Life

Checking In, Friends.

April 10, 2020 by Lisa Leave a Comment

Hello Friends,

What a time to be alive. I have been self-isolated since March 6 due to circumstances beyond my control and let me tell you, it has been interesting.

My job is in social media for a pancreatic cancer nonprofit so I have been watching the COVID19 virus take hold across the world for some time (early January). When all of this started life was pretty normal, by the end of February I was trying to manage family health issues. When March rolled around I was wondering if my son would be able to get home from his study aboard program in London. (He’s home and is missing the Big Smoke.)

I truly haven’t had much desire to write, but now find that it brings me comfort and I am hoping to do something small every day – whether it is something amusing/silly, or what is helping me stay sane as I work from home (which I have done for almost 20 years) while dealing with long-distance worrying over family and friends.

These little additions could be as simple as a quote I found particularly meaningful, musings on life, or things I find online that my family will probably roll their eyes at, but gave me a chuckle or pushed me to read further.

I believe it is the little things that will get us through this pandemic. A friend asked me about businesses carrying on and my thoughts on it. I believe it’s a good thing, y’all. We are all literally locked in our homes unless we are a essential employee and there are days I feel the walls closing in on me with alarming force. Seeing businesses (traditional, virtual, bloggers, etc.,) carrying on means we are moving forward when it feels like we are trapped in a never ending nightmare.

Moving forward is essential. We would not have survived the Great Depression followed by WWII if we weren’t resilient. Taking those steps, one at a time, no matter how wobbly they are, means we are getting closer to the other side. We won’t know what that looks like for a long time and the short-term unknown is terrifying. One thing is for certain — we will be forever changed as not only a nation, but as a world.

It is my hope that we come out a little more compassionate to our fellow humans, and that during this time of isolation, we show just as much grace and compassion to ourselves as we would to others.

Stay safe, friends. Let me know how you are doing and know that you are always in my thoughts.

Much Love,

Lisa

Open Kitchen Shelves

January 6, 2020 by Lisa Leave a Comment

I think I am in the minority when I confess to you, dear reader, that I do not like open kitchen shelves. They are pleasing to the eye when I first gaze upon their aesthetically pleasing utilitarian free-range displays of colorful porcelain. I want those open shelves. I crave having them in my home. Thankfully, this is where my practicality kicks in. If I had open shelves in my kitchen they would become a magnet for greasy dust build-up and would look like they were shoved onto a shelf without a care in the world.

open white shelves with bottles and dishes — Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

Now that I am an empty nester we don’t use as many dishes as before. Not like we did when the kid was home and I had a house full of teenagers. Back then I was lucky if there was a clean dish left for dinner.

Don’t get me wrong, we considered open shelves when we built our house four years ago. That lasted a whole hot minute. My dreams of artfully styled gorgeous crockery meant two things: 1) I need to learn how to style and 2) I would need to procure gorgeous crockery.

Of course, I can also picture my grandmother stopping in for a visit. Nearing 90, she has issues many women her age have — she forgets things on occasion and is moving slower. But, I can also guarantee the one glass she would grab off of my beautifully styled shelves would send her to the sink in search of a bottle of Dawn dishwashing liquid and a scrubber. Hazel knows a thing or two about household storage and this would be a calamity in her eyes.

The kid still comes home frequently and is, at best, a bull in a china shop most days. I think the chips in our cups and dishes have increased due to his shorter visits. He has been gone just long enough for all of the bad habits of college life to kick in while the established good habits leak out of his brain to make room for something… When I ask him what he learned, it’s the same answer he’s given me since kindergarten — “I don’t know.”

There is also the issue of clutter. The older I get, the less I like clutter. It exhausts me, so I take time every day to tackle spots that are clutter magnets and clear it out. (I’m cleaning out my closet soon – if you don’t hear from me in a month, send help.) The less clutter you have, the more organized you are and since I am not the naturally organized woman my family members are, I will do anything I can to stay on track of organization. This means hiding dishes behind a cabinet door as the stacks, no matter how neat they are, look like clutter.

There are a few instances where I would try open shelves. If I had odd-sized spaces where a cabinet wouldn’t work, or if I was a master of vignettes. I do have collectible dishes that I can display, but there are usually only one or two pieces out at a time. A friend told me I might like them better because I cook a lot and they make it easier to put my hands on the things I need, but I learned long ago to approach cooking with organization, so I gather everything ahead of time.

What are your thoughts on open kitchen shelves? Love or hate them?

I wrote a book.

February 4, 2019 by Lisa Leave a Comment

I wrote a book.

If I were completely full of myself, I’d add a photo of a microphone being dropped click publish. But, as I am not that person, feel I should expound.

I hesitated sharing as my book isn’t ready for public consumption. Yet, I really did it. Even now, over a month later, I cannot believe that I wrote a book. I spent a lot of hours pouring a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into this project. I had more fun in my little make-believe world that I could have ever imagined.

I’ve known since I was a little girl that I was supposed to be a writer. Thanks to a teacher who shan’t be named, I put all of those dreams on the back burner. She made me feel as if I weren’t worthy enough to write anything more than my name on a piece of paper. When you’re young and impressionable, those words from someone who is supposed to be leading you can change your entire world.

It changed mine.

Instead of writing, I did everything I could to avoid it. Weird jobs, lots of travel, marriage, kid, you name it, I did it. I started finding my voice again thanks to my friend, Shellie. We grew up together — she lived down the street from my Grandmother when we were kids.

Shellie and I reconnected on the old Classmates.com site long before Facebook was a glimmer in Mark Zuckerberg’s eye and we started sending long emails, having even longer phone calls, and chatting on instant messaging. One day she said “Don’t you like to write?” and after what I assume was a yes, asked, “Then why aren’t you doing it.”

So, I did. I had some minor things published here and there. My blog was already in existence so I could update family on the shenanigans of my then toddler. This morphed into wanting a different space for my voice as I hated pitching. Hello, blogging.

When so many of us started blogging in the early days (I started in 2002) we wanted our voices to be heard. We wanted people to think, to feel, and to know that we weren’t alone in our tiny little corner of the internet.

Since several family members read my blog, and always ask when I’m going to finish my book, I’ll just lay out my next steps. When I finished on Christmas Eve, I set it aside and let is rest. I was tired of the story, the grind of the previous months, but most of all I needed distance.

Distance is anything is key to being able to come back to it and look at it with fresh eyes. I’m not sure I’ve given it enough distance, but it keeps calling to me. My folder where I stash the index cards with notes for an idea or change that shows up when I’m chopping veggies is growing thicker by the day.

Revisions started yesterday. They always say enjoy and have fun with the writing process as revisions are the hard part of writing. Listen to those people, as they are wise and telling you the truth. I spent 3 hours yesterday and revised a total of 1500 words. I’m still not happy, so I’ll continue to revise until I can look at it and say “this is good enough.”

Once I say “it’s good enough” I’ll send it to my beta readers. These are dedicated people who love literature and will read this book with a critical eye while being kind to my soul. Those are the best beta readers to have in your corner.

Self-publishing is great, but I am going to aim for the traditional publishing route. I’ve had some good advice from friends in the industry and when I’m ready, and once I have had feedback from my beta readers, and another round or five of revisions, I’ll start shopping it.

My goal is to start sending queries out this autumn, but that’s just a loose plan and not set in stone. While I work well with structure, I prefer to give this wildly audacious goal the flexibility it needs to truly come into fruition. The possibilities are endless, but I have to allow them to be possible, without worrying about the outcomes.

Writers write because we have to. We don’t have a choice. And all writers want to be published. I could go about and say “I don’t care if I’m published or not — that wasn’t the goal — it is about the art.”

It is about the art–to a degree.

I’m not worried about the outcome. Anyone who writes a book wants to see their book on the shelves in a bookstore. That would be nice. My goal is a little different. Weird, but different.

I find that I’m actually happy I achieved this goal and could place a copy of the rough draft in my son’s hands and say “You can do anything you set your mind to. Here’s the proof.”

I wrote a book.

Strong Women

January 2, 2019 by Lisa Leave a Comment

I was chatting with a friend tonight about the things women of a certain age discuss: peri-menopause, aging parents, family, fitness, our growing children, and life. In fact, I had this conversation multiple times today with multiple women, all at different ages and stages of life.

What stood out to me the most was the same comment/theme: “I just want to be strong again.”

This resonates with me on so many different levels. Because all of these women, these glorious beautiful women, are the strongest ones I know. By managing everything in their life — work, raising a family, elder care, their own health, relationships with their partners, you name it — they are showing up every day in ways that others can’t imagine. But these strong women are also deeply broken. They are sad, they are hurting, they are in pain.

This led me to think about the past two years — I have been going deep inside to deal with the layers I have built to protect myself — and not in a good way. You see, when things get to be too much for me, I withdraw from the world and try my damnedest to disappear. Trying to walk the earth as one who is invisible– while the rest of the world tunes you out due to age — becomes all too easy.

White coffee cup sitting on a striped rug that says be strong. — Photo by Heather Schwartz on Unsplash

Withdrawing is how I draw strength — to a point. I think it’s how many of us draw on our strength. It’s when we withdraw so deeply into ourselves that we run the risk of losing sight of who we are.

Alison Peterson wrote “. . . to serve so selflessly, you have to subdue something in yourself.”

These women are serving — and giving up — everything for everyone. In doing so, they are a metaphorical shell because they don’t have the energy to be anything else. They have depleted their souls to be 50 different versions of themselves so they can manage every thing in their life — and most don’t feel as if they’re managing at all.

But these women, they are strong women. They’re the ones who I look up to and think “you’ve really got your ‘ish together.” Yet, we all feel like we’re flailing. Our lives are not what they look like on social media — what we’re sending out is the sanitized version made for consumer consumption.

If we get as real as we wanted to the internet trolls would come in and terrorize us for daring to be ourselves. They would make a mockery of our roots that needed touching up three months ago, and tell us we deserve our misery because we’ve obviously horrible humans who cannot handle life. When really, all we’re trying to do is not let life handle us.

“One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.” Sigmund Freud

One of my friends sent me this quote a few hours ago and it was what we both needed. The struggle is real, but I can look back at some of the deepest, darkest struggles in my life with amazing clarity and gratitude. Without those moments, I would not be the person I am today. And I can sit here and tell you that no matter what you are going through, you are strong.

It may not seem like it right now. And you may think that there will never be a light at the end of this tunnel, but if you squint hard enough, and maybe turn your head just a little more to the left, she will be there. That strong woman is inside of you. Right now, you don’t recognize her is because she has changed. She’ll never look the same, but she will always be there, because she IS you.

Photo Shoots and Fear

March 5, 2018 by Lisa Leave a Comment

I did something I haven’t done since 2012 this past Wednesday — I stood in front of the camera lens for over an hour. Even now, I am a little-nauseated thinking about it. I have always been more comfortable behind the lens having studied photography for four years. It helps that my new friend, Nannette, was the one in control of my photo shoot, while my friend and mentor Danica promised to kick my rear with her tiny little heels if I didn’t do it. The prospect of Jimmy Choo indentions on your derriere is a great motivator.

As I look back at what I just wrote, I realize that Nannette was the person directing the shoot, but she allowed me the actual control. Sure she cajoled and made me laugh, but I now know that I was leading the entire time. There is something empowering about that I haven’t felt in a long time. I realize now that I felt more like me and who I want to be, and possibly even who I used to be than I have in… decades.

When I was 15, my friend Trinity photographed me. I was wearing a pink shirt and had horrible hair (it was the 80’s). Even now, years later, I can remember her telling me how pretty I looked in pink. That shirt I wore is what people now call “millennial pink” but I rocked it in 1988. I wore the same color when Nanette photographed me. She was surprised that I wore a shirt that was subtle in tone, as she expected me to be wearing some much bolder to fit my personality and “because you were so alive and funny on the first night we met.”

That is where the rub comes in, I had no idea my personality was bold. I also rarely, if ever, show my funny side. If I do, it means I am so comfortable with you that I truly let go and am the person that only a handful of people see. And it is usually my husband and son who see it on a day in, day out basis. Most people encounter super serious and quiet Lisa.

I found myself the next day doing a short Instagram video where my friend Stephanie told me I was “fabulous” and needed to do videos more often. And I am sitting here shaking my head still trying to figure that out.

What I have learned is that people see so much that you never see when you are looking in the mirror at yourself. What reflects back is all of the negative thoughts, the doubts, the whys and wondering how you got to where you are today.

There is one time in my life that I keep going back to — 1988. I was 15, had split off from my group in Paris and instead of being the good girl and heading to the Louvre with everyone else, I went to visit Jim Morrison’s grave at the Père Lachaise. I don’t even know why I went as I wasn’t that much of a Doors fan at the time. But go I did and managed to get myself across Paris with speaking a word of French and back to my hotel, meeting benevolent strangers along the way who helped me figure out where I needed to be with nothing more than a smile, wild gesticulations, and a well-worn map.

As I try and figure out what has changed in the past 30 years (how has it been that long?) I go back to that time period and wondering what caused this massive change. From the brave girl in a foreign land to a mouse who has been afraid of her shadow too often to count.

I can’t answer that question and wish I could. But there is one thing I do know — I need more pink in my life and clothing.

Checking In, Friends.

Like this:

Open Kitchen Shelves

Like this:

I wrote a book.

I wrote a book.

It changed mine.

It is about the art–to a degree.

Like this:

Strong Women

Alison Peterson wrote “. . . to serve so selflessly, you have to subdue something in yourself.”

“One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.” Sigmund Freud

Like this:

Photo Shoots and Fear

Like this:

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Life

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Like this:

I wrote a book.

It changed mine.

It is about the art–to a degree.

Like this:

Alison Peterson wrote “. . . to serve so selflessly, you have to subdue something in yourself.”

“One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.” Sigmund Freud

Like this:

Like this:

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