by Christine | Life, Observations
Every January for the last couple of years, it seems that I speed up. Weekends are gone in writer’s meetings or trips to San Diego to see my dad. Weekdays are filled with the Day Job and writing and cooking and nagging the kids (I say kids, but they’re both in their 20s, so…).
Planning the year (books to write, vacations, and such), taxes, FAFSA forms for the kids, it all seems to hit in January, and I start to say to myself “I can relax when…” The only problem with it is that “when” never seems to arrive. Or I hit one deadline, but three more loom up at me. Plus the state of my office after the holidays stresses me out but there’s NO TIME to clean!
The mess that is my desk. And this is after a day of cleaning earlier this month.
Illness is one way your body slows you down. Forces you to rest. After a couple of years of being forced to go slow due to health issues, I now very much enjoy the whirl of lots to do. But I’m finding I also need to plan down time. Slam my hand on that “slow down” button and force myself to just be. (Last night that took the form of being so tired I was asleep by 8pm. Yum…9 hours of sleep!)
I realized, not too long ago, that since I started my job with the wacksters in the summer of 2011, I’ve taken my five days of vacation and used them for writer’s conferences. As all writers know, conferences are NOT vacation. They are working meetings; fun, yes, but not a vacation. (How I could have done that two years in a row and not figure it out, I do not know.) So not only have I planned a mini-vacation in February with the hubs, but I’ve asked for a second week of vacation from the boss. And it was granted!
Now I am looking forward to using one week of my vacation time for conferences, and the other week for basking in the mountains up at Mammoth Lakes with my family. Nothing but bears and catching fish in the streams and maybe hikes if we feel like moving our bodies. If not, then it’s hammock time. There is nothing better than reading in a hammock in the mountains, and slowly falling asleep and dreaming.
Lazing in the hammock, August 2011 – my last “real” vacation. I can tell because that’s the first time I broke my leg, three weeks before our vacation. When I got back from this one, I started at the new job.
I shall watch myself this year, and see if some parts of the year are automatically more “deadline oriented” than others. I can tell you that a part of me relaxes automatically when I think of the mini-vacation to come in February; four days in Cambria, renting a house on the coast, just me and the hubby.
What do you do, when you realize you’re overbooked and need a break? I’d love to know!
Until next time, be good to yourself.
)O(
by Christine | Life, Observations
The room feels the same. Wooden floor beneath my feet, the floor to ceiling mirrors. It’s dark, though, the only light coming in through the huge windows facing the main part of the gym. It’s early, not quite seven in the morning, and I’ve come to see what I can reclaim from my youth.
The last pair of pointe shoes I wore. These are 30 years old at least. Not so pretty up close, are they?
I’ve already warmed up on the treadmill; the ballet barre is too strenuous for me to do without a warm-up at this stage in my life. I put the mat down and do some stretches, as my back isn’t what it used to be. Sitting wrong for so many years, as my husband will tell you. At any rate, I’m here to reclaim the ease of movement I once had, so. Stretching.
It’s the third day in a row that I’ve rolled out of bed and come straight to the gym, stopping only for a shot of espresso in my kitchen, quickly downed. My stretching today is easier than it had been earlier in the week, and yet I’ve started to sweat. I stand up and put the mat away and my heart pumps in anticipation. There isn’t a barre in the room, that would be too heavenly; instead, I hang onto the red support pole toward the back of the room.
Just standing in first position is a workout, if you do it right. Back straight. Ass tucked in. Stomach tucked in. Chest up, shoulders down and back. Chin up, but not forward. Somehow, when I stand in first position, my body remembers. Flows to the right position.
The view in the mirror is wrong, though. Indistinct, a bit blurry. I’m not wearing pink tights and a black leotard; instead, a grey t-shirt from Aspen, Colorado, cut out at the neck and hem and a pair of black yoga pants, with white socks on my feet. My hair sticks out any old way, the cap I’d worn to the gym earlier discarded, along with my sweatshirt and tennis shoes.
“Innovations” ballet, choreographed by Greg Smith for California Ballet Company’s Junior Company. From left to right: Karen Gabay, Patrice Dabrowski, Christine (Me), Anne Dabrowski (1976?) Back when I could dance.
I start with tendus. (Usually plies come first, but my knees can’t handle them yet.) Simple, four to the front, side, back, side, all in first position. Soutenou to the other side and repeat.
I stare at my feet as I work. My feet look the same. High arch. Beautiful feet. I’ve always been proud of them and now, as I move from tendus to degages, I focus on them, gleaming white in the dark of the room.
Next, ronde jambs. Circling outward is fine; circling inward hurts my standing knee, and I resort to a demi plie to pamper the knee a bit. The rhythms are there, the muscle memory is there, and when I close my eyes, I almost feel seventeen again. I change sides and chance a look into the mirror; the body is not the same, and reality breaks me a little.
My feet haven’t changed.
The feet are the same, the heart inside me is the same; but the body has changed. I miss ballet so much it tears at me sometimes and I wish that I had kept it up, somehow, during my incredibly selfish twenties. Instead I turned to running and weights, and was at times amazing-looking. (When I was 28, I looked better naked than clothed. All finely muscled. Too bad I never had photos taken, lol.) Then came the rest of life, and I’d been without ballet for so long I thought I could never go back.
Exercise takes selfishness. It takes the ability to say, “this is ME time”, and mean it. Hold to it. I’ve just finished three difficult years physically; now, finally, this is my time to seize hold of the inner me that craves exercise. When I did some soul-searching about what makes me happy, I realized that ballet makes me happy. Not running, not weights, not aerobics, but ballet.
I’m nowhere near ready to be a part of a class; I’ve got a long way to go before I can envision myself standing at a barre with a bunch of teenagers, or even other adults. My pride won’t let me and I’m okay with that. Luckily, in the early morning, the exercise room at the gym is empty but for me and others who wander in and out, doing headstands or pushups or practicing rap songs under their breath as they shake their booty (this IS Los Angeles, after all). I’m pretty sure you’ll never see me dancing in Swan Lake again; but if I can regain even a portion of the strength and flexibility I once had, I’ll be good to go.
And if I’m lucky, maybe someday the mirror will edge closer to the memory.
by Christine | Life, Observations
Three years ago today, my husband and I were sitting in the waiting room at UCLA Hospital along with about a hundred other people. The sun hadn’t yet risen. It was cold, and I was nervous. Tom was scared to death.
The summer between tentative diagnosis and the MRI that confirmed it.
He’d read more about this procedure than I had; he’d done more research. Since what I had read scared the crap out of me, I didn’t bother to read more than the basics.
An Acoustic Neuroma (or more accurately called a Vestibular Schwannoma) is usually benign, slow growing, and lays on top of the acoustic nerve and the facial nerve (nerves 7 and 8, I believe).
It used to be a rare diagnosis; but acoustic neuromas are showing up more frequently.
There are two types of treatment; surgical, and Gamma Knife Radiation. I chose surgical, because I wanted that thing out of me.
I walked everywhere that summer in Mammoth, always with a walking stick. My balance was beyond unpredictable.
So the surgery lasted 11 hours; for more detail, see this post here. I had a follow-up visit with my otologist at 9 months post-op – he said my recovery was going well but to keep up my walking and my balance practice, and he sent me to therapy.
That’s when I realized that the 3 to 6 months of recovery time was wrong.
For me, it’s taken a solid three years to recover, but I can finally say I’m good to go. My balance is good; the hearing in my right ear is gone, of course, having been taken out by going through the ear canal to perform the surgery – better than having my skull opened up! – but I’ve gotten used to being unable to easily echo-locate.
I’ve also gotten used to putting people on my left side, and reminding people if they’re on my deaf side that they might have to touch my arm to get my attention.
I didn’t go the “group” route when I was diagnosed; I’m not really that kind of person. But if you’re dealing with an acoustic neuroma, and if you ARE a group type person, there’s a good one called the Acoustic Neuroma Association. They have an interview with Mark Ruffalo, who also underwent surgery for an acoustic neuroma; his story is different from mine and totally fascinating.
I guess I just wanted to do a wrap-up, partly for me, partly for others out there who are undergoing the fear and fascination of having something growing in your head that doesn’t belong there. I do consider myself lucky. But the best part is, more surgeons are getting experience dealing with acoustic neuromas. More information is known. And more information is almost always better when dealing with someone mucking about in your cranium.
May all your days be blessed. Mine certainly have been. Oh – and Happy Anniversary to me. I think I deserve to celebrate.
)O(
by Christine | Life, Observations
What to Buy?
I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to think of things I can give that are different, that aren’t expensive, that won’t get dusty, and that most people wouldn’t go get on their own and as I was wandering around the (very small) Farmer’s Market in Pasadena, I realized there were a lot of one-off gifts, the delightful, the different. I bought some stuff for me but hey, I have to think every Farmer’s Market is a bit different and will have different stuff – especially near the holidays – to help me handle my holiday gift list.
As we wandered into the center of the market, this marvelous spice scent hit my nose. At first I thought it was the vendors offering all sorts of things for sale; it wasn’t until I passed them and saw the mounds of fresh teas and spices in big bowls that I realized it was the World Flavorz Spice and Tea Co. merchant that had caught my attention. (Here’s their Facebook Page if you’re interested!)
Buy 5, get one free…well, I had to, didn’t I? Aren’t they pretty?
One of the salts that caught our attention was this black lava salt. It’s made by smoking it with coconut husks (I think I have that right…) and looked intriguing. I also bought some pink Himalayan Salt (because I’m a salt addict).
This salt just looked fascinating. It looks like it has lavender in it, as well as other Provence herbs. Not sure what I’ll use this in, but I’m keeping my options open.
Pepper is something that Tom and I are always “discussing”. I like pepper. He likes the pepper mixture from the store that has lots of other things in it beside pepper (like nutmeg I think…). I’m thinking he might like this, because it has lavender and rose petals in it. But again, what to use it in? Soups, maybe…
In the top photo, you can see two spices at the bottom. I wanted some fresh curry mixture, which is the yellow spice – and the red is fresh, sweet Hungarian paprika. I’ve been looking for the sweet variety, and I’m SO glad I found it! I’ll be using that on my turkey this year.
So, while I haven’t even begun to shop for my family and friends, spices from a Farmer’s Market might be a good gift choice. I’m looking forward to nosing through other Farmer’s Markets in the greater Los Angeles area – never know what I might find for that perfect person.
Thanks for stopping by! May your week be filled with family, friends, good food, and plenty of thanks.
)O(
What sorts of places do you like to go to, when you’re shopping for gifts?
by Christine | Life, Observations, Writing
I’ve been a stress puppy, instead of a sleepy kitty. (I prefer to be a sleepy kitty, in case you were wondering.)
Zaphod, snoring.
A total stress puppy. I’m getting snappy and snarly at work and at home, and I’m not loving it.
And then this happened.
My head exploded.
Yep, my head totally exploded. Okay, so I was coughing (but I didn’t have a cold!) and that kicked off my gag reflex, but still. Head. EXPLODED.
Artist’s interpretation of the pain close up.
I could barely breathe, it hurt so bad. Like someone had taken the back of my neck and tried to stretch it to my nose. I haven’t hurt that bad since brain surgery. So, I went to the doc, and got myself diagnosed with a post-nasal drip, plus an ergonomic stress headache. Fix the body, fix the stress, lose the headache but, in the meantime, here’s some muscle relaxants.
What has the hubby been saying to me for the last month? “Get your cough checked out. Sit up straight at the computer.”
Tom Ashworth, Self Portrait 2008 (?)
So, yeah, he’s been saying “I told you so” and nagging in a loving way ever since. (Please note – I am sitting up straight and my shoulders are down as I type this.)
And now I’ve got more stress coming (in a good way) – The play development group I’m with, Fierce Backbone, is doing a full reading of my play tonight. Gulp. And I’m on muscle relaxants.
- Title page to Cassandra Cries.
My two actors were supposed to meet to rehearse – one couldn’t make it the first night, the other couldn’t make it the second night. My leading lady now has an interview at 6pm tonight – which is when they were going to get together to get a quick rehearsal in. And I’m still not sure if I have a narrator (but I’m assured I do). We’re supposed to start by 7:30pm tonight. I’m on muscle relaxants and I’m still somewhat of a stress puppy, but at least it’s a “good” stress. (???) And a milestone event!!!
So, in order to celebrate this milestone, Hubby made cuppy cakes. CHOCOLATE cuppy cakes. Which we shall take with us tonight to bribe everyone. Along with some red wine.
CUPPY CAKES!!! Unfrosted, true, but still…CUPPY CAKES!!!
As I look back at the last two years and three months since I started this new Day Job, I realized one thing – I haven’t had a vacation. I’ve taken time off, but that was always to go to writer’s conferences, not to sit in the Mammoth mountains and chill out for ten days. If I had, maybe I could have missed out on this little stress headache adventure. Because writer’s conferences ARE NOT VACATIONS. They are work days. Fun? Yes. Stressful? YES. I wouldn’t have missed them for the world, but…sigh.
My advice? Vacations. Take them.
Big Squishy Hugs to you ALL!
by Christine | Life, Observations, Writing
The lovely wahine, Jill Marie Landis
I met the award-winning, bestselling author of historical and contemporary romance and mystery novels, Jill Marie Landis, almost ten years ago, just the once. I doubt she remembers me, but she did me a kindness I have never forgotten.
She spoke to the Los Angeles Romance Authors in 2004; I’d been writing for a grand total of three years at that point. I’d come close with Harlequin, but had gotten rejected. Three times. Always with an offer to resubmit something else, but still. Rejected. So I was feeling very down.
I’m sure I have my notes from her talk that meeting – I keep all my notebooks (not in very good order, but there you go). But it wasn’t her talk that touched me, per se. Afterwards, she was mobbed (we were at our meeting place in Barnes and Noble in Sherman Oaks). I waited until almost everyone was gone, and finally approached her with tears in my eyes. I don’t remember what I said at that point, but she let me cry on her shoulder and she told me to not give up, to keep at it.
I bought her book, Lover’s Lane, went home and read it and a month or so later (since I’m guessing she
had a spot in the front where you could write to her if you wanted), I wrote her a note telling her how much I enjoyed the book. I must have thanked her for the words of encouragement as well, and also bemoaned my lack of success in writing for Harlequin (again), because she sent me a lovely card back.
She didn’t tell me I had a lot more writing (or rewriting) to do. She didn’t tell me I hadn’t put in my time, to work harder and write more. No. She told me that, maybe, I’d enjoy writing bigger books, and maybe I should try one. “Stretch that story out – add layers – enjoy.” Enjoy. What a concept!
Jill also said the main thing was to find the joy in writing again – and that “we all get this way”.
I’ve kept that card up, with her writing showing, on my bulletin board since the day I received it. When I’ve been discouraged, I glanced at it and took her wisdom to heart – maybe I needed to try something different. Find the joy in writing again.
It’s advice I go back to, time and time again.
Now, being kind, she said to keep in touch and let her know how it’s going. She even left me her email address – but I was shy (I can TOO be shy!), too star-struck to take her up on her offer.
Today, as I was cleaning up my office, I panicked to realize her card was no longer on my bulletin board. I finally found it, layered between letters from my great aunt and my grandmother to my mother, all dated 1966. I, of course, had put it with items that meant a lot to me.
I shall re-pin that card on my bulletin board for encouragement. For courage. And to remind myself that when talking to new authors, it never hurts to be encouraging rather than critical. I’ve developed a very critical mind (due in main to the company I kept in my late teens – early 20s) and I need to learn that criticism is rarely wanted, or needed, unless asked for. That a kind word at the right time can be the fertilizer that makes people blossom.
Jill Marie Landis is Awesome. And I owe her a lot. So go buy her books.
~oOo~
Thanks for stopping by! What good book have you read lately?
