what to do.

During the day I attended a writing workshop, and Michael invited a friend over.  Victor and Isabella went on a father-daughter date to the Wax Museum, Camellia Grill, and Cafe du Monde. All lovely ways to spend an afternoon, but also very unusual because we were not together.  Plus, usually if we separate, we end up drawing the line by gender.  Michael and Victor might play frisbee golf, while Isabella and I go shopping.  Not today.

I sense a turning point in our lives that may have something to do with Isabella growing into double digits and Michael about to become a teenager.  They are becoming little adults.  We've always treated them that way because they are both old souls, but now they are responding in interesting ways.  It's always surprising to realize that these little people I helped create are not just mini versions of me or Victor but completely separate souls that have separate thoughts and dreams and a purpose on this earth all their own.  Sometimes I just have to step back and watch in amazement.

Did I use my time productively on these evenings?  It depends on who you ask.  We watched a lot of TV (together), and I played too much Settlers of Catan on my phone.  It was so tempting--no obligations, taking a little breather in front of screen after screen.  For me, the writing workshops take a lot of mental energy.  I was a bit brain dead by 5:00.

But around dinnertime, Isabella literally got in my face, in between me and my phone, and started singing and gyrating wildly.  It actually took me a second to focus on her, so out of tune was I.  She's not shy.  She tells me when she wants attention.  So finally, I put the phone down (why does it seem so magnetic?) and got up and danced with her to her made up tune.  We jumped around and mirrored each others movements until I put my arms tight around her and we jumped around and danced crazy steps as a single unit.  I held her tight until she felt contained, and still, until she felt uncomfortable, and I let her go.  And we danced some more.

Moments like that make life worth living.  So, an uneventful weekend?  Thank goodness we have time for them once in a while.  I hope I remember it forever.

All Souls

Pinky and Pacman get ready to haunt Lakeview...wide eyed...

Happy All Souls Day.  As a tribute to the Halloween season in general, here are some great pics of the family in costume.  We especially remember Edmund, who always outdid us all in costuming and all sartorial pursuits.  Rest in peace, dear soul.

Dizzy Lizzy with wig 

Dizzy Izzy and the Dark Lord/Hooded Figure thing

Dizzy Izzy and Pinky ready for the night!

Halloween 2011--Rufi and the Faeries!

Our first Halloween with Edmund, October 2010

All smiles