Rox and Roll

Elephants and Eggshells Don't Mix

I admit it: I'm a sucker for good quotes.  Perhaps it's the writer in me, but I really love when I read something unforgettable -- something I want to remember and repeat in a time of wit, or need, or fun.  I remember reading "I wish I knew how to quit you" long before it was the most memorable line from Brokeback Mountain (written by my all-time favorite author, E. Annie Proulx). 

Some of my favorite one-liners come from my kids, such as "When life gives you rockets, launch them."  (That one's from Dash.)  Or from my Grandma: "Wish in one hand, sh*t in the other, and see which one gets filled up first."  (That's some sage wisdom right there.)  Our life is full of talking, and, every so often, someone says something truly profound... something like, "Roxane, someday, you're going to be my wife."  The Guv said that five days after we met in boarding school.  We were standing outside my dorm in a light rain, right before sign-in time; he wore his baseball pullover and a Yale cap, and I thought he was probably just trying to get something out of me that I wasn't ready to give.  It turns out that he loved me then, and it took me only an extra day to love him back.  Nearly twenty years later, I can still hear him say it like it was yesterday.

Another time, years later, a friend with whom I worked at Beth Israel Hospital -- right around the same time as I worked with the accused killer Amy Bishop -- imparted some wisdom as I waited for that day when I would become the Guv's First Lady.  Her name was Shawn, and she was quiet, industrious, and wise, temping as she took classes at Harvard.  I learned a lot about faith from working alongside her.  When I was just about out of patience, waiting for our imminent engagement, Shawn told me, "Roxane, when you ask God for patience, you need to understand that He's giving you opportunities to learn it."

She was right.  And while my patience has improved over the years, it is still one of my greatest challenges. 

I'm precariously close to being out of patience, actually.  My health has been deteriorating since June 6, 2009, and this is the first crack in the facade to which I'll confess.  I'm tired of being sick.  I'm tired of how it's wrecking me emotionally.  I'm tired of how it makes me hypersensitive.  I'm tired of how it makes me tired.  I tried to take my daughter and a friend to the mall on Saturday, and, at the end of the trip, I couldn't breathe.  I felt like there was a weight on my chest the size of a grand piano.  And you know what?  That. Just. Sucked.

But the other thing I'm pretty tired of is people forgetting that maybe they need to back off because I'm sick.  I have never asked for special sensitivity in my life, so perhaps that's why some people aren't giving me much.  After all, I "look" fine.  And I try to look like I "feel" fine because I have kids. I don't want them to see that I'm hurt.  Plus, I think a lot of wellness is faking it when you're not 100%.  But, as Marsellus Wallace said in Pulp Fiction, "I'm pretty f*cking far from okay."  Forgive me for not wearing that on my sleeve every day.  Maybe I should make a sandwich board...

In any event, during this time of hardship for me, my patience and my temperament is being challenged.  One person in particular, someone with her own "issues," has been accusing me of negative feelings that, quite frankly, I do not harbor.  I tried to reply to her e-mail missives at first, but I stopped.  I believe in talking -- if not live, then on the phone.  Yet I've been told not to call.  A common friend says she's "fragile."  (I have other words for it.)  Finally, for no apparent reason, after a few weeks of peace in the kingdom, she removed me from her friend list on Facebook.  I only found out because I went to her Facebook page to click on a link for a website to buy her a gift -- because even after wrangling "issues," maintaining a relationship with this girl is important to me because of other shared friends.  I wanted to try to do something right, to move forward on a positive note.   After all, everyone has bad days (or even bad months) sometimes.  I went to the page to cut her some slack.  And instead, I am cut off.

So, as much as I've kept up a good face for these last nine months, I want to confess that I'm human.  I'm particularly weak right now, and more than a little sensitive.  This is absolutely, positively the wrong time to pick a fight with me.  Everyone will lose.  The stress of a fight directly affects my health, and I just can't have that.  In this particular case, I don't understand what is going on, and I alternate between confusion, anger and sadness.  It's schizo.  If this is one of those "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change" moments, how can I do that when I don't even know that the "things" are?

Part of me wishes that I knew how to quit this girl before she quit me.  Part of me wishes I weren't always so nice -- that I could pen a missive that outlined exactly what my own "issues" were.  But what master does that serve?  The master of retribution?  The master of anger?  The master of righteous indignation?  It's just not who I am.  This blog post is the closest I'll come to having my say, and it's the most I'll ever say about my feelings about the situation, which is that it sucks for everyone involved.  What is the hardest thing for me is that I have no way to make it better.  I can't make someone leave me alone.  I can't make someone talk with me who doesn't want to talk.  I can't make someone else's "issues" go away.  And I sure as hell can't walk on eggshells, especially with the elephant that's currently sitting on my chest.  Elephants and eggshells don't mix.

So, I turn to what I know: advice from my rock, the Guv, reading, prayer, meditation -- all of the things that save me from myself.

From Buddha: Peace comes from within.  Do not see it without.

From Zen wisdom: If you do not get it from yourself, where will you go for it?

I have to go back into myself for a while now, back to the place where I know -- where all persons who know me, save perhaps one, know -- that my heart is pure and good, that I don't hurt and that I try my darndest to help anyone who needs it.  I have a lot of feelings right now about family, friendships, life, death, God, and a whole lot of other things that are very confusing and that I can't express.  But most of all, I know that I have to focus on happiness, health and healing -- on each smile my children give me, and on each new flower that opens in this glorious California spring.  Time is not unlimited no matter what your health, and I don't wish to waste another second of it on something ugly even if I live until 100.  These "issues" have derailed me from that quest for honesty, beauty and fulfillment; enough of that.

To that end, I started the day reading "The Glass Menagerie" -- and I quote, "His nature is not remorseless... To escape from a trap, he must act without pity."

I will end it with Saint Francis of Assisi, praying: Blessed is the servant who loves his brother as much when he is sick and useless as when he is well and an be of service to him.  And blessed is he who loves his brother as well when he is afar off as when he is by his side, and who would say nothing behind his back he might not, in love, say before his face.

I am at peace, and, especially if you have the patience which I lack and have read this far -- peace, I wish you, too.  (Yes, even, and especially, her.)

High-Fives from 2009

At first, I didn't want to remember 2009 at all; after my lung issues that started last June and are ongoing, it's a year I'd rather forget in some ways.  But I like to put a positive spin on things (plus geekymummy tagged me with this great meme) so here are my 2009 high-fives:

1. My kids gained independence

The one good thing that came from my being sick is that my kids learned to self-manage on an all new level.  At no point were they ever unsafe or unsupervised under my care, but, especially in Vermont over the summer, I wasn't bouncing around doing tons of things with them; I was lounging on a chair, couch or bed while they played.  And play, they did.  When I felt too tired to drive them to the pool or wherever, they grabbed fishing nets and caught frogs in our vernal pool.  They climbed trees.  They played tag and chase.  They did somersaults.  They drew pictures.  They laughed together, had a summer-long sleep-over and became the best of friends to each other -- not an easy feat for kids over four years apart in age.

In other words, for one brief summer, their childhood mirrored mine at Dash's age, when I was on a farm, surrounded by few toys but lots of nature and some other great kids (in my case, cousins) with whom I'd play.   I love that my childhood was so carefree, and I love that my kids had a taste of that this summer -- and love that we've kept our house in Vermont so that they have a direct contrast in lifestyle compared to their always-on Silicon Valley one.

2. BlogHer

I perked up this summer just long enough -- barely long enough -- to make it to my first BlogHer conference in Chicago.  I had seen a pulmonologist at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center who gave me some super-strong, amazing drugs that almost saw me through the whole conference, until I started reacting to them halfway through.  Yeah, that splotchy girl at BlogHer?  That was me. 

But oh, was it fun.  It was a giant party.  (I posted about it here, here and here.)  Yes, I learned some valuable things about blogging/writing; most valuable to me was a session on op-eds given by Katie Orenstein.  But mostly, I just had a blast, meeting bloggers from my Silicon Valley Moms Group sisterhood, a whole lot of funny ladies, and I slept (not much -- these gals party late!) in my own hotel room, totally on a vacation from my real life, for three whole nights.  It was heaven.  Next year: BlogHer in NYC!  Start spreading the news!

3. Unpacking the last box

In our seven years in NJ, we never unpacked all of the way ... perhaps a sign that we weren't meant to stay there.  (Of course, it could also be a sign that I had two kids and, at one point, a full-time job and full-time graduate school.)  In late-2009, we unpacked the last box in our Silicon Valley home.  I think it was our declaration that we're here to stay!  We all love it here ... the weather, our tons of friends, proximity to Stanford and to a great downtown, the Guv's five-minute bike commute ... Life is good here in CA!

4. Experiencing Tahoe

We are used to snow; after all, we live part-time in Vermont!  But I've never ever seen snow in my life like that in Tahoe.  Wow.  We spent a couple of nights there and, on one of those nights, slept through an eighteen-inch snowfall.  Unlike New England or New Jersey, it didn't shut down anything; you just put on your big-girl panties tire chains and deal.

The tire chain fiasco is worthy of a whole separate blog post, but, in short, we did it, and the kids skiied Sugar Bowl.  Dash could've cared less about skiing and, instead, wanted to throw snowballs all day, every day.  Petunia, however, could handle intermediate runs there.  Apparently, if one has learned to ski on "asphalt" (what Tahoe folks call Vermont's snow), one can ski rather well.  We watched our girl go over some light jumps at the end, reach the bottom, and pump her arms in the air.  I always wanted my kids to ski because it's something that I couldn't do and felt left out sometimes because of (those high school and college ski trips didn't accommodate non-skiers with fun stuff like tubing in my day).  Mission accomplished!

The bummer of it all was that I would have loved to snowboard in Tahoe.  Oh, how soft those landings would've been in all that fresh powder!  But, alas, I couldn't breathe.  2010 is the year my bum lung gets fixed, because I have to get back up to that mountain and ride. 

5. Last but definitely not least: the puppy

I never thought I'd be dog-less for as long as I've been, but the timing never seemed right.  When we decided that we're almost definitely positive that we weren't having any more kids, I started researching dog breeds (pretty much immediately after Dash's birth).  Criteria: small enough to ride inside the cabin of a plane with us, fun, kid-friendly, non-shedding, no-dander.  We ended up with our Havanese puppy Lola, and she is just the best dog ever.  She doesn't bark unless someone comes to the door.  She has ways to tell us when she needs to go outside.  She doesn't bite, and she loves to play.  Our favorite thing is to take her to the beach or to a park where the Guv chases her in circles; she runs super-fast.  We all love her to pieces, and she loves us right back -- and even the Guv, never a dog lover, will be caught letting her lick his face.  Lola's addition to our family was the highlight of 2009 for me.

Thanks again to geekymummy for tagging me with this meme!  It was lots of fun!  Have a great 2010 everyone!

In the Live Free or Die state

Rox: "I don't get it.  New Hampshire doesn't have a seatbelt law [for adults], but there are signs everywhere you get on and off the highway that turn signal use is required.  What gives?"

The Guv: "I totally get it."

Rox looks at the Guv quizzically.

The Guv: "It's like the saying 'your right to extend your fist ends at my nose.'  You can choose not to wear a seatbelt and might very well die because of it, but that only hurts yourself.  If you choose not to use your turn signal and take someone else out, well, that's just not right."

Rox: "I thought that this was the lawless state.  No cell phone/texting laws, no seatbelts... the turn signal thing seems kind of arbitrary."

The Guv, shaking his head: "Not to me.  Thank God this isn't another Nanny State [blah blah blah blah blah blah blah]."  [end rant]*

*Apologies; the Guv's rants against the Nanny State are so frequent these days that I just tune them out.  He probably said something worth repeating, but he has his own blog for that audience.  LOL

Greetings from our 54 hours in the Green Mountains

At long last, we arrived in Vermont at 3 am on Friday; but, by 9 am on Sunday, we'll be headed south to New Jersey via a visit with the Brooklyn in-laws.  We will have had 54 hours in verdant Vermont before heading back to a place to which I have mixed feelings returning.

On the one hand, I am excited to see our former NJ neighbors and friends, and I am extra-excited for Petunia to see her old schoolmates.  But on the other hand, I really don't want to see how the new owners of our fomer home have completely bastardized our house.  For the first year we lived in it, I called it the Stein's house, because we bought it from the Stein family -- but then I brought baby Dash home to it, and it became our house forever.  Yet, of course, it's not our house anymore, and some people who were a real hassle to deal with bought it and changed it immensely.  I think that Dash is probably going to have a world-class freak-out, but I probably won't notice because I'll be having my own while Petunia bitches in my ear about those awful people who ruined our house.

And then there's the matter of health -- which is a funny thing for me to chirp about while I'm recovering from pneumonia.  (Did I mention that I have pneumonia?  Yeah... probably should've posted about that diagnosis, but I've been too damned tired.)  Aside from my horrific illness at present, a lot of my memories of NJ are of Dash's 3+ years of ill health.  Coupled with the multiple bouts of bronchitis I had there and Petunia's and my asthma that totally disappeared in California, I'll confess: I'm scared of the air in our former home state.  I have a bag full of inhalers, and we'll be using them as a precaution.  In all fairness, I've heard from plenty of people that their health/allergies/asthma is worse in California; but for us, well, we're well.  (OK, we're all well except for me, right now, but that's my own running-myself-into-the-ground fault.)  Dash gained seven pounds within five months of living in California; a year before that, he'd been failure-to-thrive.  Hence, California is good for our health; New Jersey was not.  And we're going back, and I'm a little scared.

But I have so many happy memories there, too, that I'm going to have to focus on those.  Worry won't make me well any faster, but I'm thinking that a five-day stay in a super-nice Westin might help me along.  No cooking, no cleaning... a vacation from vacation!  I like it.  I can do it.  And I can also take my kids to their former favorite Vito's pizza, and to Sumo Sushi, and to climb on the tigers at Princeton... we can play on Petunia's former school playground, and, best of all, we can visit our old friends, some of whom we've missed terribly. 

So tomorrow, we're off, for a wonderful visit with grandparents and a very special aunt and cousin, and then with good old friends.  I wish I had more than 54 hours in Vermont to sort out all of these mixed feelings, but it is what it is.  It's been a long and wonderful year away, but it's time to see our old home again -- and to accept that places change, but friends remain.  See you soon, NJ.

On karma

For me, this new year has dawned full of happiness and exciting possibilities.  I am acutely aware of how lucky I am to be here in California, enjoying a high-quality of family life with healthy children -- things that eluded us during our New Jersey years.  I feel a joy so deep that the little things that used to wreck my days (such as still being awakened every night by a toddler) don't matter so much anymore, as the big things are under control.  And the big things -- having healthy kids, the Guv being happy in his working world, my fulfillment through hobbies and friends -- those are what matter.  We've found some good karma here in CA, and I'd like to keep it coming.

To that end, every single day I stop in my tracks at some point to hear the message of Luke 12:48: "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required."  Sometimes, when I think of that phrase, it is hard not to crumple to the ground and cry for joy because of how happy and well we all are right now -- much has been given to us, indeed.  I am close enough to the time in my life when things weren't this way -- those endless drives to and from Children's Hospital of Philadelphia to figure out why Dash was so sick and so little, for example -- when it strikes my heart keenly and sharply that we have emerged victorious from a very dark time.  And every time I have that realization, I also realize that not everyone is so fortunate. 

So how, then, can I put my good karma to use to balance out some of the bad karma in the world?  Especially now, when the economy has hit so many so hard, there must be a way for me to reach out my hand to someone who is not in the same, good place and say, "I can help."  Our family has long supported domestic charities like Habitat for Humanity and the Salvation Army, but I find that writing a check -- even to a fabulous organization -- isn't the same as giving a little of myself to a cause.  And here in Silicon Valley, the causes of homelessness and hunger, at least, are very much in my face every day.  I remain shocked, in the land of Jobs/Page/Brin, that the homeless have to be on the streets at all.  Nine churches in Palo Alto spend nine months of each year in rotation, each opening their parish halls in the evenings for homeless meals and night sleeping for one month -- so, aside from summer, there is a relatively safe space for these folks, but they are still here and in increasing numbers.  I'm one of those strange folks that doesn't isn't afraid of or disgusted by the homeless, though; I just feel sad for them.  Perhaps some of these folks need medical or psychiatric treatment that they're not getting.  Perhaps some of these folks served our country and, as vets, are due something greater than an itinerant, uncertain life.  Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.  At the end of the day, just because I am educated and live in a house doesn't mean that I am more American or more a child of God than someone who has no home; indeed, the lesson of the Christ in whom I believe is that the "least of his brethren" should be cared for as we would care for Him.

It would be highly unacceptable to me for my children to grow up here in this Golden State (and believe me, here in Silicon Valley, sometimes it does indeed feel like the streets are paved with gold!) without being sensitive to the haves and have-nots of this world.  I want them to know how good they have it.  No, I don't want them to feel bad about having a home or "stuff" or food -- but I don't want them thinking that those who lack those things are somehow "less than."  Above all, I want them to have empathy, and I want that empathy to be bias for action.  And If I want that for them, then I had better set a darned good example. 

To that end, the Guv and I are hatching a project to do something about the many needs our own backyard on a larger scale; we plan to answer Obama's call to national service (though, lest anyone should worry, from within the confines of our current jobs and life).  Until then, we're doing some smaller scale things.  We just signed up to sponsor a family living in rural poverty through The Box Project.  Family to family, we can make a difference.

At the end of the day, I hope that someone someday can say about me that I gave more to this world than I took from it.   And hey, maybe by giving, I can keep the good karma coming; indeed, if "to whom much is given, much is required" is not karma, I don't know what is.