Old Friends Someday

14 Nov By 17 Comments

old Friends

Sometimes I wonder who I am going to be friends with when I am old. Who will be my “old friends?” I really love connecting with the “old friends” I have right now and I want more “old friends” when I am old.

Recently, a friend I have known for almost my whole life, came to stay with me for a couple of days. She was one of my mother’s best friends and she was one of the best mothers I have ever had. I spent as much time in her house as my own, probably more.

She is an “old friend” who has lived many years, but is not old yet, because she is still as bright and insightful and spirited as she has ever been. We talked for hours – literally hours nonstop. Not only is she kind, wise and thoughtful, but she is one of the few people in the world who holds a very big chunk of my history. This is very valuable to me too. It was harder than I expected to say goodbye at the end of her visit.

It turns out that my life is made up of many chapters of one book, each more separate from each other than I would like them to be, but necessary for my whole story to make sense. There are more chapters than I can even remember.

Growing up. Church group. High School. College. Santa Monica. Young adult. Oregon. Young wife. Homeowner. Nike. Washington, DC. Married again. Ralph Lauren. Young mom. North Carolina. MBA spouse. More babies. New York City. 9/11. New Jersey. Needham. At-home mom. Divorce. Single mom.  Working mom. Mom of teens. Mom working hard.

The friends I have from the chapters of my life know we can’t be in close touch all of the time, but I hope they know that I am here for them if they need me. I have needed them and they have always been there for me. We stay friends because we are able to pick up our friendship like no time has gone by, whenever we have the chance. No guilt. No obligation. No judgment. Only freedom to be ourselves because we have known each other for a long, long time. We hold memories of our time together for each other. If it were not for my “old friends,” I swear I would have no memories at all. I am pretty sure raising three children has made me lose brain cells.

I am jealous of people who have grown up, gone to college, been married and raised a family in the same place. Or even done a handful of those things in the same place. It seems like those people must have some kind of escrow of shared memories built up with their “old friends” (who are also their current friends) that can be drawn upon during busier times.

I would like to have “old friends” from this chapter of my life, but I worry that I am so busy at this stage, that I am not able to invest the time needed to create the memories that lead to old friendships. The nature of my current chapter is sort of solitary – busy with kids and working a lot. This might shape up to be a really boring chapter of my story. It all sort of melts together in my mind.

When I think about my life beyond this chapter, I see living in a very cool house in a location friends will want to visit. The beach would be great, but realistically, I will be lucky if I get to live on a lake. The house is set up to be low maintenance and easy for entertaining. I will have very comfortable accommodations for visitors. Cotton sheets, fluffy comforters, big fireplace. I imagine lots of relaxed evenings and big breakfasts with lots of visiting friends.

Then I wonder who will be the “old friends” who visit me? I am not putting as much time into my current friendships as I would like to and my “old friends” feel farther and farther away. The insecure part of me wonders if maybe everyone else is making better friends with other people. The reality is that I have to work hard now. My kids need me now. My patient beau has to fit in between everything else. I am doing as much as I can.

In this chapter of my life, friends are an indulgence I get to enjoy every so often. I hope that the occasional walk, the quick coffee, and the fact that we are all living a similar chapter in separate ways is enough to get us through this busy time without losing each other. I hope I am not the only one feeling pulled in so many directions. I hope that I will have a lot of “old friends” someday when I am old.

How do you fit time with friends into your busy life?

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Filed Under: friends, musings, relationships Tagged With: , ,

Belly Crisis

16 Oct By 6 Comments

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A friend and I have simultaneously hit a wall of intolerance for our expanding waistlines. We are good enough friends to have compared our belly fat up close and personal and we agree that we are both at a crisis point.

My friend has spent the last few months reveling in her life as a “slug.” She has discovered why people get big and fat – its fun. In her words, “You get to eat whatever you want, you don’t have to exercise, and you don’t feel bad about it. You just do whatever you feel like doing.” She was able to do that until this morning.

I, on the other hand, have been feeling guilty about every carb I eat. To feel better, I eat something sugary. A cookie. A brownie. A handful of Honey-Nut Cheerios. And then another. And another. And then I berate myself for falling off the wagon and allowing my belly to get to this point. And then I have another cookie to feel better – for about 1 minute. And then I want another cookie.

This morning, my friend and I talked at length on our walk about what we have done in the past to get back on track. After going over all of the times we have deprived ourselves of food and restricted treats and, well, been sort of mean to ourselves, we decided to try something new.

We are going to walk every morning.

Yes, it is a small thing. It may not make up for a whole plate of brownies, but it is something. It is something we are giving ourselves – not taking away. We are adding something in. Not taking something out.

One of my favorite authors, Caroline Myss, who wrote, Anatomy of the Spirit (among other things), says that the number one way to build self-esteem is to make a commitment to yourself and keep it. She strongly recommends that you make the commitment something to do with your physical body.

Taking care of ourselves has to do with self-esteem. If I cared for myself more, I would probably eat food that gave me energy, rather than the quick, drug-like hit of sugar. And learn from the inevitable crash that comes with it. My friend and I are still discussing how we lose ourselves and do things that are not in our best interests – like eating cookies. Many cookies. I will share more on this as the conversation unfolds.

For now, my friend and I are trying something new. We are making a commitment to add an early-morning walk to our day. Everyday. Rain or shine. I am putting this out there on my blog (to all 3 of you who read it!) to make myself accountable. Because I want to care for myself.

Do you do anything to care for yourself?

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Bogarting

4 Sep By 4 Comments

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We were easing into the end of a hot day on Taylor’s roof deck, with chips and guac and beers. The sun was getting lower as we lazily talked about this and that and what we might do about dinner. As we both reached for the same chip, she politely said, “oops, excuse me, I almost bogarted your chip.”

Oh. My. Goodness. “BOGARTED!!!”  I have not heard that word since 1980-something!!!!

She said it so politely, I just had to clarify: “You mean, “bogarted” as in ‘duuuude, you just bogarted my wave!’???”

Yep. That’s what she meant. And, sister, I am bringing it back.

For those of you who did not grow up in California, to “bogart” means to snatch something away or take and use something for your own purposes. You can “bogart” someone’s food, their girlfriend, or their car. You can “bogart” a parking space, a position in line, or a conversation. You can “bogart” the best seat, a better job, or more time. “Bogarting” isn’t as bad as stealing and has a laid back, unintentional element to it.

To get this awesome word back into circulation, I am offering these fabulous vintage souvenir pictures of California (where you can go on your own and not as any part of this fabulous prize to hear the word “bogart” spoken by the natives) as an incentive.

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These postcards are perfect for framing and creating ART for your home! You can tell all of your friends how you were able to “bogart” them from this rad blog called “plentyperfect”!

Each time you do one of the following things, you can bogart another chance to win!

1. Use the term “bogart” or “bogarted” or “bogarting” in a comment below.

2. “Like” the plenty perfect blog on Facebook.

3. Send an email to a friend with a link to www.plentyperfect.com.

4. If you see me in person and casually work the word “bogart” into our conversation, you can bogart yet another chance to win!

5. Use the word “bogart” in a conversation with someone and post a comment about how that person reacted.

The winner will be chosen at random on Saturday, September 8, 2012. I promise that the drawing will be completely random and not bogarted in any way.

Help me bring this very useful word into the common lexicon. Use it whenever you can. Use it with people of all ages. Teach your children to use it when they are caught doing something they should not be doing: “Mom, I am sorry I bogarted the last cookie” or, when they get older, “Mom, it wasn’t me! My friends must have bogarted your liquor.” Pay someone a compliment by saying, “nice bogart in soccer today” or “good job bogarting the last parking space.”  The possibilities are endless.

We all need a word like this - “bogart” is here to help!

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Filed Under: friends, musings Tagged With: , ,

Favorite Things Friday – Handmade Gifts

10 Aug By 6 Comments

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Every time I look at this beautiful bowl, I think of my dear friend, Erica. I think of all the fun, special, meaningful times we have had together. I think of that run we took through Forest Park in Portland, OR – and how, when we got to the end, we both said, “AGAIN!” and ran it all over again. Just because it felt so good.

I think of the great food she cooks and that brunch with her family when her daughter started fooling around with some bongos. We all grabbed shakers and drums and made wonderful music that morning with our tummies and hearts so full. I can still touch that feeling because of this bowl.

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My friend’s hands painted all of the details – the leaves, the yellow, the orange (her signature color!), the touches of blue, and the special words. I remember waving to Erica and her husband as I drove away, moving to the East Coast and the ache I felt at leaving. I live so far away now and we have busy lives, but I can keep her close with this bowl.

Handmade gifts can do that in a way that nothing else can.

Her husband, Michael, made this ornament for me. I love it too much to put it away with the rest of my Christmas decorations. He made it with the power of his own lungs. I guess some of his breath is probably sealed inside. I like that. Anything handmade carries a piece of the person who made it.

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I love all of the clay creations my kids have made made for me. Especially the sweet little boxes and vases.SONY DSC

I can see the progression of their abilities over the years and I love knowing that they worked hard on these things because they wanted me to be happy.

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I love the iguana I got for Mother’s Day,

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the beaver I got for Christmas,

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and even creations I can’t identify anymore.

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I even love the handmade gifts which were made by someone I don’t know, because I know the giver picked them especially for me. I know there is no other thing in the world with this exact same combination of orange and pink which made my beau think of me when he saw this.SONY DSC What are your favorite gifts?

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Favorite People Friday

9 Feb By 2 Comments

This weekend, I am traveling to my home town to celebrate the life of a very dear friend.  As his daughter and my good friend, Carole, said, “he just slipped through the back door when no one was looking.”  It is fitting that David would choose to leave this world in the same unassuming, thoughtful, generous way he had lived in it.

 Sometimes, we don’t fully appreciate what someone has added to our lives until they are no longer with us.   Especially, it seems, when the people were adults in our lives when we were children.  It seemed to me that David had always been in my life and would always be there.  Literally, through all of the years of celebrations, heart aches, accomplishments, and screw-ups rites of passage, David has been there seeing and believing the best of me. 

He had a shy, self-effacing way of talking and gave the impression that he was just happy to be included in whatever was going on, but all that time, he was giving a generous gift.  He made sure that other people had the spotlight, he listened, he remembered, and he made the people around him know that he cared by the way he attended to the conversation and held each person he engaged with.  He talked to me about my interests and shared his interests and in all of our conversations, he made sure to communicate that he believed I was valuable, capable, athletic, smart, and a “good catch.”  It was hard to take in that anyone thought these things about me, but knowing that David believed them made me brave.  His quiet, steady, kind presence shaped me, and many of my friends.

This poem hung in the hallway of David and Jean’s house, where so much of my growing up took place.  It clearly spoke of David and Jean’s home and seemed to explain why it felt so good to be there.  I read it many, many times over the years.  To me, these were revolutionary thoughts about parenting and loving people.  These new ideas embedded themselves in my brain and are there in my consciousness today as I parent my children and learn to love people better.  Knowing how much these words meant to me, David drew them in calligraphy, framed the whole thing, and gave it to me as a gift.

On Children
By Kahlil Gibran, a Lebanese writer, painter and sculpter born in 1883.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Gibran says we cannot hold onto what we love.  That idea seems fitting of letting David go as well.  He is on to the next thing now.  He dwells in the house of tomorrow.  It must be a very, very good place, made even better now that David is there.

 

 

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