There are all these people who've wished me Happy Birthday on my Facebook Wall. (There are several people surprised a woman of my age has a Facebook page, wall and all the Facebook accoutrement.) I barely know how to access my page, let along my wall. But there they were. It's rather like coming home and finding your living room full of friends you didn't know you'd invited with nothing to feed them. It's very disconcerting. I want to individually thank each one of them. But you can't do that b/c they're on your wall. And how do I find my wall? I picture myself searching for my wall, finding it and painting a big thank you on it.
But first I need to buy a cake to give everyone a slice.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Big Six Zero
It's here. I decided to take an accounting: my weight, assets, debts. Sort of a spread sheet on this my 60th birthday. But it seemed too disheartening once I stepped on the scale.
As I wrote in my morning pages I realized that the actual accounting was much more uplifting and really where I'd stored by treasures: my children, my friends, my husband, my family. My job and co-workers. Neighbors. Books.
This is beginning to sound like a bad Christmas letter.
So, here's the thing. Yesterday, I danced at the Jazz Cabaret with a man who said I followed well and I took that as a compliment because he was as good a dancer as Ken and although I was a little nervous dancing with someone other than my husband who I've been dancing with since I was 17, I just relaxed and listened to the beat. I think I'll try doing that more.
As I wrote in my morning pages I realized that the actual accounting was much more uplifting and really where I'd stored by treasures: my children, my friends, my husband, my family. My job and co-workers. Neighbors. Books.
This is beginning to sound like a bad Christmas letter.
So, here's the thing. Yesterday, I danced at the Jazz Cabaret with a man who said I followed well and I took that as a compliment because he was as good a dancer as Ken and although I was a little nervous dancing with someone other than my husband who I've been dancing with since I was 17, I just relaxed and listened to the beat. I think I'll try doing that more.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
About this past decade
A word about the past decade, fondly referred to as My 50s.
Here are just some of my observations as I sit here in my robe on a Sunday morning having begged off church because of a headache, a troubled stomach and now the horror of discovering I've been kicked off Kacey's Suggesting Reading List. (I must be more troubled by this than I would admit.)
This won't be a complete list, but for posterity, here are some highlights of this most eventful 10 years:
I do remember clearly that I celebrated my 50th birthday with one less breast that I had the previous year. I'd had a masectomy sometime in February, two months after Ken had had a tumor and two cysts removed from his spine. I was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer; had opted for a masectomy and reconstructive surgery. It seemed a tummy tuck could be at least one of the bennies I got from this. My dearest friend Margot sent me a box with something like 30 little ;gifts wrapped that I was to open every day until my birthday. It was very unlike her. Not that she's not giving, but I think she registered the severity of this more than I did. On March 16, 1999, Ken had staged a surprise birthday party on the eve of my reconstructive surgery. It was a fun affair. My parents were there. They had come to nurse me through the harder surgery than the masectomy, which was almost like out-patient surgery. The next day, St. Patrick's Day, my parents drove me to the hospital. Ken came, but he wasin tremendous pain and they had to find a bed for him to rest in during the surgery. When I came out of surgery all these people trooped into my hospital room. I was a sorry sight and not up to receiving company, but their presence was sweet. Amanda was living at home. Lucas had come with his girlfriend, Beth, and was dissuaded from having her spend the weekend at our home given it was pretty crowded.
that birthday I remember.
I went from being senior editor of the Features Dept at the Arizona Republic to being West Valley editor of some sort. A fall my friend Ellen helped me negotiate and whose sound, clear advice I've passed on to countless people and followed myself in more than a work related scenario. Basically, take notes. It's very calming. She also taught me through this that when something crummy like this happens that's more a blow to your ego than anything else you don't have to fall into a cavern of self-loathing and navel-gazing. You can take notes and plan Plan b.
I'm taking too long on this retrospect.
Here are the others: More surgeries for Ken; Lucas graduating from college; Amanda graduating from college; Amanda getting a job at Thunderbird; Lucas getting an internship in Chicago and spending the summer with the Culps. Me navi9gating a zip line at Leadership West and proving that my body did work even after a masectomy.
Driving Lucas to Chicago and spending three nights in Gallup, N.M., proving that I could find the FedEx route and have the delivery schedule changed. Driving to Chicago with Amanda and proving that maybe I shouldn't drive across country with my children. We were rescued by a truck driver outside of Tulsa who wondered what two women were doing driving across country hauling a car and driving a UHaul truck.
Joining Weight Watchers w/ Ken and losing 15 pounds and understanding I couldn't eat anything I wanted. Ever.
Moving to Barbados Place and emptying out our home of 15 years.
Kaiau, or however, you spell it. We went there'
Selling the cabin.
Meeting Melissa and understanding she would be the woman Lucas would marry. Their wedding.
Meeting Michael and hoping he was patient enough with Amanda and himself to risk proposing. He was. They are. Their wedding and spending much of the reception in the ER with my mother who'd gotten ill when we walked into the Gleacher Center where the reception was held.
Learning my father had stage 4 lung cancer. Being with him when he died.
Being with my mother who had to learn to live alone. Moving her to Peabody.
And somewhere in the middle of this I learned that cruising is really a whole lot of fun. Ken and I repeated our wedding vows on one of those cruises officiated by Margot - the ceremony not the cruise.
That driving on the left side of the road in England is tricky.
Having my first novel published and being on Oprah (just kidding.)
Exercising daily. (Kidding there too.)
Here are just some of my observations as I sit here in my robe on a Sunday morning having begged off church because of a headache, a troubled stomach and now the horror of discovering I've been kicked off Kacey's Suggesting Reading List. (I must be more troubled by this than I would admit.)
This won't be a complete list, but for posterity, here are some highlights of this most eventful 10 years:
I do remember clearly that I celebrated my 50th birthday with one less breast that I had the previous year. I'd had a masectomy sometime in February, two months after Ken had had a tumor and two cysts removed from his spine. I was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer; had opted for a masectomy and reconstructive surgery. It seemed a tummy tuck could be at least one of the bennies I got from this. My dearest friend Margot sent me a box with something like 30 little ;gifts wrapped that I was to open every day until my birthday. It was very unlike her. Not that she's not giving, but I think she registered the severity of this more than I did. On March 16, 1999, Ken had staged a surprise birthday party on the eve of my reconstructive surgery. It was a fun affair. My parents were there. They had come to nurse me through the harder surgery than the masectomy, which was almost like out-patient surgery. The next day, St. Patrick's Day, my parents drove me to the hospital. Ken came, but he wasin tremendous pain and they had to find a bed for him to rest in during the surgery. When I came out of surgery all these people trooped into my hospital room. I was a sorry sight and not up to receiving company, but their presence was sweet. Amanda was living at home. Lucas had come with his girlfriend, Beth, and was dissuaded from having her spend the weekend at our home given it was pretty crowded.
that birthday I remember.
I went from being senior editor of the Features Dept at the Arizona Republic to being West Valley editor of some sort. A fall my friend Ellen helped me negotiate and whose sound, clear advice I've passed on to countless people and followed myself in more than a work related scenario. Basically, take notes. It's very calming. She also taught me through this that when something crummy like this happens that's more a blow to your ego than anything else you don't have to fall into a cavern of self-loathing and navel-gazing. You can take notes and plan Plan b.
I'm taking too long on this retrospect.
Here are the others: More surgeries for Ken; Lucas graduating from college; Amanda graduating from college; Amanda getting a job at Thunderbird; Lucas getting an internship in Chicago and spending the summer with the Culps. Me navi9gating a zip line at Leadership West and proving that my body did work even after a masectomy.
Driving Lucas to Chicago and spending three nights in Gallup, N.M., proving that I could find the FedEx route and have the delivery schedule changed. Driving to Chicago with Amanda and proving that maybe I shouldn't drive across country with my children. We were rescued by a truck driver outside of Tulsa who wondered what two women were doing driving across country hauling a car and driving a UHaul truck.
Joining Weight Watchers w/ Ken and losing 15 pounds and understanding I couldn't eat anything I wanted. Ever.
Moving to Barbados Place and emptying out our home of 15 years.
Kaiau, or however, you spell it. We went there'
Selling the cabin.
Meeting Melissa and understanding she would be the woman Lucas would marry. Their wedding.
Meeting Michael and hoping he was patient enough with Amanda and himself to risk proposing. He was. They are. Their wedding and spending much of the reception in the ER with my mother who'd gotten ill when we walked into the Gleacher Center where the reception was held.
Learning my father had stage 4 lung cancer. Being with him when he died.
Being with my mother who had to learn to live alone. Moving her to Peabody.
And somewhere in the middle of this I learned that cruising is really a whole lot of fun. Ken and I repeated our wedding vows on one of those cruises officiated by Margot - the ceremony not the cruise.
That driving on the left side of the road in England is tricky.
Having my first novel published and being on Oprah (just kidding.)
Exercising daily. (Kidding there too.)
When last I posted
Not to overwhelm everyone (assuming someone is reading this), I will blog in short bloggettes, so as not to , well, overwhelm.
In my second blog, albeit my last one more than a year ago, I reported that Amanda had found an apartment in London, where she and her husband, Michael, are living. Since so much time has transpired, she indeed has found a second apartment. They moved from their Notting Hill third-floor (three story) apartment to a garden level (cheaper but lovely) in Bayswater, a 17 minute walk from their Notting Hill roost.
They are in their last year of a two-year stint in London.
If I had been blogging like a good blogger you would know that we (Ken and I) visited them last summer when they still lived in Notting Hill and that Ken managed the 75 some steps up to their flat quite well. You would also know that Michael had rented a wheelchair to ferry Ken around not only London but Paris, where the four of us spent a fortnight. (It wasn't actually a fortnight, but I've always wanted to write that word in conjunction with a visit to London or Paris.)
If I had been a good blogger you would also know that in this last 12 months I've become a dedicated reader of NYT Sunday op-ed columnist Frank Rich. It, like Setgame and reading Kacey's blog and Margot's daily, are my most consistent weekly routines. I have also taken up with Daniel Silva and his Israeli master spy, Gabriel Allon, finishing a book about every three days this past month.
And you would know that my book club, started almost 10 years ago, nearly faded. But this January we pricked out fingers and dedicated ourselves once more to the monthly gathering for wine, food and book chatter promising to actually read the book, to have more than a passing familiarity with the books we recommend and to faithfully rsvp to the brave woman who agrees to host this group on any given month. We shall see how this unfolds. So far, attendance at January and February meetings was strong; discussion good (Red Tent) but there are those of us who are straying from the reading list finding it not up to its usual robust self.
And you would also know that I am approaching my 60th birthday tomorrow.
In my second blog, albeit my last one more than a year ago, I reported that Amanda had found an apartment in London, where she and her husband, Michael, are living. Since so much time has transpired, she indeed has found a second apartment. They moved from their Notting Hill third-floor (three story) apartment to a garden level (cheaper but lovely) in Bayswater, a 17 minute walk from their Notting Hill roost.
They are in their last year of a two-year stint in London.
If I had been blogging like a good blogger you would know that we (Ken and I) visited them last summer when they still lived in Notting Hill and that Ken managed the 75 some steps up to their flat quite well. You would also know that Michael had rented a wheelchair to ferry Ken around not only London but Paris, where the four of us spent a fortnight. (It wasn't actually a fortnight, but I've always wanted to write that word in conjunction with a visit to London or Paris.)
If I had been a good blogger you would also know that in this last 12 months I've become a dedicated reader of NYT Sunday op-ed columnist Frank Rich. It, like Setgame and reading Kacey's blog and Margot's daily, are my most consistent weekly routines. I have also taken up with Daniel Silva and his Israeli master spy, Gabriel Allon, finishing a book about every three days this past month.
And you would know that my book club, started almost 10 years ago, nearly faded. But this January we pricked out fingers and dedicated ourselves once more to the monthly gathering for wine, food and book chatter promising to actually read the book, to have more than a passing familiarity with the books we recommend and to faithfully rsvp to the brave woman who agrees to host this group on any given month. We shall see how this unfolds. So far, attendance at January and February meetings was strong; discussion good (Red Tent) but there are those of us who are straying from the reading list finding it not up to its usual robust self.
And you would also know that I am approaching my 60th birthday tomorrow.
A year's absence
I have been kicked off Kacey's suggested reading list and that sudden realization has been sufficient motivation to get my blogging act in gear, so to speak.
It's been a long, long silence.
And my blogging name --Eventually Susan--seems sadly, sadly appropriate.
So, on the Ides of March, the last day of my fifth decade, I forthwith resolve to be a more reliable blogger and earn my way back onto to Kacey's suggested reading list.
Sadly, Kacey may never realize that I have returned to the blogging world because I don't know how to forward her a link.
But fueled with guilt and remorse, two motivating emotions, I will figure that out too.
Thank you to the kind and response Blog help gnomes who helped me reset my password.
Here we go.
.to this hu
It's been a long, long silence.
And my blogging name --Eventually Susan--seems sadly, sadly appropriate.
So, on the Ides of March, the last day of my fifth decade, I forthwith resolve to be a more reliable blogger and earn my way back onto to Kacey's suggested reading list.
Sadly, Kacey may never realize that I have returned to the blogging world because I don't know how to forward her a link.
But fueled with guilt and remorse, two motivating emotions, I will figure that out too.
Thank you to the kind and response Blog help gnomes who helped me reset my password.
Here we go.
.to this hu
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Eventually Susan learns to blog part II
Just to flesh out my little blogspot, I'll post a second entry.
(The terminology is a little daunting.)
I am encouraging Amanda to blog from London. So far she's found an apartment in a city where finding an apartment has been described as about as easy as getting a Burberry raincoat under $300 -- that's a new one that hasn't already been worn, ripped and discarded.
Anyway, it appears she has. Flooded with light. Two bathrooms. Three stories (the first story is the guest bathroom). A sweet little for-decoration-only-fireplace. Two bedrooms, a reception room (we would call a living room). Modern kitchen. And a rooftop deck you enter through a bonafide door and not through a window with an incredible view of the city. And it's in Notting Hill (so since I've seen the movie I feel like I've already been there.) And near Portobello Road, which is a familiar-sounding landmark like Picadilly Circus and London Bridge (which is actually in Arizona now and not London.)
Anyway, it's flooded with light from lots of windows.
But I'll let Amanda tell us all this when she starts her blog.
There. I've begun.
(The terminology is a little daunting.)
I am encouraging Amanda to blog from London. So far she's found an apartment in a city where finding an apartment has been described as about as easy as getting a Burberry raincoat under $300 -- that's a new one that hasn't already been worn, ripped and discarded.
Anyway, it appears she has. Flooded with light. Two bathrooms. Three stories (the first story is the guest bathroom). A sweet little for-decoration-only-fireplace. Two bedrooms, a reception room (we would call a living room). Modern kitchen. And a rooftop deck you enter through a bonafide door and not through a window with an incredible view of the city. And it's in Notting Hill (so since I've seen the movie I feel like I've already been there.) And near Portobello Road, which is a familiar-sounding landmark like Picadilly Circus and London Bridge (which is actually in Arizona now and not London.)
Anyway, it's flooded with light from lots of windows.
But I'll let Amanda tell us all this when she starts her blog.
There. I've begun.
Eventually Susan learns to blog
It's been so long since I've started this blog and actually posted anything that it took me four tries and five trips to the little blogspot help people before I could sign on. It also meant resetting my password. And that was after being told that my sign on didn't exist.
It's enough to turn someone away from blogging altogether.
But eventually I will learn how to blog, remember my password and contribute to this virtual fireside chat since I almost daily visit Kacey's blogspot -- where I went to get to mine by the way -- and read about your lives.
It's enough to turn someone away from blogging altogether.
But eventually I will learn how to blog, remember my password and contribute to this virtual fireside chat since I almost daily visit Kacey's blogspot -- where I went to get to mine by the way -- and read about your lives.
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