Gratitude

So I am officially in training mode for the 50k in October. I can't stop thinking about it and every time I do, I am overcome by excitement. Now because it's only July I know I must temper myself somewhat but really, I am so happy with my goal. I was telling my mom, once again, how thrilled I am. And she said it just right, "It's like you have a part of yourself back..." It's true, the last time I was training for a race was before Tessa, before pregnancy. That's almost six years ago and yes, I missed it and yes, I ached for the solitude of a long run along the Charles River, though I knew what I was doing, birthing babies, nursing, snuggling in the early morning light, was just right. The time for running more, pushing myself physically would come again and here I am, the again is upon me and I'm so thankful. My children don't need me like they once did. Tessa makes her own toast each morning. I am free to rise before they wake and make my way through the town, running so that when I get home I am a better mom than when I left. And though I miss the nursing snuggles, I am so proud of what I accomplished in the earliest years of their life. Now, it's my job to integrate all the parts of myself and racing is part of that. I ran the Blue Heron Bridge with a new friend, Dave M. He's delighted me with the ways of ultra running and introduced me to many new people. And though we've just met, I know our friendship will grow and he will serve as a great running mentor. Gratitude for where I am and those who stand beside me.

A year later

I woke up this morning compelled to visit this space. To document something here. And when I looked at the last entry I posted, it was exactly a year ago today, July 1. So I suppose on this date, it is quite fitting to return. How many waves of life have passed since last year. Really, whenever I think of a year as being a short time, I take a quick review of what has occurred in that year and I am always amazed how much can be packed into a single year. And in that light a year seems long. I do know that last year at this time my life's view was very skewed in the wake of Alison's death. My grieving took me places I never imagined possible. My marriage and my role as a mother changed in the wake. And a year later I can say the changes are truly magnificent. There is little about myself that remains the same as this time last year. Even the very best parts of myself are different, I now believe I operate from those parts more than I ever have. Each day I am making a conscious choice to make my life the way I want it to be rather than feeling I am at the mercy of my life. I am grateful I for the last year though in its hardship I hardly thought I'd survive. But I have. And so has my family more intact than ever. And for the details... Teagan just turned 3 and Tess will be 5 in a few months. I am writing and publishing poems, my book is very very close to being complete and ready to send out to presses in the hopes they will publish it. Brian has a new job. And most exciting at least for today, I have just signed up for an ultra marathon. An ultra marathon is anything over a marathon distance (26.2). My race is a 50k which is 31.6 miles and I'll be running The Northface Endurance Challenge in Atlanta. October 13. Brian will support me on Saturday and I'll be a smiling face in the crowd for his half marathon (13.1) on Sunday. The ultra has been a dream for years and years... I am beyond excited and officially training. Feeling so lucky to be living courageously. Another gift Alison has taught me. More to come.... And it won't be a year. Xo

What I want

In the weeks since Alison's death, I realize more each day her impact on my life. Not as if I didn't appreciate her or know her impact when she was living but now, instead, I look back and am certain of the threads she wove through me. I have in recent weeks journeyed through what I suppose is known as stages of grief. More importantly though, my desire to make my life what I want it to be, make myself exactly who I want to be, has gained undying momentum. Is this a result of losing Alison in the way I have always known her? In some ways, yes and in other ways no. It's a continuum and nothing ever really ends or begins, just transforms. I've been seeking this change for what I can recall, the past year. The flood in our home, the injury of my back, moving out of the house... (and of course, the list goes on) these all occurred last August, which stands as a marker. I also know I've been reaching towards these moments of now, my whole life.

One of the very best ways I treasured Alison was in her poetic state. She was an avid reader of poetry, one of the few, perhaps if only people in my life (outside of my poetry friends from school, ect...) who valued poetry, who craved poetry, who felt the world could not go on without it.

Years back, my parents and Brian and myself and Alison and her husband Philip travelled to Alison's childhood summer cottage in Tenant's Harbor, Maine. For several days, we wandered the town, ate lobster, visited art galleries, hiked the forest, swam the quarry. The cottage has handwritten poems tacked to the walls of nearly each room. Alison's doing.

I wrote some while I was there and like most poems, the small fragments I jotted down found themselves transformed into something greater than their original meaning. And probably after a hundred or so drafts and 5 years, I wrote the poem now called "Tenant's Harbor." I completed it before Alison died, before I knew she was sick. And I've sent it to so many literary journals hoping for publication only to be rejected again and again. (This is very common and there's little need to dwell on the rejections!)

And then, a few weeks after Alison died "Tenant's Harbor" was accepted. Of all my poems out there, seeking publication, I believe there are no mistakes this poem was selected. It marks my first poem published since becoming a mother which for me, speaks to the very truth of what I stated earlier. My unfaltering need to make my life what I want it to be, a life filled to the brim with poetry.

You can read the poem and hear an audio recording of my reading it (thank you to my dear, 14 yr old friend and tutoring student who recorded it for me!) at http://www.decompmagazine.com/tenantsharbor.htm

I do know my writing is not necessarily at the heart of what Alison's spirit is doing now, though I do believe she, in whatever form she is, will always be a poet herself. And I do know she knows my love for her. And I do know she continues to gift me as she did in her living, not because she is to serve me but because that is who she is, a thread woven though so many of us, subtle, powerful, exacting and lovely.

Instructions

In the midst of our grieving for Alison, our dear sweet Teagan celebrated her 2nd year on earth. Last year for Teagan's birthday we invited friends to help plant a tree for Teagan. And Alison lead the naming ceremony. I asked each of our friends to bring a poem in honor of Teagan. It was one year ago, on a Saturday afternoon that Alison stood before us a read the following poem for Teagan. And this year on Memorial Day weekend, I read the poem to those several hundreds gathered for the service honoring Alison.

The poem is fitting for birth, for birthdays, for death. In some ways they are all nearly the same. A passing of time, a beginning, or an ending, a returning to what gives us life in the first place. Teagan's 2nd birthday reminds us, the joy does not end with the death, and life, somehow, continues forth. Happy Birthday Teagan.


INSTRUCTIONS by Neil Gaiman (Excerpt of)


Remember your name.

Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found.

Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped

to help you in their turn.

Trust dreams.

Trust your heart, and trust your story.

When you come back, return the way you came.

Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.

Do not forget your manners.

Do not look back.

Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).

Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).

Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).


There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is

why it will not stand.


When you reach the little house, the place your

journey started,

you will recognize it, although it will seem

much smaller than you remember.

Walk up the path, and through the garden gate

you never saw before but once.

And then go home. Or make a home.

And rest.

Alison

Our dear friend, Alison Powers has died tonight. Pancreatic cancer. Quickly. Nearly suddenly it seemed to those of us not living in her body. Perhaps for her, not as sudden. She was diagnosed in early March a week or so before my sister's wedding. Last night she shifted in her process and tonight at 6:30 pm, she died. She was, she is a lovely human being.

She is my kindred poet spirit, a place in my heart and a stunning ideal of womanhood. Beautiful. Graceful. Determined. Intelligent. Kind. She was in the last stages of an 8 year process becoming a coveted Jungian Analysis. Her spiritual journey was detailed and not without sacrifice, the process was grueling and arduous. I respect her for this work. She believed in it, in herself and the possibility of becoming a better human because of it. As a therapist, she guided others in their journey. She lived for bringing light to the dark, giving meaning to the unknown.

Her husband, and daughter brought hospice in early this morning. Quite by accident I called the house number, which I haven't dared to in months. And Philip answered, told me about hospice. We all expected a few days. I believe she worked furiously in these last weeks, what a spirit-to transcend so seamlessly.

In the time to come we will honor her more. For now though, this poem. Which she read to me on her 59th birthday. Alison, I do love you.

Oatmeal by galway kinnel

I eat oatmeal for breakfast.
I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it.
I eat it alone.
I am aware it is not good to eat oatmeal alone.
Its consistency is such that is better for your mental health
if somebody eats it with you.
That is why I often think up an imaginary companion to have
breakfast with.
Possibly it is even worse to eat oatmeal with an imaginary
companion.
Nevertheless, yesterday morning, I ate my oatmeal porridge,
as he called it with John Keats.
Keats said I was absolutely right to invite him:
due to its glutinous texture, gluey lumpishness, hint of slime,
and unsual willingness to disintigrate, oatmeal should
not be eaten alone.
He said that in his opinion, however, it is perfectly OK to eat
it with an imaginary companion, and that he himself had
enjoyed memorable porridges with Edmund Spenser and John
Milton.
Even if eating oatmeal with an imaginary companion is not as
wholesome as Keats claims, still, you can learn something
from it.
Yesterday morning, for instance, Keats told me about writing the
"Ode to a Nightingale."
He had a heck of a time finishing it those were his words "Oi 'ad
a 'eck of a toime," he said, more or less, speaking through
his porridge.
He wrote it quickly, on scraps of paper, which he then stuck in his
pocket,
but when he got home he couldn't figure out the order of the stanzas,
and he and a friend spread the papers on a table, and they
made some sense of them, but he isn't sure to this day if
they got it right.
An entire stanza may have slipped into the lining of his jacket
through a hole in his pocket.
He still wonders about the occasional sense of drift between stanzas,
and the way here and there a line will go into the
configuration of a Moslem at prayer, then raise itself up
and peer about, and then lay \ itself down slightly off the mark,
causing the poem to move forward with a reckless, shining wobble.
He said someone told him that later in life Wordsworth heard about
the scraps of paper on the table, and tried shuffling some
stanzas of his own, but only made matters worse.
I would not have known any of this but for my reluctance to eat oatmeal
alone.
When breakfast was over, John recited "To Autumn."
He recited it slowly, with much feeling, and he articulated the words
lovingly, and his odd accent sounded sweet.
He didn't offer the story of writing "To Autumn," I doubt if there
is much of one.
But he did say the sight of a just-harvested oat field go thim started
on it, and two of the lines, "For Summer has o'er-brimmed their
clammy cells" and "Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours,"
came to him while eating oatmeal alone.
I can see him drawing a spoon through the stuff, gazing into the glimmering
furrows, muttering.
Maybe there is no sublime; only the shining of the amnion's tatters.
For supper tonight I am going to have a baked potato left over from lunch.
I am aware that a leftover baked potato is damp, slippery, and simultaneaously
gummy and crumbly, and therefore I'm going to invite Patrick Kavanagh
to join me.

In marriage

From the groom:

Friends and Family.
Whew. Friends and Family. Those two words have blurred for me so often and so deeply lately, that all I see is family now. My blood and my childhood memories remind me of my brothers and sisters and of what my Mom once said to me..."there is family, and there is nothing else." Once again, Mami, you are right. There is family and there is family.
I have been so humbled to see all the love that was obvious on Colleen and my wedding night. So much laughter, joy, conversation and... laughter. Above all, laughter. Tons of smiles and laughter. I'll be honest, that night was like being in a dream to me, but I do remember hearing lots and lots of laughter. Claire, Tessa and Teagan...OR Me and Colleen...OR Zaida, Art, Andre, Tony, Stacey and Memi (poor Alan Brown:()...OR Bruce,Clay, Arthur, Brandie and Tripp
I heard so much laughter, I never felt the need to be the one to start the party or the one to keep the party going. I was content to sit with my wife, enjoy the perfect blend of my family and Colleen's family simmer in that beautiful sculpture garden and create delicious memories of our wedding night (yeah, Lani...I REALLY LOVED your toast. It rang a HUGE bell in my heart. I love you.)
Simply put...I thank you all. I love you all. I am so happy you all met and I'm very fortunate to be part of Colleen's family. They have welcomed me with open arms and wider hearts. You met them. You know.

Poets, painters and songsters could express my feelings more eloquently, but none could mean it more than me....then...and right now...and always. I love you all. Thank you for loving me. Alain

Bunny Cakes

Lately during Teagan's nap time, Tess requests that she and I watch cooking shows. We watch some on YouTube . After living with my aunt, Doreen who was in pastry chef school while we were living together, Tessa is very well versed in cake language. It was her idea to find a bunny cake and we did. Last weekend, my sister and me and the girls executed the cakes. We made the cakes from scratch, a simple shortbread recipe and the icing was just cream cheese, a touch of butter and some maple syrup. I bought some small candies from Whole Foods and cut the ears from construction paper. The teeth are made of gum, though Teagan ate her "teeth." Tessa requested "piping" so she used a bag of icing and squeezed it out and smoothed it with a knife. Teagan was delighted with herself using her hands to smash down the icing.

It was fun and rather than feeling pulled in a million directions, Colleen's helped enabled me to counter the difference of ages in my girls. Sometimes, I have to remember Teagan isn't even 2 yet. And also that getting dirty can actually be a learning experience.

Our Kitchen

The first night or two after being back in our kitchen, after the girls were asleep, Brian and I pulled the stools into the middle of the space and just sat there. For a long time, admiring the detailed craftsmanship, the artistry. I feel happy every time I inhabit it. And cooking in it seems extra special because not only do I get the chance to look at it, but I also get to be a part of it. We have a quiet, respectful relationship with a bit of magic sprinkled in. Food made in this kitchen is good. And it's not just the cook, it's the space and the work built into it.

With so many possibilities, my vision to design it remained solid. I began with the sink. It's an expensive sink. More than most people might want to spend, probably more than necessary to spend though it was the one thing I could not stray from. A Franke brand apron front farm sink in white white. A single. And it's made of fireclay which is handmade and incredibly durable. . For me, it shaped the rest of the kitchen. Its clean lines and sharp color give a rustic feel to the space.

Next I choose cabinets. We swayed back and forth with these because with cabinetry there is SO much variation in quality and price. My good friend's partner designs and builds cabinets for a living. Will and I met in the parking lot of a local park. He had drawn up an initial floor plan rendering of the space and some of his ideas. As the September heat escalated we discussed our ideas under the open hatch of his truck. It worked. My strongest idea, as far as design was concerned was the use of wainscoating fronts. My design theme for the kitchen was "Maine coastal cottage" and the wainsoating is simple, clean, informal and very much coastal. To accent the wainscoat, I felt it necessary to do the upper cabinetry in something different. Will agreed. I felt like the entire kitchen with wainscoat could be over done and too beachy. Will told me he'd come up with a front panel for the uppers which complimented the lines of the lower cabinets but would keep them simple but classic. I trusted him instantly. He spoke like an artist whose knowledge and passion guided me. In addition to the more plain front uppers, we also decided on a using glass for a few of the upper cabinets. Ultimately, Will suggested framing the window with two cabinets and on those two cabinets, we'd use glass panels. I let him decide the type of glass. I never doubted him. Not once.

While they were times Brian and I thought against custom cabinets, Will always pulled us back to them. And now that the cabinets are hung and functioning, I am so glad we trusted him. He chose poplar wood, made them all by hand, shaped and steamed the curves on the lazy suzy. They are floor to ceiling, a perfect vanilla. Calm, cottage-like, absolutely nothing I would change about them.

Next in our deciding was the floor, which we chose in one visit to the store, Flor Source in Jupiter. The woman who helped us showed me a few samples, one caught my eye, it fit in the budget and it's just right. If I had to do the floors again, I would not have my general contractor install them. He charged me a ton for the installation and without really knowing what to expect I went ahead with it. I would have used Rafael, whose last name I still don't know.

Will recommend Rafael for our granite. He was professional and returned my calls promptly. Which, I will say was not the case for our contractor. Rafael got a deal on our farm sink and didn't charge us any extra for the transaction. He sold it to us at his cost. Wonderful. And after pricing granite, I found the quoted price ranged from $6,500 to $5,000. Rafael's price for the exact same granite was $3,300. And he promises he made money off the deal.

After visiting at least four of five granite yards, I kept coming back to my original thought. The granite all seemed generic, too busy, too loud and nothing special. Really what I liked the look of, was marble though every single person persuaded me against it. It's too fragile, easily stained and with as much cooking as I do, a dribble of olive oil happens daily so, I succumbed to the idea of granite, set though on finding something I liked. Rafael sent me to Keys Granite. And after studying each slab, I came across what Rafael suggested initially. "Wine River" its lines are linear more like that of marble and while their is movement in it, it's not spastic or splotchy. It's more soothing and mellow. And it too is perfect.

Rafael and I decided on white subway tiles for the backsplash. I opted not to cover the backsplash in granite because of cost and also because the subway tile adds a wonderful sense of character. In addition, the backsplash tiling compliments the exact lines and color of the farm sink. Working with Rafael was fun. He had a great sense of space and color and texture. He is afar more than a granite guy, he would have built the entire kitchen, plumbing included at probably half the cost of what the contractor charged. And, he knows design in a detailed and visionary way. And he's funny!

The general contractor knocked out a wall and had to replace a few other walls. They tore the kitchen to cinder blocks, ripped out baseboards, tile, ceilling. Everyone who looked at our electric work wondered how we'd lived in the house without a fire. There were exposed wires, wired tapped together with duct tape, and missing wires. Guess our angels were watching in that department. So, as you can imagine the electrical work took a lot longer than expected. Nearly everything did. Well, I should say, mostly the things in regards to our GC. There were permit problems and who really knows what else. But we waited and waited and waited some more. And then we waited. There were days when the GC wouldn't show up and didn't return calls. I am refraining form using his name here. He's a nice man. Just not the most efficient contractor.

The design and decision making took energy but I am quick to decide and I had a wonderful sense of what I wanted. We did sway on the purchase of our appliances. And mostly because we had to pay for those out of pocket. Money from the insurance company wouldn't cover those but it was hard to be disappointed by that. We got a brand new kitchen out of the deal. We purchased the appliances at Sears because of their wonderful customer service. Our sales man, Ron, gave us his cell number. (Which we used a few times) and he guided us along. Our refrigerator is an LG brand, double freezer drawer. We love it. Our stove is a Kenmore, 5 burner, 1 warmer and extra fabulous....a turbo burner which really does boil water in about 3 minutes. The oven is great and while I didn't dislike my old over, this one makes me realize how old my other one actually was. The temperature is consistent, burners are even, racks come in and out easily, the convection feature is efficient. Really good choice. And we went with a Maytag dishwasher. Super quiet, special rack features for tall of short cups, longer spaces for spatulas, ect.

As I write this, I realize how technical this stuff seems in the sense that the 5 month process of remodeling was so much more than the details I write here. The emotional chaos burrowed into our lives in so many ways and even after being back in our house for a few moths, I am still sorting through the journey. But that's another post. As are the details of my redecorating.... new paint color, pillows, new curtains. Yes, another post for that. And below are the photos. During and after....

























And in perfect use....




Thank you for my kitchen. Thank you.