humor – Page 2 – Waiting for the Karma Truck

Home Again

December 16, 2013December 16, 2013 mimijk

“The mountains are calling and I must go” — John Muir

I could have stayed at our mountain home for far longer than we did. Air that was breathlessly cold; sky and ground the same color white, blurring the boundary that keeps one anchored to the ground; good friends (who fortunately arrived after the new heat pump was installed) – and Sir Bogey.

The Sirs have been to the house before, but this time Bogey got to be the ‘special’ fur-kid who made the trip. He loves being part of the pack, but he really delighted in being the center of attention. Four adults catering to his every whim, four laps to test, four sets of ears listening to his lengthy diatribes and demands. He’s quite the puppy, with far more opinions and expectations than any puppy I have ever had. Needless to say, he’s training us very well.

At night, he would see his reflection in every window and was desperate to have the interloper evicted from the premises. Same thing with the floor length mirror. He huffed and lunged, banging his head repeatedly. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but arguably one of the cutest. When he is with the other Sirs he is far bolder than when he’s on his own. Every morning he would venture outside, greeting the frozen air with a lot of bluster and bark – from behind my legs. He was more intrepid when the sun rose, jumping through the snow with abandon, skidding around the driveway as if his paws were made of fiberglass. Bogey maximizing his moments – playing with abandon, sleeping heavily, eating with enthusiasm and delighting in tummy rubs. He’s impulsive and demands the most from the world around him, for last he looked, it’s totally his world. As I said, he’s training us well. And having his perspective while we snuggled into the days made any sense of the serious impossible. We even played a new game, sort of like ‘Marco Polo‘ but calling “Bogey” or “is the puppy with you?” instead.

Icing delayed our departure, and I was ambivalent when the salt truck arrived. Home is wherever love is, so arguably it travels. But it’s the peace of the mountains, the demand that you scale back your worries and amp up the volume on appreciating the smallest of delights. Feeling snowflakes on your face, playing with abandon, talking with friends, sleeping heavily and treading lightly on the earth. Bogey is teaching us well. The mountains are the perfect backdrop for lessons such as these.

anxiety, humor

If The Mountain Won’t Come To The Sirs…

November 15, 2013 mimijk

…one brings the Sirs to the mountains. We came up here last night to check on a heating system which I left in a questionable state on Wednesday and a pending installation of shades and blinds. Up here, you leave a house key at the lodge and people come and go whether or not you’re around. A little strange for me, but a little instructive too. No one trashed the house, took anything, scratched any walls. They do their thing and they leave. I like being a part of a community that trusts that much.

True, I felt a bit like the theme from “Deliverance” should have played when I stopped at a guns and ammo shack last night to pick up some milk. No, there’s no Seven-Eleven. Two guys dressed in camo behind the counter, one needing dental work, the other needing a haircut. “Can we get somethin’ for ya, ma’am?” They were really very sweet, despite my discomfort with standing in the midst of a veritable arsenal of hunting stuff and snuff with one quart of milk behind multiple six packs of beer.

Anyway, other than Bogey throwing up in my lap, Teddy shaking and panting for the first hour of the trip (even though he had on his Thunder-Shirt) and Archie desperately trying to figure out the benefits of lying down, no, standing up..no, lying down…um, standing up, it was a decent trip. Now these guys are not exactly urban dogs – our house sits on a bit of land, they have chased their share of deer (well, Bogey hasn’t – he barks and then runs behind my legs), smelled the unmistakable markings of a fox, rolled in enough strange animal excrement to make dog shampoo a staple under the sink. But now we’re in the mountains – bears, deer that are far larger than the ones back home, bobcats – probably tigers and rhinos too. “Mutual Of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom” meets “Robin Hood”.

They jumped out of the car and into the leaves – noses down, tails up and ears on high alert. I was just imploring them to stay where I could see them and do their business. They were tentative for a nanosecond, but their curiosity prevailed – where the hell were they? These smells, the sounds – they needed to go in and out of the house at least ten times before settling down to a thorough exploration of the house. Bogey – Bogey, the juvenile delinquent of puppies if ever there was one, proceeded to look for something to get into or chew that would guarantee a chase around the house (he chose one of my shoes). Happily, he soon discovered himself in a mirror, which captured his attention far longer than any other activity of the evening. If he wasn’t so ridiculously cute, I would be looking into canine reform schools.

The sun is rising in a pink and blue sky, the Sirs are currently sleeping after a couple of vigorous explorations of the great outdoors and the coffee is burning my tongue. So far, so good. Bogey hasn’t found any desiccated frogs to bring into the house, Archie hasn’t run off in an intrepid search of the neighborhood and Teddy with his characteristic maturity is just stickin’ close to me. If the day continues to unfold this way, I think it’ll be a far better introduction to the mountains than either Andy or I anticipated. Of course, it’s still early.

anxiety, friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons

A Shameless Plug

October 17, 2013October 17, 2013 mimijk

I think one would be living under a rock not to know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. I know of far too many people who have found their lives upended with such a diagnosis. People in my family; people I love and have loved with all I’ve got. Friends who are inextricably connected to me through shared history, experience or circumstance. And to deny the insidious, silent way that one’s body can morph from one moment to the next is just folly. It happens all the time.

As it did to my friend Jill Foer Hirsch. Jill is a breast cancer survivor, writer and humorist (I would put the emphasis on humorist, for there is little that Jill can’t find the humor in). She recently published a book When Good Boobs Turn Bad – A Mammoir. When Jill received her diagnosis, there was certainly fear, shock, disbelief. There were tears. And then Jill returned to form – “I have good news and bad news; the bad news is that I have breast cancer. The good news is I’m seeing a hot plastic surgeon who keeps telling me to take my shirt off.”

And so she shares her journey with total candor and gentle humor. It’s how she managed to endure surgeries and chemo, the vulnerability of returning to work and the tenuous re-immersion into her life. I’m not going to speak about Jill’s courage – that’s not her thing (though she is one remarkably strong and accomplished woman). She doesn’t see herself that way. She would prefer to make an acceptance speech, receive an award for her light touch and flair for the comedic. And in my eyes, she deserves all that and more.

I was honored to review her book. I am more honored to know her, to be able to laugh with her and celebrate life at the local diner where we both indulge in grilled cheese sandwiches and fries (before you tell me how unhealthy it is – I know that. But it’s diner fare, and we don’t get together all that often). She and her husband recently celebrated their twenty-fifth anniversary surrounded by friends and family. I won’t even tell you how irreverent their new vows were to each other (suffice it to say that Jill felt that since their first wedding ceremony was in Hebrew and neither of them understood what they were committing to, it was time to define the parameters on their own terms).

Breast cancer isn’t funny. Jill was diligent in ensuring that her medical care was excellent, followed her protocols seriously, and would occasionally wear animal hats to her appointments. We all do what we have to do to get through. Jill relied on humor. Finding moments that could engage her funny bone. To lose her ability to laugh would have been a concession that she was not prepared to make. Her outlook is inspiring – and may be a balm for anyone who is navigating the challenging path of fighting such a formidable foe. I am one of her biggest fans – and have been since we met years ago. The greatest takeaway from her book is the grace that is evident when taking circumstances seriously, but ourselves lightly. I am proud of her for sharing her story; I am proud to be her friend. And though this is a shameless plug for her book, it is representative of a perspective that I respect and applaud. She is healthy and she is well – and we laugh. Oh, how we laugh. Congratulations my dear friend – I am hopeful this book will be a welcome respite for anyone who may be on this challenging path.

humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

The City Mouse And The Country Mouse

October 16, 2013October 16, 2013 mimijk

This isn’t about the book – though I loved it as a kid. It’s about the duality within me – for I am both in one very confused body. I grew up in a city; I worked in a city. I live in the ‘burbs; we just bought a home in the mountains. I’m writing you from this new house, looking out at the trees as their leaves fall like rain. The vista is saturated in yellows and reds. There is no one around, yet I couldn’t be less lonely.

Our house is sited in such a way that it feels like an aerie. Perhaps that is why it is comforting to be here. Protected as in a nest. I’m getting to know this space, for we closed and moved in over the weekend. We don’t know each other yet – its noises are unfamiliar, the whoosh of the heat turning on, the doorbell, the ticking of a clock. The first night we crawled into bed with aching backs and weary legs, only to feel an adrenalin surge as the rain and wind magnified every creak and moan. I spent some of the post-midnight hours walking through the rooms, introducing myself and listening to their stories. Finally I fell asleep on the couch wrapped in a blanket and a better sense of my bearings. When we got home on Sunday, I fell into the arms of the familiar. I’m slow to commit, but once I get there, I’m steadfast.

I came back yesterday to continue nesting (which included the third visit from the cable people with whom I’m now on a first name basis). I went for a walk convinced I would find clues of the wildlife who are the rightful owners of this land. Of course, I have no idea what bear scat looks like, nor exactly what I would do if I met a bobcat along the road. I only know what I’ve seen on “Mutual Of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom“. And I always thought that Marlon Perkins had the better job – observing from afar as Bill would be sent in to tranquillize the grizzly. The city mouse with a country spirit. Or a country mouse with an urban aesthetic.

So I am beginning a new relationship in these calming and magnificent surroundings. I am feeling protective as a mother with a new baby, holding each moment carefully, realizing that this house and I are engaged in a transfusion of our spirits, our ‘mark’ if you will. I love the splendor, the sense of being closer to the sky. And soon this too will feel like home.

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Kitchen Friendships

October 2, 2013October 2, 2013 mimijk

“Ten times a day something happens to me like this – some strengthening throb of amazement – some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.” — Mary Oliver

You would think that the continuing saga of potty training our youngest sir (Bogey – he with the bladder of a peanut and a vacant scare which may not bode well for his aptitude), would leave me somewhat compromised in terms of fodder for posts dealing with anything other than the delight and frustration of puppyhood. Given that my travels are limited to two and half hour intervals, it is true that I haven’t seen much other than what is going on in my kitchen. But I’m here to tell you, there’s a lot of amazing that happens here.

Bonnie, the remarkable creator of paperkeeper.wordpress.com was here for a couple of days and in effect, holed up in the kitchen with me for the majority of her visit. True, a better host would have planned sightseeing expeditions in and around D.C. (she left the day of the government shutdown); I invited her to walk up and down the driveway. And having her here was an experience in amazement. Amazement that we started talking at Union Station on Sunday evening and didn’t stop until we said good-bye at Dulles airport. That the kitchen became the haven for stories sad and delightful, evocative memories and whispered hopes. There was no better place to be to explore the reality of a friendship that started with imagined dimensionality created by our words and email conversations. I could listen and see and ask and think and travel around years of Bonnie’s life and she let me be amazed. We laughed and considered and opined and let the comfort of the kitchen make all of that conversation safe. It was a joy to have her here and to realize as I sit here today, that I had so much wonder going on around me. Perhaps therein is the kernel of truth – any moment which is attended to with sensibilities focused contains far more amazement than we might think.

I will leave Bonnie’s travels to Bonnie – for it is her story to tell. And she tells it like no one else. I for one have to go walk the pup.

humor, life lessons, motivation

Practically Perfect

September 18, 2013September 18, 2013 mimijk

“They say that nobody is perfect. Then they tell you practice makes perfect. I wish they’d make up their minds” — Winston Churchill

Oh Winnie (we’re on informal terms), I am with you pal. Accepting that we are all so imperfect (even you Win – you had a weirdly shaped head and drank more than your fair share of alcohol – I’m just sayin’…and what about that temper, hmm?), able to choose the road less traveled with the right intention and the wrong shoes, discovering once lost that we’ve reached a dead-end (while walking without a compass – I still don’t know how to use one, but some people find them handy). Striving, reaching, folding inward…reflecting upon the answers to questions with a million possible choices. Perhaps we are lucky enough to find a perfect moment in between all the others, and arguably that’s pretty damn good. We all know that nothing holds up under intense scrutiny – a perfect rose, an exquisite smile – if gazed upon for too long morphs into something that is slightly wanting (and occasionally a little weird-looking).

I accepted this reality a long time ago – and yet, I’m still searching. And I’m an idiot. I have been on a quest for the perfect pair of jeans, the perfect cosmetic blush, the perfect pen for decades (decades, I tell you). Straight jeans, boyfriend jeans, jeans with spandex so I can look thin and not breathe, dark jeans, bleached jeans, expensively ripped jeans, bootcut jeans. I have a long torso and short legs (imagine trying to dress a fireplug), and still wonder if all jeans require that there be a gap at the waist that permits you to catch a lovely breeze while you’re walking. A pair of jeans that are well-worn and soft, comfortable to a fault that don’t provide the opportunity for me to end up with a self-inflicted and seriously painful wedgie. Jeans that will close without holding my breath and a zipper that moves easily without the need to lie down on the bed to ease its movement.

I’ve just about given up on this one – I buy ’em bigger these days, because I just can’t abide by things that hug me so tightly I begin to feel light-headed. How do I look? Probably like a representative from Munchkinland who didn’t make it into costume in time. I am completely aware that Vogue isn’t calling anytime soon.

Make-up is just one big come-on and I fall every time. Each color is “wonderful for any skin tone”, “gives you that natural flush”, “just apply on the apples of your cheeks and you will look instantly refreshed”. No I won’t. I look like a frightening marionette or my application is so light that people ask after my health. “Coral” looks like I’ve got navel oranges affixed to my cheeks; pink as if I’ve strategically stuck on cotton candy so I can grab a taste throughout the day. Brown? Don’t ask. If I pinch my cheeks (as some fashion editors recommend) I hurt myself and am left with two welts. So why am I still bothering? Hope my friend, hope. It’s stronger than reality.

Which brings us to my obsession with pens. Those who remember me from my work days know that my preference was always to use a fountain pen. Italic nib, so I could write pseudo-calligraphy and remain questionably legible. I wanted a pen that would float along the page, no sound of scratching, ink flowing evenly and with the sort of fluidity that the end result would almost have to be equally flowing and beautiful. I also thought it would improve my illegibility, transforming it into magnificent penmanship. Cheap pens, expensive pens, I have committed to so many, only to discover that I am fickle and that my expectation keeps changing. I really understand that there may not be a connection between the loveliness of a pen and the words that I write (a bitter, bitter pill to swallow – “I coulda been a contender”). But I believe there is some writing instrument out there that is going to be close to transformative. David (davidkanigan.com) wrote of the “Perfect Pen” yesterday and I felt my heart begin to race. Could it really be? And it’s available at Office Depot? No specialty store? No secret password to gain egress to some high-end pen shop? You know where I’m heading today.

And yet I know that I will like the pen. I will not love it, for it is not a fountain pen – but perhaps it will inspire sentences that leave you breathless, wondering with awe how I could even conjure such flights of fancy and delight. I think I’ll wear my two-sizes-too-big-jeans over there and just keep hitching them up (true I probably walk like a short Walter Brennan but people give me a wide berth) and mix the corals, pinks and browns together before lightly dusting them on my cheeks. It may seem that my face needs a good washing after that, but what the hell. Totally unkempt woman walking into Office Depot in search of perfection. No one will believe it.

humor, love, parenting

An Ode To Puppy Training

September 9, 2013September 9, 2013 mimijk

Bogey, Oh Bogey

My patience has been lost

Your puppy licks are heavenly

Your belly is just boss

But Bogey, dear Bogey

Your head is incredibly hard

Your habits indiscriminate

Instead of in the yard

I do not mind the teething

The chewing or tripped-upon toys

The relentless teasing of your brothers

For you’re still a baby boy

Dear Bogey, my Bogey

Why is it you can’t see

How wrong it is to squat in the kitchen

And look at me as you pee?

friendship, humor, love, training

Guest Blogger – Sir Bogart

August 29, 2013August 29, 2013 mimijk

Hi all,

Thank you all for giving me such a warm welcome – you are all way nicer than my brothers (well, they’re nice some of the time, but they seem a little moody to me)!!! Anyway, I’ve been here four full days now and I have learned an awful lot about life in the kingdom.

I know where my food is

I’ve been accident-free for two days – which seems to be a major cause of celebration for my mom, she keeps kissing me and telling me what a good boy I am every time I take care of business outside. It seems a little excessive, but I humor her.

My brother takes offense if I get too close to areas I find interesting to sniff…

But he will now allow me to hang with him if I respect his space and keep my nose to myself. The guy doesn’t know how to have any fun.

Size seems to matter – Sir Archie takes my toys, but if I try to take one of his – whoa…I am plotting my revenge.

Mom doesn’t like having her toes bitten – what’s up with that?

And the King thinks I’m perfect. In truth I think he’s got enormous potential and I’m sucking up to him for all it’s worth. I would say I’m making a ton of progress, wouldn’t you?

friendship, humor, love, parenting

Update From Under The Round Table

August 27, 2013August 27, 2013 mimijk

Well the past thirty-six hours have been a bit tiring, but the Sirs are slowly beginning to accept the interloper who is desperately seeking membership. Personally I think he’s trying a little too hard, but I’m sure that his canine brothers would disagree. We are succeeding at the whole ‘going potty’ thing (with a couple of exceptions), the crate experience and following the King around like a dutiful royal subject. Our days look like this…

We play…

Everyone gets a little territorial – as in, ‘he will NOT share my seat that the table’

We get sleepy

We pass out

And so it goes…And as soon as this little guy gives me a few moments, I will write about something else entirely..

humor, life lessons, love, mindfulness, parenting

Welcome Sir Bogart

August 24, 2013August 24, 2013 mimijk

Well, we had a very calm ride home and so far, so good…The Sirs are a bit ambivalent – and Archie did try to share Bogey’s lunch…It’s been a challenge to get him out of Andy’s lap as you can see…

And now it’s nap time, and the newest Sir is making it very clear that he values his privacy.

Something tells me these next couple of weeks are going to make blogging a challenge – time snatched between trips to go potty. But he is awfully cute..

anxiety, discretion, humor, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness, motivation

You’d Think I’d Know By Now

August 21, 2013August 21, 2013 mimijk

I recently received a comment about one of my posts, which I have let drive me crazy. The person (whose blog I read regularly and enjoy – particularly for the fabulous photography) wrote candidly that he didn’t read my posts frequently because he found them “too sweet”. Now before you say anything – this isn’t a referendum on whether he’s right. He’s right – I’m not the type to disabuse anyone of their feelings and after obsessing about this for days now, I see his point.

I assure you I’m not all that sweet. Well, I’m sweet, but I have as many snarky moments as the next person. And I can be sarcastic. And if you’re a friend or relative of mine, I can be an absolute lioness – with both chuffing and growling sounds perfected. You get my drift, though believe me I could go on and tell you all the reasons why I can compete with the best provocateurs, devil’s advocates and cynics. Just ask Andy. But I digress (again).

What gets me is how much I let this thought consume me. I have held onto this like Archie covets a new bone. The circuitous breeze in my head blows relentlessly and none too gently. “Have I become saccharine?” “What do I want this blog to reflect?” “Is it honest” “Am I still thinking like Pollyanna?” (answer to this question is – yes). “Do I have anything new to say or have I become Mimi One-Note?” “How much do I want to put out there” Of course, the answers change direction depending on the time of day, the state of my hair, and whether I have eaten recently. As of this writing, I’ve decided that I’ve got to let it go. Must be time for lunch.

I began this blog with a thousand different ideas about what I wanted it to be like and then zeroed in on a year’s worth of entries that I could print out and give to my sons – a somewhat morbid, but well-intended gesture for them. I’m now well into my second year and I can’t see giving them a flippin’ tome, so what am I doing now? Honestly, I have no idea. Given that I’m a big believer that certain answers come with time, I’m giving it time and just moving forward. What I do know is that I’m as transparent as I feel I can be.

On Monday we were out to dinner with friends of ours who have had a really challenging year. Her son was diagnosed with a serious illness, she was just laid off for the second time in less than a year. The company he works for is on the brink of going under. And yet, there we sat genuinely aware that we were all beyond lucky. First and foremost, her son is much, much better – and that offers a perspective like nothing else. We live in far better circumstances than most people in the world. We laugh – a lot. We know love. We’re more aware that the concept of happiness is not something that is a given, rather more like snatches of sunlight between the cracks in a day. The key is in noticing those spaces. I’m trying to look for them, choosing to find them. I don’t want to miss my chances, for the weather changes with little warning.

Lately, I’ve been acutely aware of time speeding past. When the hell did I become 59 when I still hold on to such immaturity? I’m not ready to age-out of life just yet and would prefer to be in the game with some well-preserved naiveté and faith in a whole bunch of things that are bigger than me (note to David Kanigan – no height comments here, pal). I’d rather be acknowledging the spaces in-between and delight when I find them. Pollyanna? You betcha – though I don’t do braids.