We stood for each other at our weddings, but really we stood for so much more during those years since we met as five year olds at a birthday party.
As best friends often do, I fell for you head over heels. We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun, as they say. All because I spilled grape juice on your white party dress, remember party dresses?
We inspired each other, too young to know it at the time. I owe you my first fall on the ice and the desire for many more ahead. You learned that a city girl could pee outdoors, carry a “trudie stick” and like it.
Life is fickle, sometimes cruel, surprising and some kind of wonderful. As we shared everything, giggling behind school books and later telephone lines, I never thought that I would find a time when we weren’t there for each other.
As adults we drifted in and out of our lives. Trying to find where we fit, if at all, in the chaos that comes with marriage, kids and careers. We watched our families change as our parents did and then finally leave us, not knowing how quickly we might leave ours.
After almost three years, I’m finally ready to allow the tears roll down my face for you, Ami. Mostly, I am ready to embrace the memories that could only come from almost 50 years of who you are. I love you still and thank you for entering my world with your party dress and big heart.
There’s a variety of memes circulating the internet regarding people and their back story, urging others to be aware that we all have untold stories and not to judge.
Like many, my day has not been a great one. In fact, my week – no make that last two or three weeks have been in unpleasant over drive. I’ve had my ups an downs, and I hope that I showed my better side to those around me on most occasions. But truthfully, I know that not to be 100% reality.
Tonight, I had yet another unfortunate thing in the building I live in. Of course, when plumbing or other issues happen, they only happen after hours. As a result, they sent a Board Member to come check on our concern.
After we did a walk through to show what was going on, she gifted me with a tirade of “the hate groups in the building… these things happen in the morning and owners wait until 6 or 7pm to tell us…” and other things that continued on.
I remembered two things I’ve learned over the years:
- People just want to be listened to
- Be kind. Everyone has a story or battle they are fighting.
It was hard, I tried to nod sympathetically and say “yes, I understand”. She called me rude, sarcastic, etc. My husband tried to intervene and she went off at him, he asked her to leave. She continued, I asked her to leave saying tempers are flaring and it would be best if we all stepped back and calmed down. She would not go. The tirade continued.
I feel violated in my own home. I feel my integrity has been attacked. I feel a myriad of emotions that no one should feel this many hours later. Clearly, she has some lessons to be learned as she works through her own battle. Ones that will help her in dealing with the other residents as Board Members are called upon to do.
For me, I have my own battle. Long days, short nights. Work and personal demands as well as recent family loss on a grand scale. I will learn and grow from those things – I often remind myself of that.
My story is at a high point in my life. I’m blessed by a revelation that I have no room in my life for negative energy and the willingness to adhere to that.
Be kind. Everyone has a story, don’t ignore your own.
Her article goes on to make the what should have been obvious point: Because overdoing it is the American way, we’ve now managed to warp even healthy habits into a new form of eating disorders. Welcome to the era of orthorexia.
Somehow, I just didn’t feel like a big Christmas breakfast, this year. Our tummies were a little heavy from the holiday celebrations and I couldn’t get into the Baked Eggnog French Toast Casserole that I wanted to try.
As chance would have it, the dogs were dancing by the fruit bowl while waiting for me to hurry up with their leashes. I could smell the pears doing what pears do best – go soft, if you don’t eat them before the other fruit – and went off into the windy day with bouncy pups.
Standing in a sunspot while the dogs tried to coax me out of my thoughts, it hit me; “why not use the aging pears for breakfast?”.
At first I thought of adding them to a grilled goat cheese sandwich using lavash. Nah, too much like work. I realized that Santa wanted me to celebrate the lazy day with a little frugal juicing.
This was perfect for the day. I got to clean out my fridge, use some pears, apples, carrots and romaine that were looking like they needed to be consumed.
Merry Juicemas to all, and to all a good day!
“Everything is all about ‘clean’ foods, a ‘clean’ diet, but there is absolutely no definition of what ‘clean eating’ means. Many athletes refer to ‘clean’ as eating natural, wholesome, real foods and fewer processed options. I think that makes sense, but I don’t know why we need to call it ‘clean’ instead of healthy eating. I’m starting to see marketers say their processed products are made with “clean” ingredients, so to me this is just a meaningless term. I think, ‘You’ve been had!’ when I hear friends use the term.”
–Julie Upton, MS, RD, CSSD, Appetite for Health
Read the full Huffington Post article….