Second home in summer – Portland Maine

We sat bathed in luscious darkness, Casco Bay’s thousand islands spread out before us like a diamond quilt. ‘I don’t get enough of this,’ she said.
– Mike Bond, novelist, environmental activist, poet, war and human rights correspondent, and international energy expert

Every summer, I am treated to a week in Maine, thanks to the fact that my company is based in Portland, Maine. Every summer, I fly into Portland, and I immediately fall in love all over again. The bay, the islands with the homes dotting the shore, the billowy clouds floating across a brilliant blue sky, the fresh air, the fantastic restaurants, the cute shops. I gush about moving to Maine. Or at least summer in Maine.

This year, the out-of-towners at my company got to stay at the Press Hotel, which is a boutique hotel that was once home to the Portland Press-Herald newspaper. But not only is the building an historic building, but the owners got it right by decorating the interior of the hotel with a newspaper theme. The sales team at my company, who are just great to work with and for, thanked me for my service to them in a very sweet call-out before my boss’s presentation on our department. And they presented me with two Press Hotel mugs and ceramic tray, which now sit on my desk to remind me of my stay there and the wonderful memories from this year.

My picture of the building didn’t turn out because the sun wasn’t on my back. But here’s info on the history of the newspaper and building.

In the lobby, one of the walls displays typewriters from all eras.

In the lobby, an old-fashioned typewriter and complimentary stationery.

Mod carpeting and tables with enlarged old newspaper clippings.

In the hallways, the wall paper is taken from actual headlines found in old microfiche (yes, look up that word).

The room across the hall from me. I love the detail of the room number being illuminated.

The chair and its quote in my room.

My last night at the Press Hotel: lobster rolls and homemade potato chips.

My Press Hotel gifts and souvenirs….

Meals for the week! Portland is well known for its great restaurants. And I was lucky to hit a number of places. Some new, some welcomed me back.

Marcy’s Diner, if you want a hearty meal, with my colleague Julie.

Boats pointing to Casco Bay.

DeMillo’s on the Bay, Portland.

Branzino at Scales, with a great view of the Bay.

The tradition for dinner the last evening of our summer sales summit is taking the ferry to Peak’s Island and having a lobster dinner. Fun was had by all. And, of course, my colleague and partner in crime, Deb, accompanied me as we shopped in Old Port, the old part of town.

One of my favorite shops in Maine. From jewelry to unique clocks and other furniture to whimsy decorations like these bookish birdhouses.

I read about Flea-for-All in the local magazine in my hotel room. What a fun place to browse. This is where I discovered Michelle Estell jewelry.

Beautifully curated Flea-for-All on Congress Street.

The interior of Flea-for-All.

Maine Potters Market in Old Port has beautiful pottery made by artists from Maine.

Selfies on the ferry ride to Peak’s Island – with Erin and Claretha.

A mix of sales and editorial staff – with Jane, Kelly, Gus, Julie, and Deb.

Claretha and I bonded last summer with our love for big earrings. The pair that I’m wearing was given to me by Claretha on the first day of summer summit.

Peak’s Island lobster – a tradition.

On the way back to the ferry – a familiar sight of colorful hanging lobster floats.

Farewell, Peak’s Island!

After the summer sales summit concluded for me, I spent the weekend with my good friend Jack and his wife, Fay, and their daughter, Camille. But first, we walked around Portland, as I discovered for the first time since I’ve been coming here, that Henry Wadsworth-Longfellow lived here and his home is an historic landmark. We walked around the gardens.

Longfellow’s statue in Portland.

The lush Longfellow’s Garden.

Tranquil setting.

Vibrant greenery.

Colorful bouquet.

At the Portland Hunt and Alpine Club for drinks with Eric and Jack. Love the simple green bouquets on the table. This place is all scarred wood, clear glass, greenery, and old-time maps. And good drinks!

Still bad at doing selfies, but I guess that’s a good thing. With Eric and Jack.

First time at Empire – one of the favorites, Peking duck buns. To. Die. For. If you ever go to Portland, you must eat here. The hour wait is worth every second.

Jack and his family moved to Brunswick in 2015, but since we went directly from Portland to Stonington Island, where they have a home there, I never spent time in their new abode until this year. Brunswick is lovely, and I had a relaxing time exploring the historic town.

The picturesque Brunswick Inn, in the main street of town.

This is a great shop, though pricey and questionable customer service. But still a great place to browse.

Wyler’s of Brunswick, a charming shop with jewelry, clothes, housewares, toys, locally crafted gifts, and accessories. You can spend a lot of time browsing here.

Hatch on Maine is a cute vintage and antique shop. There are a few vintage/antique shops on the main street. This one was a favorite of mine.

The shores of Brunswick.

The Frank J. Wood Bridge, which spans the Androscoggin River between Topsham and Brunswick, at twilight.

Contemplating life, Fay and Jack overlook the Androscoggin River.

Can’t get enough of the clouds here.

Brunswick is home to Bowdoin College, a lovely private liberal arts college established in 1794 when Maine was still part of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

Bowdoin College Chapel.

Inside the chapel.

Hubbard Hall.

Lovely white hydrangeas all over the campus.

The second majestic lion.

Illuminated clouds.

Along the way, we walked through the local cemetery, in which Joseph Chamberlain, hometown hero of the Civil War, is laid to rest.

Walking through the Brunswick cemetery.

Something about headstones in a cemetery that draws me, especially when the cemetery is an old one.

Joseph Chamberlain’s headstone.

A row of headstones.

A family of headstones like rows of old teeth.

Knowing that I love gardens, Jack took me to the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens, where I took upwards of 200 photos at least. Here are just a few, though it was tough to narrow them down.

Adirondack chairs await visitors at the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens.

A view of the Back River.

A field of daisies with monarch butterflies, if you look more closely.

Charlie’s bench.

Daisy.

One of the more inventive interpretations from a visitor to the Fairy House Village.

Gaillardia.

Rabbit sculpture by Lisa Becu.

Lush lime green greenery.

Petunias.

Slater Forest Pond.

Vayo Meditation Garden pool.

Close-up of the Basin sculpture by David Holmes.

Hostas.

Wind Orchard by George Sherwood.

Colorful hostas.

Windsound by Val Bertoia from Bertoia Studios.

Echinacea.

Ethereal plants.

I had another great time in Portland and Brunswick. Thanks to my great friends and hosts, Jack and Fay. Looking forward to next year!

It looks like I’m wrestling with Holly, the Beaudoin Family dog, but I’m really awkwardly trying to do a selfie with her.

Last meal in Maine in Portland at, of course, Empire.

Fay and me at Empire.

Brunswick architecture. Love the homes here in Brunswick, in Maine.

My last attempt at a selfie with Jack and Fay in front of their lovely Brunswick home.

Return to Chicago: ‘City of the Big Shoulders’

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and singing…proud to be a Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.
– Carl Sandberg, American writer, poet, and editor

When I was still packing at 11pm on a Friday night, knowing that I had to get up at 3am the next morning to leave the house at 4am, I told myself that yes, it was worth leaving that early for my flight from Oakland International to Chicago. I was going to be working Sunday through Wednesday for my company’s annual conference, and the only day I had to explore the Windy City was Saturday afternoon. I slept on my flight, and by the time I was in the cab heading into the heart of Chicago, I knew I had made the right decision.

On my way to dinner my first evening in Chicago - a beautiful cityscape sunset on the Chicago River.

On my way to dinner to join my colleagues at the Stout on my first evening in Chicago – a beautiful cityscape sunset on the Chicago River.

If you're not going to get a room at the W City Center with a real view, you might as well have a view of fantastic architecture, the Marriott on N. Adams.

If you’re not going to get a room with a real view at the W City Center, you might as well have a view of fantastic architecture, in this instance the Marriott on N. Adams.

Armed with Google map on my iPhone, I found the Blue Line (actually by asking locals since I’m useless with north-south-east-west directions), got myself in the right direction, and was reunited with my favorite neighborhood of vintage goods – Wicker Park. For those keeping notes, that would be heading to Forest Park and getting off at Damen. I immediately found my way to Eskell (1509 N. Milwaukee Avenue, Chicago, 60622, 773.486.0830), where I first discovered Laura Lombardi’s industrial-vibe jewelry years earlier. Unfortunately, Eskell was out of stock of her jewelry, but they carry a wonderful collection of their own label earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. Better still, their label is reasonably priced. Surprisingly, the first thing that caught my eye was their selection of sunglasses. I tried on a pair that was part Western, part Hollywood, and it seemed destined to be worn by me, walking out of the store and into the warm late afternoon – with a very spring temperature in the upper 60s.

Eskell shop dog lounging in the same spot when I was here last - two years ago.

Eskell shop dog Goose lounging in the same spot when I was last here – two years ago.

It was a sunny spring afternoon in the Windy City - so shopping for sunglasses was appropriate.

It was a sunny spring afternoon in the Windy City – so shopping for sunglasses was appropriate.

I'll take these cool silver-tipped shades....

I’ll take these cool silver-tipped shades….

Eclectic shop design - keys and horns.

Eclectic shop design – vintage photographs, keys, and horns.

Eskell label delicate drop earrings with a sterling silver shell ring I got at Eskell on my last visit.

Eskell label delicate drop earrings with a sterling silver shell ring I got at Eskell on my last visit.

Eskell features its own inexpensive line of edgy jewelry.

Eskell features its own inexpensive line of edgy jewelry.

Vibes of Cleopatra in these geometric drop earrings.

Vibes of Cleopatra in these geometric drop earrings.

Vintage brass earrings designed by Eskell.

Vintage brass earrings designed by Eskell.

I didn’t have to go far to hit Vintage Underground (1507 N. Milwaukee Avenue, Chicago, 60622, 773.384.7880) and see if owner Carlos and his assistants, Ada and Ellen, were there that Saturday. Indeed, they were! I wasn’t sure if they would remember me, but with a little prodding and immediate recognition from Ellen, they did all remember. I told Carlos that my blog post about his borrowed paraphrased advice: “Plant a tree, write a book” was the most viewed blog post for me ever (not that I have legions of people following me or discovering my blog, but that blog post still reigns supreme). The full quote is “Plant a tree, have a child, write a book.” Since my last visit to the shop in December 2013, I learned that the original  Vintage Underground, which was housed in the basement of a building several blocks away, consolidated with its other shop on N. Milwaukee Avenue, which is now where you’ll find heaps upon heaps of vintage treasures.

Next door neighbor: Vintage Underground!

Next door neighbor to Eskell: Vintage Underground!

Dazzling vintage rhinestone jewelry.

Dazzling vintage rhinestone jewelry.

More vintage bling. The fun part was trying on the oversized ball earrings.

More vintage bling. The fun part was trying on the oversized ball earrings from the 1970s on the left of the top shelf.

As you can see, combining inventory of two locations results in a shop overflowing, dripping with treasures. I could have spent the rest of the day poring over the jewelry in the glass cabinets. I checked out the vintage rhinestone and crystal necklaces and earrings. I tried on the statement sterling silver necklaces. As Carlos rang up my purchase of a 1970s sterling silver necklace made in Mexico, I told him with a heavy heart that my parent company is no longer going to have its annual conference in Chicago. He mourned with me, but responded with a smile, “So you’ll have to come here just for pleasure.” Indeed.

Sterling silver necklace from Mexico. Better left unpolished.

Sterling silver necklace from Mexico. Advice from Ada: Better left unpolished for character.

The crew at Vintage Underground - Carlos and X and X.

The fabulous crew at Vintage Underground – from left to right, Ellen, Carlos, and Ada. This photo belongs in a fashion mag.

Wicker Park - retail shops take over old buildings, but you can still appreciate the architecture.

Wicker Park – retail shops take over old buildings, but you can still appreciate the architecture.

I had a lot of fun moderating a diverse panel of experts on the topic of population health management for one of our clients at their booth in the cavernous exhibit hall in the equally cavernous McCormack Place.

On Monday and Tuesday afternoon, I had a lot of fun moderating a diverse panel of experts on the topic of population health management for one of our clients at their booth in the cavernous exhibit hall in the equally cavernous McCormack Place. Give a Filipino a microphone and don’t be surprised if he or she breaks out in song.

I had a great, though grueling, conference, reuniting with my colleagues and getting to know our clients during dinners and events. But what I really enjoyed was walking around Chicago. Everywhere I turned, I found architectural gems. I think that is what I love the most about this city – its unique and abundant architecture and also the Chicago River.

Every block you turn, you get great architecture.

Every block you turn, you get great architecture.

Carl Sandburg called Chicago "City of the Big Shoulders" in his poem "Chicago."

Carl Sandburg called Chicago “City of the Big Shoulders” in his poem “Chicago.”

My "frolleague" Eric Wicklund and I walked from our Maggiano's dinner to the Magnificent Mile, marveling at the glowing cityscape and the mild spring evening.

My “frolleague” Eric Wicklund and I walked from our Maggiano’s dinner to the Magnificent Mile, marveling at the glowing cityscape and thoroughly enjoying the mild spring evening.

I don’t know when I’ll return to Chicago, but as it is one of my favorite cities, I know it won’t be too long a time in between. Only next time, I’ll be on vacation and spending my days and evenings soaking in all the Windy City has to offer.

I've been to the top of Willis Tower, which was two blocks from my hotel, but for our client dinner my last evening in Chicago, we were treated to dinner at the Metropolitan Club on the 67th Floor.

I’ve been to the top of Willis Tower, which was two blocks from my hotel, but for our client dinner my last evening in Chicago, we were treated to dinner at the Metropolitan Club on the 67th Floor, with an amazing top-of-the-world kind of view.

Carl Sandburg: "Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning."

Surreal, mesmerizing view of skyscrapers – like toy building blocks crowded together.

Looking down on the Chicago Board of Trade Building with the statue of Ceres on top...and a reflection of the Metropolitan Club tables.

Night falls: Looking down on the Chicago Board of Trade Building with the statue of Ceres on top…and a reflection of the Metropolitan Club tables.

Goodnight, Chicago.

Goodnight, Chicago, from the Metropolitan Club. Last words from Carl Sandburg: “By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.”

Praising the struggle, the beauty of ‘yet’

If parents want to give their children a gift, the best thing they can do is to teach their children to love challenges, be intrigued by mistakes, enjoy effort, and keep on learning. That way, their children don’t have to be slaves of praise. They will have a lifelong way to build and repair their own confidence.
– Carol Dweck, American professor of psychology and one of the world’s leading researchers in the field of motivation

Carol Dweck listens raptly to a parent's request for advice.

Carol Dweck hears out a parent’s request for advice.

Last Thursday at El Cerrito High School, Stanford professor and educator Carol Dweck told an audience comprising mainly parents and educators that we need to nurture our children and students, respectively, as learners who can grow and continue to grow as a result of our experiences with struggling, working through conflicts, and overcoming challenges. She warned that praising our children’s intelligence and ability doesn’t foster self-esteem; in fact, her research shows that such praise leads them to believe that they don’t have to work hard because they’ll get by on their smarts and natural ability. When faced with hardship, they flee or shut down because having to work hard will expose them as frauds – they’re not smart after all – in their minds and in the eyes of everyone around them. Studies show that fear of failure often trumps the desire to invest in the effort to overcome obstacles.

Dweck noted that the self-esteem movement, which instructed parents and teachers to praise kids and tell them how smart they are at every opportunity, is responsible for this “fixed mindset” mentality. Telling kids that they’re smart or they’re natural athletes also feeds into this mindset that your intelligence and skills are set for life. Research shows that they are far from set. When exposed to new stimuli, our brains reorganize neural pathways, making learning, struggles, and different experiences wonderful opportunities for our brains to grow. In order for new knowledge to be retained in memory, changes in the brain representing new knowledge must occur. In other words, you can’t grow unless you’re exposing yourself to different experiences, challenges, and struggles, and taking risks. That’s the thesis of Dweck’s book, Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, which was first published in 2006 to wide acclaim and embraced by preschools and schools across the country since its release.

The conclusion of a very inspirational talk at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Theater.

The conclusion of a very inspirational talk at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Theater.

Abandoning the non-learner mindset
While I constantly tell the kids that few things in life are easy and if they were life would surely be boring, I am guilty of this learner/non-learner mindset. Case in point: my daughter has loved animals since she was a toddler. Many people have commented through the years that Isabella’s calling ought to be as a veterinarian, given her compassion toward all animals and the solutions she seeks for protecting or rescuing animals in danger. I thought this would be her path, too, until David and I saw her struggle in the primary grades with math and science. I worried that either she had a learning disability or just didn’t have the knack for math because she would go over concepts time and again that seemed, at least to me, fairly easy to grasp for her age and abilities. I was alarmed when she was forgetting and relearning multiplying and dividing fractions throughout one academic year. I consoled myself with the fact that Jacob got the engineering side from David – he loves building and he excels in math and science – and Isabella got her creativity from me. She has a wonderful imagination, loves to tell and write stories, and is stronger academically in language arts. The trait that I love the most about her, however, is her compassion for all living things and her sense of stewardship of the earth. Oh well, I thought to myself, although she’s “weak” in math and science, she doesn’t have to be a vet to take care of animals.

Signing away....

Signing away….

Dweck would have smacked me for shutting the doors and closing the windows. For one thing, who knows if Isabella is even interested in pursuing such a career. But more importantly, I’ve just labeled her a non-learner with fixed intelligence and skills, incapable of taking difficult math and sciences classes required of pre-vet majors in undergraduate school and soldiering on. Again, Dweck pointed to research that supports the brain’s capacity to grow through challenges and hard work. While she noted that not everyone can be Einstein, even Einstein had to put in years of hard labor to become who he was. Dweck acknowledged that you can have a fixed mindset in one area and a growth mindset in another, but the bottom line is that you shouldn’t shut doors. You should encourage and support. You should validate that hard work pays off. Her advice to teachers to give to students – “I have complete faith in your ability to learn and grow, and we will work with you until that happens” – is a promise that parents can offer in the home.

Grades and working hard
Dweck would also point out that my emphasis on grades is wrong-headed. And I admit that she’s right. I didn’t use to nag about grades in elementary school or even middle school. I emphasized working hard, making learning fun and interesting, being your own advocate, and getting organized. But once Jacob entered high school, suddenly everything changed – with the changes coming from me. I warned him at the end of eighth grade that once he hit ninth grade, “grades mattered.” There was no turning back now. If he wants to get into one of the higher-ranking University of California schools – and I’m not even talking about the stratospherically-out-of-league Cal or UCLA campuses – he has to work for A’s. An 88 on a Spanish test, which he thought was pretty good, was not acceptable to me. I’ll admit that I was aghast that he accepted that score because to me it were beneath a good, conscientious student’s standards. What I really should have asked him was whether he learned something from studying and taking the test. Did he retain any of the Spanish words, phrases, sentences, or meanings? Did he learn how to prepare himself better for the next test?

On my way to an educational evening.

On my way to an educational evening sporting a ruffled bolero, boyfriend jeans, and vintage purse.

Since he entered high school this past fall, I’ve struggled internally over putting too much emphasis on grades. I sincerely want him first and foremost to be a critical thinker, writer, and reader because ultimately these are the skills that will serve all college students well, no matter what they major in, and all adults in their working world and for the rest of their lives. I don’t hesitate to point out to him how his English papers can be written more clearly, logically, succinctly, and thoughtfully. I must be making headway in this area because he shocked me by thanking me for my help on his last essay for his cultural geography class. I mark up the usual grammatical errors and words that spellcheck missed. But I also ask questions about some of his statements, which force him to think more deeply about what he had written, what he unwittingly had left out, and what he was trying to say. Dweck pointed out that if you focus on working hard and overcoming challenges, you appreciate your accomplishments more, it inspires you to continue on that path of persistence, you gain more confidence in your abilities, your brain’s neural pathways light up like firecrackers (my words, not hers), and you end up earning good grades as a by-product.

When I was in college, I cared about grades, but I cared more about loving what I was doing in my classes and soaking it all in – reading great and minor works of literature, analyzing these works through literary criticism, writing short stories and poems and sharing and critiquing the original works of my classmates, and discovering Asian-American history within our country’s history. I truly loved learning for the sake of learning. I couldn’t imagine majoring in anything but English; if I had gone into nursing or business, which were areas of study my mother had gently pushed for, I would have been miserable. So I followed my passion and that’s what I tell my kids to do.

Chocolate and brass: vintage purse (Feathers, Austin, TX), ruffled platform peep-toe pumps, Sundance belt, Laura Lombardi necklace and hoops (Eskell, Chicago), and reclaimed vintage bracelets by M.L. Moore (Green & Gorgeous, Berkeley, CA).

Chocolate and brass: 1940s vintage purse (Feathers, Austin, TX), Anthropologie ruffled platform peep-toe pumps, Sundance belt, Laura Lombardi necklace and hoops (Eskell, Chicago), and reclaimed vintage bracelets by M.E. Moore (Green & Gorgeous, Berkeley, CA).

Despite my lapses in parental judgment regarding grades, I have been sharing with my kids my stories of working hard and struggling with the hope that they’ll appreciate how I learned and grew from these experiences and apply perseverance in their own lives. For example, it took me 17 years to write my first novel and not abandon it when so many things, such as my job and other obligations, kept me from writing. When I sent out a version of my novel back in 2005, I was crushed by the tens of rejections from literary agents, and I let the rejections shut me down for several years. But my passion wouldn’t allow me to remain silent, and nearly three years after the last rejection letter of not writing or reading fiction, I picked myself up off the shoulder of the road and started writing again. And in those years, in those struggles and dark days, I became a better writer – better than when I started on the novel in 1998 and when I sent out the manuscript in 2005. These are the stories I need to remember to keep telling when my first thought is to ask Jacob about his grades when we talk about school at the dinner table.

A great combo: chocolate and brass.

A great combo: chocolate and brass.

The Beauty and promise of ‘yet’
One of the things I appreciated from Dweck’s talk was the beauty of “yet.” Instead of looking at a low grade on a test as a failure, we should view it as a concept or a subject matter that they haven’t learned yet. Instead of saying, “I’m not a math person,” we should say, “I’m not a math person yet.” Last night, Jacob told me that math hasn’t been fun since seventh grade, which I had noticed but tried to ignore. He complained that concepts were becoming more difficult for him to grasp and by the time he understands them, the test has already been administered. I quickly thought of Dweck. I dutifully told him that when he comes to understand the concept and solve the math equation, he’ll appreciate the victory more and feel a greater sense of pride because he struggled and pushed through to the other side. Persistence won over apathy. And then, breaking the spell of that revelation, that epiphany, David piped in that opening up the textbook doesn’t hurt, either.

As for Isabella, who knows if going to vet school is something she will want to pursue when she’s 18 years old? It might be the furthest thing on her mind when she’s filling out college applications six years down the road. I just want to make sure that the reason she doesn’t want to go – especially if it’s her passion – isn’t because the path is too hard. That’s where mindset parenting needs to step up: embrace the struggle and believe in the promise of and the journey to “yet.” And know that we parents, who are also continuing to learn and grow, are supporting our kids – all the way to the moon and back.

Adding stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito CA) and Anthropologie chocolate bolero jacket.

Adding stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito CA) and Anthropologie chocolate brown bolero jacket to this ensemble photo.

Lost, found, and forever kept: sisterhood and cousinhood

Jo’s face was a study next day, for the secret rather weighed upon her, and she found it hard not to look mysterious and important. Meg observed it, but did not trouble herself to make inquiries, for she had learned that the best way to manage Jo was by the law of contraries, so she felt sure of being told everything if she did not ask.
– Louisa May Alcott, American novelist, from Little Women

Celebrating Jacob's 5th birthday and my mom's 80th birthday, with Joshua and Isabella, June 2005.

Celebrating Jacob’s 5th birthday and my mom’s 80th birthday, with Joshua and Isabella in Folsom, June 2005.

When the kids were younger, I used to take them on weekend trips to my sister’s home in Folsom, about an hour-and-a-half drive from the Bay Area. My mom had been living with my middle sister Joyce and her husband when my nephew, Joshua, was born almost 18 years ago. Jacob was born 3.5 years later. When Isabella came along 2.5 years after Jacob, and David was working a lot of overtime hours, I sought refuge, relief, and motherhood support in Folsom. There, my mom doted over her three grandkids and I hung out, exhausted on the family room sofa, enjoying the cozy retreat. Oftentimes, I had to bring work, but I always carved out time for catching my breath, flipping through Joyce’s stack of People magazines late at night, and gabbing around the kitchen table.

The grandkids and Nellie at my mom's grave site in Folsom, Christmas Day 2014.

The grandkids and Nellie at my mom’s grave site in Folsom, Christmas Day 2014.

We visited a lot, and my kids really loved spending time with their cousin and their “lola,” my mom. Once Jacob started playing youth baseball, my work encroached beyond the 50-hour work week, and the three-hour roundtrip became too onerous, we didn’t visit as much. Joshua didn’t want February birthday parties anymore, so we didn’t come that month, and soon, we only came at Easter, my mom’s birthday in June, and Christmastime, then just June and December. I harbored feelings of regret, which got eaten whole, by everyone’s schedule and the resulting exhaustion. The kids complained about not visiting as often, and after my mom passed away three years ago, it was difficult when we did visit. Somehow, Jacob and Isabella became aware of the fact that when kids graduate from high school, they “go away from the house” afterwards, whether it be for college or work.

Their oldest cousin, Nick, on David’s side of the family, Joshua, and my college roommate’s son Grant are all seniors this year. In Jacob’s and Isabella’s eyes, they were going to be leaving their homes and that meant the two of them wouldn’t be able to see them easily anymore. Last year, they started lobbying for me to set up the next dinner with my college roommates so they could get together again with Grant and his younger brother Michael. They wanted to stay longer in Stockton, where David’s parents live, during the holidays to visit with Nick and their other cousins. And they especially bugged me about going to Folsom more – like old times – so they could hang out with Joshua. I’m glad they infused me with their urgency, which ignited my own urgency, which had been smothered by my to-do list and other obligations.

Ready for the short road trip to Folsom in comfortable clothes.

Ready for the short road trip to Folsom in comfortable clothes.

Though I didn’t have Martin Luther King, Jr. Day off, the kids had a three-day weekend, Jacob finished his semester so he didn’t have any weekend homework, and we had no sports commitment on Saturday. Seize the day, I told myself. Go to Folsom. The kids were ecstatic. And even I looked forward to relaxing a bit, which I wasn’t able to do this past Christmas in Folsom. I even looked forward to driving, listening to mellow music, letting my mind drift, enjoying the gray skies and the landscape bathed in a sheath of fog. I caught myself getting excited to see mom, who used to always answer the door when we arrived. When Joyce answered the door this time, however, I was overcome by that old home-away-from-home feeling, which took my hand and led me in.

Textures again: scarf (Personal Pizazz, Berkeley, CA), stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito, CA), Laura Lombardi hoops, jeans, eyelash sweater (H&M), and my own vintage Talbots crossbody bag from the early 90s.

Textures again: scarf (Personal Pizazz, Berkeley, CA), stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito, CA), Laura Lombardi hoops, jeans, eyelash sweater (H&M), and my own vintage Talbots crossbody bag in mint condition from the early 90s.

Laura Lombardi spheres hoops and Kate Peterson Designs stack of rings.

Laura Lombardi spheres and hoops earrings and Kate Peterson Designs stack of rings.

Joyce made spaghetti sauce and pasta for lunch for us. Now that she’s retired, she’s cooking, which is saying a lot for someone who had a framed saying that declared “I’d cook if I could find the can opener.” She informed me that she had “ceremoniously dumped it [the framed picture] last month.” I brought our thick binder of favorite recipes, and I marked with stick-it notes the recipes I thought she would like – easy ones with few ingredients – though she requested recipes that didn’t call for exotic ingredients that can’t be found in a regular grocery store. I’m thrilled that she’s cooking healthful meals and not eating a lot of processed frozen foods, which were her staple during her long days of teaching. It was fun to share recipes with her. And I was surprised and delighted to hear that she bought a ukulele and would take up an instrument that she had longed to play for a while. As she talked, I was content to see her finally relaxed because much of her working life was filled with deadlines, stress, report cards, and difficult students and parents. I was happy for her.

Three sisters at Christmastime in our old house, me with my baby doll, middle sister Joyce with Chatty Cathy, and oldest sister, Heidi.

Three sisters at Christmastime in our old house in Terra Bella, with me and my baby doll, Joyce with Chatty Cathy, and oldest sister, Heidi. Check out the encyclopedia dinosaurs!

The Enrado women, sans Mom, Christmas in Folsom, 2014.

The Enrado women, sans Mom, Christmas in Folsom, 2014.

We ran errands, with Isabella tagging along. We checked out the premium outlets. We Enrado women have a history of shopping, a tradition of shopping the day after Thanksgiving to get our Christmas gifts bought and out of the way and the day after Christmas to spend the $100 my mom gave each of us for Christmas. We would get up early and she’d drive us to the malls in either Bakersfield or Visalia. Of course, we would make our dollar stretch and buy clothes and accessories on sale and on clearance. When Joyce and I came home from the Folsom shops, Joshua was sprawled across the family room sofa, his pillow leaning against Isabella, while Jacob was spread out across the other sofa. Aside from the fact that they were watching the dreaded show, Walking Dead, a sense of contentment was draped around me at the sight of the three of them hanging out, if only for a very short weekend.

Joyce and me in our Auntie Leonora's house, our old house, 1972.

Joyce and me in our Auntie Leonora’s house, our old house in Terra Bella, 1972.

After dinner, Joyce suggested we spend the evening watching the movie Bridesmaids, which I hadn’t seen but she did see when her old high school friends were in town a few years ago. I’d always wanted to see it, having heard good reviews, but never got around to doing it, which seems to be a constant theme in my life. The movie was funny, and it was actually heartwarming for me to watch this chick-flick with my sister. At points during the movie, I was conscious of the fact that we hadn’t sat down and watched a movie like this – outside of a few distracted times with kids zipping in and out of the family room – since I was an undergraduate at UC Davis, spending the day or weekend with Joyce, who had recently graduated from Cal State Sacramento and was working and living in Sacramento, about 15 minutes from my campus. Those were the truly endless days when nothing seemed pressing, and it was so easy to pop over and hang out.

Hawk in a tree on our neighborhood walk.

Hawk in a tree on our neighborhood walk in Folsom.

Sunday morning, with the kids in charge of steering Nellie, the family dog, Joyce and I chatted while walking to the park and pond and around the neighborhood. It was cool and foggy, a perfect January day. She wanted me to walk with her because she felt she needed to exercise. I told her it was important to do some sort of exercise every day, how she ought to walk Nellie daily – both she and dog would benefit and she’d get some fresh air. I told her to keep moving. I told her about sleep studies that recommend women going to bed by 10PM. Knowing that she goes to bed late and sleeps in late, I told her she ought to push back her sleep pattern a few hours and her health would improve. I was always worried for her when she was teaching and only getting two to three hours of sleep a night.

Dad (his shadow) taking a photograph of us three sisters at our home in Los Angeles, February 1964.

Dad (his shadow) taking a photograph of us three sisters at our home in Los Angeles, February 1964.

After the walk she made soggy French toast, which we all ate not because we felt forced to, but because of gratitude. She had taken the time to make it. I was really proud of her. Not in a condescending way because David makes really wonderful meals and I’ve been cooking regularly for years, but proud that she was proud of her cooking. The kids took off for Joshua’s room soon after eating half of their French toast. Since we had to leave midday to make it back in time for Jacob’s hitting lesson, and I had precious few hours left that Sunday morning, I decided to wait until I got home to take my shower. I wanted to hang out at the kitchen table and keep talking, just talking. We caught up on old classmates and family and relatives. I felt like we weren’t almost 53 and nearly 55. We were in our 20s in Joyce’s Sacramento apartment. We were teenagers in her Ford Pinto coming home from high school the next town over, fearful of the blanket of hot-white fog on Old Highway 65. We were 7 and 9, playing our homemade version of the Mystery Date Game, laughing at the dud guy behind the white board game door, in the cramped screened-in porch in the back of our house, on an endless summer Sunday afternoon.

Joyce and me in front of our first house in Terra Bella, 1967.

Joyce and me and one of the many dogs in our childhood, in front of our first house in Terra Bella, 1967.

Don’t let the b@st@rds get you down

Those who don’t know how to suffer are the worst off. There are times when the only correct thing we can do is to bear out troubles until a better day.
– Deng Ming-Dao, Chinese-American author, artist, philosopher, teacher, and martial artist

My New Year's Eve outfit - faux fur jacket, vintage pin, velvet burnout trousers, and pumps.

My New Year’s Eve outfit – faux fur jacket, vintage brooch, velvet burnout trousers, and pumps.

Jacqui Naylor, San Francisco jazz-pop vocalist and songwriter, wrote a song called “Don’t let the bastard get you down,” which she released on her 2005 CD, Live East/West: Birdland/Yoshi’s. It’s a song about lovers and totally unrelated to my here and now, but when I started thinking through this particular blog topic, the catchy refrain stuck in my head.

I had a bad day at work this past Friday. It’s not really important to recap what happened. Suffice to say that an unexpected event occurred on a morning in which I was already exhausted from a chaotic week. It was the proverbial last straw that broke the camel’s back. But the silver lining was that it had happened on a Friday. As the day played out, I realized that I was going to need a mini vacation from work the moment the clock struck 5. I texted David: “Let’s watch Selma tonight.” Before he had left for work that morning, he brought up catching the Civil Rights historical movie, which was opening that day, about Martin Luther King, Jr.’s 1965 march from Selma to Montgomery, AL, to support blacks’ right to vote. I wanted to see it anyway, but I thought it timely to see it Friday evening. We took the kids. All four of us thought it was a great movie, and we appreciated its theme of equality and justice for all.

Texture in every piece of this outfit: velvet burnout, bejeweled and pintucked blouse, vintage Weiss brooch, metal sequins and beads purse, glossy pumps, and faux fur.

Texture in every piece of this outfit: velvet burnout trousers trimmed in satin, bejeweled and pintucked blouse, vintage Weiss brooch, metal sequins and beads purse, glossy pumps, and faux fur.

But it was important for me to see this movie on the heels of my crappy day because it put everything into perspective. People were getting severely beaten up. People lost their lives over a right that many of us take for granted today. My problem and my work day shrunk as each scene in the movie played out. By the time I came out of the theatre, I saw my work-related problem as a miniscule issue that will get resolved one way or another. On this I was clear: It wasn’t worth exerting another tear or another moment of weakness or anxiety.

Alexis Berger Glassworks chandelier earrings (Castle in the Air, Berkeley), vintage Weiss brooch (eBay), Sundance stack of rings, and sterling silver shell ring (Eskell, Chicago).

Alexis Berger Glassworks chandelier earrings (Castle in the Air, Berkeley), vintage Weiss brooch (eBay), Sundance stack of rings, and sterling silver shell ring (Eskell, Chicago).

What a cure, I thought to myself, as I went to bed that night. But it didn’t stop there. On Saturday, we took down the Christmas decorations. We all agreed that we felt sad to say goodbye to a what seemed like an extremely short holiday season. The house is so bountiful and festive when decked out. It always looks so stark and empty come January. At the same time, I enjoy having my clean, decluttered house back. I brought up Pandora radio on my mobile phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I chose my Peter, Paul, and Mary station, and was immediately immersed in folk music of the 1960s, much to my son’s chagrin, who took to his earplugs and listened to his own music. For me, I was in heaven. “Blowin’ in the Wind.” “If I Had a Hammer.” Crosby, Stills & Nash’s “Teach Your Children Well.” Every song by Simon and Garfunkel. Arlo Guthrie’s “City of New Orleans.” Songs I sang as a kid. Songs that were rooted in the turbulent era of the 1960s. Songs that took me back to my childhood.

Close-up of Alexis Berger's amazing glass-blown chandelier earrings, David's Christmas present to me.

Close-up of local artist Alexis Berger’s amazing glass-blown chandelier earrings, David’s Christmas present to me.

Choosing this station Saturday morning was an extension of watching the movie Selma the night before. I was in the moment. I was mindful. Life was full of vibrancy. I was in an exuberant, hopeful mood as I put away the Christmas ornaments, the Santa and snowman collection, the Department 56 Christmas in the City village settings. While boxing everything up was a sad chore, the promise of the New Year lay before me. A clean house, which translates to a cleared mind and head, allows me to focus and move forward. I also snuck in some Zen weeding in the front yard on Sunday after I took down the outdoor garland on our railings, which also made me feel cleansed.

Another close-up.

Another close-up.

I told the kids Friday evening that I’d had a bad day and it was something I had to get over, like a bump in the road. I gave them hugs. I told them I was grateful to have them in my lives because they are far more important than a lot of little things that trip me up in life. David allowed me to vent. He listened patiently. He made a point of clearing off the remaining obstacles on my road this past weekend. Gratitude is a wonderful thing to feel. It makes you buoyant. It makes those other problems shrink to the size and weight of gnats – ones you can smote with a flick of your finger. When you have a mindful weekend and are surrounded by supportive family and friends, you are ready for Monday. You breathe om with inner peace. And you say, “I won’t let the b@st@rds get me down this week.” Bring it on, Monday.

Ready for Monday. In. Style.

Ready for Monday. In. Style.

Brave the weather: shop Small Business Saturday

When you shop small, it can lead to big things.
– Small Business Saturday tagline

Having a navy moment: eyelash sweater, vegan pencil skirt, and gray booties.

Having a navy moment: eyelash sweater, vegan pencil skirt, and gray booties.

In 2010, American Express created the Small Business Saturday to encourage people to support the small businesses in their community. Okay, yes, its roots are not completely altruistic, but I’ll give Am Ex props for rewarding small businesses and customers who shop local and small.

If you have an Am Ex card, you can register it here and when you spend $10 at a store you get a $10 credit on your next monthly statement. You can get up to $30 in credit. More importantly, you support your local entrepreneurs and your community, which is the message I want to highlight.

Be a neighborhood champion. Take a break from decking the halls and brave the weather in your area, run into your neighbors, and catch up with your local women entrepreneurs. For those of you local to the East Bay Area, here are a few of my favorite small shops:

Jenny K carries a wide variety of jewelry designers.

Jenny K (6921 Stockton Avenue, El Cerrito, CA 94530, 510.528.5350)carries a wide variety of jewelry designers.

Purple walls provide a vibrant backdrop to highlight the luxurious clothing and accessories.

Purple walls provide a vibrant backdrop to highlight the luxurious clothing and accessories at Personal Pizazz (3048 College Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94705, 510.420.0704).

Lava 9 jewelry to drool over.

Lava 9 (1797 Solano Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94707, 510.528.5336) jewelry to drool over.

A colorful storefront display greets visitors to Gorgeous and Green.

A colorful storefront display greets visitors to Gorgeous and Green (2946 College Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94705, 510.665.7974).

Vintage crystal against a cozy and soft eyelash sweater (H&M).

Vintage crystal against a cozy and soft eyelash sweater (H&M).

Reclaimed vintage chandelier necklace (End of Century, NYC), crystal drop earrings, statement ring, Tribe Hill sterling silver bracelet (Se Vende Imports, Portland, ME), and Rachel Comey booties.

Reclaimed vintage chandelier necklace (End of Century, NYC), crystal drop earrings, statement ring, Tribe Hill sterling silver bracelet (Se Vende Imports, Portland, ME), and Rachel Comey booties.