It’s Christmas Eve day. There are four of us here … five if you count Ellie the cat, who assures me by her 6:40 am wake up meows that she should be counted.

I’m playing Christmas tunes, Pentatonix to keep the mood peppy. I’m wearing my Christmas hat, my new confetti sweater and my Christmas Carol mitts. And there are enough Christmas cookies in this house to feed a small nation.

I’ve watched all the movies. I’ve sent Christmas cards. I’ve put out ALL the decorations and wrapped up presents. But something is just … off. In a year where nothing happened that was expected, this Christmas seems … strange.

My daughter laments that something is missing — she can’t find the “Spirit.” She’s worried that once all the gifts are opened there will be nothing to look forward to. Like me, she’s searching for something.

Christmas is messy this year. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss gathering together in any size group outside of my four person “bubble.” I crave the random, spontaneous outings for drinks and fries to some establishment where I don’t need to make a reservation at an outside location — an outing where I won’t freeze before I finish my beer.

I miss smiles, though I appreciate the creativity of mask-wear designs. I miss hugs. And I’m pretty much over Zoom, FaceTime, YouTube church services and “social distancing.”

Normally at this time of year I’m advocating that we need time apart — a Silent Night to catch up and enjoy some alone time to reconnect with our spirit. Now I’m so restless and tired of Netflix and solitude that I find myself longing for a jam-packed schedule and a list that requires checking twice.

2020 Christmas, the messiest yet.

Nothing is as it “should” be … but … as I sit here and reflect on the many who find Christmas empty and stressful, perhaps it’s the Holiday we needed. The Christmas we slow down and remember the meaning and message behind this holiday season. Perhaps 2020 is the year we look around and remember who we love — why they are important to us. The year we decide what really matters and put it first. The year we look beyond the tinsel and find something we’ve overlooked …

No, this Christmas is not the Norman Rockwell version. But, if we’re being honest, how many of us ever had that Christmas? Isn’t that really just an unrealistic image that many of us feel we must aspire to or Christmas will fall flat?

Christmas has always been messy — even before a pandemic sent us scrambling and separating. There were always family disagreements or discrepancies about how we should do something. There was always a moment when we — or someone in the family — needed a time out in the corner. There was always a feeling that we “should” do something or feel something.

This year, we find ourselves where we are. Separated from so many and gathering only with those who exist in a very limited, exclusive bubble. We can thus choose to make the most of these moments …. to take time to recognize that we are blessed to have our select few by our sides. The Covid-19 pandemic left many empty chairs in the corner and lonely hearts, and it isn’t done with us yet. This Christmas reminds us is that life does not always follow the expected rules … togetherness is not guaranteed. We need to do our best to make every moment meaningful. We need to love unconditionally and tell those we care about how important they are to us without delay. We need to find the “Spirit” inside our own imperfect, caring, supportive hearts and share it with those we love.

Norman Rockwell wouldn’t know what to do with a pandemic. LIFE magazine would have featured a lonely albeit very perfect turkey with no one to enjoy it. And probably someone would have left their mask on the table.

So, instead of struggling with the idea that our Christmas is missing something or we aren’t doing enough or the right things, take a moment or two to look at what surrounds you … messy though it might be. Incomplete, perhaps, but resplendent with everything you truly need right at this moment. Draw close to those in your bubble and remember to reach out to those far and wide — even if you have to have Happy Hour by FaceTime or chat over Zoom. Conor consider crafting a hand-written letter — a small action to remind them that they matter.

We long for fewer silent nights right now and more busy sidewalks and clatter on the lawn. Yet perhaps this Christmas — as we are forced to slow down and stay separated — we discover what truly matters during any Holiday season.

The people we love.

God Bless Us Every One.

Jenni

“It was the Best of times; it was the Worst of times …”

So begins the classic novel written by Charles Dickens in 1859. It was a book set during the Reign of Terror, leading up to and including the French Revolution. It dealt with human struggle. It dealt with social injustice and great darkness. It dealt with fear and loss, death and survival, darkness and light. It is widely considered Dickens’ greatest work and is one of the best-selling classic works of all time.

2020. It is the Best of times … It is the Worst of times. It is the year we have been quarantined in our homes. It is the year international travel stopped and Walt Disney World shut down. It is the year businesses sent workers away from their offices to work remotely. It is the year we found ourselves separated from loved ones and people we care about. It is the year the phrase “Social Distancing” was coined. It is the year sporting teams, theaters and movie houses locked their doors and cancelled events, games and performances. It is the year fitness studios began hosting virtual exercise classes. It is the year we downloaded Zoom onto our electronic devices — the year Zoom became more than a zany 1970’s kids show on PBS. It is the year awareness and outrage about Social Injustice at long last prompted action. It is the year our youth and college students began “on-line learning,” attending school and college classes at home.

It is the year we began wearing masks.

2020 — from all social media postings and professional commentary — is the Worst of Times. Social Distancing and Masks are the new normal. Many aspects of our society are still shut down. Sporting events continue but without fans in the stands. While we can visit spas and eat in restaurants, seating is limited and people must wear masks and have their temperatures taken to enter. Protests and riots rage across the country, bringing to the surface years of anger and resentment — years of injustice due to the color of a person’s skin. People rise up … but we struggle to find a cohesive plan and voice to finally make that change. The political scene is building up for wild ride before the November election. And, the U.S. unemployment rate is at its highest since the Great Depression. One article I read posted that over 22 million people have lost their jobs as a result of the Coronavirus pandemic.

I am one of them.

Like those moments in history considered the “worst” of times that so many of us remember vividly — such as the Kennedy Assassination and the World Trade Center bombings — we all can recall where we were on March 12 when the NBA cancelled its season. We can recall that last dinner out before restaurants closed, the last friend we hugged as we said our goodbyes after a night out or our last workout inside the walls of a fitness studio. We can all recall the stay at home orders and the moment when 6 feet of separation became our reality.

Yet … in “A Tale of Two Cities,” Dickens combined the sentiment. He said it was the Best of Times and the Worst of Times. And he began with “the Best” … not, “the Worst” in his famous opening sentence. That structure gives me hope and challenges me to look at these times in a different light.

During this Worst of Times there are still some Best of moments. And during a Reign of Terror like we’re experiencing right now, we need to bring those Best ofs into to the forefront of our thinking.

The community theatre I perform with shut down. But I was in a fabulous show only a few months before the doors were closed. I appreciated the experience and people then. I appreciate that I had that experience and creative opportunity even more now.

My yoga studio locked its doors … but, the Virtual classes they now offer have introduced me to new teachers I would never have met and allowed me to invite a friend to the newly offered Rooftop Yoga classes. My body is in better shape than ever before.

A friend who lives too far away for regular outings suggested a 5:01pm FaceTime Happy Hour on Wednesday. We’ve been meeting weekly for either Happy Hour or Coffee Hour since March. Our friendship has never been stronger.

During the height of the pandemic, my son turned 21. People took time to drive by, drop a six-pack of beer or adult beverage on the sidewalk, and wish him well. No bar night … no party … no matter. The kindness and thoughtfulness of their efforts spoke volumes. It created a connection that this time of separation cannot destroy.

That theatre I mentioned hosts an annual Gala. Since it couldn’t happen live, I had a chance to help create a “virtual” experience for the members. And — bonus — it included a creative challenge, a filming/acting project and wrapped up with a nice dinner for six. We found a way to socialize and celebrate anyway — a less extravagant, more genuine way.

I’m not saying that a global pandemic is a good thing. Many people have died — people I knew personally are in that “statistic.” People are suffering and struggling. Lost jobs and lost income — lost opportunities and an altered state — have resulted in depression and increased anxiety for many. These are difficult times. That’s our truth right now.

But if you look at your own life, perhaps you too can find some Light in the tunnel — some “Best of times” in the midst of all this “Worst.”

We’ve learned to better appreciate people we CAN finally see and spend time with them. We’ve learned to appreciate slower days with puzzles, Netflix and walks while the movie theatres and gyms are closed. We’ve found ways to be together, safely. We’ve made time for the people and the activities that matter most. And we’ve learned — well, I’ve learned — that losing a job has the potential to propel me to action I might not have taken, opening doors I might not have tried. Oh, those doors might be jammed right now, but I’ll find the key. I believe the next right thing IS out there.

If we truly view this as the Worst of Times, we cannot help but look deeper and recognize the Bests in it too. The Bests we might have missed had we been rushing along at our pre-March 12 pace. After all, if you read the WHOLE first paragraph of Mr. Dickens book, there is a perspective there that transcends the 18th Century … a perspective that we can bring into 2020 and our struggling world.

There’s never just the Worst. If we insist on living in absolutes, what goes down, must come up. It’s like we’re riding a teeter totter. We balance for a time and then — even if our side goes down — we come back up.

Check it out … A Tale of Two Cities. Oh, just remember to wear a mask and stay socially distant if you go to the bookstore to pick up a copy of this source material …

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

A Tale of Two Cities – Charles Dickens

— Jenni

I’m going to admit something to you. I like Miley Cyrus. I liked her as Hannah Montana. I liked her as she fought to define who she wanted to be after her Disney Days. I like her on The Voice. I like a lot of her music. Her personal life is her personal life and it’s not my place to judge.  Gotta say thought that her authenticity is refreshing.

I remember sitting with my son Jarod — who was very young when the teasers for the then “new” Disney series Hannah Montana were first shown. I remember watching episodes with him. I remember the struggle the Miley/Hannah character faced trying to be two different people, to keep her lives separated, to find a way to live normally with the world trying to discover her secrets, to determine her own identify and choose her preferred destiny alongside her supportive, albeit quirky family and friends. I liked her song Nobody’s Perfect. Jarod owned a couple of her CDs — when he was young. We sang along with them in the car. I liked the messages Hannah’s music offered young people.

I watched the Hannah Montana movie with Jarod. And, adult though I may be, her song The Climb has resonated with me since its first release.

I’ve included it on numerous “Mixed Tapes,” aka iTunes playlists. 🙂 And most recently, I added it to my Quarantine response playlist, which I named #ShelterSupported. I scrolled through my entire iTunes Library to create this playlist, choosing songs that encouraged me, brought me joy or offered a little extra chutzpah during this crazy COVID-19 time of crisis. I even downloaded songs suggested by my niece Abby to include music I don’t know … but if it supports or soothes her spirit, it can support and soothe mine.

Yesterday, my family took a trip to a nearby Metropark. We thought a little nature might serve us. And it did. We separated — we suddenly had new views and more space — to enjoy the scenery and fresh air. My husband brought his fishing gear and ventured down to the water. My daughter was content to listen to her own music and enjoy the scenery, sitting quietly on a tree stump. My son and I embarked on a bike ride — splitting off at the fork in the trail to go each our own way. I put my AirPods in my ears and listened to my #ShelterSupported Mix blending with the sounds of Nature.

I hadn’t ridden my bike at Kensington for some time. There are a lot of hills. Going down was freeing, the wind in my hair made me smile and gave my spirit a boost. But, then there was the return trip. After riding 3 miles one way, I had to ride the bike back.

On the return route, there were more up hills than down. I found myself adjusting gears to make the ride smoother. But then, I came to the final one. It was a doozy, believe me. There was a part of me that toyed with getting off the bike and walking it up. But then, Miley Cyrus and her song popped into my mind.

As I pedaled, I looked ahead. And I realized something. All I had to do was make one rotation of the pedals. And then, another. And then, another.

I thought about this Quarantine. The social distancing and the lack of access to friends, family and familiar activities. None of us can truly predict how long it will last. And what we’ll find when it finally ends — how we will have been transformed and what we will bring out of our quarantine and back into our “new” world. It’s an overwhelming thing to ponder at times. But, as I pedaled along, missing friends and so much of what I enjoy, I also realized that I was thriving in this new environment. That I was finding new strength and different joys and laughter. That simple things offered pleasure. That a puzzle, a good book, a virtual yoga class and a knitting project for a new baby were enough for now. I find happiness daily. It’s not all doom and gloom — nothing is ever all one thing. Good seeps thru the cracks.

I gotta tell you, though, this hill was daunting.

But then, there they were. Two women walking up the hill began to encourage me. They told me I could do it. Two strangers offered me support, cheering me on as I made the climb. And, when I reached the top, a bit winded to be honest, they celebrated that victory with me — from the minimum 6 foot away distance, of course. And I thanked them, feeling a little stronger and very pleased with myself.

Miley’s words echoed in my mind. I could have fallen. I felt stressed. There were some challenging moments. But when I felt myself tipping, I simply focused on pedaling. On maintaining balance. I focused on The Climb.

That’s all any of us can do right now. Focus on The Climb. We’re gonna reach the top at some point. The peak. And then, we can let go of the pedals and glide down the hill, enjoying the wind in our hair and on our faces. But, it’s The Climb and how we face that hill that helps us find #Muchness.

So, when you look at the hill, and think you can’t make it, just keep pedaling. One rotation at a time. It’s enough.

                                                                                           Jenni

When I began to navigate Alice’s Adventure into #Muchness, the message that kept coming to mind meant something very different. Now, three weeks into the COVID-19 Quarantine where my daily status is to Stay Home and Shelter, Poison is wearing a very different costume. But its threat remains the same.

First … a quick recap.

When last we left Alice, she had ventured into the Rabbit Hole. She fell, if you are at all familiar with the tale, for quite some time. And as she fell, she noticed cupboards and shelves full of such significant things as Orange Marmalade, globes, maps and many, many books. Down, down, down she fell, not knowing when this strange experience would end. Not knowing what she would find when it did.

Sound familiar?

As she fell, she began to recite nonsense and to contemplate strange things. In a time for our world where I’m separated from friends, loved ones and regular activities — where simple outings are no longer simple and every encounter requires 6 feet of separation, I find myself doing much the same.

Lucky for Alice, Lewis Carroll didn’t write her fall to last weeks or months. Eventually after a two-page tumble, she hit the ground, found herself in a round hall, and determined that she was going to get out.

With Alice — if you take the time to read her story, there are not a lot of “shoulds.” (Another reason I admire her.) She didn’t spend a lot of time questioning whether she SHOULD open a door and venture into the unknown. #Muchness comes from courage and trusting instincts. From plotting a course and venturing forward, bravely and with confidence.

How she longed to get out of that dark hall and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains …

And then came the little bottle.

“A little bottle that hadn’t been there before with a paper label round its neck with the words “DRINK ME” beautifully printed on it with large letters.”

Alice was a wise girl — yes, restless and curious as I mentioned previously. But while #Muchness comes with Restlessness, Imagination and Curiosity, it also comes with Wisdom. She wasn’t going to follow the direction on that little bottle too quickly. She checked to make sure it wasn’t marked “Poison.” She’d heard what happened to others who were hurt when they didn’t check the rules first. And a bottle marked poison is — according to Alice — “certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.”

But we do it. We drink the bottle that says Poison, don’t we? Unlike Alice, there are many times in our lives when we venture forward equipped with knowledge and aware that what we are doing is eventually going to come back and bite us in the … well, disagree with us, sooner or later.

Oh, we don’t always quite literally stumble upon a bottle with a DRINK ME label and then ponder whether or not it may harm us. But, we make choices to do things that we know aren’t truly good for us. We do things that may not always be in our best interest. Perhaps we have a habit or two that would be better to let go of. Perhaps we have people in our lives that we spend time with, knowing we will suffer for it afterwards — could be due to unkindness, harsh or cavalier treatment, bad choices we make in their company or their lack of appreciation for who we are or what we offer.

No. Poison doesn’t always come in a bottle that is easily distinguishable. It comes in the form of people who hurt us — either carelessly, deliberately or unknowingly. People who are toxic to us. People who are not for us — or perhaps, just perhaps we are not for them.

There are situations we choose — even accidentally — to open ourselves up to that endanger us or distress us. Perhaps the poison comes in the form of unkind words, an unsupportive employer or colleague or an abusive relationship.  Poisonous words hurt us physically, emotionally, spiritually or affect us on some deeper level. They tear us down when we take them in.

We eat this, drink that, inhale substances, smoke cigarettes, drive a car after one too many. We accept verbal, mental or physical abuse when we know we should walk away. We make excuses for bad behavior. We put up with unkindness or hang out with people who are doing or engaging in things we know are ‘questionable.’ We drive too fast. We eat too much. We indulge whims. We spend too much. We neglect self-care in favor of something that feels good in the moment.

Too much chocolate can be Poison. Too little exercise can be Poison. People can be Poison or can invite us into Poisonous Places. Too much spending can be Poison.

What is your Poison? What comes with a Drink Me label for you that might disagree with you, sooner or later?

If we venture out into today’s world in groups or with others, we are drinking Poison. If we ignore CDC warnings, we dabble with Poison. If we don’t wash our hands thoroughly or if we don’t keep the required distance, we could drink Poison. Carelessness comes with a price.

We may deny its potential fatal consequence. But inside, we — like Alice — know that:

“If you drink much from a bottle marked “poison” it is certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.”

So why do we do it? Drink the Poison? Is the temporary “whatever” it offers worth playing with the danger? Apparently it is, since we keep drinking it.

Until we decide not to. Until we put down the bottle and walk away.

In my exploration into #Muchness, I’ve struggled with my own bottles of Poison. Sometimes its taste — a mixed flavor of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee and hot buttered toast taste — masks what is underneath. Sometimes it goes down easily. And other times, I’ve wrestled with side-effects. Too much of a good thing isn’t good. Too much of something that isn’t good at all for you … well, that’s just bad.

Unfortunately, Poison doesn’t always come in a little bottle with a warning label. But we should pause — like Alice — when we find a bottle on a little glass table featuring a tag and the enticing words DRINK ME.  We should consider the cost before indulging. And in my quest to find #Muchness in today’s Wonderland, I invite each of you to decide for yourself … To Drink or Not To Drink.

… That is the question.

                                                                                           Jenni

18th March 2020 — A week ago I met up with a friend for beer and fries. We caught up as we watched the NBA cancel all future games and learned that March Madness would just not happen. When we parted with a hug and a smile, how could I predict that would be my last night out and the last human touch from someone other than my kids, husband or cat until … time unknown. And that the very bar we sat so companionably in — chatting with the bartender and a little old man seated next to us drinking his whiskey neat — would be closed for an undefined amount of time. That we’d all be quarantined in our homes?

We’ve fallen down the Rabbit Hole, dear readers. But instead of curling up in a little ball and waiting for things to get “better,” perhaps the best we can do for our selves and for our world is to use this time to explore Wonderland and open any door we can.

In December for the past several years, I’ve selected a word to frame the coming year. I selected my 2020 word for a host of reasons. One of them being the need to redefine myself based on a variety of things happening to me and around me. I needed to find my #Muchness.

I’ve used that hashtag a lot in 2020. Perhaps you are wondering what it might mean.

I often think that you might be. Though, you may not be at all and it’s only my Curious Soul that asks the questions, seeking to experience and understand.

Whatever the case, if you’re not Curious you may stop reading now.

If you’re bored and just looking for something to read, feel free to continue.

Or, if you are a Curious, Adventurous Soul … Read on, MacDuff.  (Yes, I’m intentionally extrapolating a line from my much-loved copy of Shakespeare’s Scottish Play!)

Anyway, I’ve often believed six impossible things before breakfast. And it’s the transformative power of making the impossible possible that is the essence of #Muchness. It’s reaching inside and finding more. It’s finding and cultivating talents, strength, ideas — whatever — when you’re not sure you have it — have them. It’s growing and shrinking and being unafraid when you can’t find the key or a way out of the room to explore the world. It’s learning about yourself and making your own determination of the path you will take and the White Rabbit you will follow.

A week ago when I started this post, our world was quite different and the Impossible Things List was different as well.  A week ago, I embraced an idea during my Yoga Shelter class based on something Jennifer — the Yogi guide/instructor (I’m really not sure what to call Yoga Teachers) that I can do hard things. That I am strong enough and resilient enough to balance, hold on and stay calm in the midst of challenges and all those difficult, seemingly “impossible” things that come my way. They are, after all, temporary. The difficult times will end. The hard pose (Boat, Half Moon, Majorette, Airplane or perhaps the simple reality of living in a world where we are quarantined from all the people we love and things we love to do) will end. It may last longer than we would like. But, like a movie, it will wrap and life will continue — albeit a bit differently than it once did.

What’s happening right now in our world — the COVID-19 epidemic — has altered my list of Impossible Things. I rework them daily anyway. But this epidemic and everything that drips from it is redefining what I am strong enough to handle.It’s pushing my Olivia Pope|Alice mantras and #Muchness to new levels.

2020 began a journey  — an adventure through the looking glass and a pretty impressive rabbit hole. I didn’t know what I would find. However, it certainly wasn’t my son coming home for Spring Break and staying home for the remainder of his Junior Year. It certainly wasn’t my daughter’s high school locking its doors and cancelling everything important to her and her friends. And it absolutely wasn’t education happening remotely or by PC! It certainly wasn’t the swim team that my husband worked so hard coaching since December who had such amazing success learning it wouldn’t be making that dream trip to State Finals or that all his favorite sporting events that he so enjoys watching would be cancelled.

I took a few days off last week after running a HUGE event — quite spectacularly and successfully too (she adds with a smile and wink). I cleaned my desk — yes, wiped it down and everything!, put away and packed up a few things and walked out the Stage Door to enjoy some much needed R & R after a busy month of long-hours and working weekends. Who knew that would be the last time I walked thru the DSO doors for quite a while? That concerts would be cancelled and postponed? Who knew I would be working remotely and trying to figure out how to plan events when we have no idea if and when those events can even happen?

Six Impossible Things. I believe in them before breakfast. I think about them … and how I can make them possible. In these strange times, Alice in Wonderland isn’t as crazy as you might think. She’s my guide as I explore and seek my #Muchness.

Join me on the Adventure. Tune in again soon for the next installment as Alice and I take you on a journey into Wonderland … you’re closer than you think.

                                                                                                                Jenni

I see her regularly. This woman who feeds the birds.

There’s this old church next to Orchestra Hall. It’s padlocked and closed but maintains a certain majesty with its large decorative windows. As I walk down the alley to the Stage Door entrance, I hear the little birds. I hear them even during the winter. I look up to see them fly by me. Nature busy at work, their little chirps a music as lovely as that created by our musicians.

I noticed her there, tossing birdseed and breadcrumbs to the birds. I didn’t look too closely at first, in my haste to get to work. I was running through my to do list in my mind. But then, I began to see her more and more. I found myself looking for her.

She wears a tan coat and pants. Boots. A hat. No gloves. I’ve seen her carry nothing but a bag of bread and the birdseed.

At first she didn’t make eye contact. Just looked at her birds and stood quietly to tend them. But more recently I smiled at her, said good morning. She smiled back with a childlike delight sparkling in her eyes. Only recently did she speak to me. I wonder if anyone else speaks to her.

We spoke of the birds. How she has to be on time to feed them. How she can’t be late. I watched her toss the seed and the birds came to her. It felt so similar to that scene in Mary Poppins. You remember, the scene on the steps of St. Paul’s where the bird lady calls out to invite those busy people passing by to stop, buy a bag of seed for a tuppence and feed the birds.

Last Thursday it was so cold and there was snow. I worked from home — my warm home. But she was on my mind. I wondered if she had anywhere warm to stay. If she was out there in the cold and snow, feeding those birds. And what I could do for her.

I don’t know if she’s homeless. I don’t know where she goes after feeding the birds.  One day, driving in, I noticed her walking down the sidewalk on Woodward Avenue near a coffee place my son and I enjoy. I so just wanted to buy her a cup of coffee and sit with her … talk with her. Hear her story. Share my lunch with her. Her smile is so bright. And her care of those birds warms my heart.

But sharing a smile and a few words with her just doesn’t seem enough … though I wonder if anyone else talks to her. I wonder if anyone else really sees her.

Now each morning I look for her. But, I haven’t seen her in since that day nearly a week ago. I packed up a spare set of mittens, a scarf and a hat that I knit — I want to give her something I actually made — as well as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I carry those with me. I also bring a bag of bread for her to share with the birds. Since that seems so important to her, I wanted to give her something to share with them too.

I wonder about her life. I wonder what brought her to that alley. What sparks her heart to feed those birds. What her story might be.

I arrived earlier this morning — hoping to catch her. But as I walked from the parking structure, I noticed that the bread and bird seed had already been scattered. She was gone. I’d  missed her. But the birds hadn’t. They hopped about happily, enjoying their special treat. She’d been there for them. I just wonder … who’s there for her?

With a sigh, I headed down the alley. It was then I saw an older man, bending down to pick what looked like an old orange from the ground. He had a backpack on his back. Gloves and a hat. And he wore a tattered black coat. So, I stopped to say hello. He glanced up, surprised. I handed him the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had made for the bird lady. Then, he told me that was just what he needed — and he smiled. I wished him a good day and continued my walk down the alley.

What can we do about the bird ladies? Will a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a few words be enough to support a weary, wandering soul? I don’t know.

But I’m going to pack a sandwich every day now, offer what I can and try.

  — Jenni

I’ve always found myself fascinated by Alice in Wonderland. Even as an adult, I am drawn to her. The 2010 Alice with Mia Wasikowska and Johnny Depp is one of my favorite versions. Yet I vividly recall a TV movie I watched once upon a time that convinced me that I too could find my way through a mirror into this enchanted, seemingly nonsensical land.

I’m still looking, by the way.

I’ve read both of Alice’s Adventures many times. I own several copies of the books and Alice images surround me. (My 2020 Mantra is #Muchness — to be explained later, I promise.) What is it, though, about Alice and that crazy trip into a world where nothing on the surface seems to make sense that inspires curiosity? Might it be that there’s more down the Rabbit Hole than a first glance suggests?

I’m embarking on my own exploration, leading an Adventure down the Rabbit Hole and Through The Looking Glass. It’s high time to sort thru what on the surface seems to be mad but just might be the very best advice that I’ve very seldom followed.

Let’s begin at the beginning, shall we? Alice 101: The fearless Adventurer. In other words, Alice – The Original Restless Spirit.

Have you read it? If so, you know how it begins. Alice sits with her sister outside on a beautiful day under a tree. Her sister is reading a book. But Alice is growing tired of just sitting there. Butterflies and birds fly around her. Her cat Dinah plays with a ball of yarn. She glances around to look at her sister’s book — wondering what makes it so interesting and deserving of her attention — only to discover that the book has no pictures and no conversations.

“And what is the use of a book” thought Alice,  “without pictures or conversations?”

What indeed? And THAT is the first clue about Alice. She’s a Restless Spirit.

Not everyone is. Some people are content to leave their home each day, traveling to work by the same route, listening to their regular radio station and glancing out the window to look at the same sites.  They sit at their desks, processing through similar projects day after day — following that same to do lists year after year. They return home at the end of each day and easily settle down in front of the TV or putter about their home, finding satisfaction in this regularity. They enjoy a comfy chair and predictable lifestyle, never looking around to see if there’s a White Rabbit running by with a pocket-watch.

Then there are others. The Restless Spirits out there. The Alices. They approach their days differently, recognizing that a mundane lifestyle is not quite enough. They are curious and seek to try new things — even if it might cause them to struggle or fall. They sit for a while, reading a book — ones selected carefully with ideas or thoughts to fully engage imaginative or inquisitive minds — but still take the time to look up to notice what’s happening around them. They don’t follow the same routine day after day. They are open to connecting with others, learning new things and exploring opportunities and experiences out of their comfort zone. Then, quite suddenly a White Rabbit checking his pocket watch runs by and captures their attention, changing everything.

Well, perhaps it’s not a “white rabbit.”

But the situation is the same. How many of us have the intention to do something — exercise, clean, write, balance our checkbook, read that book on our shelf, work, make a doctor appointment, fix a leaky faucet or whatever — but pick up our phones only to find the time intended for something constructive sucked up gazing into someone else’s life, looking at their photographs or browsing postings? Reading, writing, cleaning, balancing the checkbook, exercising, working, making that doctor appointment or fixing the faucet are important to us. However, we can find ourselves distracted … seeking something … more.

Like Alice, there are individuals not fulfilled by life without conversation and pictures, that is to say active adventuring, exploration, learning and trying new things, creating something unique and making memories of their own instead of voyeuring into the world of others. Individuals who seek something extraordinary or different to excite or engage them. Instead of sitting quietly, they seek to find ways to manage their restless nature. They struggle a bit. It’s so very easy to make questionable choices in an effort to add conversation and pictures into what may feel to be a dull book. Heck, Alice fell down a Rabbit Hole due to her curiosity.  

For those Restless Spirits out there — the Alices of the world — focus is challenging. Finding contentment in the simple things is possible, but Restless Spirits are not easily satisfied but are innately curious and seek Adventure. I’m not quite sure what the solution is. Perhaps, like Alice, they need to find their own Wonderland and explore opportunities and experiences others might never deem necessary. A cake decorating class, a book club, a dance class, a vacation to somewhere new and different. Perhaps they should learn a new language or sign up for a zipline and hike into the mountains. Or perhaps getting out to a movie or other such outing with a friend will nurture their spirit.

Perhaps it’s trying the difficult yoga pose in a class and falling out of it, only to laugh at yourself and try again.  Perhaps it’s taking a new job or accepting an assignment that takes you out of your comfort zone. Perhaps it’s auditioning for a play or signing up for a sports team or a vocal group to explore aspects of yourself you rarely let out into the light.

Restless Spirits need to work harder at staying present — at quieting the mad monkeys screeching in their minds. Perhaps they opt for a Zumba class for a change of pace, focusing their minds on following the instructor’s lead instead of the mutterings in their minds. Perhaps the solution is finding a book that truly intrigues or informs — perhaps on CD or Audible — or an activity that demands full focus, like ice skating or skiing. Coloring books and music can soothe the restless mind.

Alice was a Restless Spirit. Perhaps that’s one reason why I’m so drawn to her because — I have to admit — so am I. I’m constantly working on ways to constructively and creatively channel my busy mind and curious, adventurous soul. Walking into a bookstore or a yarn store is dangerous for me. No matter how many books or projects I have, there is always something to draw my eye — a new adventure — a new challenge. Meditation and yoga help me focus. And a notepad and paper by my bedside provide the tools I need to remove the madness from my mind until I can address it later. I journal a lot by candlelight, cup of Tea by my side.

There are times I’ve ventured too close to the Rabbit Hole and fallen down. But in that fall, I’ve also encountered wonder-filled moments, interesting characters, tasty cakes that demand to be eaten, people I will never forget, and unexpected adventures of discovery and joy. I’ve always been Curious. Like Alice, a book with no pictures engages my mind for only so long before I …

Wait … was that a White Rabbit carrying a pocket watch? I’m sorry. I need to go …

                                                                                              — Jenni

 

 

 

I bought my son a pair of white tennis shoes last week.

Are they still considered tennis shoes if he doesn’t play tennis? Does anyone use the term “sneakers” these day or would they be classified as “athletic” shoes? What if they aren’t used for athletics? Gym shoes? He doesn’t take gym classes at Wayne State. And they certainly aren’t dress shoes, though he will probably wear them with about everything but his suits.

In any case, I bought him a pair of slip-on sneakers … let’s just go with that. He liked the fact that they didn’t have to be untied and tied — that’s a deal maker in shoes, I guess. They also resembled his favorite pair, the ones that needed to be eliminated from the tribe since they were falling apart. The new shoes offered good support, they were sleek, and they fit great.

And … they were white.

My son likes white shoes. He’s not drawn to designers or brand names, though these Mark Nason’s came with a pretty price tag. But so do my shoes. And I have a lot more than he does. He just wanted a nice pair of slip-on sneakers to wear.

My objection was … they were white. But, they fit great. And, I had coupons to apply! So, we left DSW with The White Shoes. He was thrilled. We came home. He put them on and walked out the door.

When he returned a few hours later, his arrival was muted. He came into the kitchen carrying the right shoe to reveal … oh, you know … the smudge of dirt.

Somehow when he stepped out of the house, the bottom of one shoe brushed the side of the other shoe and wham! He didn’t even know where the dirt came from. He’d tried to be so careful. But, there it was. He was pretty bummed out.

I didn’t resort to the motherly fall-backs, The “well, if you’d just scotch guarded them before you left ….” I didn’t say, “well if you’d picked out shoes that weren’t white, the smudge wouldn’t be so evident.” I didn’t say anything. I recognized the devastation and resolved to Handle the problem in my own Olivia Pope style. I took the shoe, pulled out the Oxy Clean, and went to work.

Unfortunately, the smudge was stronger than my spray Oxy Clean.

My husband used shoe cleaner. We scrubbed with soap. Still the smudge remained.

So, I decided to soak it. That’s what you do to remove stubborn stains! A few hours in the Oxy Clean and that stain would be nothin’ but a memory.

Imagine my shock when I discovered that my brilliant stain removal strategy only made the situation worse. Now the leather had bled onto the white netting, adding a brownish tinge to the white shoe. And the damn smudge was still there too!

It beat me. That stain was tougher than all my Type A cleaning products. And, I felt terrible. Not only did I NOT help remove the stain but I only made the damage worse with my efforts to erase it from the canvas. All I could do was apologize to my son and accept defeat.

Dirt happens, you know. Messes and mistakes happen. And I’m not just talking about walking outside wearing white shoes. Life is full of smudges. At least mine is … I haven’t lived a stain-free life. I’m kinda like Jarod’s shoe.

This week I learned that you can’t erase the smudge once it’s on the shoe. Oh you can scotch guard it, to protect it. But, dirt will find a way. It just does. It will leave its mark. It will change the way the shoe looks on the outside … but it won’t change the shoe’s ability to do what it was made to do.

We can’t erase the impact of dirt or smudges — or our own not so good decisions or the mistakes we’ve made in our lives. But these smudges don’t have to affect our ability to do what we were made to do unless we allow them to. We may think they do. We may hide, deny, avoid or ignore smudges we’ve made. We may deny they’ve affected us — or that they may have affected someone else. But, there’s a mark somewhere.

But, it doesn’t have to stop us.

I’ve made mistakes — made choices and decisions that may not have always been the best or even the right ones. And they affected me … still affect me in some cases. I can’t erase and pretend they didn’t happen or delete them from my memory. They are part of me. Messy moments, wrong turns, tangled paths, mistakes, failures, and smudges all play a part in shaping me into the woman I am today. Oxy Clean won’t make them disappear from the fabric of my life. They are there. And, I know they are there.

Know what? I wouldn’t change that anyway. The dirt I’ve encountered in my life has taught me things. And, my smudges make me unique and who I am today. I’m good with that.

I don’t allow them to hold me back. I won’t give a smudge that power. I dust myself off, accept who I am and do the next right thing (Yes, Disney fans, I went there).

Jarod’s shoes will never be perfect again. But, those White Shoes reminded me that my life is a canvas too and it’s okay that it’s not perfectly white. My canvas has some smudges, some wear and tear, tracks of tears and some blotches too. I find beauty in embracing my imperfections, accepting the smudges that have affected my canvas.

The next time your kid wants a pair of white shoes, just know they won’t be white after they leave the store. Come to terms with it.

And if they ask you to clean off some dirt from those once perfect sneakers, for heaven’s sake, just step away from the Oxy.

                                                                                                                                — Jenni

 

 

 

 

Just wrapped up an absolutely fun, zany production of Neil Simon’s Rumors. The following reflects a tribute message to an amazingly talented, creative and resilient cast, director and production staff. Thanks for the memories. Thanks for giving me a chance to shape Chris by your sides! Love to you all.

We came together in mid-August to audition at 315 Fisher Road

As prepared as could be, in full stress mode.

We read lines with each other, many of us had never met.

Hopeful that weekend to impress and a good role to get.

 

As Actors our questions were so very many …

Who would be crazy enough with that monologue to audition for Lenny?

And could it be that we just might be the ones.

To get cast in GPT’s Rumors, by Neil Simon?

 

The Production Staff before us, adorned in shirts with show logo blazing,

The auditionees sat waiting, hoping our read would show we were amazing.

Then, with casting completed, the call finally came,

We rejoiced – and some squealed – glad we were chosen all the same.

 

The read-thru made it clear, Nehr and his team had done their job well

The script made us all laugh, and into place things quickly fell.

The cast of 10 came together, and rehearsals began

Our director’s first mantra … “Learn lines and get off book as fast as you can!”

 

Cynthia as Producer earned a Cast Clarence for keeping snacks flowing,

Nightly spreads were amazing, so the cast worked hard to keep waistlines from growing.

She kept us well fed and organized too

Signing us in and working alongside a great crew.

 

Arlene as Stage Manager watched the lines and our moves,

Ensuring success and keeping us to Neil Simon’s words true

Her attention to detail was top notch and so clear

In nightly line and blocking notes — thorough, thoughtful, and sincere.

 

Meanwhile our Director Jerry guided us to be mindful, listen and react

To work closely together in both the first and second act.

Delve into your role! Become someone new!

Worksheets for character and four nights a week spent molding us like dippity do!

 

After 35 three-hour rehearsals, our 315-stint complete,

We packed it all up, keeping everything nice and neat.

Our move to Liggett’s stage delayed, the cast of ten arrived en masse

To lift, carry, drill and work together, building Charley & Myra’s home of class.

 

Gordon worked quickly, joining the Staff a bit late

He and Jay handled building, sawing, and planning — Dave’s lovely set design to create.

They measured molding, panels, and floors, setting them up straight

Helping us to shape a living room that looked first rate!

 

Annie’s set dressing was lovely with white couches and soft chairs

Turquoise and fuschia accents, a bar and odd hangings gave the set flair.

A room with five doors dressed in style and class…

We’re so grateful Annie Had a Dream to join our Production Staff.

 

Tom carried many lights and added gels to them all too

Truly a talent, this one-man light crew!

Climbing the ladder to hang them in place

He made sure the audience could see every face.

 

Stephanie found costumes that screamed 1989

Tuxes, Russian gowns, jewels and dresses to take us elegantly back in time.

There was blood on shirts and Joan Collins Dynasty style

Her creativity made us look fabulous and we felt stunning all the while.

 

Jackie and Michele handled hair and make-up design

Making sure we looked timely with enough color to make us from the stage shine.

The make-up room banter and fun 80’s tunes

Helped us each night to get in the mood.

 

Lindsey managed props that included crystals, duck and a phone cord

That we tangled up nightly to keep the audience far from bored

She washed crystal glasses and filled vodka bottles too

And even made pasta for Ken to consume!

 

Jeff’s sound design was unique with groovy tunes for each pair

A creative addition requested by Nehr.

He got big laughs with telephones and toilets a-flushing.

And guns going off while our cast was crazily rushing.

 

Amidst Simon’s chaos filled with characters galore

The cast worked on the set, obsessed with curtains for the door.

In and out we traveled, careful not to doors slam

Such unique characters there were in this play, Gosh-damn!

 

Justin and George were new to GPT

As Ben Welch and Chuck Pudney they were so funny!

Justin with his big booming voice and George taking orders from the walky talky by his side.

We rehearsed p 76 to end pretty much every f*#*ing night!

 

Maddie as Cassie was sexy, intense and dramatic

Fighting for her crystals and working the room, her talent automatic

Storming about the stage, red hair all a-flowing

She wore a lovely evergreen gown — her long leg flirtatiously showing.

 

Jon brought a coolness to Glenn that was neat

Wait Wait … You Mean Me in a chill tone that couldn’t be beat.

With bloody handkerchief and drops in his eyes

Was Albany ready to the State Senate for him to rise?

 

Rebekah’s back spasms, Russian dress and crazy Jewish accent

Had the audience cackling, especially when in Crab Walk she bent.

Her character of Cookie flawless and cleverly shaped

She worked hair, ice bag and yoga with easy talent that made us all gape.

 

Noah our Ernie tried so hard to keep us all calm

His therapist tone, wart story and burnt hands that needed some balm.

His sudden outbursts that every night came

Our own dear Poopsie, who knew he played so many Board Games!

 

Ashley was lovely in her first non-musical path

Braving Lenny’s quips in elegance and trying so hard not to laugh

A Marilyn in every sense with Charm, Grace and Style

Her Hitler quip was turnabout … and earned her many a smile.

 

Nick had us rolling and amazed us each night

Deft at quips, working the 3-page monologue and nearly with Glenn starting a flight.

His ease with language and humor so smooth and so strong.

As Lenny he kept the audience laughing – We’re so glad he returned and ended the run with us strong!

 

Then there’s Kevin Fitzhenry, who came in script a-blazing

To work and learn Lenny lines days after his wedding was amazing.

The cast came together, that’s just what we do

It was all about teamwork, a strong bond thru and thru.

 

Jeff’s quirky Ken handled gun shots, stair-falls and deafness with ease

Enjoying a pasta dinner, that clearly seemed the audience to please.

His physical humor and command of the stage

Kept us all in stitches and made him all the rage.

 

As for me as Chris, I did lots of drinking

Vodka for me, with a phone cord, sent me into a couch sinking.

I ran ‘round the stage, anxious, in a tight dress and 3-inch silver heels

Keeping the audience wondering if at some point I would keel.

 

Then there’s our director, the great puzzle master

Who worked every scene, and bid dialogue clip louder and faster.

Who blocked and designed, and patiently listened

To questions and ideas as his GPT mainstage show we helped christen.

 

With Bountiful skill and ideas that kept flowing,

His ideas and direction kept us all going.

He reminded us that Chutzpah! is what we all share

To have fun as artists and entertain — and make the audience care.

 

He shaped us each into a new person in a very short time

“It’s an interesting thing, Acting,” and as Director he helped us to shine.

It takes a special quality to stand at the helm and guide actors here and there

We’re so grateful to him … Cheers to my friend, Jerry Nehr.

                                                                                            Jenni

“Get up! Take up your mat, and walk … ”  John 5:8

I’m definitely showing my age when I feature “Fractured Fairy Tales” in The Corner. I can say, confidently, that I watched these episodes in re-runs — The Rocky and Bullwinkle show on which they originally aired was before my time. Really! Yet, these simple cartoons remain memorable to me.

In these brief cartoon clips — available even today to view on YouTube for those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about and are curious — the story, the characters as well as the outcome were messed up … wrong … distorted … damaged.

Fractured.

That doesn’t just happen in a 1960s cartoon though. Sometimes we humans fracture. We break, cracking just enough to allow the black ooze to find its way in.

Moments, jobs, relationships, projects, things we once held dear begin to lose their pretty rose-colored glow. People who were once happy and satisfied with the status quo begin to find faults, whispering and complaining in corners. Dissatisfied clumps appear near the coffee maker. The seeds of discontent begin to grow like weeds to disrupt every aspect of their daily lives.

The black ooze seeps in … You know, that ooze you see on cracked doll faces in famous Hallowe’en movies. Suddenly, the once easy way we viewed someone or something or a project or a job or {fill in the blank} is tainted. And as the black ooze spreads, it becomes increasingly difficult to extricate oneself from its acidic, destructive influence. Everything changes … and your outlook turns bleak.

Over the years, I’ve seen, encountered, battled and dealt with my share of the “black ooze” — of the fall out of the fractured fairy tales. It’s subtle in its origins. But it gains momentum quickly and impacts everything in its path.

There are ways to overcome it — to wipe away the tar-like mess. But the clean-up only begins when we CHOOSE to make a change. When we DECIDE to combat the muck threatening to overwhelm us. When we RETRAIN ourselves to put on those Rose-Colored glasses once again and allow the light from within to battle the ooze from without.

It’s truly amazing how much wisdom I glean while exercising. Scoff away, doubters. While some might say that Working Out is hard, I suggest that it’s Living Off the Mat that’s more challenging.

On the mat, you KNOW you only have 30, 45, 60 or whatever time frame your workout lasts to handle the poses or cardio-intensities. There are only so many reps. There is always a countdown. Holds only last so long and at the end there is always a stretch and final rep to look forward to. Honestly, it’s breathing through hurtful remarks, reminders of your failings and misses, careless criticism and the lack of support we as people of this planet tend to face that’s the true test of endurance. How many times I can lift a 10-15 pound weight pales in comparison to how many times I can deal with feeling or hearing others point out my failings or weaknesses. To feel that all I am is still not enough around my friends, peers and coworkers.

Finding ways to be kind and master courage in today’s often unsupportive, critical, self-oriented world … to continue the repetitions and breathing in THAT workout amidst cruelty, carelessness, and even conscious or unconscious cavalier treatment … is WAY harder than a 60-minute cardio or weight-training session. But endurance truly comes from mental strength and personal choice. That’s how you build muscle and keep out the ooze. That’s how you nurture the spirit and prevent disruption of your personal and emotional balance. Oh, and surrounding yourselves with people who truly love and support you as you are, that’s a great choice too. If someone or something doesn’t serve you or support your story, walk away from it.

We all face it. We all encounter the ooze. It sews discontent. It creates fractures and separates us from each other. It separates us from the Light.

But … like I was reminded on my Mat today, when those challenging repetitions and the doubts of my ability to make it through arise, all I really have to do is breathe and believe in myself. To trust that I can do this. That I have the strength. To trust that I’m where I’m meant to be and doing exactly what I’m meant to be doing.

Our only real defense against the Fractured Fairy Tale is to have faith in ourselves. To choose to be kind to others … no matter what … and to be gentle with ourselves. Put on those rose-colored glasses and choose to see the best in people, the situation, and the challenges we encounter every single day. Choose to see the best in our selves. Offer your best and let go of the rest …

And … oh, by the way, a hot bubble bath by candlelight with aid of a heavy duty Lavender scrub to cleanse off whatever ooze happened to seep out from our deepest fears, desires, struggles or disappointments is a great way to cleanse and restore the mind, body and spirit too.

                                                                                                 — Jenni