This is one of my favorite weeks of the entire year. It ranks right up there with Christmas, and My Birthday Week. Independence Day, Fourth of July, the halfway point of summer ... good times, for sure.
It dates back to my childhood, when the neighbors would host a huge block party and everyone would come together for potato salad, relishes, deviled eggs and Toots' famous fruit salad. We'd graze all day long, play games on the grass and as the sun dipped into the horizon we'd light sparklers and shoot off fireworks while Mom played vinyl recordings of Sousa marches on the stereo, the speakers propped up in the windows so we could all hear.
As I got older, it became a time of road trips with friends or vacations with family. It was always different, but it was always wonderful. There is magic to this time of year, if you ask me. There was the time Kelly, Patrick, Kristi and I piled into Patrick's two-door Escort and followed a battery in the area surrounding Black Earth, Wisconsin. There was the weekend I met my ex, which was a great weekend even though it resulted in heart-shattering love. There was the blistering sunburn from a canoe trip that wouldn't end, Disney World with the family, and South Haven, Michigan with my family who isn't my family.
This year I'm staying home, curling up with friends, taking the train into Chicago and letting the magic happen. With each year, I get a little further away from the fragile girl who once loved an unworthy boy and get a little closer to the strong woman who can kickbox with the best of 'em and still cries at that one Folger's commercial where the older brother comes home from college at Christmas.
Last year at this time, Chris was filing the divorce papers. This year, I'm a happy divorcee, with so much love in my life I can't even begin to measure it. It's a holiday week, stretching out before me, waiting for me to dive in.
Sploosh.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Life in the tropics
Ahh, summer. Sometimes it seems to come overnight. Sometimes, it actually does come overnight.
See, a week ago, it was in the 60s. We had what felt like three months of April. Rain, chilly temps, and only an occasional bout of sunshine to lull us into a false sense of security. Then last week the mercury started to rise and BAM, summer slammed into us like the ball hits the fat kid in dodgeball. Our forecast? High 80s, low-to-mid 90s for two weeks straight. Don't know when it will break, because we can't forecast out that far. But I'm not complaining, seriously. I complain all winter long, and give up my bitching rights during the summer. I'm reveling in it.
Sure, I have no A/C in the car, but I can undo the duct tape and get some wind blowing while I drive. Sure, I can cool my apartment with one window air conditioner, even though I have a second one, because plugging both of them means I blow a circuit. Love me, love my wiring.
Anyway, so it's hot. Big deal, it's summer in Chicago - the perfect time to just shut up and enjoy it! And that's exactly what I'm doing.
Last weekend, I had a house full of love. Chris and Janie Early and their little spud Liam stayed with me for a few nights, and we had a blast. Didn't do much, honestly. Went out to breakfast, sat, talked, ate good food, sat and talked some more. My favorite activity with them is just the three of us adults and coffee. On their last morning with me, Janie got up, started the coffee, and brought me a cup. Such a simple, beautiful luxury - receiving coffee in bed from someone who loves me. I'm still smiling about it now.
I wasn't prepared for how empty my home would feel when they left. No more baby giggles, or stories to read, or conversations that flow into the night. They left a little love behind, though - scratch paper so I wouldn't need to write notes on coffee filters, ink for my printer because I was out, a rug to go by the litter box and an array of things that smell pretty. Maggie treats, really - things I wouldn't buy myself but make me smile every time I use, smell or see them. Good friends know that it's the little things that keep you smiling weeks after they leave.
Speaking of people I love, there's a lake house in North Carolina full of them! Clan Rice/Carlson/Bathje's annual beach sojourn landed in NC this year, to dovetail off of Mike and Rae's GeekCon and spend time with Grandma. Yes, I'm jealous. Yes, I miss them. Knowing they are all there, except for me, Chunk and Ryan makes me sad for me but happy that they're all there. And I know they'll keep posting photos and fun stuff as the week wears on, right? RIGHT!
And things continue to bump along in my life. I have a disgusting summer cold so I sound like I smoke three packs a day and ought to be at the senior center playing canasta. Still hitting the gym regularly, although I slowed down a little this week with the feeling like crap thing and all. My deal with myself, though, is that if i go on Saturday mornings and I do my strength training and cardio, I get as much time by the pool as I want. Hard work followed by luxury is a very good idea!
Long story short, life is grand, summer is wonderful and the only thing between here and perfection is being able to breathe clearly. But I'm sure that'll happen soon.
See, a week ago, it was in the 60s. We had what felt like three months of April. Rain, chilly temps, and only an occasional bout of sunshine to lull us into a false sense of security. Then last week the mercury started to rise and BAM, summer slammed into us like the ball hits the fat kid in dodgeball. Our forecast? High 80s, low-to-mid 90s for two weeks straight. Don't know when it will break, because we can't forecast out that far. But I'm not complaining, seriously. I complain all winter long, and give up my bitching rights during the summer. I'm reveling in it.
Sure, I have no A/C in the car, but I can undo the duct tape and get some wind blowing while I drive. Sure, I can cool my apartment with one window air conditioner, even though I have a second one, because plugging both of them means I blow a circuit. Love me, love my wiring.
Anyway, so it's hot. Big deal, it's summer in Chicago - the perfect time to just shut up and enjoy it! And that's exactly what I'm doing.
Last weekend, I had a house full of love. Chris and Janie Early and their little spud Liam stayed with me for a few nights, and we had a blast. Didn't do much, honestly. Went out to breakfast, sat, talked, ate good food, sat and talked some more. My favorite activity with them is just the three of us adults and coffee. On their last morning with me, Janie got up, started the coffee, and brought me a cup. Such a simple, beautiful luxury - receiving coffee in bed from someone who loves me. I'm still smiling about it now.
I wasn't prepared for how empty my home would feel when they left. No more baby giggles, or stories to read, or conversations that flow into the night. They left a little love behind, though - scratch paper so I wouldn't need to write notes on coffee filters, ink for my printer because I was out, a rug to go by the litter box and an array of things that smell pretty. Maggie treats, really - things I wouldn't buy myself but make me smile every time I use, smell or see them. Good friends know that it's the little things that keep you smiling weeks after they leave.
Speaking of people I love, there's a lake house in North Carolina full of them! Clan Rice/Carlson/Bathje's annual beach sojourn landed in NC this year, to dovetail off of Mike and Rae's GeekCon and spend time with Grandma. Yes, I'm jealous. Yes, I miss them. Knowing they are all there, except for me, Chunk and Ryan makes me sad for me but happy that they're all there. And I know they'll keep posting photos and fun stuff as the week wears on, right? RIGHT!
And things continue to bump along in my life. I have a disgusting summer cold so I sound like I smoke three packs a day and ought to be at the senior center playing canasta. Still hitting the gym regularly, although I slowed down a little this week with the feeling like crap thing and all. My deal with myself, though, is that if i go on Saturday mornings and I do my strength training and cardio, I get as much time by the pool as I want. Hard work followed by luxury is a very good idea!
Long story short, life is grand, summer is wonderful and the only thing between here and perfection is being able to breathe clearly. But I'm sure that'll happen soon.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Random accidents of kindness
I'm crazy.
But then, you already knew that.
It's been a little bit of a freak-out day, but I made myself take a step back and chill. There's lots of good stuff, too, in addition to the freaking, so let's learn to take the good with the not-so, okay
Okay.
The not-so: my gallbladder. But it's coming out, so no big, right? Well, one would think, but it's a bit of a logistical nightmare. See, my Patrick was going to pick me up and run me home afterward, but the surgery is scheduled for July 17 ... which just happens to also be the day he opens Guys and Dolls at the Paramount Arts Centre in Aurora. Very slim chance that he'll be able to get me home and get back to the theater in time for curtain.
So I've called in reinforcements - which I hate to do because I totally suck at asking for help - and a couple awesome people agreed to take the second shift on the Maggie Surgery Shuttle Schedule (not to be confused with the Space Shuttle Schedule; please don't send me that far away.) But here's where I got caught up in the vicious circle of dread (which is vicious and dreadful and, somehow, circular): I was never supposed to be here. I was never supposed to be weak or fragile or in need of someone's help. I'm the one who helps, not the one who needs.
This is one of those times when I curse the comfort I felt when I was married. I'd never have to worry about this stuff, because someone promised to care for me when I couldn't care for myself. And now I'm in a position where I feel like a burden to people who didn't sign on for this. When you go ice skating at age 16, or stay up talking until the sun comes up, you don't look at the person you're with and think, "hey, in 20 or 30 years, I'll be watching someone wheel her into surgery."
But that's where we are. We're in a place where things just aren't working out the way I thought they would, back when I used to play this movie in my head. Aging divorcee learns flexibility, right? Instead, I'm going to do my level best to just be grateful that I have friends who are so willing to help out, who don't even blink when I have a need that they can fill.
So you're on notice. On July 18 and 19, I'll be home. I might need something. I might just want you to check on me. I might need pancakes. So, you should feel free to stop by.
Now, on to the good: people. You amaze me. On Saturday at the gym, after the 8:15 class of Pam Hates Us and the 9:30 Salsa/Funk, Linda and I spent a little time talking to Donna. Donna is a bundle of energy. She's beautiful in every sense of the word. She personifies confidence. She's singularly ... Donna. So when she stopped me to tell me I remind her of her sister, because we have similar energy, enthusiasm and spirit, I was overcome. I'm just me, and most of the time I don't think that's anything to write home about. Turns out, there are people who don't agree. There are people who think I remind them of some of their favorite people.
Then, there are those to whom I am one of their favorite people. Take, for example, when my Wicked Step Mother emailed me earlier this week in a last-ditch effort to wrangle my ass to North Carolina. "Take the train to Springfield and we'll pick you up there," she said. "I'll even spring for the ticket." I cried like a baby when I emailed her back that I couldn't, work wouldn't let me off the hook, but I love that she wanted me there. I love that everyone in Clan Rice/Carlson/Bathje would move mountains if it would mean having me join them for Lake House II: the sequel. I also love that, unless it's planned for the week of my work's national conference next year, I will be there.
There are also those who have been there all along, save for a long-ish hiatus. My friend Eric and I were as close as two peas in a pod back in the early 90s, before my Second Act. But then I went back to school and built this new life and left a lot of the old behind. Some of it was easy to recapture - it's tough to stay clear of Kelly and Patrick for long - but others required Facebook to realign us as we're meant to be. And it became clear last Friday, sitting on the stage at the Geneva Underground Playhouse, following a hysterical night of sketch comedy ... we are still the people we've always been. Eric held court, surrounded by lovely artists (and me) and the snappy patter flowed. His little sister (and biggest fan) and I laughed and joked until our sides hurt. His wife and I traded barbs as if we've known each other for years. His friends treat me like one of their own. They share their peanut M&Ms and their leftover Chinese food with me. What could be better than that?
There are simple phrases people use with me, like "You've gotta cut that shit out," and "Stop apologizing for my choice to be your friend," and "Are you gonna eat that?" It all means "I love you" in the language of my friends. There are those who meet me for a night of theater or a morning of breakfast, who know it's fine to drop by and eat my food, who grill chicken and vegetables so I can eat and enjoy without worry, who let the wine flow freely, who sit with me in the dark, who call when the rescue a turtle from certain death, or for no reason at all ... and there are those who share their chocolate. They have no idea the profound effect they have on my life ... or at least they didn't until they read this.
It really is no accident, the manner in which your kindness has changed my life. My life is better because you are in it, and in the dark moments - both literal and metaphoric - you carry me through.
But then, you already knew that.
It's been a little bit of a freak-out day, but I made myself take a step back and chill. There's lots of good stuff, too, in addition to the freaking, so let's learn to take the good with the not-so, okay
Okay.
The not-so: my gallbladder. But it's coming out, so no big, right? Well, one would think, but it's a bit of a logistical nightmare. See, my Patrick was going to pick me up and run me home afterward, but the surgery is scheduled for July 17 ... which just happens to also be the day he opens Guys and Dolls at the Paramount Arts Centre in Aurora. Very slim chance that he'll be able to get me home and get back to the theater in time for curtain.
So I've called in reinforcements - which I hate to do because I totally suck at asking for help - and a couple awesome people agreed to take the second shift on the Maggie Surgery Shuttle Schedule (not to be confused with the Space Shuttle Schedule; please don't send me that far away.) But here's where I got caught up in the vicious circle of dread (which is vicious and dreadful and, somehow, circular): I was never supposed to be here. I was never supposed to be weak or fragile or in need of someone's help. I'm the one who helps, not the one who needs.
This is one of those times when I curse the comfort I felt when I was married. I'd never have to worry about this stuff, because someone promised to care for me when I couldn't care for myself. And now I'm in a position where I feel like a burden to people who didn't sign on for this. When you go ice skating at age 16, or stay up talking until the sun comes up, you don't look at the person you're with and think, "hey, in 20 or 30 years, I'll be watching someone wheel her into surgery."
But that's where we are. We're in a place where things just aren't working out the way I thought they would, back when I used to play this movie in my head. Aging divorcee learns flexibility, right? Instead, I'm going to do my level best to just be grateful that I have friends who are so willing to help out, who don't even blink when I have a need that they can fill.
So you're on notice. On July 18 and 19, I'll be home. I might need something. I might just want you to check on me. I might need pancakes. So, you should feel free to stop by.
Now, on to the good: people. You amaze me. On Saturday at the gym, after the 8:15 class of Pam Hates Us and the 9:30 Salsa/Funk, Linda and I spent a little time talking to Donna. Donna is a bundle of energy. She's beautiful in every sense of the word. She personifies confidence. She's singularly ... Donna. So when she stopped me to tell me I remind her of her sister, because we have similar energy, enthusiasm and spirit, I was overcome. I'm just me, and most of the time I don't think that's anything to write home about. Turns out, there are people who don't agree. There are people who think I remind them of some of their favorite people.
Then, there are those to whom I am one of their favorite people. Take, for example, when my Wicked Step Mother emailed me earlier this week in a last-ditch effort to wrangle my ass to North Carolina. "Take the train to Springfield and we'll pick you up there," she said. "I'll even spring for the ticket." I cried like a baby when I emailed her back that I couldn't, work wouldn't let me off the hook, but I love that she wanted me there. I love that everyone in Clan Rice/Carlson/Bathje would move mountains if it would mean having me join them for Lake House II: the sequel. I also love that, unless it's planned for the week of my work's national conference next year, I will be there.
There are also those who have been there all along, save for a long-ish hiatus. My friend Eric and I were as close as two peas in a pod back in the early 90s, before my Second Act. But then I went back to school and built this new life and left a lot of the old behind. Some of it was easy to recapture - it's tough to stay clear of Kelly and Patrick for long - but others required Facebook to realign us as we're meant to be. And it became clear last Friday, sitting on the stage at the Geneva Underground Playhouse, following a hysterical night of sketch comedy ... we are still the people we've always been. Eric held court, surrounded by lovely artists (and me) and the snappy patter flowed. His little sister (and biggest fan) and I laughed and joked until our sides hurt. His wife and I traded barbs as if we've known each other for years. His friends treat me like one of their own. They share their peanut M&Ms and their leftover Chinese food with me. What could be better than that?
There are simple phrases people use with me, like "You've gotta cut that shit out," and "Stop apologizing for my choice to be your friend," and "Are you gonna eat that?" It all means "I love you" in the language of my friends. There are those who meet me for a night of theater or a morning of breakfast, who know it's fine to drop by and eat my food, who grill chicken and vegetables so I can eat and enjoy without worry, who let the wine flow freely, who sit with me in the dark, who call when the rescue a turtle from certain death, or for no reason at all ... and there are those who share their chocolate. They have no idea the profound effect they have on my life ... or at least they didn't until they read this.
It really is no accident, the manner in which your kindness has changed my life. My life is better because you are in it, and in the dark moments - both literal and metaphoric - you carry me through.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tidbits
I've been hitting the gym as if my life depended on it these days. Back to lifting weights, and some pretty heavy cardio. Add to that the tremendous calorie burn I get from jumping to conclusions and I'll be buff in no time. But for the moment, I'm perpetually sore. I can't wait for Saturday's workout, though. At 8:15 a.m. I'll report to Studio One for Strictly Strength with Pam, who will kick my ass. Then at 9:30, Laura will teach Salsa/Funk, which will also kick my ass. Then, if the weather holds, I will put on my bathing suit and head out to the pool, where I will spend the rest of the day. Guess which is my favorite part of that plan!
I'm a little melancholy over missing the Rice/Carlson vacation this year. Last year was such an amazing experience ... really, I feel like I brought my very best self home after that trip. I know staying back is the smart thing to do, financially speaking, but that doesn't mean I won't miss being with some of my favorite people in the world! Please please please have fun on my behalf, guys! Eat great food, relax, read, squish the babies and love each other a little extra to make up for my absence.
My dad turned 80 last week, and his part was last Sunday (in case you missed my previous post.) I had a wonderful time sitting next to my cousin and catching up. My father is an extraordinary man. It was amazing to spend an evening with so many people who love him.
Yesterday, I met with the surgeon who will be taking out my gallbladder. The surgery isn't scheduled yet, but will probably be by the end of the week. Yes, I will let you know. I'm a little nervous, but I felt better when he said I will probably go home by the end of the day. I hate hospitals, so this is good news. Consider yourselves notified: I may need those of you in geographic proximity to check in on me, and/or bring me movies or books or love.
On January 20, I get to squish a two-year-old. My friend Chris and Janie and their adorable little guy, Liam, will be staying at the Bieritz Rathunde B&B for a few days. Back when Christopher and I lived in a studio apartment in Oswego, Chris and Janie stayed with us. It's funny to me how a home expands to allow in as much love as possible. I can't wait!
That's it from me. What's new with you?
I'm a little melancholy over missing the Rice/Carlson vacation this year. Last year was such an amazing experience ... really, I feel like I brought my very best self home after that trip. I know staying back is the smart thing to do, financially speaking, but that doesn't mean I won't miss being with some of my favorite people in the world! Please please please have fun on my behalf, guys! Eat great food, relax, read, squish the babies and love each other a little extra to make up for my absence.
My dad turned 80 last week, and his part was last Sunday (in case you missed my previous post.) I had a wonderful time sitting next to my cousin and catching up. My father is an extraordinary man. It was amazing to spend an evening with so many people who love him.
Yesterday, I met with the surgeon who will be taking out my gallbladder. The surgery isn't scheduled yet, but will probably be by the end of the week. Yes, I will let you know. I'm a little nervous, but I felt better when he said I will probably go home by the end of the day. I hate hospitals, so this is good news. Consider yourselves notified: I may need those of you in geographic proximity to check in on me, and/or bring me movies or books or love.
On January 20, I get to squish a two-year-old. My friend Chris and Janie and their adorable little guy, Liam, will be staying at the Bieritz Rathunde B&B for a few days. Back when Christopher and I lived in a studio apartment in Oswego, Chris and Janie stayed with us. It's funny to me how a home expands to allow in as much love as possible. I can't wait!
That's it from me. What's new with you?
Monday, June 8, 2009
The Ripple Effect
On June 2, 1929, a pebble was dropped into the ocean. That pebble produced ripple upon ripple, changing the earth forever.
That pebble had a name: Glenn William Bieritz.
Yes, it's true ... on June 2 of this year, my father became an octogenarian, which I think is Latin for "Dude who's been around for 80 years." He's seen a lot, my dad. He grew up mostly without a father, was captain of the football team AND played in the band, served in Korea, got his pilot's license, survived a divorce, helped my mother battle cancer once and win and a second time and lose, helped four daughters grow up, worked 46 years for the same company (the last 16 without a single sick day) and is my brother's best friend and caregiver.
Last night, about 80 of my dad's best friends gathered in Naperville to celebrate this man. Ten tables of people who, for one reason or another, love my dad. Each table told a story of how Glenn has touched their lives. There were those who've been adopted into the family, those whose houses he helped build, those who have looked to him for guidance and those who simply admire his faith. Everyone in that room has been changed because they have known my dad.
I am awestruck by him. He is not perfect, and has never required that others be. He has never judged me, and I am sure the same can be said of most everyone he's ever met. He is simply an amazing man.
He is the most generous person I know, in every way. He listens. He supports. He shares is inimitable spirit with anyone who will share theirs with him. He cares equally for everyone. He gives of his time, his talents, his experience and his wisdom to everyone, without reservation. That is just who he is.
My dad has often referred to me as a "free spirit." I haven't always been sure of what that meant, but I have always had the feeling that he means it as a compliment. This is a man who can disagree completely with my opinions, but still give me time to explain them. As the tree-hugging hippy among a more straight-laced family tree, still he never wavered in treating my beliefs with respect, listening to my point of view even while he thinks I'm, frankly, nuts.
I admire a great many people in this world, but none more than my father. If you have someone like Glenn Bieritz in your life - or if you're lucky enough to have the genuine article - you know as well as I do that the world is a better place because he's here. The world could use more like him.
This pebble in the ocean, this man admired by so many, is the finest man I have ever known. Happy birthday, Dad.
That pebble had a name: Glenn William Bieritz.
Yes, it's true ... on June 2 of this year, my father became an octogenarian, which I think is Latin for "Dude who's been around for 80 years." He's seen a lot, my dad. He grew up mostly without a father, was captain of the football team AND played in the band, served in Korea, got his pilot's license, survived a divorce, helped my mother battle cancer once and win and a second time and lose, helped four daughters grow up, worked 46 years for the same company (the last 16 without a single sick day) and is my brother's best friend and caregiver.
Last night, about 80 of my dad's best friends gathered in Naperville to celebrate this man. Ten tables of people who, for one reason or another, love my dad. Each table told a story of how Glenn has touched their lives. There were those who've been adopted into the family, those whose houses he helped build, those who have looked to him for guidance and those who simply admire his faith. Everyone in that room has been changed because they have known my dad.
I am awestruck by him. He is not perfect, and has never required that others be. He has never judged me, and I am sure the same can be said of most everyone he's ever met. He is simply an amazing man.
He is the most generous person I know, in every way. He listens. He supports. He shares is inimitable spirit with anyone who will share theirs with him. He cares equally for everyone. He gives of his time, his talents, his experience and his wisdom to everyone, without reservation. That is just who he is.
My dad has often referred to me as a "free spirit." I haven't always been sure of what that meant, but I have always had the feeling that he means it as a compliment. This is a man who can disagree completely with my opinions, but still give me time to explain them. As the tree-hugging hippy among a more straight-laced family tree, still he never wavered in treating my beliefs with respect, listening to my point of view even while he thinks I'm, frankly, nuts.
I admire a great many people in this world, but none more than my father. If you have someone like Glenn Bieritz in your life - or if you're lucky enough to have the genuine article - you know as well as I do that the world is a better place because he's here. The world could use more like him.
This pebble in the ocean, this man admired by so many, is the finest man I have ever known. Happy birthday, Dad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)