Grace: Issue 50

1. Confirming it was a false alarm.
2. Getting a good night's sleep after a lack thereof.
3. Realizing you're still very glad to be friends with someone, even more than 20 years later.
4. Feeling wiser as well as older.
5. Butterfly-shaped anything.
6. Hearing "I love you" before going to sleep.
7. Waking up when the sunlight fills the room.
8. Knowing my in-laws are great people.
9. Taking a deep, cleansing breath.
10. Accomplishing more than I'd set out to.
11. Having friends who worry about you.
12. Holding hands while you take a walk.
13. Taking it easy.
14. Walking through the neighborhood as a way to greet the day.
15. Watching a goldfinch eat lavender buds outside the window.
16. Tidying up the coupons.
17. Clearing out excess paper.
18. Taking stock.
19. Finding a deal on sumptuous towels.
20. Revisiting a favorite book.

Girls' Day Perfection

This past week or two it's been pretty difficult to shut things off at night mentally when I need to sleep. I wake up at 3 or 4, toss and turn, get up to write things down, stay in bed and not write things down. (I've tried both; either way, it doesn't seem to help.)

For me, the best prescription for when I can't sleep, because all my to-do lists are crowding up my mind, overlapping each other, piling up and demanding attention?

Walk around a very large place that stimulates other parts of my brain. Walk, walk, walk, preferably with a good friend who helps you remember what's important.

Which is how I spent my Saturday in New York City.

But as we walked, I took it all in: seeing things and people and designs and colors and shapes that just pushed aside those endless stacks of to-dos and worries and frets and such.

In SoHo, we feasted on tartines - open-faced turkey, avocado and sprouts; prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella with pesto and tomatoes - at my friend's her favorite lunch place (she's moved out of the country, so she was reconnecting, too).

We stopped at a bread bakery I love to stock up, shopped a little, then headed to the Museum of Modern Art to enjoy the Picassos, Rousseaus and Van Goghs. The Starry Night is like the ocean for me - I could stare at that painting for ever, with its swirls of blues and greens that turn this way and that.

But most of all, the two of us gabbed and caught up and relaxed -- which was the perfect way to clear the over-crowded slate.

Before taking the train back from the city, we suddenly realized we were famished. So we made our way to Burger Joint and devoured the best burgers I've had in a long time.

Thick, juicy, laden with cheese and loaded with lettuce, tomato and ketchup, our orders ready by the time we handed over the cash.

The place has the look and feel of a dive - the menu at the register scribbled in sharpie on corrugated cardboard; your fries tossed into a plain brown paper bag and your burger's wrapped in stiff, white butcher paper). And while the burgers aren't cheap, they were worth every buck.

Riding home on the train, I couldn't remember the last time I felt so relaxed and ready for a good night's sleep. The day totally delivered.

Busy Busy Bee, Buzz-Buzz-Buzz

All the gotta-dos and forgot-abouts and the hurry-ups. Sparking my brain at 2:00 a.m., 3:00 a.m., 4:00 a.m. ... [sigh!]


Make the buzzing stop!


There's just way too much going on. Last night, I had to shut down the computer just to get a little rest.


And so I zonked on the couch, watching a rerun of the Fashion Show, Isaac Mizrahi's also-ran, me-too, cheap knockoff of Project Runway. The episode in which design competitor Johnny got cut loose by Mr. Mizrahi for the fashion sin of... creating a knockoff.

Oh, All Right. Grace: Issue 49

1. Unseasonably cool and dry weather that feels like San Diego.
2. Taking a walk that calms me down during an uber-stressful time.
3. Knowing last week is behind us.
4. Being comforted by Mr Spandrel.
5. The refreshingly restorative powers of Junior Mints.

Creative Struggle

They sit right above my head, over my desk, mocking me. Boxes of beads, in colors chosen solely by my whims. Gorgeous findings that I've amassed from trips to bead stores now long gone.

But I just can't create.

Part of it is that I know it will just open the door to wanting more.

"This necklace would be just perfect if I could intersperse some bronze bicones here. But I only have copper, which would ruin it. Maybe I'll go to that store while I'm doing errands..."

And the next thing you know, I've spent way more than I've intended.

Sure, I've challenged myself to make something -- anything -- out of just the materials I have on hand.

But that nagging voice in the back of my head often wins out: "Just another five little 6 mm silver Bali cubes, and this could be awesome!"

Made with Love

Today, I bought a scarf. On sale, at a chain store. With a coupon. Plus an added discount. A genuine bargain.

The store clerk carefully matched up each edge, smoothing it down into a neat square, before sheathing it in a sheet of tissue paper into which he'd folded a smart pleat down the center.

"Thank you for wrapping that so nicely!" I said, as he slipped it into the mini shopping bag.

"Well, it's silk, it deserves a little love," he replied.

Don't a lot of things?

In France, I'd marveled at the array of packets and parcels into which the store clerks arranged my purchases--both large and small. There was value in taking care.

Aren't most work-related tasks worth doing with at least a little love?

Over lunch one day, a friend looked down at his sandwich ruefully, the smoked turkey flapping half-outside the whole grain bread, more lettuce scattered on the tray than on the bread.

"Some days, they're made with love, some days they aren't," he summed up.

This from a guy who readily admitted that most days, food was little more than fuel for his high-octane workouts.

But people do notice these things. And it all goes into what makes a shopping or eating experience worthwhile.

Care is what sets great companies--and star workers--apart from the rest.

Traveling Light

It's been a while since I traveled for work regularly. But when I did, I invested in a TravelPro wheel-aboard bag. Those things wear like iron, but they look like everything else: black cordura, blah-blah-blah.

I'll be breaking out the bag soon for an upcoming trip, with three days of business casualwear in that single bag, with laptop on the side. It'll be an exercise in squishtastic packing, but I think I can do it.

Check a bag? Pfft. No.

Not after sitting for two days of a three-day conference beside a bevvy of belles whose luggage took a trip to chillier climes (Chicago) while they cooled their heels in Atlanta, trying to make jeans and jogging suits look quasi-professional with the help of the jewelry they'd stowed in their carry-ons.

Lesson learned: pack light and take your luggage on board. And if you can't, make sure the outfit you're wearing on the flight is comfortable while minimally passing as professional.

Admittedly, I wear way too many pairs of shoes when away -- out of necessity. Plus, I normally schlep along a serious hair dryer whenever I travel because hotel models are seldom adequate. Oh, and did I mention my obsession with hair products?

This is going to take a while.

Take Eames

You know, that Eames couple was onto something. There's much to be said for remaining true to oneself in one's work.

Another idea I admire is giving yourself the freedom to experiment, but make it good. Don't settle for just "OK" because that's not part of who you are. (That requires really knowing who you are. Which you should. But that's another whole post.)

In the meantime, don't lose sight of the forest while you're busy picking bark off the trees, as it were.

Having a point of view helps one's judgment. Because you can say "no, that's not right," with authority and rigor.

To me, all these attributes result from flow--that rare instance when mind, body and spirit are in perfect harmony with what one is doing. Where you are doing exactly what you should be doing at a given moment.

At points when I'm creating something I'm really proud of, I totally experience this.

What about you?

Grace Issue 48: TGIF

1. Boy, the week after a holiday week is long-long-long, isn't it? Friday's been in my sights since Monday morning, seeming oh-so far off until, lo! Here it is! Huzzah!
2. Knowing I wouldn't have to cook dinner tonight gave me a bounce in my step.
3. The fact that Mr. Spandrel picked up the pizza we'd planned was an even bigger treat.
4. Trying the country vegetable pizza and finding it to be mouth-wateringly delicious - way beyond expectations - added to that celebratory, "hey-the-weekend's-here" feeling.
5. We get pizza from a neighborhood joint where, when I arrive for pickup, they yell out, "I'm ready for you, baby!" when I walk in. And that makes me laugh out loud each time.

On Writers

When I was a teenager, I got hold of a copy of Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. I think my Mom had recommended it. Anyway, I was so thrilled with Salinger's style, that informal way he had of writing a sentence that made you part of that moment in time he'd captured.

I literally spent the day with Salinger; as I recall, I sat down to read the book and didn't get up until I was finished.

It's like I made that moment in time -- captured by Catcher in the Rye -- part of my own moment in time.

As a kid, I read books voraciously. Routinely, I checked out of the library as many books as our local branch allowed - I think it was 10 books. Each night I read late into the night, until my Mom would yell upstairs to turn out my bedroom light.

Never one to read by flashlight, I went through a phase where I simply kept my light on all night because I often stayed up to read so late into the evening, that I'd drift in and out of sleep. Without the light, if I woke up, I'd feel disoriented. Bad habit that took years to break.

Jonathan Franzen's writing piques the same mental salivary glands that Salinger's Catcher in the Rye did for me way back when. I can't get enough of it, and with every sentence another frame of of that fictional world is built in my mind. I love that feeling.

Franzen's got a short story in The New Yorker this week and when I spotted it in the table of contents, I let out a silent "yipeee!" Just like I do when I see something by David Sedaris or Patricia Marx, or even Steve Martin appear on that page.

Check out the Franzen story and let me know what you think. Go ahead. Comment at will!

Aubergine

Aubergine. Oh'-ber-zheen.

How l love that word - from its pronunciation to the color it represents.

(Although I am not crazy about eggplant, which is what it translates to in English.)

A dark, almost-black purple, it's mysterious and deep, with more character than other dark colors.

Green

This time of year, I love driving around anywhere I can be surrounded by trees.

I'm lucky, because it's not too hard to find a tree-lined lane where I live.

At one point, I had a 30-minute commute during which I mainly managed to stay on windy lanes where the trees connected across the street, forming canopies overhead.

There's something about those streets that feels safe and enveloping. Almost room-like. The color adds to it, for sure.

This time of year, everything is in shades of ultra-bright green and unfurling with hope, before the July sun has sapped its strength.

Everyone who knows me well thinks I love the month of May simply because my birthday is during this month, but it's more than that.

The greenness of it, the newness, makes celebrating the passing of another year all the more meaningful.

Grace, Issue 47

1. Three days off, one day on, one day off, two days on, two days off.
2. Reconnecting with a former colleague who I'd always enjoyed working with.
3. Seeing the little smiley-faced box in which my Mom stashed one of my birthday gifts--and realizing that I crack up each time I look at it.
4. Enjoying the glide of a new pen over the pages of a Moleskine, cracked open for just this occasion.
5. Eating a pack of M&Ms and not feeling the least bit guilty about it (yet).

Brand New Bag

Even as a toddler, I was obsessed with purses. Whenever my mom got rid of an old pocketbook and let me play with it, I was in heaven. The best ones had multiple pockets and zippers and tiny hideaway compartments.

There's probably some tie-in with obsessing over the trappings of grownup-hood - after all, at three, I came downstairs one morning and announced I was ready for school, clad in footie pajamas and sporting a briefcase. (Thankfully, my fashion choices have evolved a little, since then.)

But procuring a new handbag just as summer starts? Divine.

Over the weekend, I found one in a kickin' color, a roomy style with cute details. Like little perforations reminiscent of spectator pumps. And a zany, flowered lining that reminds me of my maternal grandmother for some reason.

Best of all, it was on deep-deep sale.

Grace: Issue 46, Good Day, Sunshine

It's amazing what can happen when you just put it out there, into the world, that you need a reset. Because today, the stars aligned and everything sorted itself out.

1. A weekly deadline was met with little drama and smiles all around.
2. Coworkers and I hit a favorite lunch spot for laughs and a break.
3. Actually got to leave work at the pre-holiday early-dismissal time, rather than being stuck tying up loose ends.
4. Got in and out of the grocery store in record time.
5. Came home to find one of my favorite magazines waiting for me in the mail.

Lull!

As rambunctious teenagers, my friends and I would while away hours just talking about nothing.

So Jerry Seinfeld's show didn't seem that far a stretch, in a way a funnier, more urbane version of what we did on a daily basis. That, and they were generally harsher and snarkier than we were.

(My friends have more heart than Jerry, Kramer, George and Elaine combined.)

Even during the longest of bull sessions, once in a while the conversation would spiral to a halt.

Until someone would cry out: "Lull!"

It broke whatever tension or lack of inspiration there was, made us laugh, and triggered some other topic, just by virtue of pointing out we'd run out of things to discuss.

It was a Reset button for the conversation.

That's sort of how I've been feeling lately: halted, uninspired, and in need of a reset.

So this long holiday weekend is arriving just in time. Meeting a girlfriend in the city for some catch-up chat, having family over for a barbeque.

Far from a Lull, it should be just the reset I need.

Grace, Issue 45 - The Mom Chronicles

1. They soothe our ruffled feathers.
2. Lend an ear when we're wronged or worried.
3. Show us what's what.
4. Encourage us to be fearless by providing support for even the riskiest endeavors.
5. And love us all the more at the end of the day.

Fabulous Friday

What does it say that I wake up on Mondays, slog through my morning routine, jump back into the rat race, and then suddenly I look up and, it's Friday?

I guess it means my work is engaging enough that time goes by quickly...

Or, that I'm not paying enough attention to the things that really enrich my life.

The rain that drenched us all week seems to have moved on, and now it's sunny and crisp this morning, just like spring ought to be.

Flowers are looking good and there are still blossoms on all the trees, from the weeping willows, to cherry trees to magnolias.

Amidst the stresses of the day, the work crises and the family obligations, I need to remind myself to to stop and pay attention to the beauty that's all around.

Grace Issue 44

1. Too many interesting things to read at once.
2. Mint Milanos after doing without for way too long.
3. Meeting of the minds with people at work.
4. Lightening the load for a coworker.
5. Looking forward to a tea party with "the girls" on Saturday.

Delayed Gratification

As bulbs burst forth each spring, it's one of the most heartening things you can catch sight of, bleary from a winter of icy-cold temps and gray skies.

Each spring, my heart lifts as the green shoots peek out from under the mulch. And when the flowers appear? Smiles every day.

Having planted tulips and hyacinths (and weren't there a few daffodils?) probably more than 10 years ago, they're getting a little more peaked each year.

So I"m putting in my calendar for October to gather more bulbs, stock up on knee pads, break out the flannel shirt and get cracking.

The hard work you put into it is definitely worth the reward.

Grace in Small Things: Issue 43

1. A city park dotted with people catching some rays, a bride and groom getting photographed, football-tossing dudes and many, many dogs.
2. Those little pink petals that swirl around off the trees, dotting the sidewalk, letting you know it's spring.
3. Good natter with a friend I haven't seen in way too long.
4. The first al fresco lunch of 2009: an Arnold Palmer, a strawberry and field greens salad drizzled with sherry vinaigrette, and a jumbo lump crab cake.
5. A cup of Capogiro's blood orange sorbetto, before driving home to the 'burbs.

Leave Your Worries in the Trees

Finally got to a yoga class last night after weeks of "meaning to," and it was just what the doctor ordered.

It's not until I get to yoga class that I realize how much I forget to breathe on a daily basis. Of course, I'm walking around, so I'm breathing enough to sustain life, but I mean breathe.

Consciously. Deliberately. Following its path on every inhale and exhale.

This being a very gentle yoga class, the emphasis was on meditating the cares of the day away and out of one's mind (which was my goal, too, of course). This instructor always comes up with a different metaphor that makes it easier for me to disconnect from whatever's been vexing me.

Last night, in celebration of spring and all the petals bursting forth, she led us on a walk down an imaginary road, surrounded on both sides by trees. Each tree that you pass is diferent. As you pass a tree, imagine yourself draping a thought onto it, a thought that's crowding your brain and basically disturbing your bliss.

Keep walking until you run out of thoughts to drape onto trees. There are no more trees, and no more thoughts. Just your breath. With your mind clear of thought, just be.

It works. Try it.

Grace: Issue 42, The Easter Feaster

Boy, did we have fun yesterday!

1. Pirogis, procured from Krakus Market, along with the last of the shop's kielbasa on Good Friday.
2. A bite of that leftover potato pancake Mr Spandrel was enjoying, from Syrenka, a no-frills luncheonette that makes delicious Polish fare.
3. An Easter egg hunt for the kids in attendance -- with the added challenge of more undersized eggs hidden away in little pocket spaces around the yard.
4. Ham from Wegman's, which made grocery shopping oh so much easier.
5. Carrot souffle, a buttery, sugary fluff that barely qualifies as a vegetable.

Good Golly

Somehow, I'd missed that a lovely jazz singer that I've admired passed away in February.

My first brush with Blossom Dearie was a Target commercial a few years ago. And ever since, "They Say It's Spring" has been my definitive mini-soundtrack for the season.

There's something about it that's joyful, lilting and a little wistful at the same time.

We could all take a lesson from Blossom Dearie.

In a time where we're roiling from all the pursuit of excess, rather than excellence, why be overblown about things when a soft touch can do the trick?

Grace: Issue 41

1. Looking forward to the full moon tomorrow--things are so zany, already, who can predict what will happen!?
2. Realizing work will never be done. It's just that one can momentarily hold back the floodgates for a time, hopefully long enough to squeeze in some creative thinking.
3. Whimsically purchasing an Elle magazine, only to find quirky layouts, inspiring articles and colorful, uplifting imagery, for once. (And I admit, I even like reading the numerology and horoscopes -- and in other news, watch out, as apparently I am a force to be reckoned with this month!)
4. Getting ready for Easter, with ham, pirogis and carrot souffle on the menu.
5. Trusting my instincts, and feeling like I finally know more than I give myself credit for.