for my mother.

i was not the little girl who grew up knowing i'd one day be a mother.

i was not the little girl who imagined my own little girl.

but this remarkable thing happened. after gradation i spent some time taking care of some wee ones, and as i read them stories i heard my mother's voice in my own.

i am not afraid of motherhood.

i am not afraid to be a mother.

i with great patience and anticipation await the day.

i have every confidence that i will meet that holy phase of my life with surprising resiliency.

because i had the most remarkable of mothers. because she created the way. gifted me a road-map. instilled within me all i will ever need to know.

and for that, along with countless other things, i bow down to her today. i give her thanks. and wish her the happiest of mother's days.

i love you, mom.




(ps: remember that time in third grade i made you a mother's day book in school and on the front cover i glued your head on princess diana's body? it was that i thought you'd look really great in that blue dress she had on).

a letter to my readers:

when i graduated from college i never expected that i'd begin a blog. (secret? sometimes i still cringe at the word: blog. it's such an odd word, isn't it?). but here i am. here we are. nearly three years later (nearly, not quite). and i have a blog. and i am a blogger. and the thing is...i love it. unabashedly, i love it.

and i've learned so much. and i'm still just beginning. the story is new but long.

i couldn't have done it without all of you. you who read this thing and send me lovely words of encouragement. you who know just what a girl needs to hear and just when she needs to hear it.

so, thank you.

truly, deeply i offer up my thanks. for reading and responding and lurking and following and filling my story with wonder.

tonight at midnight i will randomly choose one follower to receive a little handmade piece of goodness by mail. if i could send one to each person out there i would, please know that. but money is little and time is short and let's be honest...i'm no oprah. so. there you have it.

my humble gratitude is yours. do with it what you will.




here's to the rest of the story,

meg

giving thanks.

there are moments when i can't get over how incredibly fortunate i am.

when the sheer weight of all the blessings in my life is almost too much to bear.

and so i find myself sending up silent prayer after silent prayer. giving thanks.

thanks for mornings in the kitchen, here in my childhood home. the streaming light and marble countertops.

for time with my mother. in the car. running errands. talking about all the things that mothers and daughters talk about. for the habit and comfort of it.

thanks for my father. and the fact that he drags me to the gym with him. and plops 5 lb. barbells in my hands as i walk on the treadmill.

thanks for parents who rally around me. protect me when they sense it is needed.

for nights out to new italian restaurants. and nights in watching silly television.

for the comfort of the tree-lined streets and blazing-heat.

for a home i can always return to. a cocoon of love and safe-keeping.

and the freedom to leave. and live my life. mistakes and all.

image.

today i am stuffed.

with the salad below. (euf, so full!)

with gratitude.

with love for friends new and old.

with undeserved kindness.

with peace.

and the knowledge and faith that life has a way of working out. (ps: remind me of this the next time i think the sky is falling, as invariably i will at some point in the near future.)

(note: ignore the strange look on my face. i think it's the product of nearly finishing the salad {yes, the ENTIRE thing}, which left me careening toward food comatose. and ignore my poor hair--that's a product of dying hair dryer.)

dear mallorie,

thanks for giving me my first cafe rio experience. and for the trip to wal-mart for a new hair dryer. my hair thanks you. let's play again soon.

xo,

meg

pulling the same face.

three things that seem important to me when looking at this photograph:

1. i'm quite sure it was done using a self-timer

2. my adrienne vittadini outfit was worn every day of that visit

3. i am in fact making the same face as my father (which is noteworthy, because to this day we pull the same faces and i used to think it was a relatively recent development, but obviously not).

sometimes i think if there is a set amount of luck for each person in this life, i used all mine up in choosing my parents.

i have parents who actually parented. who sat us down as a family after dinner to read a book aloud, together. who held family meetings--miserable, awful things they seemed at the time, but important too.

my dad's birthday was this past weekend. and not a day goes by where i don't find myself catching my breath--awed by the daily sacrifices and hard work he has put in so that my brother and i might have every and any opportunity we choose.

my father literally gave us the gift of choice.

so if i don't say it enough (and i don't) thank you, dad.

and a very happy birthday to you.

oh for a long, slender bottle. or two. or three...

there are so many ways my parents show their love for me.

and i am thankful for each and every one.

like the case of pellegrino on the bottom of the pantry floor.

my parents got it.

just for me.

and it feels so indulgent.

but that's how much they love me.

and that is why i love being home.

thanksgiving

"YOU SAY GRACE BEFORE MEALS.

ALL RIGHT.

BUT I SAY GRACE BEFORE THE CONCERT AND THE OPERA, AND GRACE BEFORE THE PLAY AND PANTOMIME, AND GRACE BEFORE I OPEN A BOOK, AND GRACE BEFORE SKETCHING, PAINTING, SWIMMING, FENCING, BOXING, WALKING, PLAYING, DANCING, AND GRACE BEFORE I DIP THE PEN IN THE INK."

G.K. Chesterson

i am so thankful for all the things i get to say grace before, and all the people who taught me that grace is an act of love.

in a day.

on monday night i chopped all my hair off. 

i needed a change.

yesterday, i bought myself an unforgivably expensive purse (euf. thank you birthday money).

and this morning i packaged everything i own into plastic bags in preparation for the exterminator. turns out preparing for bed bug demolition is like moving (without any of the organization). 

everything can change in a day.

two weeks ago i looked in the mirror and began to cry. i saw myself. as i haven't seen myself in four years. 

you see, when ned pitches a tent and stakes a corner of my life.... well, my face is the first thing to change. it swells ever so slightly which changes the overall appearance. it's not a big change. just enough to change... everything. so i looked in the mirror and cried because i thought, oh my god, my mom's going to look at me and see her baby girl for the first time in four years. 

when this thing... this ned...first came about it took so much time to interpret him--to learn his language, and convey his meaning to those around me. so by the time everyone understood, i feared most for my mother. she thought it was her fault. she hated that she couldn't help me. if there is anything unforgivable about the time with my eating disorder, it is the pain i have put my mother through. i know because i'm tethered to her. when she is sad, i feel her sadness tenfold. i can't imagine what she has felt throughout this--this process. 

so, that's what i thought, yes, my mom's going to look at me and see her baby girl for the first time in four years. 

and then of course the bed bugs descended. and my birthday. and the impending arrival of my family (we have a wedding to go to tomorrow). and if you don't know it by now... i tend to not do so well with big events. i've dampened many an important holiday in the past (i seem to recall a very difficult thanksgiving two years ago) and with the arrival of all these things, ned crept back in. by small degrees i allowed his onset. 

this... thing that today i cannot give more of a name to than just that: thing, is a constant lesson--an experiment in humility. just as soon as i am ready to claim victory, i am reminded that there is no such thing as victory. there is only this day. and tomorrow. and an endless fight. and that's not necessarily bad. because the fight won't always be hard. but it will be. the difference between a very healthy me and a very... not healthy me is at most two inches on the battle map. 

have you ever noticed that laughing looks an awful lot like crying? and making love can resemble a fight between two people? this world is made of infinitesimally small lines that we all traverse each and every day. 

the past two weeks have been not so good. but last night when i had the impulse to cater to ned's wishes (yes, that pun was intended) i didn't. and that's all it takes. one moment of unbearable strength where you pull yourself over the cliff and begin the slowly and steady walk away from the edge. 

so whereas i was not okay yesterday, i am today. and so yes, everything can change in a day.

when i see my mother tomorrow, i may wish that my face still reflected what i saw in that mirror two weeks ago. and i may way wish i looked slightly better in my dress, but, c'est la vie. there will be time for that in the future. so for tomorrow i will smile and know that my eyes hold all the me my mother will ever need to see. 

________________________________

back in high school i listed in on a lecture by a visiting shakespearean scholar. 

this is what he said:

the average american has a vocabulary of about 3,000 words.

the most educated americans possess about 6,000.

language fails us. all the time. every day. is it any wonder people suffer from any form of mental illness--when there aren't enough words to aptly express the full gamut of human emotion?

shakespeare's vocabulary? culled from all his plays and sonnets?

36,000. 

holy moly. 36,000 words. 

the man made them up. if it didn't exist. he created it. 

so on this day i wish i had all those 36,000 words to thank you all for your kind birthday wishes. i'd like to thank each and every one of you individually (and am hoping to... eventually) but for now i leave you all with just these two words.

thank you.

my birthday was a lovely oasis in the midst of these past two weeks. it's funny, 24 has gotten off to a rocky start. but i've never been so hopeful or so positive about what's just around the bend.

thank you. all of you. this thing--this blogging community--changes my life each and every day and helps me heal in a way unlike anything else.

love and thanks to you all,

meg

_______________________________

ps: one of the best birthday gifts i received was the knowledge that president barack obama was known as "barry" back in college. 

barry.

awesome.

my gift to you:

proof of this!

_______________________________

post ps: i am a child of october. october is the month the gods of baseball reign. the yanks took down the twins 7-2 in the first game.

game two is tonight.

let's go yankees. 

i am thankful...

for monday morning tea parties. 

for witty friends. funny friends. imaginative friends. beautiful friends. grounding friends. friends with roots. new friends. 

for laughter, laughter, and always more laughter. 

for a morning out and about exploring the city we've loved for so long. 

oh yeah and...

• for the nesting itch which results in such things as fresh dresser knobs and a beautiful vase from housing works
• for any and all musicals pertaining to history (ragtime, assassins). i told you, history turns me on...i'm not sure why, it just does. 
• for beautiful undergarments that can make a girl feel lovely.
• for the twenty-five minutes i was able to jog on the treadmill last night (especially, especially for this. the pool is closed for the month of september {getting a really good clean following summer season} and so i've been forced back to the gym. i never ever thought i'd jog for a continuous fifteen minutes (i hate running). but i did. last night, i did. and then i jogged for ten more. and so i just might not. hate it, that is).
• for the feeling that something really good is happening right now. that my life is moving forward. i don't know how or what or where or why. i just know that i am right where i need to be.
• that i am happy. 

back to basics.

today i am unbelievably thankful for:

the fresh fall weather invading new york

the endless entertainment provided to me by 1. burn notice 2. true blood 3. nurse jackie 4. entourage

my brother's new job which will bring him to boston and thus far closer to me

now a reason to visit boston and a place to stay

avocados, sweet potatoes, nectarines. they make the quest for six + fruits and vegetables a day feasible

that today's second trip to the pool was a hundred times easier than the first. 

breakfasts at fairway with my friend angela where we plan our futures and impending marriages to actors alexander skarsgard (true blood's eric, hello?) and his father stellan. in our fantasy i marry stellan making me angela's stepmother. we're not quite sure why, but this running joke provides us with endless entertainment.

for tomorrow (it's a day off, ya know?).

photo via one of 

my new favorite corners of the internet.

thank you...or so i feel.

how can i thank you all for your unbelievably kind comments? your unwavering support. your understanding of something that is so far beyond understanding?

perhaps our greatest strengths lie in those things we think make us weak? perhaps it's all a matter of perspective?

one of the very first things i did at juilliard was attend a memorial service for a drama student who had been killed the year before. it was devastating. and i cried. i didn't know the girl, but i cried for lost love and lost life and lost beauty.

one of her classmates read the following during the service and i'll forever carry it with me.

my blogspot address (or-so-i-feel) is taken from it. so, as a thank you i want to share this once more (it was one of my very first ever posts {back when i had not a clue what i was doing or getting myself into}) but it's worth it to post it all over again...

A Poet's Advice

e. e. cummings

A poet is somebody who feels, and who expresses his feelings through
words.

This may sound easy. It isn't.

A lot of people think or believe or know they feel—but that's
thinking or believing or knowing; not feeling. And poetry is
feeling—not knowing or believing or thinking.

Almost anybody can learn to think or believe or know, but not a single
human being can be taught to feel. Why? Because whenever you think
or you believe or you know, you're a lot of other people: but the
moment you feel, you're nobody-but-yourself.

To be nobody-but-yourself—in a world which is doing its best, night
and day, to make you everybody else—means to fight the hardest
battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.

As for expressing nobody-but-yourself in words, that means working
just a little harder than anybody who isn't a poet can possible
imagine. Why? Because nothing is quite as easy as using words like
somebody else. We all of us do exactly this nearly all of the
time—and whenever we do it, we are not poets.

If, at the end of your first ten or fifteen years of fighting and
working and feeling, you find you've written one line of one poem,
you'll be very lucky indeed.

And so my advice to all young people who wish to become poets is: do
something easy, like learning how to blow up the world—unless you're
not only willing, but glad, to feel and work and fight till you die.

Does this sound dismal? It isn't.

It's the most wonderful life on earth.

Or so I feel.

the photo is from on of my absolute

 favorite blogs, Una Bella Vita A Beautiful Life...

the images and quotes always move me.

I parted my hair down the middle today.

Two days ago, walking past Lululemon (a very expensive, but very chic workout wear store), I saw these words...

Do something today that scares you.

In the spirit of October's hallmark holiday, Halloween, that was the thrust of the window display. So this got me thinking. First, that not only should I do something each day that scares me, but secondly, that each month should have a focus. 

So, November.... Let's think... Well, Thanksgiving of course. And what's that about again? I'm having visions of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and a pre-school field trip that involved dressing up as a pilgrim one day, and Indian the next (Native American rather, but at that point political correctness hadn't quite taken hold) and visiting the local grocery store (we were even on the news--I do remember that). 

Back to the point. Oh yes, so Thanksgiving has something to do with sharing, right? Or maybe it's as easy as this...giving thanks. 

Perfect, no problem. Giving thanks. But on top of that I need a challenge, I need to scare myself (even if I am a month too late), and so this is my proposition....

For this one month, challenge your idea of yourself. 

Example: I believe myself to be a tremendously bad cook. So, one day I might put on my Eiffel tower apron, channel my 1950's housewife, and dare to create a kitchen masterpiece that far exceeds my expectations.

We all hang on to these images of ourselves that then limit who we are. Who we might be.  I'm fat. I'm thin. I'm wealthy. I'm old. I'm immature. I'm an actor. I'm a banker. I only wear black. I never take the subway. I can't take photos. But we're so much more than a label that we, or anyone else can assign to us. I'm a democrat. I'm republican. Liberal, right-wing, black, white, conservative, tall, short, modest, moderate, hip, dowdy, southern, christian, catholic, jewish. Right. Wrong. We will never be able to know the full depths of who we are, or what we are capable of. We just need to go in search, to try new things, to attempt what others would never expect of us. 

So today, I parted my hair down the center. Sounds simple, right? Silly, even. But after 17 years of parting it to the right or to the left, this simple action created a crack and, like Alice, down the rabbit-hole I fell. Well, jumped. And it felt good, falling--liberating and exciting. And I'm hoping (and betting on the fact) that one crack yields another and another and another--until this surface that we all hide behind falls away to reveal images we never dreamt possible.

Because the thing is, as different as we all are, I imagine we have more connecting us than we care to admit. And as our nation embarks on an historic election, I think it's important that we remember that at the end of the day we all want the same thing. Peace and love and hope for a better future. And isn't that what the first Thanksgiving was all about? The Pilgrim's and Indian's realization that they had more in common than they first believed.

One of the first civilians into space said that all politicians should be forced to a trip to the moon so that they could turn around and see that the only borders that exist are the ones that man has created. 

It's one world we live in and it's about time we started giving it the kind of thanks it deserves.