Lemons

Still LA...

It was stunning for me to check into WWSD and discover I had not written in close to three months! And this coming off of a year where I wrote regularly. So what stopped me in my blog-writing tracks after the Ides of March? Well. several things. Importantly, I was fully vaccinated. And by the end of March, so was Joel. An unobserved Lent passed at sundown on April 3rd, and by mid-April I was able to return to Cathy and my pilates sessions. I began seeing friends. Lisa and I walked and shopped on Montana Avenue in Santa Monica. We had lunch indoors at Forma, sharing some wonderful sole and our favorite, Burnt Spaghetti (just take my word for this).

Joel and I began seeing each other every week. And Lynnette came to stay at my home in May, which was for me, a joyful reunion. We visited our friend Larry, and met his puppy, JoJo, named after our hopefully-stabilizing President Joe Biden. Life was moving towards a sort of normalizing, not-normalizing, new normal. If that doesn't make any sense, that is good. Because coming out of this is complicated. Very complicated. And it shouldn't really be making sense at this time.

I didn't stop writing altogether, however. I have kept journals since I was fourteen years old, and incorporate journal-writing into my morning ritual following meditation. And I also created a handwritten cookbook comprised of many of the recipes I cooked during the pandemic year, dated and in chronological order.

What has this felt like; this somewhat-return to the prior life? Well, for me, it has felt strange. Going to restaurants with friends, though I have only done it four times, feels like I am going through the motions. We use the word surreal a lot, but it does fit in these circumstances. I began scheduling work in my home and medical appointments that I had let go for too long. I had highlights installed in my hair. But now, when workers and even my longtime housekeeper Ana, are in my house, I will suddenly hit a wall and my brain screams: Ok, you need to leave! Of course, I don't act on this. I smile, I bear down, I wait. The tools I have to deal with stress usually help me a lot. A whole lot. Mostly in knowing that feelings like that will come and go and can be tolerated, even if they feel kinda awful. Knowing, or even asking yourself, what you can tolerate goes a long way in mediating anxiety.

The mistake I made was in over-scheduling. Almost every day there was something: medical exams; contractors coming to bid work; work being done; resumed pilates sessions; lunches with friends; detailers coming to finally clean up my car, and two days spent in Beverly Hills with medical and beauty appointments. And it was in the 90210 that I snapped. I was talking to Lynnette by phone as I parked in the structure, then left my car quickly without either mask nor the address of the salon. I got out on the street and realized I didn't have time to take the elevator back to my car. But I didn't know whether to walk up or down the street. I know Beverly Hills. Or at least I used to. But I got disoriented, and then I panicked. And then I started to cry. People tell me that I am brave, and I sometimes believe this. But the entire year (maybe the last four-plus with what happened in our country) finally imploded on me, and I began to unravel. Then, I guess the remnants of that brave part of me stepped in. I asked at an eye care center if I could purchase a mask and they kindly gave me one. And after walking a few blocks west, I turned and walked east and found the salon. There is no partial unraveling that can't be re-raveled, even if that's not a word.

With all of this, I do realize that there is a part of the past year that I am loathe to let go. It was the clean slate of each day, knowing that what was not accomplished in that day could easily be accomplished in the next or the one after that. In my post-vaxxed life, what I don't accomplish in a day must be put off as the following days have appointments or outings scheduled. I wouldn't want to give those things up. But I am striving to have balance. My friend and Chinese medicine guru, Cathy, who still guides me through my pilates practice, advises that there is nothing wrong with taking a weekend or a week off the grid and scheduling nothing during that time. But for now, I am in catch-up mode. Catching up with Joel and with friends, catching up with medical exams, catching up with home repairs.

And houseguests. I have houseguests scheduled twice this month and next month my Sonoma friends will spend their annual 3-day stay here. I love to provide this to them as their mini-vacation, spent by the pool during the day and playing our favorite game in the evening. In March of 2020, just before the lockdown, we met in Carmel so that we could share a vacation without anyone having to be the host. Hosting guests, in spite of the fun, can be exhausting. Still, I look forward to this year's summer visit and hopefully to more mini-vacations in the future, meeting them somewhere away from both our homes.

Lastly, I took up the challenge of organizing a neighborhood party here on our street. I reached out to three neighbors, women whom I barely knew, inviting them to my home to pitch my plan. We talked over champagne, and they were all enthusiastic. We picked a date, assigned tasks and a few of us began the work. It could have been a wonderful celebration, but late in the planning process, it became a disaster. One of the things I had pondered during the year was that I wanted to reach out to people, and this briefly felt like a realization of that desire. Unfortunately, the plan went south, and with it came the pain of realization that the women I had reached out to in hopes of becoming better friends and neighbors, seemed to believe that doing the wrong thing is perfectly excusable, as long as you say the right thing to cover. I hadn't seen this coming, and it was hurtful. But, in the spirit of attempting to walk a mile in others' shoes, I have tried to stay mindful that this is a difficult and confusing time for all. Was it handled well? No. But you never know what is going on in other peoples' lives. Still, despite that attempt at compassionate understanding, I ultimately decided to chalk it up to this life lesson: When life hands you lemons; take a good look at who the lemon growers are.

So, moving on, life is returning in an irregular way which is for better, and perhaps a bit for worse. But that is life, right? And the striving for balance is, or should be, always with us. Hopefully the pandemic response is something we will eventually be able to leave behind us as we return to some new normal. I do hope this will include the embraces of loved ones, those big hugs between us and our friends, as these are at the core of what makes life worth living.

Oh, and about that aborted party... Salseros are coming to my house for dancing that evening. So maybe a little lemonade might get made out of those lemons. Or maybe what I should write here is: When life hands you lemons; fuck it. Just dance salsa! Vivir la vida! And, thank you for reading my blog.