The Red Hearts

Los Angeles, California

Our friends are far-flung. I am increasingly grateful for the ones who live nearby. They can come over and hang out on the sofa, help me organize the rooms in my guesthouse (you know who you are, Dr. C!), and play Ticket to Ride into the wee hours (see last parenthetical). But not everyone lives here. In March of 2020, I shared an experience on an airplane, and subsequent journey, with three women (see posts entitled That Was he Year That Was, Parts One and Two). Two of us live in California, with one in the southwest and another on the east coast. Thankfully, we have stayed in touch.

My close friend, Karen, lives in Arizona. Why anyone lives full-time in Arizona is a mystery to me, but it’s a nice place to visit in Spring when the Dodgers participate in Cactus League spring training. Shortly afterwards the weather becomes hell and remains so for a good six or seven months. I would not go anywhere near the state during that time. But, this year Joel and I went to Phoenix in April to see the Dodgers play (and beat) the Arizona Diamondbacks. We are just starting to visit National League stadiums. I’m already up on him by two, but have no problem revisiting San Francisco. San Diego, not so much…

Last October, Karen sent me a birthday card and a bracelet. The bracelet was an intention bracelet, and the instructions indicated that one should set an intention to be reminded of while wearing it. My intention was procrastination. Not to intend to procrastinate. I need no reminder to do that daily. But rather to not procrastinate. I have now been wearing the bracelet, every day, for over eleven months, and it has actually worked. When I walk past some item in my home that needs to be put away, I will now back up, pick it up, and put it where it belongs. At least about 98% of the time (if it is after ten o’clock at night, my intention, understandably, can falter).

For Karen’s most recent birthday, I sent her a necklace with a red crystal heart. For the past fifteen years, I have worn a necklace with a small, ruby heart. I receive more compliments on this piece of jewelry than on any other that I own. It is a heart I wear near to my own heart and is very meaningful to me. When in one calendar year I suffered the deaths of three people who were pivotal in my life, and some significant strife followed; seeing that heart in the mirror each day, helped me. Like the bracelet it provided a grounding message for me, that in spite of what I was going through, there was still a reason to love, a reason to trust, and a reason to give back.

And so, I started giving red, crystal heart necklaces to the girlfriends, the fristers who had stood by me. I gave the first one to Carole, who stayed with me at a time when I couldn’t be alone. And the following year, when I traveled to Phoenix to celebrate Cactus League with Lynnette and Connie, I gave them each one.

While Carole was staying with me, back almost ten years ago, Karen was texting, calling, and sending me information to help me deal with the last death. How is it that I never gave a heart to her? It somehow slipped through the cracks. But that was remedied last month when I sent her a Kate Spade red heart necklace for her birthday.

I probably should have bought these necklaces by the dozen. I think of these women as belonging to a red heart club which fills a space in my heart. I was exceedingly fortunate to have them in my life at a time when I really needed them. And to have them in my life now, for the time that we share in both good times and challenging ones.

I will see Karen in Manhattan later this year when we cheer for her brother, Russell, who is traveling from his home in London to run the New York Marathon. There will be stories about this to tell in upcoming posts. I won’t wait till the last minute to pack. That would be procrastinating. My bracelet wil help on that front. And of course my heart will travel with me.

Spot Check

September 30, 2024

Do you ever get these reminders that people see you or think of you differently than you see/think of yourself? My salsa amiga, Joy, came for dinner a few nights ago. We ordered in, and as we were waiting for the delivery, I offered her a choice of white or rosé wine. It's September, so I am in the mood for using up the rosés. I could have gone either way, but she chose the rosé. We settled onto the den sofa with our glasses and tucked our feet up under us. It's what we do when we spend time together at my house. And then we dish. Mostly about the men, our salsero novios. It's a festival. But, as we began, she suddenly complimented me on my face! It is an aging face, and that is what I see when I look in the mirror. I do my best with it, but let's face it, aging is a bitch and it shows on our faces. But, Joy seemed to see my cheekbones and my eyes in a better light.

I am with a man who doesn't compliment me on things like this, so it is nice to hear it from a girlfriend. Don't get me wrong. As a boyfriend/partner Joel is exemplary in most areas of our relationship. But he just isn't very complimentary. At first it bothered me. If he didn't comment on a dress I was wearing, I stopped wearing it. Ditto perfume. But now I know it's his quirk, and I remind myself that you can't always get what you want, but it you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need. I just made that up.

My dear friend, Connie, recently commented that I am so organized. Clearly, she has never seen my office. I used to see myself as organized, but I hit that tipping point where once you lose control of something, you start losing control of everything. This generally starts with people's garages. With me it started when I needed to bring all of my mother's files and stuff into my home. And then, when I sold my business, more files. So my tipping point occurred in my office. Easily remedied. I now work at the kitchen table. The office desk is a goner.

While I no longer see myself as organized, I do see myself as regimen-oriented. I fall off of my regimens often, but like in meditation, the object of the exercise is in getting back on. I try to meet my mornings with tea, meditation, and journaling. I try to work out on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays with a different cardio-with-weights workout on Saturdays. I don't eat meat on Fridays. I only have an alcoholic drink on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and the weekend (I don't drink a lot. I just drink often). But all of this is subject to change or to just throwing it all into a jar, shaking it up and seeing what spills out. Again, regimen-oriented, definitely not regimen-bound.

But, back to the sofa. It has become one of my favorite things, to hang out with my friends in my house. Am I getting lazy? I do think since the pandemic some of us would rather stay home. I get a lot of social time outside my house when we are dancing at clubs. And I leave the house almost every day for errands. But being at home, hanging out with a friend, brings the satisfaction of not running around, dealing with traffic and parking, and the often loud volume of gen Zs and electronic music in a restaurant.

Still, we left home last Saturday to meet our friends, Todd and Christopher, at a local Italian restaurant. Joel and I hadn't been to this restaurant, so I was overjoyed that we really liked it. We have needed to add an Italian to our restaurant rotation. And it was a lovely night with these friends-as-family whom I have known for many decades. I came home with the leftover brussels sprouts which were insanely tasty. And then, because it was Saturday night and only on Saturday night, I pulled the container of spumoni ice cream from my freezer and grabbed the box of Keebler Sugar Cones from my cupboard. Ten minutes of softening time and I scooped and packed a mound of ice cream on top of the cone and settled down on that same sofa to enjoy my weekly Saturday night treat.

Much later, while watching an episode of Divorce I felt something itching on my chest. It is mosquito season and much as we try to keep them out of the house, mosquitos happen. But I was alarmed to find a crusty, scaly growth on my upper chest. What the hell? I ran to the bathroom where I saw a reddish-greenish-brownish spot. OMG, what is that? Of course it was the weekend, so there was no getting to my dermatologist, Dr. Os, and frankly, I'm not that person who runs off to the doctor for every little thing. But maybe this wasn't a little thing. I rubbed at it tentatively. And... it rubbed off. It. Rubbed. Off. And then it dawned on me. I can construct an ice cream cone that could stand up against any Baskin-Robbins' employee. But. I don't have the paper cones that keep the ice cream from dripping from the bottom of the cone. And, let's be honest, I was kinda reclining when I slurped up that cone. The reddish-greenish-brownish spot was a jot of cherry/pistachio/chocolate that got away from the bottom of the cone ('cuz I like to mash it down in there as I'm eating it). Great cheekbones? Organized? Let's face it. I am more accurately described as messy, especially when it comes to my Saturday night treat. Luckily, a body scan was not required.