It worked! It worked! Blogging really did make me feel better :-) I get why people do this sorta thing. Now, on to more positive topics about life and love on the road to 50. Special thanks to my loving husband, Paul, who I am sure will read every word of every review and love me anyway. At least I hope so :-)
Write-on,
Faith
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Goals and Expectations
Goals, aspirations, plans and expectations. These are the things that keep us moving through life with forward momentum, putting one foot in front of the other. Are these words really synonyms of each other? Is there a causal relationship between them? Some goals are set because of outside societal pressures, these are the things we think we "should" do in life. Go to college, get a job, buy a house, get married, have babies. Or is it that we "want" to do them? Sometimes I feel there is a fine line between goals and expectations. One person's expectations might turn out to be the other person's goals, in some cases like it or not.
I was thinking about this today as my husband and I continue our home remodel. We bought a "fixer upper" in a neighborhood we both absolutely adore. The remodel was like anyone else's remodel, over priced and imperfect. Of course, this is my opinion. Paul is much kinder and less discriminating (sounds very unfair but I couldn't think of another word for "less picky"). He feels we got what we paid for, and he is satisfied with the work, overall. I, on the other hand, feel the devil is in the details. By details I mean having finish work that is pleasing to the eye. In this case, I was disappointed. This has been a sore subject between us. It happens to be the one topic that Paul and I cannot discuss without risk of divorce! and it is all due to expectations, or differing level of expectations. And expectations develop from experiences in life.
You might say I'm a bit persnickety. I grew up watching my father do his own patching and painting for many years. He'd work on the project endlessly making sure it the texture was smooth and flawless. My *expectation* was (there's that word again) that if you pay for something, from an expert, the craftsmanship should be at least as good as my Dad's. Afterall, he's no expert. On the contrary, contractors do not care in the personal sense whether or not things are perfect. It's a job. And it's not their home. As a result, we have many imperfections in the finish work at our house that dishearten me. It really gives me a visceral response when I think of the money spent.
But, I really need to get over it. It is still a nice home in a fabulous neighborhood, with a kitchen to die for. We can seat 12 for dinner without any issue, and it is a nice open layout for entertaining. Yet, I harbor this frustration. It is a feeling like we were ripped off by the contractor who did not seem as invested in the finished project as we were. So, to try and move forward, I wrote both a Yelp and an Angie's List review last night, until 12 AM. I thought I'd feel better, that it would be cathartic and healing. Instead, I feel uncaring and critical, like a bad person. Afraid of karmic retribution. I've reread my review at least 4 times throughout the day, hoping for resolution, but it just didn't come. I found myself seeing other 4 and 5 star reviews for the same contractor and thinking to myself, "what were they thinking," rather than feeling like I had gotten it off my chest. In my review, I made sure to present only the facts as I see them, without implicating Paul or misrepresenting his views. Yet, I feel horrible. What would give me closure on this issue? I guess the contractor reading the review and contacting us with an apology, but that is unlikely to happen. So, for now, I need to just work on my forgiveness. They say forgiveness is more for the forgiver than for the forgiven. If only forgiveness in this case were free.
Write-on,
Faith
But, I really need to get over it. It is still a nice home in a fabulous neighborhood, with a kitchen to die for. We can seat 12 for dinner without any issue, and it is a nice open layout for entertaining. Yet, I harbor this frustration. It is a feeling like we were ripped off by the contractor who did not seem as invested in the finished project as we were. So, to try and move forward, I wrote both a Yelp and an Angie's List review last night, until 12 AM. I thought I'd feel better, that it would be cathartic and healing. Instead, I feel uncaring and critical, like a bad person. Afraid of karmic retribution. I've reread my review at least 4 times throughout the day, hoping for resolution, but it just didn't come. I found myself seeing other 4 and 5 star reviews for the same contractor and thinking to myself, "what were they thinking," rather than feeling like I had gotten it off my chest. In my review, I made sure to present only the facts as I see them, without implicating Paul or misrepresenting his views. Yet, I feel horrible. What would give me closure on this issue? I guess the contractor reading the review and contacting us with an apology, but that is unlikely to happen. So, for now, I need to just work on my forgiveness. They say forgiveness is more for the forgiver than for the forgiven. If only forgiveness in this case were free.
Write-on,
Faith
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Eating to live or living to eat?
Ah, the age old question. My immediate response, of course, is "living to eat!" Afterall, I'm Italian :-) We eat well, as a people.
Food is the epicenter of most of my memories. I can remember holidays when my grandparents were still living. We would celebrate Christmas Eve at my grandmothers. A feast of seafood, 7 fishes. This is a Roman Catholic and Italian tradition. I hadn't given much thought to the origin of this tradition before tonight. According to Wikipedia, this is a tradition in Southern Italy and is not known throughout Italy. The feast celebrates waiting for the birth of Jesus, Vigilia di Natale. Seven is an auspicious number possibly relating to the number of sacraments in Catholicism. Another theory is that seven represents Jesus Christ, the sum of the divinity (3) and Earth (4). Jesus is God on Earth (7).
All I knew growing up was that the food was fabulous. My grandmother and mother were amazing cooks. Our family's Italian-American interpretation of the Feast of Seven Fishes usually started with an appetizer of shrimp cocktail followed by a homemade clam chowder and baked scallops. A main course of homemade linguine with clam sauce was accompanied by an array of side dishes such as octopus salad, baccala salad, and pickled herring. Baccala salad (cod fish salad) was my absolute favorite! And no holiday meal was complete without artichokes. A Mediterranean tradition. My siblings were not fans of the more "exotic" dishes, which meant more octopus and baccala for my Dad and me! Yum.
As this holiday season approaches, these gastronomic memories remind me of my Grandma. I wish I had invested the time to learn all of her recipes when I was younger. To actually stand side by side with her at the stove and learn to prepare her baccala salad. And I wish Gandma P. could have met Paul. She would have loved him, he's a good eater :-)
As an adult, food continues to be part of my identity. My favorite form of entertainment is seeking out a new restaurant and trying wonderful new tastes and smells. I pride myself in being able to decipher the recipe, breaking down the complex flavor into its component parts. Making guesses as to the ingredients, herbs and spices, used in preparation. Enjoying a new bottle of wine recommended by the sommelier. Ah, the good old days.
Imagine my heartbreak to learn that as I approach 50 I no longer possess the metabolism to support my food obsession. I had heard others complain about gaining weight in their 40s and 50s, but I assumed it would never happen to me. I thought that by continuing to be active outdoors I would be able to avoid any weight catastrophe. Boy was I wrong! These days, I can gain 5 pounds just taking a deep breath. It's not that I was ever "model thin," but I have typically been a healthy weight somewhere within the weight range for my height. As I watch my BMI approach the right side of the "range," I feel like I'm losing control of my own body. I suppose the only response is a "lifestyle" change. Sigh. But what's a 49 year old Italian-American woman to do without a food obsession?? I wish my Grandma was here so I could ask her, but I suspect she would just tell me to "finish what was on my plate."
Write-on,
Faith
Food is the epicenter of most of my memories. I can remember holidays when my grandparents were still living. We would celebrate Christmas Eve at my grandmothers. A feast of seafood, 7 fishes. This is a Roman Catholic and Italian tradition. I hadn't given much thought to the origin of this tradition before tonight. According to Wikipedia, this is a tradition in Southern Italy and is not known throughout Italy. The feast celebrates waiting for the birth of Jesus, Vigilia di Natale. Seven is an auspicious number possibly relating to the number of sacraments in Catholicism. Another theory is that seven represents Jesus Christ, the sum of the divinity (3) and Earth (4). Jesus is God on Earth (7).
All I knew growing up was that the food was fabulous. My grandmother and mother were amazing cooks. Our family's Italian-American interpretation of the Feast of Seven Fishes usually started with an appetizer of shrimp cocktail followed by a homemade clam chowder and baked scallops. A main course of homemade linguine with clam sauce was accompanied by an array of side dishes such as octopus salad, baccala salad, and pickled herring. Baccala salad (cod fish salad) was my absolute favorite! And no holiday meal was complete without artichokes. A Mediterranean tradition. My siblings were not fans of the more "exotic" dishes, which meant more octopus and baccala for my Dad and me! Yum.
As this holiday season approaches, these gastronomic memories remind me of my Grandma. I wish I had invested the time to learn all of her recipes when I was younger. To actually stand side by side with her at the stove and learn to prepare her baccala salad. And I wish Gandma P. could have met Paul. She would have loved him, he's a good eater :-)
As an adult, food continues to be part of my identity. My favorite form of entertainment is seeking out a new restaurant and trying wonderful new tastes and smells. I pride myself in being able to decipher the recipe, breaking down the complex flavor into its component parts. Making guesses as to the ingredients, herbs and spices, used in preparation. Enjoying a new bottle of wine recommended by the sommelier. Ah, the good old days.
Imagine my heartbreak to learn that as I approach 50 I no longer possess the metabolism to support my food obsession. I had heard others complain about gaining weight in their 40s and 50s, but I assumed it would never happen to me. I thought that by continuing to be active outdoors I would be able to avoid any weight catastrophe. Boy was I wrong! These days, I can gain 5 pounds just taking a deep breath. It's not that I was ever "model thin," but I have typically been a healthy weight somewhere within the weight range for my height. As I watch my BMI approach the right side of the "range," I feel like I'm losing control of my own body. I suppose the only response is a "lifestyle" change. Sigh. But what's a 49 year old Italian-American woman to do without a food obsession?? I wish my Grandma was here so I could ask her, but I suspect she would just tell me to "finish what was on my plate."
Write-on,
Faith
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Technology and aging
I want to preface this post with some facts about Faith: I worked for IBM for 13 years, I use electronic health records and computers at my current job daily, I am constantly on the computer at home, and I own a smartphone. I am connected. That said, the library threw me a bit.
Yes, the library. I finally joined the library at the age of 49. I don't count the years in undergraduate and graduate school because those were forced, sort of like an army draft. This was by choice, sorta. To be honest, I ended up at the library because I was looking for a larger community room to reserve for a class, and the library happens to be right on campus at work. In order to reserve the room, I needed to be a card carrying member of the library. Boy have things changed. Although they still have books and the Dewey Decimal System, it is so much more edgy. The card catalog is online, for one. Super exciting. There seems to be fewer books on the shelves, but you can do a library loan with a click of a mouse. And there is self checkout. Just like at the grocery store.
So here I am, I've gathered up all of my gardening books (you see, I am preparing for 50), and I am ready to check them out. I walk over to the self checkout, where the machine scans the bar code on your card, then scans the bar code on each book you want to check out, and Viola! Right? Right?
Wrong. I find myself trying my darnedest to scan my over-sized composting book. Shit. The book just doesn't seem to fit under the scanner correctly. I try waving it under the scanner, turning it sideways.. anything to get that book scanned. I am about ready to abandon it (despite that fact that I have been saving kitchen waste for a week now!) when I notice a second bar code on the book. Aha! Feeling like I've just solved a Mensa puzzle, I turn the book around, fit it perfectly under the scanner, and Viola! My first successful checkout from the library since Elementary School. I am elated! I turn around to leave, head held high. Bring it on. I am so ready for the next challenge.
And there she was, standing behind me in line. Braids in her hair. Wearing a plaid skirt, white shirt, and matching plaid tie. You know the type. Standing there with her hands on her hips and a grin on her face. A stack of books for her next book report. With a look that said, "come'on old lady, you do this at the grocery store every week." But I didn't care. I just smiled back as if to say, "you'll see some day." Anyway, nothing was going to deflate me. I mastered the online check out at the library. I have a compost book and some kitchen waste. I can do anything. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks :-)
Write-on,
Faith
Yes, the library. I finally joined the library at the age of 49. I don't count the years in undergraduate and graduate school because those were forced, sort of like an army draft. This was by choice, sorta. To be honest, I ended up at the library because I was looking for a larger community room to reserve for a class, and the library happens to be right on campus at work. In order to reserve the room, I needed to be a card carrying member of the library. Boy have things changed. Although they still have books and the Dewey Decimal System, it is so much more edgy. The card catalog is online, for one. Super exciting. There seems to be fewer books on the shelves, but you can do a library loan with a click of a mouse. And there is self checkout. Just like at the grocery store.
So here I am, I've gathered up all of my gardening books (you see, I am preparing for 50), and I am ready to check them out. I walk over to the self checkout, where the machine scans the bar code on your card, then scans the bar code on each book you want to check out, and Viola! Right? Right?
Wrong. I find myself trying my darnedest to scan my over-sized composting book. Shit. The book just doesn't seem to fit under the scanner correctly. I try waving it under the scanner, turning it sideways.. anything to get that book scanned. I am about ready to abandon it (despite that fact that I have been saving kitchen waste for a week now!) when I notice a second bar code on the book. Aha! Feeling like I've just solved a Mensa puzzle, I turn the book around, fit it perfectly under the scanner, and Viola! My first successful checkout from the library since Elementary School. I am elated! I turn around to leave, head held high. Bring it on. I am so ready for the next challenge.
And there she was, standing behind me in line. Braids in her hair. Wearing a plaid skirt, white shirt, and matching plaid tie. You know the type. Standing there with her hands on her hips and a grin on her face. A stack of books for her next book report. With a look that said, "come'on old lady, you do this at the grocery store every week." But I didn't care. I just smiled back as if to say, "you'll see some day." Anyway, nothing was going to deflate me. I mastered the online check out at the library. I have a compost book and some kitchen waste. I can do anything. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks :-)
Write-on,
Faith
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Goals and lists and inventories.
Everyone needs goals as they approach their big 5-0, don't they? Or maybe a bucket list. I mean, it is mid-life and there isn't too much time left! Better get crackin'. The crisis is right around the corner!
The funny thing is, I am feeling pretty fortunate in life. Don't get me wrong, things have not always been easy, and there's been both good and bad, but I really can't complain (of course that doesn't stop me from doing it from time to time, just ask Paul).
So maybe before developing this long list of goals and aspirations, I should stop to take inventory of all that is good in my life.
I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful dog and a nice home. I have been fortunate enough to have, and succeed at, two very different careers in my life. The second bringing me to California, with breathtaking coastal views and unbeatable weather. Every morning, I begrudgingly drag myself out of bed to start my day. Oh, I used to be a morning person, but that was in my 30s :-) I share turns with my husband to take our yellow lab, Lexi, out for her morning walk. This is one of my favorite times of the day. The other dog owners are out for their morning walk, we nod as we pass one another. The sun is just rising over Mt. Hamilton to the east and shining on the tips of the foothills by our home. These days, there is a nice crispness to the air. I use this quiet time to drift into thought and enjoy the company of the happiest animal on the planet - our Labrador Retriever. Life is good. (oops, is that a copyright infringement??).
My family, although far away now, remembered to call me to wish me a happy birthday :-) My 16 year old niece was my maid-of-honor in my wedding.
And, I have close friends around me. I may not have ever been the most popular kid in school or more recently in adult social circles, but the friends that I do have I cherish very much. These are deep friendships, the kind that when you haven't seen someone for years, you can pick up where you left off, with a nice, easy, comfortable conversation. Some friendships have become more remote as our lives have changed, but that doesn't make them any less important. Others are still very active in my life. And ALL have influenced me in so many ways.
Not a bad inventory to have :-)
Now, where did I put that pen so I can make my bucket list for the next 363 days!
Write-on,
Faith
The funny thing is, I am feeling pretty fortunate in life. Don't get me wrong, things have not always been easy, and there's been both good and bad, but I really can't complain (of course that doesn't stop me from doing it from time to time, just ask Paul).
So maybe before developing this long list of goals and aspirations, I should stop to take inventory of all that is good in my life.
I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful dog and a nice home. I have been fortunate enough to have, and succeed at, two very different careers in my life. The second bringing me to California, with breathtaking coastal views and unbeatable weather. Every morning, I begrudgingly drag myself out of bed to start my day. Oh, I used to be a morning person, but that was in my 30s :-) I share turns with my husband to take our yellow lab, Lexi, out for her morning walk. This is one of my favorite times of the day. The other dog owners are out for their morning walk, we nod as we pass one another. The sun is just rising over Mt. Hamilton to the east and shining on the tips of the foothills by our home. These days, there is a nice crispness to the air. I use this quiet time to drift into thought and enjoy the company of the happiest animal on the planet - our Labrador Retriever. Life is good. (oops, is that a copyright infringement??).
And, I have close friends around me. I may not have ever been the most popular kid in school or more recently in adult social circles, but the friends that I do have I cherish very much. These are deep friendships, the kind that when you haven't seen someone for years, you can pick up where you left off, with a nice, easy, comfortable conversation. Some friendships have become more remote as our lives have changed, but that doesn't make them any less important. Others are still very active in my life. And ALL have influenced me in so many ways.
Not a bad inventory to have :-)
Now, where did I put that pen so I can make my bucket list for the next 363 days!
Write-on,
Faith
Monday, October 24, 2011
The who, what, when, where and why of my blog
The "Road to 50" sounds sorta like the "Road to Hana" doesn't it? and the more I think about it, the journeys might have more parallels then at first blush. The Road to Hana is long and winding, sometimes enough to make you sick! It can be difficult to drive at times, but then you turn a corner and, pop, a beautiful waterfall appears. I suspect the road to 50 might be similar. I am sure there will be some challenging parts, but intertwined will be these precious moments to hold on to for a lifetime.
To be honest, 50 doesn't scare or bother me. Now, 45 was another story! At that time, there was a big transition in my life, and I had the stark realization that the plans laid out in my 30s were not materializing. Not married, no children, and far from my hometown in rural upstate New York. 45 slapped me in the face like a frozen January day. So what did I do in response?? Throw a party :-) Yes, I am not one to bury my head in the sand and hide, attacking things head on is more my style.
Why journal the trek to 50 then? Well, to be honest, I have wanted to try my hand at blogging anyway. I am not much of a writer, but as of late my prose has definitely surpassed my verbal skills. The road to 49 was a wild ride.. new dog.. new house.. new husband, but I was so busy with all the "new" that I didn't start blogging at the time. So, here I am. That simple. So, if the musings of a middle-aged, married, pre-menopausal woman are interesting to you, feel free to join me on my journey to the big 5-0. I cannot promise anything to profound or esoteric, but I hope you will enjoy.
And with great trepidation I hit the "publish post" button.
Write-on,
Faith
To be honest, 50 doesn't scare or bother me. Now, 45 was another story! At that time, there was a big transition in my life, and I had the stark realization that the plans laid out in my 30s were not materializing. Not married, no children, and far from my hometown in rural upstate New York. 45 slapped me in the face like a frozen January day. So what did I do in response?? Throw a party :-) Yes, I am not one to bury my head in the sand and hide, attacking things head on is more my style.
Why journal the trek to 50 then? Well, to be honest, I have wanted to try my hand at blogging anyway. I am not much of a writer, but as of late my prose has definitely surpassed my verbal skills. The road to 49 was a wild ride.. new dog.. new house.. new husband, but I was so busy with all the "new" that I didn't start blogging at the time. So, here I am. That simple. So, if the musings of a middle-aged, married, pre-menopausal woman are interesting to you, feel free to join me on my journey to the big 5-0. I cannot promise anything to profound or esoteric, but I hope you will enjoy.
And with great trepidation I hit the "publish post" button.
Write-on,
Faith
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)