Involution. Gimme some!

The other day I was getting caught up on blogs I like to follow but, well, haven't been following very well lately. One of my favorites is Yeah Dave Yoga by Dave Romanelli. He's a great story teller, with a great sense of humor, and he always has a really good insight to go with whatever he's discussing.

I read a bunch of funny posts. I laughed so hard at his entry about people who jog in place that I was continually doubled over in laughter. I thought it amusing to discover when reading his analysis of how people hug that, of course, I'm a yoga hugger. My sister Susan is a knuckle-curve hugger - she lifts you up at the end of her hugs and squeezes you so hard that all the breath gets pushed out of your lungs. And the 3rd hug... well, that would be my husband. He says his hugs only have 2 taps at the end (to signify "I'm done" because he doesn't like people invading his personal space.) But really? Talk about opposites attracting! A NFW hug from my own husband?!? Really??

I laughed right along, reading his past posts. Until I got to a post about a yogic way to approach the economy.

Now, I thought about taunting some of my Republican friends with this article, simply to see if I could get the vein in their forehead to throb. (It's a mutual game we play. They don't like to debate with me so much as Dem-bait me.) That is, until I got to the part about Involution.

That's when I stopped and said, "Woah!"

Now, dictionary.com defines involution as 'involvement'. Yeah Dave took that to another place, one in which we decide our level of involvement in things by knowing when to say 'no'. When to NOT be involved because it doesn't benefit our greater good.

I'd never heard that term before, but I know that saying 'no' is one of the things that I have great difficulty with. Whether it's helping out at school (being on the PTA stressed me out to no end! Yet I did it... twice!), going to events with my extended family because I should rather than having them be positive and enjoyable, or keeping people in my life because it's polite as opposed to beneficial to me in any way.

When I shared this with Al, this was her reply:
I've often felt that there were too many elements in my life that I've been making room for that don't really add much value; yet, to the extent that I'm not ridding my life of them and moving on is the same extent to which I'm preventing room for something more gratifying, more valuable, more enjoyable, etc.

And hearing Al's insight made the whole thing gel with me. I mean, if we continually say 'yes' to things that don't benefit us, then how will we have room for opportunities that WILL add something to our lives? If we can de-clutter our lives of meaningless or, even worse, harmful things, then we can open up for things/people/opportunities that have the potential of being great for us!

I took this idea to my fibromyalgia support meeting this month. So often, people with FM are 'caregivers' not 'caretakers' - meaning we give care to others but find it difficult to take care from others. We find it so hard to say no, because we're people pleasers. As as result, we're often neglecting our own needs, and our bodies suffer. I've long thought that having FM was our bodies secret way of MAKING us stop and take care of ourselves. I talked with my peers at group, and I hope this idea took root:

We need to learn to say 'no', so that we're available to say 'yes'!

It's all a matter of deciding upon our level of involvement based on what will benefit our greater good.

Involution: going on my 'word of the day' calendar (if I had one!)

It Makes Me Feel Like Dancing!

I've been neglecting my blog because in November, I found Facebook. It ate my Christmas (I still have yet to send out my Christmas cards), and it consumes about an hour every day (conservatively.) Hey, living and working with my husband, side by side, every day, in a teeny, tiny house would make me go stir crazy if I didn't have any outside social contacts! Plus, it's cool to see all the people from my childhood and find out what they're up to now. (Yeah, I guess I'm one of those annoying 'old people' who have taken over the site, making it no longer hip.)

Anyway, about a month ago, I was tagged on a great note called "Me... according to my kids." The premise was to ask your child a bunch of questions about you and record what they said... unedited. I read the comments made by the much-younger kids of my friends, and I wondered what my teens would say. B participated, and I was floored by some of her answers.

One of my favorites was this:
If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
"It will probably be for inventing the Vacation Dance - the most annoying dance on earth that parents can use as a secret weapon to embarrass their kids and scar them for life. Not just the vacation dance, several dances, so that you can embarrass them numerous times!"

While she said it with a half-smile, my daughter is known to be brutally honest, and she pulled no punches on that one. Even my niece (who is 22) has remarked on my random dancing. And I guess that these two comments together really made me step back and wonder if I really was becoming 'known' for this particular behavior, and whether that was a good thing or not.

Now, as a Glamour Pi, I try to 'be in the moment' and really feel any positive emotions without constraint. I've mentioned before how Al and I came up with the Vacation Song, and later, the Vacation Dance to go along with it. The rule regarding the Vacation Dance is that any time you're on vacation and say the words, "I'm on vacation", you must do the Vacation Dance - regardless of where you are and who is around. The premise here is to just let go of your inhibitions and have fun - because you're on vacation! I love it, and do it as often as I can. (It's a 'cabbage patch' done while singing our Vacation Song.)

I guess the practice of losing my inhibitions has spread, though, and I now have a dance for just about anything:

The Birthday Dance was born when Al and I went to Disneyland to celebrate our birthdays last year and found that housekeeping had decorated our rooms with balloons, chocolates, birthday hats and autographed pictures of the Disney Princesses.

This is Al, doing the Birthday Dance, and below is why she was doing it.

See how easy we are to please? We were screaming and giggling like tweens!

The Pretty Dance is a kind of waltz to "I Feel Pretty" from "West Side Story". This is usually done after a bit of pampering, such as a trip to the nail or hair salon.

And the Happy Dance, well, that's just something I do whenever there's something special to be happy about. It's usually accompanied by a "Woo Hoo!" or two. (Alas, no pics of either the Pretty Dance or the Happy Dance have yet been captured. This Silly Dance, which Al captured in Tahoe, is about as close as we've gotten so far.)


Last week, I found a new dance to add to my repertoire.

I was reading Wil Wheaton's blog and read this: "You like the stories. This makes me so happy I want to do the Snoopy dance."


I guess that's what my Happy Dance is, but the Snoopy Dance has a little jumping one-two-three foot action going instead of my stationary-foot hip-wagging version. The arms and hands are still the same. Oh, and for Snoopy, you have to add the head-up head-down thing to alternate with the jumpy one-two-three foot action. You'd have to see it to understand.

While that describes the physical aspect of the dance, I started thinking about the psychological aspect of it. I think Wil's reference to the Peanuts cartoons was the answer. These kids are just so darn full of happiness that they simply cannot physically contain it. The joy has bubbled up and over, spilling out of every pore. How amazing!

How wonderful would it be for all of us to embrace that kind of joy in our lives! It's like the way my great-nieces can occupy themselves laughing at nothing together. Or the way my cat can just go all crazy and go running around the house at top speed for no reason at all. As adults, we so often are the observers of such joy, but our 'dignity' prevents us from actually participating. As we watch, we smile and sigh, but why?

Why not join in? How freeing it can be to actually skip, just because it's fun! Maybe that's why I enjoy my great-nieces so much; because they give me the excuse to be so silly! I can skip around the zoo with impunity, as long as I have Care on my shoulders. But if I did it alone, people would assume I'm crazy. And how sad is that: to not do a thing that would bring us such joy, just because of what someone else would think. Is that the grown-up version of peer pressure? After all, it isn't like skipping is illegal or socially unacceptable for ethical reasons. It's "just not done." How very sad. In comparison, every day we see people who are angry or in bad moods - swearing, driving like jerks, stomping around with sullen faces. Why is it so much easier to repress the positive emotions? And isn't that far more damaging than trying to keep our tempers under control?

I say let's let the silliness out when we can. Embrace the joy and let it bubble over. Smile, laugh, give a complement. Spread the joy. Heck, in today's world, we sure could use it! Who knows, while I may not become famous for inventing the Vacation Dance, maybe I'll become famous for encouraging people to let their joy show. (Or, as my son develops his comedy routine, maybe I will become famous for inventing the Vacation Dance - as a part of his act! However, the parental power of embarrassment is the subject for another post.)

"Feel the Woo Saah! And embrace the joy!"

"I know someone else with Fibromyalgia..."

DISCLAIMER: This post isn't my usual upbeat, happy, ruminations. It's of a more serious nature. Actually, it's more of a rant.

I have fibromaylgia syndrome (or FMS, aka FM.) I have quite a few friends who have been diagnosed, as well. Now, some of these people I met in my FM support group, but others were my friends long before either of us were diagnosed. In fact, some of them have been my friends since childhood.

One of the biggest complaints/questions I hear at my support group is how to make friends and families understand our condition. Many of my friends are having a tough time communicating what they're going through in a constructive and meaningful way.

One of the wors things anyone can say to a person with FM is, "I know someone else with Fibromaygia, and they..." - followed by some wonderful thing that person has accomplished with their life. Commenting about how well other people with FM cope just ticks me off; I think it's the same for everyone with FM. Now, sometimes those kinds of comments are well-meaning and hopeful, but many times it just comes off sounding like "they can do such-and-such, why can't you?" making the person with FM feel even more helpless and dejected. Especially if it's a comment which is used as a weapon by a spouse or significant other.

At one of my FM support group meetings, a woman was talking about a conversation she had with a friend or coworker or some such. The gist of the conversation was that the person she was talking to had a sister-in-law with FM who was coping beautifully and even training to run a marathon. The woman with FM responded, "Well, bully for your sister-in-law!"

I think we've all run up against people who try to compare us to someone else they know with FM. Heck, I know some people in our FM group resent me because I've made more progress than many - my friend Cindy included! But even I have had my father-in-law and his new wife tell me to go out and get a job, etc., because someone else they know has FM and has never missed a day of work in his/her life.

All I can say to anyone who makes these kinds of insensitive remarks is this: FM is a very unique condition. The symptoms and triggers are unique to every individual who is diagnosed with it. Hence the treatment and response time for everyone is going to be different. It's like any disease, in that, if you catch it early enough, you can stem the tide and get the upper hand on it quickly. However, with the difficulty of diagnosing it (whether because of the cyclic nature and vagueness of the symptoms or because of physicians who just won't listen or believe that it is a real medical condition), it can take YEARS to diagnose, meaning that it takes all that much longer to get a handle on the pain and find an effective treatment. After years of having your body on that downward spiral of pain, it can take just as long to work your way up the spiral to good health again.

I would also ask these commenters how well they really know how these 'other people with FM' are doing? Sure, our spouses have seen the worst with us; they see us in our worst and most vulnerable moments. Do they see these 'other people' in theirs? I know that when I was first diagnosed, I was so relieved in many ways because I finally had a name for the beast that had been plaguing me for so many years. I wrote an e-mail to all my nearest and dearest friends; the response I got was shocking. Not that they were unsupportive or unbelieving; simply that most of these people who I'd known for years had NEVER seen me have a bad day! I took a beat and thought about that. Sure enough, I had to admit that I never let anyone see me on anything but a good day. On the bad days, I'd curl up in my cave, licking my wounds by myself, until I felt better and able to face the world with a cheery countenance and a bounce in my step. It's our nature to withdraw when we're feeling poorly. Honestly, when we have the flu, we don't go out in public; it's no different with FM, but mostly because we simply CAN'T get out the door! One day I was surprised by a friend, and I came to the door in my pj's and disheveled hair. She actually took a step back, because I was always neat as a pin, even to work out! But that day I couldn't hide the pain I was in, and she couldn't help but notice it.

All that to say, it's unfair for anyone to say they know how others deal with their FM, because unless that person is really in their life, living side-by-side with them, they have NO IDEA how they really feel. All they know is the face these people put on for the outside world.

Sometimes I think that we do our friends and loved ones a disservice. We try so hard to fight our FM. We try so hard to let other people only see our 'good' days. We try so hard to be positive that we don't want to expose ourselves (and our partners) to other people with FM who are in a worse situation than we are. Have they sat in on one of the regular monthly support group meetings? You know, the ones that usually turn into a bitch-fest? Have they seen the people who can't sit still for more than 20 minutes and need to go stretch in the back of the room? Have they seen the people who have tried drug, after drug, after drug and are still in excruciating pain? Heck, have they taken the National Fibromyalgia Association's clothespin challenge?

Do they understand in any way how difficult it can be to be in CHRONIC PAIN every day. To never know when you wake up each morning whether you're going to be able to move or not? How frustrating it can be to forget basic vocabulary, much less know that your once-sharp mind can't remember where you put your car keys unless you have a ritual you follow like clockwork so they're never misplaced?

In short, have they tried to see this condition from the perspective of an FM patient AT ALL?

Part of what is so frustrating about FM for me is knowing how much FM has changed me. People described me (and still do on my good days) as exuberant, energetic, and vivacious. I'm up, positive, and happy - almost annoyingly so at times. When I'm involved in something, I'm giving it 110% and nothing seems to slow me down or get in my way. Heck, I was someone with so much energy that I'd run up the down escalator in the mall at the end of a long day's work, just because I could!

But FM has taken that from me. Sure, some days I can still rally myself and be my old me. But what my extended family and friends don't see is the recovery time I have to build into my schedule afterwords. I can still do a 'full day' (from 7 am to 11 pm) at Disneyland, but I'll sleep most of the following day, if not two. I love the days when I can run around with my grand-nieces at the zoo - forgetting my FM for a day. But I'll start the day with yoga before I leave the house, and you can bet I'll be taking my pain pills that night and making sure I practice yoga daily for days afterwords. I'll drive my parents to family functions hours away (after I've done yoga, taken my pain meds, and slapped a heat pack on my low back), but I'll fight back the tears of pain as I drive, just waiting to get to our destination so I can let the joy of being with family wash over me and drive the pain away from the forefront of my consciousness.

In other words, we can do ourselves or our partners a disservice by trying to be the hero. While we don't need to overwhelm them by constantly complaining about every little (or big) muscle spasm or electric current of pain that shoots through our bodies, we do need to communicate. If they're truly going to support us, I think they need to be able to understand and empathize with us. They need to see what the 'real face' of our FM is, and understand just how hard we're trying to fight it.

After all, I'm only 38, and I have a lot of life ahead of me. I've had FM since I was 17, even if I was only diagnosed 4 years ago. I'm bound and determined to be a person with FM, not to let FM have me. I'm grateful and blessed to have family who is loving, understanding, and supportive. And I wish the same for everyone else I know with FM. The reality, however, is far different, as up to 80% of all marriages in which a spouse has FM end in divorce. FM is a chronic condition I'll be trying to manage for the rest of my life. The good news is it isn't terminal. So if I'm not going to die from it, I won't let it take over my life.

My point here is, before you make some comment or comparison to a person with FM, ask yourself: Would you say something like that to a person with cancer or diabetes? FM is every bit as real as any other chronic condition. Yet unlike people with cancer or diabetes, because FM is so 'new', patients with FM have to convince their families, friends, general public, and sometimes even their own physicians, that Fibromyalgia is a REAL MEDICAL CONDITION. So please, think about what you say to a person with FM. Make sure it's said in a loving and supportive way. Educate yourself about the syndrome. We're having a tough enough time fighting FM. We shouldn't have to fight our family and friends, too.

He sees you when you're sleeping...

Every family has their holiday traditions, some of which are more fun than others. Also, they tend to vary in 'fun quotient' from year to year. One of our family traditions is to go to Candy Cane Lane. We went this year (late, as all my holiday events seem to be this year), and it wasn't nearly as fun this year as it was last. However I'd' written to a friend about last year's escapade, and since I didn't have a blog then, here it is. Heck, it's new to you!

For one of our 'girls nights', I decided to take B and one of her friends out for a bit of holiday merriment. We hit Starbucks for fresh hot cocoa and gingerbread, grabbed some Christmas CDs and headed out in the van. There's a neighborhood nearby that has been going all-out decorating for Christmas since it was built in the 50's. The HOA got together and each street picked a theme - Candy Cane Lane, Caroler's Way, and Candlelight Lane. It was neat seeing some of the original decorations, but of course, a lot of homes had all new decorations up instead. Unfortunately, many of the houses were dark, but some went all-out. Honestly, it made me wonder about their power bills!

Of course, there were some enterprising folks, too. One house had their '5th annual cocoa and cookies for charity' drive going on. Another had Santa hats for sale - complete with glitter glue for personalized decorations. When we saw the funnel cake cart, the girls went batty, and, being the cool parent that I am, I got out and bought them one. (OK, I sat in the nice warm car and sent them out into the cold with a $20 bill as I watched.)

The quantity of sugar consumed that late at night became painfully obvious very quickly. I had some carols in the CD player, but all hell broke loose when I popped in "Radio Disney Holiday Jams." They loved 'Rockin Around the Christmas Tree' and 'Jingle Bell Rock', but then the Dog-Bark Jingle Bells came on, and the van started bouncing as they did. It was followed by 'J-5's' version of 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town.' (I didn't know the Jackson 5 had a nickname, did you?) We finished off that CD, singing along when we knew the songs, making up words and laughing when we didn't, hollering 'Merry Christmas' to other cars who were slowly snaking their way through the streets in the opposite direction.

Once the CD ended, the girls had me go back and play the Dog Bark Jingle Bells and J-5's song at least 4 more times. Boy, did we have fun!! I didn't realize that little Michael Jackson's pitch made it almost impossible to actually 'sing' that song; instead, you have to shout it. And the girls shouted to high heaven! They made up a line or two, as well. "He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake" preceded, "Cuz he's a stalker!!" (Makes sense.) Which of course made the remaining lyrics shift a bit to, "Santa Claus is going to jail!"

Creative little buggers.

So, to quote Dean Martin:
May all your days be merry, your seasons full of cheer!

And here's a little something that had me laughing until my kids thought I was being killed... slowly! I miss Whitney - she used to do the same crazy stuff in the snow!

A Very Twilight Birthday

This year, my daughter's birthday happened to fall on the same day as the opening of the movie "Twilight" which is her favorite book series at the moment - along with millions of other tweens, teens and moms across America, etc. For those of you who have no idea what this new "Twilight" craze is, it's over a series of books about a girl who falls in love with a vampire who doesn't drink human blood. Many of the tweens who were hooked on Harry Potter are now hooked on "Twilight," like B. B is a Twihard: meaning, she's not just into "Twilight" like Twilighters, or a few books like the Fanpires, but she's into all four of the books, the movie, and all things "Twilight" related.

Wanting to be a good mom, I thought it was important to know what my daughter was into, so I read the whole series, too. Since I liked them, I guess that makes me a Twimom. Well, I suppose that in and of itself wouldn't make me a full Twimom, but the rest of the activities I participated in with my daughter last week certainly qualify me for the status. (I've been informed by B that I'm not an official "Twilight Mom" until I register at their website. That's OK, I'm happy with my 'unofficial' Twimom status.)

See, a Twihard and a Twimom!

We started out with the Twilight pre-movie party at our local bookstore. There B and a bunch of her friends (accompanied by their moms) met to play Twilight-related games. I got into it at one point when they were playing a quote game and I realized I knew the answers to who said all the quotes. The girls running the party seemed impressed that I would jump in with a group of 20 or more Twihards - some of them in full costume to look like their favorite character. And I had a great time helping the girls dress B's friend D up in a toilet-paper version of "Bella's" prom dress, too. She liked it so much, she didn't want to take it off! Alas, we came in second.

On the 18th, we had a great opportunity for me to rack up some 'rock' points with my daughter. The Hot Topic stores are selling Twilight merchandise, and in true corporate synergy fashion, they had a cross-promotional tour going with the band Paramore (which has two songs on the movie soundtrack) and some of the teen stars from the movie. If you schlepped down to the Hot Topic store on Hollywood and Highland to buy a $30 tour shirt, you got a wristband entitling you to meet either the band or the movie stars at a poster signing following a mini-concert and a Q&A with the stars. One of B's friend's moms volunteered to go buy the shirts, and I volunteered to take the girls to the actual concert.

Now, this is the same tour that's been going to malls all around the country - begining with the fiasco in San Francisco where over 3,000 tweens and their moms mobbed the Hot Topic, requiring riot police to step in, etc. However, I didn't realize this until after we'd plopped down our money and I was committed to escorting my daughter and her two friends to the concert.

Paramore rocking the Kodak Theater Complex at Hollywood & Highland!

Thankfully, the Hot Topic team had learned a lot during their cross-country tour, so, as this was the final concert, they had the whole thing dialed in. We couldn't have asked for a better experience! One of B's friends has a physical disability, so when we arrived - all of us in our matching tour shirts - asking about their handicapped accommodations, the Hot Topic Team swooped in and gave us a spectacular place from which to watch the concert: they placed us at the head of the line for the poster signing, which happened to be just off the side of the stage.

The 3 Twihards, in our spot just off stage!

Not only did we wind up having a great view of the concert, but the team chatted us up and made sure the girls felt like V.I.P.s themselves. They took the girls to get glimpses of the female lead, Kristen Stewart, who played Bella, as well as taking them over to see the other stars who were being interviewed for Fox and T.V. Guide. (For those of you who are interested, that included the actors who played Jacob, Alice, Jasper, Rosalie & Emmett.) When the Hot Topic team realized the kids wouldn't be able to see the Q&A because of the screens that were erected for the stars to stand in front of, one of the guys volunteered to take the kids down to a place where they could see them but still get back to head up the line.

So can you imagine how happy these three girls were??? And B had never been to a rock concert before, much less had the opportunity to star gaze at her teen idols. I was really glad that I didn't lose my hearing, what with all the screeching that was going on!

Just a little happy??

We were so thankful for the extra opportunities the Hot Topic team gave the girls. As it was, the poster signing went by so quickly, the girls hardly had the chance to get out a 'hi' before we were being rushed out the door. Instead, they'd already had ample time to oogle the stars before we even headed to the signing. Being at the head of the line, the girls were having their picture taken by the local newspaper and they were even interviewed by the Fox morning news as they came out of the signing. They were so gobsmacked, they didn't say much, but one of B's friends made it onto Good Day LA the following morning, gushing about how she 'almost had a heart attack' when Taylor Lautner said hi to her.

Ready for the poster signing!

Of course, our Twilight birthday had to include the movie itself. B didn't want a traditional party. Instead she asked to be allowed to see the midnight showing of the movie - thus spending her first two hours of her birthday in the movie theater. I couldn't very well ask any of her friends parents to allow their kid go with us and miss a day of school, so I asked my niece instead. Although it meant spending hours sitting in line on a concrete walkway, we had a really good night together. As an added bonus since we were spending the next day at Disneyland, we stayed at the Disneyland Hotel since it was only 50 yards or so from the movie theater in Downtown Disney. What convenience!

Cousins killing time in line for the midnight showing of Twilight!

All I can hope is that I earned enough 'cool mom' points to last for a while! In any case, it was a lot of fun, and it was a great experience to share with B. Of course, B's already excited they've announced they're making "New Moon" - the next book in the series. So we get to do it all over again!! Woo hoo!!

Next year I'll buy one...

... a pumpkin pie, that is.

This year, as things played out, we're having the smallest Thanksgiving Day gathering ever for our fam. Just the four of us. So I decided to take on making the pie myself. Normally, there's pumpkin pie, apple pie, my French silk pie, and even some birthday cake (when you're having a group of 20+, that's not too much.) So everybody gets a little of whatever they want, and it's all good. But this year, seeing as how we had two b-days occur just before T-day, I knew we'd have leftover birthday cake to eat, which meant even a single pie would be more than we probably needed.

However, pumpkin pie is a requirement for Thanksgiving. Not having it would be like not having turkey. Yet I couldn't bring myself to buy one, which meant taking on the task of baking one, which I'd never done before. My big sis Judy is the baker in the family - famous for her pies and cheesecakes. But I never bothered to learn from her.

I love pumpkin pie, and so do the kids; however, M doesn't always. Supposedly it's a texture thing. So I found this recipe in my favorite T-day cookbook for a pie made with creme fraise which makes it more of a cross between a pie and a cheesecake. So I went for it. But as the evening wore on, I began to hate the line, "Set over hot but not boiling water (in a double boiler) and cook, stirring, until the mixture is hot and thick." That's all it said. No time given, like in the cranberry recipe where it said, "Stir constantly for about ten minutes over medium-high heat until the berries begin to pop and the liquid begins to thicken." Those were specific directions which resulted in cranberries so amazing that even my son couldn't get enough of them (when the only fruit he likes to eat are grapes or apples.) However, with the pumpkin pie, B and I took turns stirring for over a half hour with no noticeable change in thickness! I was hot, tired, and ready for bed, but I still had to make the meringue mixture, fold it in, and then bake the darn thing!!

I finally gave up on the 'thickening' requirement and decided that 40+ minutes was plenty. I finished up the mixture and poured it into my beautifully golden pie shell. That's when I realized I had way more mixture than I should. Thankfully, I'd gotten some mini tart shells (thinking I'd try to send some pumpkin pie to my nephew who is serving in Afghanistan). So I had those to fill with the extra mix. I threw them in the oven, did some chores while they baked, and reported back to the hot kitchen once the timer went off.

I peered at the pies. They didn't look done to me, but the toothpick came out clean. I guess that's because they aren't the usual thick, dense consistency that can crack. Also, the creme fraise made it a lot lighter color than usual.

Hmmm.... I guess we'll just have to see tomorrow. I sure hope it was worth it. All I know is it's after 11:30 and I'm exhausted! I hope they've cooled enough, because I have to go to bed!!

P.S. I tried one of my tartlets just after it cooled, and I was decidedly unimpressed. It was NOT a cross between a traditional pumpkin pie and a cheesecake. However, after Thanksgiving dinner, we simply were too stuffed to break into the full pie and decided to eat the last three tartlets instead for a 'small morsel'. I never understood how essential the chilling process was to pumpkin pies. There is definintely a reason they're refrigerated! It really made them set up nicely and gave them the promised cheesecake-consisency. I'm feeling much better about my first foray into pumpin-pie making and plan on serving the full-sized pie when we have relatives over on Sunday.

Identity Box

Recently, as an assignment for his Life Skills class, my son had to create an Identity Box. The concept was simple: wrap up a shoebox, put pictures on the outside which represent how people see you, and then put pictures on the inside which show the person you are that people don't see.

What was cool about it was the paper that went along with it. The students had to explain not only what the pictures were and why they chose them, but they had to conclude with a paragraph about what they learned from the experience of creating the box. I thought it was amazing that my son, a freshman, was able to see that people perceive him very differently from how he perceives himself, and he was OK with that. He realized it didn't matter how others saw him.

I mean, how often do we, even as adults, chafe against that? We either seem to try to conform to the 'roles' we've been assigned, or we try to prove that we're not what we seem to be.

I was telling one of my friends about the assignment, and was asked what I'd put on my box, and why. It was an interesting thing to consider.

Of course, Mary Poppins and Bree Van De Kamp (from Desperate Housewives) immediately came to mind. I think for a long time, as a mother I've idealized that role by trying to be very like the world's favorite nanny - Practically Perfect in Every Way. And I've been described by my friends as being Bree, but not just for my red hair. It's not that I'm a perfectionists so much as a planner. I tend to think through events, etc, and take the Girl Scout motto "Be Prepared" to heart. I never travel light, just ask Al! Both of these women are beautiful, smart, strong, and they always seem to have their acts together. They know what they're doing, yet are the penultimate caregivers - with never a hair out of place.

However, if you look at either of those women, they also have their down-sides. They are prim and proper without fail, they can seem to put protocol and etiquette before their emotional needs - almost to a fault. Do they ever let their hair down?

Think of Mary Poppins: she went to Uncle Albert's and had a tea party on the ceiling, singing along, without cracking a smile the entire time. Granted, when she thought it was appropriate, she popped through the chalk picture painting with the children and Bert, singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious all the while. But you still get the impression that she was more of a spectator, facilitating the fun for others, rather than actually experiencing the fun herself. She let go for a while after winning the horse race, but only for a little bit. Then she was back to business.

The same can be said for Bree, but with a slightly sadder twist. In the past few years that the show has been on the air, we've seen Bree be so proper, always with her gift-baskets of fresh-baked muffins, her perfect dinner parties, or with her secret recipe for her lemon meringue pie. Yet, what the outside world didn't see was the inner turmoil of her household, with her unruly children and the family's deep, dark secrets. I'm not saying that I'll cover up for my family; I've been touted as the herald in my extended-family which suffers from what I like to call Three Monkey's Syndrome. If they hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil, then it doesn't exist. Whereas I'm so tired of secrets, at times I seem to air our dirty laundry regardless of who is around. Overcompensating, I guess.

Yet Bree can throw a shindig like no other. That's why I have to be so careful now about what I volunteer to do. Because when I commit, I jump in fully with both feet. I don't do anything halfway. Heck, even going to Disneyland, I put on my Tour Guide Barbie hat and plan out the day so that it runs as smoothly and as perfectly as possible. Like I said, I'm a planner, I'm a helper, and I'm always willing to help out and do more than my share. It's just my nature; I learned it from my mom. In fact, often when I'm involved with an event, it's mom I'll call on to help me out, and there she'll be, doing whatever needs doing, without being asked. See a need, fill a need. Generous to a fault at times.

When it comes to the inside of the box, my first impulse was to say Tinkerbell. She's a cute, fun-loving, impulsive, devil-may-care, mischievous pixie. She's possessive and a bit vain, but also self-conscious (think of her measuring her lovely curvy hips while standing on the hand-mirror.) Besides, I've been known to stomp my foot in frustration on occasion, especially when being teased. Not to mention that she can fly, and with a little bit of her dust, she can help you to fly, too!

I think she represents Fun Me - the Me I'm trying harder and harder to let out for all to see. She's the Glamour Pi who does the Vacation Dance, who laughs so loudly that people turn and look, and who just loves to have fun. She's the one I let out when I went to Disneyland with Al for our birthdays last year. While Tour Guide Barbie had planned things out, she wasn't invited along. I fully participated in the experience, running and laughing all over the Happiest Place on Earth as if I was a kid. No spectator role for me; it was all about embracing the fun in the moment with both arms. We found joy in everything - from growling like bears at Grizzly Peak, laughing until our sides hurt at the picture from the Tower of Terror, clapping like a little girl when the submarine captain wished us Happy Birthday, working the water pump like crazy on Pirate's Lair, singing along on Pirates of the Caribbean, not to mention shouting with glee at the birthday balloons, chocolates and buttons left for us by the housekeeping staff. On that trip, we didn't derive happiness from the experiences in life, but how we experienced life.

There's also the ill me. The one with FM. When I was first diagnosed, I was so happy that, after 17 years of suffering, I finally had a name to what ailed me. I e-mailed my closest friends, and their responses shook me. Some of them were downright shocked, because I'd never, ever shown them anything less than the peppy, 110% energetic, with-it, go-getter. I'd hidden away on the days when the pain hit, or the exhaustion overwhelmed me. When my flare-up occurred in 2005, I couldn't run around like a mad-woman, power-walking all over campus. I struggled to limp across campus, holding back tears as I shopped at Costco. That's the fragile, vulnerable me - the one most people don't see. But it's OK to be weak, to be vulnerable, to need help. To be human instead of Superhuman.

And then there's the yogi. The peaceful me. The calm me. The one who finds that mind-body connection to relax every muscle in my body. The me called upon by my closest friends to reassure them during childbirth, to calm them as they await surgeries. That's the quiet side of me that many don't realize is there, but which gets me through the day.

So what did I learn? Well, I learned that I'm trying to share more of my many sides. Not only do I need to let people see the Mary Poppins and Bree, but I'm trying to expose Tink who is so fun to be with and the FM me who needs help at times. Not to mention sharing the peace, calm and joy that the yogi in me can bring.

Allow me a sappy metaphor:

If we think of ourselves as a precious gemstone with many facets, it's not just one facet that catches the eye, it's the many together which create a dazzling whole, as we catch the light and throw it back into the world.

Be well.