3 for 1

Since I've missed the last two days of Best of '09 posts- ya'll are getting a 3 fer today!

Challenge:

I can't talk that much about this, because I don't think it is that appropriate to outline some of my job struggles here. However, my biggest challenge of the year was most certainly being under utilized and very unhappy in the position I took in December of '08. In a recession I had to find a way out, while also exiting gracefully and still staying true to my work ethic. I learned some valuable lessons and found my way in the end, hence my great moment of peace the week after leaving. This situation pushed me to the edge and helped me find true balance in my life and reminded me that I shouldn't and couldn't let work bleed in to my personal life. It was the best, because it was the largest I dealt with this year, while also teaching me many, many lessons.

Album of the Year:

Ooh this is a really really hard one. As you know, I have trouble picking favorites, and so I'm not even going to answer the question. However, my joyful and best music moments of the year have been receiving my music newsletters from a friend of a friend with a lot of fabulous new music. That playlist is constantly on when I'm commuting and I've found some fantastic tunes.

The Best Place:

When I walk in the door to my apartment, and I see Matt sitting on the couch with a smile on his face, that brings me to my best place.

Breathing Room

"An hour or a day or a week of solitude. What was the quality of your breath? The state of your mind? How did you get there?"

After my last day at my post-unemployment job and my first day at my yes-this-is-what-I-should-be-doing-job I went to NH for a week.
I sat on the porch soaking up the June sun, I picked peonies everyday, I ate well and slept well and lived well. It was blissful and exactly what I needed.
I felt fresh and happy and ready for my next step. I was calm, at peace and excited. I got there by going after what I wanted, by seeking it out and reaching for it.
I was proud and satisfied and full on my accomplishment.
I look back on that week and just smile and let out a deep satisfying breath.

Our Story

Last night Matt and I had dinner with a "new" couple, an old friend and her new boyfriend to be exact. We started the night talking about how we'd met, they embarrassed at their meeting and us a little embarrassed about ours too. Ours more so because of the location, I think the story's worth telling.

I was in center camp, probably looking for mail, when I saw the 3 boys that had been kicked out (more scapegoats than anything) standing in center camp with their friends waiting for parents to come and shamefully drive them home. I went up to one who I knew was Matt and chatted a bit. He had rosy cheeks, an adorable face and bright blue eyes. He was shy, but talked with me. I asked if he thought he'd come back next year. He wasn't sure. I told him he should.

Later in the year while IMing with camp friends, the cheapest way to stay in touch, one mentioned Matt. I talked about thinking he was cute, wanting him to come back, etc. She gave me his screen name and I IMed him. No response. But I found out through other people that he was in fact planning on coming back. I figured it was because of me. No really, I knew it probably wasn't but I was excited.

During the weeks before the campers get to Eisner, the counselors from each unit have time to spend together, for evening prayers, dinners, etc. I had my eye on Matt. He was adorable. Usually you start the summer with a crush, something to keep you occupied during the long boring nights from 9-12 pm when the kids are safely asleep, and there isn't much to do. Matt was totally mine. I knew his best friend Dan, so I figured I check out the situation via him. I was told there were many girls with an eye on Matt, and he didn't know how it would end up. My game started. I flirted when I could, but damn he was shy. I talked up his friends, I asked them to talk me up to him. One friend I had "gone out with" the summer before and he was "Hook Matt and Adrienne Up" fan #1 and a crucial part to finally getting us together. The weeks went by and the campers arrived. I was worried one of the other counselors would snag him, my confidence was decreasing.

On Friday nights they often do a staff oneg (the food put out after services so people can break bread, have wine and chat) after the kids have gone to bed. The staff were all sitting amongst the tables in the dining room, and Aaron the Fan #1 was bouncing back and forth between my table and Matt's. He was such a hard worker. At one point he finally went up to Matt and said, "Look, we both know you like Adrienne and we both know she likes you. So just do something!" I just sat there giggling with my friends, cause really that's how you get the guy, right?

The staff made their way to our open-mic location, another Friday night regular since we aren't allowed to go off camp that night, being its Shabbat and all. I sat towards the back with my friend Emily, looking for Matt to come in, hoping he'd come in. He walked by me and tousled my hair. I was in heaven. It was my cue. I was ready to swoop in and scoop him up. Most of the other girls had given up at this point anyway. After the open-mic I walked outside with him and his friends, mine cheering me on from the sidelines. We walked around center camp, mostly letting other people talk as we were both too nervous to speak. At one point we had to climb up and over something to get into the games room and my pants split. I'm not kidding. Right down the back. I heard the rip and gasped quietly. Luckily because of the cold summer nights in the Berkshire mountains I had a sweatshirt with me which I wrapped around my waist. I felt like the biggest dork. You don't wrap sweatshirts around your waist unless your 5 or 65. No offense. But a 19 year old trying to woo a boy, does not walk around with a sweatshirt around her waist. Oy.

We finally approached curfew and made our way up to the bunk areas. Not much progress had been made. I was feeling unsure, feeling like I had to do more, he clearly wasn't going to make the next move, tousling the hair was it, I had to do something. We stood in a group talking by the bunks for a bit. Laughing, chatting. Matt indicated that he was going to head off. As he started to walk away, something came over me.

"Wait! Matt."

He turned and waited

"So..." I began, "Okay, let’s just be honest. As Aaron Said, 'We both know we know.'

He just looked at me

"Okay, so I like you and I think you like me."

"Yeah."

I waited for more, it didn’t come

"Okay, I guess I'll go first. I think we should hang out, and see what happens."

"Okay."

"Really? So you like me?"

"Yeah."

"Great!" My stomach was doing cartwheels, back flips, jumping jacks.

He smiled

"So... can I have a goodnight kiss?"

He leaned in and we kissed. He smiled at me and said, "Goodnight"

I was beaming, absolutely beaming as I walked back to the group of people.

"Oh my god! Adrienne! What possessed you to do that? What balls!" They all cheered. And that was it, we were together from that day on.

Later I would learn that Matt walked into his bunk and pumped his fist in the air and mouthed "Yeah!"

In about a month it will have been 7 summers ago that we met at Camp Eisner. Sure its a little dorky that we met as camp counselors at a Jewish camp, but the story's good. And, I got my guy.

From the Porch

The blue of sky pops behind the bright green of the pine tree needles. The tree that has broken, 2 pieces have fallen, and other smaller ones behind it. Two years ago we burned the bigger pieces at Thanksgiving, starting the fire with a broom doused in gasoline. Waving around the fire stick to get the wet wood to burn. It shot up in a ball of flame and we all stepped back, mouths open, excited.

It poured just minutes earlier, thunder rolling through the sky, bringing billowy white clouds that would open to brilliant blues, the sun shinning down on the green grass. It needs mowing Dad would say. It was grey and cold the day we ceremoniously unwrapped his gravestone. The pink granite bright against the cloud covered sky. The rain started to sputter, a misty gloom. People told Sammy and me we did a good job unwrapping the stone. Maybe they meant we did a good job staying strong. I wanted to stand there and sob, there were too many eyes on me. The days can go by so quickly when you’re not recognizing each one as another passing, but stopping to say this has been almost a year brings you straight back to the reality of grief, of longing, of missing, of losing.

Yellow grasses flutter with the green as the wind picks up, gold and green, sparkling in the sun before a cloud covers it. I rock and watch the sky, the trees, the bushes, and the grass, notice the bright white of the porch railing and the now dry porch boards.

Traditions

When I was young- between 8 and teenage years (I was a pretty easy teenager, enjoying family and family friend events) my brother and I would head to Ali and John's (family friends) for cookie making and tree decorating. We would roll out gingerbread dough on counters sprinkled with flour, cutting out trees, snowmen, gingerbread men, stars and circles. Being careful to push hard, make sure the cookie cutters did their job and we got perfectly cut out shapes.

As they baked in the oven, filling the house with smells of warm sugar, we'd prepare the table with pastry bags of colored frostings, sprinkles, silver balls and colored sugar. As the cookies came out of the oven we'd layer them on the table and dive in. I'd use reds, blues and greens to make snowmen with scarves, male and female gingerbread people and circles of frosting layered with color sugar. We'd lick our fingers between cookies, admiring our work, wondering which we should eat first.

When all the cookies were decorated we'd move them to the counter, so we could admire them as we set the table for the next event- tree decorating. Ali would put her boxes of ornaments on the table as we lined the tree with lights and garlands. We'd take out each ornament, admiring it, asking about it. Some we recognized from years previous when we'd made pasta angels that were spray painted gold, or painted ornament balls at school. I took great care in placing each one, knowing to put the heavier ones on stronger branches and ensuring that the tree looked balanced when I'd step back and survey the work thus far. As I got older I often remember doing most of the tree independently as Ali would decide which ornaments would go on and occupy Sammy who is 5 years younger than me.

I always looked forward to this day spent in the Christmas spirit. Yet, I never missed having my own tree to decorate. Spending time with Ali in her Christmas world was enough; it was what I looked forward to and enjoyed doing. I remember years when we would arrive after lunch and the next we knew it was dark out and the tree lit up the room. I never even wanted my own tree, or really though of decorating Ali's as doing something Christmassy. It was more about spending time in her warm house and playing with ornaments and sweet frosting.

I look forward to a time when I can bring my children to Ali's house. To make ornaments that will be hung, cookies that will be eaten and watch them pick and choose where to hang each ornament, knowing that some were made in that kitchen by their mother. And in my mind it won't be about Christmas, it will be about family and friends and how the time of year can bring them together, to share warmth, love and traditions.

The San Giacomo Psych Ward Tour

There was the "Scar Doctor" because we never got his name- he had serious reconstructive scars around his chin and cheeks and was very present in our first 2.5 days at San Giacomo Psych Ward. At the end of the 2nd day he came across us on the phone near the elevator. As he waited to go down, he asked my mom how she was. She explained that as the anxiety from Sammy's ordeal lessened the grief came back very strongly. He revealed he had lost his 3 year child 6 months earlier. As we gasped and offered our sympathies he simply said, "It is hard, yes... and it is possible".

There was Bernardo- the multi-lingual "International Thief", he was released on Monday to his family who wouldn't accept his kisses. He made sure Sammy got up for meals and often translated when the orderlies were attempting to communicate with us. He says he has 10 months off and enough money to come to the states and stop by Northwood, the Dr. says he doesn't see him leaving Italy anytime soon.

There was Jessica- the street worn, sockless smoker, who always said hello and was ever appreciative of cigarettes we bought for Sammy to give out. She taught us how to count in Italian and we taught her 1-10 in English. We speculated she had come from a history of abuse and perhaps lived on the streets.

There was Valentina- the young outgoing makeover queen of the ward, who had a penchant for cigarettes and Sammy. Alison says she was there from the beginning and only started to come out of her shell when Sammy was more awake. I remember her family on the 2nd day handing out pastries and cookies and her happily walking the ward. She drew many pictures for Sammy and every day we returned a new female patient would have her face done up.

There was Stephano- the pony tailed non-English speaker who was friendly and sweet. He had outdoor smoking privileges and told Alison he was one of 7 and had to stay till Sunday and had already been in the ward for 9 weeks. I remember his family coming once, but mostly he was left alone to chat with other patients and give Sammy high fives.

There was Mary the one with roots strongly coming through died blonde hair who told us she was there from a depression crisis. Her sister visited frequently and walked the hall with her. Her mother came on Tuesday with a new pink outfit for Mary. Valentina's makeover of her included putting her hair up in a way that made her roots less noticeable.

There was Josie who arrived on Sunday bugged eye and pajamaed. She spoke small bits of English with us and enjoy the M&M's we brought.

There were others we never met, or who mostly slept. I'm sure there will be many more. They will remain a part of this experience that made it in many ways more real and in others more surreal. They made us a show, something that entertained them- The sleepy American boy and his family that comes everyday at 10, 4 and 8- and also reminded us of the realness of life, the reality of living each day, how hard the world can come crashing down on you at times, and yet, how, it is possible.

A Picture is Worth...

I love photos. I love taking photos, I love being in photos, I love framing photos. As a result I have loads of family photos around my room. I have a picture of my parents when they were my age, I have a picture of me being kissed on both cheeks by my parents, I have a picture of my brother and I each picking up our parents, him with my mom on his back, me with my dad. I have a 4 photo frame with pictures from our trip to Costa Rica. I have a photo being held by one of those clips next to my computer of the four of us at a Red Sox game last summer. They are everywhere. I love these photos, they remind me of what a fabulous family I have, of how close and loved we are. These photos are meant to keep me happy when I'm feeling down, allow me to brag and show off my great family, and again remind me of who I am and where I come from.

Right now these photos are making me sad. They remind me of who I've lost, of the missing piece that's not coming back.

The home where I grow up has a historical wall up the main staircase devoted to family photos. Every time I walk those stairs I think of all the wonderful times I've spent with my Father, how much he loved us, and what a great Man he was. I think of how now family photos will just be three of us and that it seems odd. On family vacations we could share one room. At family gatherings we'll be the ones with no Dad.

Then I force myself to cherish the memories these photos hold. They are reminders of wonderful times we've spent together and all that my father has passed on to me and all that he was able to provide me with. These can never be taken away, they won't go missing and don't stop with his passing.

My children may not be able to meet their Grandfather, but they'll know why everyone who met him fell in love with him, what he looked like, where he took us and in me they'll have everything he passed onto me and that will only get stronger.

The Sweet Smell Of...

As a kid we'd play the "if you had to lose one sense what would it be?" game. I'm sure I changed my answer each time.

If I had to play it now, I wouldn't choose my sense of smell. Sure it can take you places you would never ever want to go, like to the brink of vomiting. Yet, for all the times it brings me pleasure and all the memories it helps to return, I think its all worth it.

I was walking back to my apartment one afternoon when I was transfixed by the smell of laundry. It was incredibly fragrant and pure. I immediately wanted to stop and just smell it, perhaps close my eyes and sit down to really take it in. In all honesty and with all cheesiness aside, it made me happy. I literally had a bounce in my step as I continued the walk and then craved the smell later in the day. I thought about searching Yankee Candle for their clean laundry smell, but realized it wouldn't be the same. As much as I love candles and scents, none of them ever compare to the actual.

When the Boy and I were in the first and second years of our relationship, and struggling with long distance, I would keep a shirt of his tucked under my pillow to smell. I would make him wear one shirt constantly during our visits, and then hold onto it when he left, literally. He doesn't wear cologne or deodorant, so it wasn't an artificial smell. Just him, his pure smell. My brother thought it was gross, would make fun of me for wearing the shirt to bed, "Eww, you smell like a boy." I didn't care, because it kept me closer to him, the smell comforted me. Recently he surprised me with a visit. He was waiting in my bedroom, the lights were off, he stood behind the door to hide and as I tried to open it and felt resistance I was at first scared and confused, but then I smelled him and was immediately relieved and excited.

I'd never want to lose the memories of those moments, or any of the moments I've connected to smells. Like muffins baking on a spring weekend morning, or the turkey roasting on Thanksgiving, or garlic sautéing for a dinner party.

And, going back to the game, I honestly don't think I could choose a sense to give up.