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Going Home

31 May

Train station

I went home to visit my parents in the small suburban town I grew up in this past weekend. On Sunday, my Mom and I planned to go out to lunch at a tiny cafe on one of the two streets that comprise the downtown area. She told me that the Memorial Day Parade was going to be going on, and I was annoyed.

“I don’t want to get trapped downtown,” I said, worrying that the parade and its blocked off roads would mean her car would get stuck in its parking spot. “Trapped” may have been extreme and “downtown” an exaggeration given that it was only a five-minute walk from her house, but I had an agenda and I didn’t want to waste time: it was lunch with my Mom, then a quick dash to a nearby town for a mandatory Starbucks run, and then dinner at my Dad and Stepmom’s. Also, I was taking advantage of the luxury of suburban home washer/dryers and wanted to squeeze in a couple loads of laundry in between Starbucks and dinner.

While we were eating lunch, the parade started to go by in front of the restaurant we were at, and I kind of half paid attention and half didn’t. Afterwards, as we walked outside and were heading to her car, a group of bagpipers and drummers marched by. Entranced by the music and the beat of the drums, I told my Mom to stop, and that I wanted to stay and watch the parade for a little while. It was mesmerizing, looking the musicians and then the people driving by in convertibles and fire engines, honking and waving, and I got caught up in it, cheering for the police and firemen. We saw the father of one of the kids from my toddler playgroup who I grew up with standing at the side of the road, and said hi.

“The parade used to be bigger,” my Mom remarked, “and there used to be more of a crowd.”

I glanced around at the sparse bystanders and remembered being a little kid, and the Memorial Day Parade being a huge deal. I remembered the year it was the biggest deal of all, when I was four-years-old and in the parade with two of my nursery school buddies, wearing a brown dress with flowers on it and a floppy matching bonnet, drifting down the street in a baby blue convertible with a Co-Op Nursery School sign hanging over the side, smiling and waving to the crowd.

And other years, watching the cheerleaders and dance team march by to the beat of the high school band, wearing the coolest short shorts ever with yellow jackets, the school mascot, embroidered on the butt. Dreaming of the day I’d be a cheerleader, or on the dance team, marching in the parade in my own yellow jacket short shorts.

“Jenny Garam!” someone yelled, and I snapped back into today to see one of the firemen in the parade waving at me. It was a guy I went to high school with who was a few years older than me, and I smiled and waved back. I felt at home, and comforted by being from a small town where even though I hadn’t lived here for almost 20 years, someone in the parade still knew who I was, shouted my name, and waved.

It reminded me that I’m more than who I think I am right now. I’m bigger and more expansive than my worries, disappointments, struggles, and fears–worries about being broke and what actions I should take, disappointments from all the personal and professional rejections and life not turning out how I’d hoped or planned or assumed it would for me, struggles to make ends meet, pursue a creative path, cope with my obsessive thoughts, grasp onto shreds of serenity, and fears about what’s going to happen (or go wrong) next. I have this whole history, and memories, and hopes and dreams from when I was a child and teenager that are still alive in me somewhere, as much as they get drowned out in my day-to-day, 36-year-old, Brooklyn life.

I have all these other experiences and stories that look very different from my life now. As the fireman walked by waving, memories of when I knew him 20 years ago flashed into my mind. How daring I used to be, the crazy parties I went to and all the drinking I did. These days my life is a lot tamer, and usually too tame–I rarely drink which isn’t a problem, but I barely go out, which is. And I’m never the last person at the bar with the craziest stories of all anymore; I’m the first person to go home who hears about the stories the next day.

Thinking back to who I used to be, I remembered hanging out in the firehouse late one night with a group of guys, some of whom were volunteer firefighters, when one of them accidentally set off the fire alarm. The big, loud one. I remembered a substitute teacher from my high school who lived next door rushing in, angry and appalled. I remembered how soon afterwards, I learned that my town’s Fire Chief called a fire department meeting to address “the underage girl drinking in the firehouse,” and how I was mostly mortified, but also a little bit proud of my infamy.

I have this storyline that I was unpopular in high school, cast out, rejected, and alone. That I was invisible and didn’t matter. This is part of a larger narrative that goes, I’m still invisible, I still don’t matter. Except it wasn’t true when I was growing up; for most of my life my inner reality has been very different from my outer reality, and I can’t seem to make them match up. The fireman I went to high school with, shouting my name from the ranks of the parade, reminded me that I wasn’t invisible then. And that reminded me that my overarching storyline isn’t true today either–I’m actually not invisible now, and I do matter.

After the parade, I went to Starbucks. On the drive home, I wound my way through the hilly streets, past the house I grew up in that my Mom moved out of 14 years ago, past my high school best friends’ houses, past my high school, the parks, and the homes I used to walk by every day. I skipped doing laundry and relaxed, opting for a Real Housewives marathon instead. I hopped off my speeding agenda, and slowed down. I can do this when I go home in ways that I can never even come close to in grown-up life, in Brooklyn.

Every time I go home, I feel like I’m on some kind of excavation mission, unearthing shiny parts of myself that got covered up and clouded over with rushing and stressing and loss. Going home, I feel, finally, separate from the things that weigh me down daily. I feel at home and, at last, like me.

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Internal Theme Song Du Jour!

21 Aug

I’ve started picking an internal theme song for the day.  I often feel like I am in the movie or music video of my life anyway, and have songs running through my mind or through my headphones throughout the day, so this is a fun little way to make it official.

Last week, my first Internal Theme Song of the Day was “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey.  On Wednesday it was “Break My Stride” by Matthew Wilder and I highly recommend watching this video if you, like me, desperately longed to be a Solid Gold Dancer at any time in your life.  Or if you still long for this…  That night, I walking home from the subway singing “Break My Stride” out loud (sometimes my internal theme songs leak out externally), when a car drove by BLASTING “Don’t Stop Believing,” and I felt like the stars were somehow aligned and all was well in the Universe. 

Yesterday’s song was “Right to Be Wrong” by Joss Stone.  I especially like these lyrics:  “I’ve got a right to be wrong, my mistakes will make me strong.  I’m stepping out into the great unknown, I’m feeling wings though I’ve never flown…Got a right to be wrong, I’ve been held down too long, I got to break free, so I can finally breathe.  Got a right to be wrong, gotta sing my own song, I might be singing out of key, but it sure feels good to me.”  Sing it, Girl!  I like it in part because I’m working on my wings…

Today I started out my day having a POWER breakfast with some POWER ladies, a group of fabulous, inspiring, supportive creative friends, which gave me such a BOOST right at the start of my day, and made today’s theme song choice obvious:  “I’ve Got the Power” by Snap.  Which reminds of when my sister was on a mission to bring back “Oh, Snap!” (It never took off as a revival.)  And also brings back vague memories of wearing a wool sweater, short pleated skirt, and green lollipops and dancing to this song for dance team or cheerleading in high school.  Or maybe it was just playing in the background when I was standing around a keg holding a red plastic Dixie cup post-game.  Ahh, the early 90’s….

And this leads me to Part Two of the Internal Theme Song Du Jour – The Dance Break.  By no means is this required, but if you can take a 5 minute dance break to your internal theme song that’s the bonus track!  You can do this walking down the street or on the subway, in your chair at work, or, if all else fails, in your mind.  Or, one of the most fun ways to do it is to blast the video on YouTube in your co-worker’s office and have a GROUP dance party (I’ve done this and it’s a great way to get a boost during a slump without sugar or caffeine!).

Also important to note is that this is a low pressure thing, so no need to come up with a new song every day if you don’t feel like it.  You can stick with your Internal Theme Song Du Jour for a day, a week, a month, a year, whatever!  It’s YOUR LIFE so create YOUR OWN PLAYLIST!  You can play your song in your head on your commute, while you are doing errands or mundane tasks, or while you are someplace you don’t want to be – it’s like affirmations, but set to music!  Try it, it’s fun!  And it will launch you into the starring role in the MUSIC VIDEO OF YOUR LIFE!!!

What’s your song today?

TURN IT UP & ROCK IT OUT!!!

My Seasonal Affective Disorder Is In Remission Until November

19 Apr

Several years ago I self-diagnosed myself with Seasonal Affective Disorder.  This past winter, I even had an indoor bout of S.A.D. inside my apartment when, one cold, grey, sad, S.A.D. Saturday in January when the heat in my building wasn’t working, I couldn’t even muster up the energy to get out from under the relative warmth of my covers to walk to the other side of my apartment, and it was too cold to change out of my pajamas, put on a sweater, and like, do something.  Anything.  The cold grey days and long dark nights can just suck all the energy out of me until I don’t even remember that I am person who has a lot of energy.  Or, any energy.

So, when it felt like the first day of spring had finally arrived this Friday, I was delighted to find myself, once again, bursting with energy and restored to my spring/summer effervescence!  For the first time this year, I threw on my open-toe shoes and headed to work.  It was definitely one of those days that you hope the teacher will say, “We’re having class outside today!”, although I’ve found that that actually never happens in the workplace (and also, really didn’t happen that much in college either, despite all those bucolic pictures decorating college catalogs, with teacher and students sitting cross-legged in a circle on the Green, underneath a lush leafy tree, looking contempletive and ostensibly discussing Kierkegaard).  Overtaken with uncontainable giddiness, I started singing “Cool It Now”  with my co-workers in response to someone talking about “Ronny, Bobby, Ricky, and Mike,” and followed up with an encore of  “Parents Just Don’t Understand.”  Or, OK, maybe I was just singing by myself…

And then, Saturday arrived and ahhhh that first sunny, warm weekend spring day…  When I am in a really good, sometimes weather-induced, mood, I will blast music as I walk down the street or take the subway, and imagine myself to be in The Music Video of My Life.  My current music video is to the song “My Love” by The-Dream f. Mariah Carey (complete with trademark Mariah Carey high notes a la the early 90’s).  I bounded out of my apartment building and onto the sunny Brooklyn street with this song blaring, and, realizing that it was too hot to be wearing a sweater, dramatically peeled off my cardigan to the rhythm of the musis in a move that could have been in “Footloose.”  When I take on stairs in Music Video mode it always elevates the grooving to a new level, and as I descended into the subway, my steps took on the quality of that stair scene in “Dirty Dancing.”  I was in such a great mood that I couldn’t help but shake it, and then the shaking it put me in an even better mood, and it turned into this R&B snowball effect of positivity until I was bursting with so much energy I was barely able to hold myself back from like, full-out choreography and kinda thinking that everyone else on the subway platform just might join in the routine.

With months of fun-in-the-sun, increased levels Vitamin D, tank tops, open-toe shoes, sundresses, ice coffees, outdoor dining, leisurely strolls in the park, lush leafy trees and blossoms a’ bloom, and maybe an R&B soundtrack, sprawling out warmly in front of me, I am happy to report that my Seasonal Affective Disorder is officially in remission until November, and I have a new self-diagnosis:  Spring Fever.  And it’s highly contagious.

Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Garam

Slowing Down & Letting Go

23 Aug
WRITEOUS CHICKS Newsletter – Summer 2008

“Sometimes I think there are only two instructions we need to follow to develop and deepen our spiritual life:  slow down and let go.”

   – Oriah, “The Dance:  Moving to the Deep Rhythms of Your Life”

 

Last week I went on vacation to Martha’s Vineyard, and I always learn something when I am away from my daily routine.  This time I learned that, Type A workaholic that I am, I really, REALLY, like doing…nothing.  This is what my days there looked like:  I’d wake up at around 8am, have breakfast on the porch of the B&B overlooking the water, walk into town to my favorite bakery where I’d sip an ice coffee and write in my journal, and then spend the rest of the day doing whatever I felt like at any given moment in a totally unplanned way – take a leisurely stroll, get an ice cream, lie out on the beach, check out the shops, read, eat, sleep.  This is what I did not do:  turn on a computer, check email, write items down on a To Do list and check them off, have racing thoughts, accomplish things.

 

The pace of New York City is way too fast for me (or maybe it’s just the pace of life today in general, but I feel like how fast people move in NYC exacerbates this).  I am always running to keep up and I often wake up in the morning already feeling behind.  But it’s exhausting and doesn’t leave me feeling any happier.  I loved not having to be any place or do anything by a certain time, and my happiest moments frequently appear on agenda-less days when I am lost in a book or taking a stroll to nowhere in particular.

 

It took me a little while to transition from harried workaholic New Yorker to relaxed vacationer, though.  My sister and I had a long bus ride from New York City to Cape Cod to catch a ferry to the Vineyard, and I started the day feeling rushed to get to Port Authority Bus Terminal in the morning, haunted by memories of my travels last year, when I missed the bus, and the next bus got to the dock after the last ferry to the town I was staying in had already departed, so I had to take a ferry to another town, and got in late at night thereby “losing” the day.  This year, I did not want to miss that bus and wanted to maximize Vacation Day #1.  We made our bus, but then there was an unexpected layover in Cape Cod and the bus we had to transfer to to take us to the ferry was late, so we stood in a parking lot waiting for an hour and a half and missed our intended ferry.  We arrived in Martha’s Vineyard after dark, tired and hungry, and I was annoyed that once again I missed the daylight hours of my first vacation day.

 

The next morning I woke up to rain, which irritated me because I had not been to the beach this summer yet and this trip was my only chance to maximize my tan.  So far this vacation was disappointing and not going according to my plan!  I only had very limited time to relax and I was determined to make the most of it, dammit!  Grumbling, I trudged off to my beloved bakery/coffee shop for my morning journaling, but since I had gotten a later start to my day than I had wanted to, the place was packed and loud and just another annoyance, rather than the peaceful sanctuary I craved.  Trying to talk myself down from my cranky ledge and focus on my writing, I heard a familiar whistling in the background, which turned out to be the intro to the Guns N’ Roses song “Patience” on the radio.  Snapped out of my irritation by Axl Rose, I made a note in my notebook to remind myself to let go and have patience, and stop trying to impose my will on my vacation and use my drive to accomplish the goal of relaxation.  I went for a walk in town, bought a new book, and by the time I finished lunch, the sun was out, and I slathered on the SPF 30 and plunked myself down on the beach for some prime sunning.

 

The message of letting go was further reinforced when I was sitting on the porch of the B&B talking to a couple from Virginia about white water rafting.  The husband explained that if you fell in the water you could get caught in a current that was like a washing machine, and it would just take you around and around and around.  The more you fought it, the more you would get pulled into it, and eventually drown.  One of the only ways to escape was to make your body totally limp, and then the current would spit you out to safety.

 

Letting go is one of the hardest lessons to learn and I come up against the obstacle of pushing too hard and struggling too much to make things happen all the time.  I see that living this way doesn’t work, let go for a little while, and then get antsy and agitated and sucked into the washing machine whirl of old patterns once again.  It is something I may have to practice 1,000,000 times before it becomes second nature, if it ever becomes second nature, but I think all that practice ingrains an awareness that enables me to catch myself earlier, and let go a little bit sooner each time.

 

The last day of my vacation my alarm went off at 5:40am so I could catch the 7am ferry, in order to get back home on time for a commitment I had that night.  Normally, the least favorite part of my day is when my alarm goes off and the rush-hour commute that follows shortly thereafter, but once I was at the dock, I saw that the Black Dog Bakery was right there, and treated myself to my morning coffee and bagel.  Sitting on the boat at 7am sipping my coffee, my vacation-self was in full effect and the Type A workaholic was nowhere to be found – I felt relaxed, peaceful, energized, and fully present as I watched the shore drift quietly away. 

 

I remained relaxed on the bus ride, until I felt some agitation surface when the bus pulled into New York City and got stuck in traffic.  When I emerged at Port Authority, the masses of people racing every which way assaulted my sense of calm, and after asking for directions to the ladies room multiple times from multiple people and walking around and around and around in what seemed like an endless loop still unable to find it, I felt all the remaining calm of my vacation-self get flushed down the toilet, and thought, “I just have to get out of here right now!” and headed home, hoping that my bladder would hold out for the subway ride back to Brooklyn.

 

The next few days I let myself ease back into life post-vacation by not doing anything that would be too jarring to my delicate, relaxed equilibrium, taking naps, and postponing tackling my To Do list until after the weekend.  As simple as it sounds, there is so much to be found in just slowing down and letting go, and I want to incorporate my lessons from vacation into my daily life.  But how do you slow down when the rest of the world is moving so fast?  How do you stay immune to people pushing and shoving in rush hour commute?  How do you let go of your agenda enough to be someone with nothing to do and nowhere to go, even if just for one afternoon?  And I mean, obviously, you do not get a paycheck for sleeping in, lounging around, and then taking a nap, but I am determined to maintain some sense of relaxation while I tend to my responsibilities and obligations and not let all my vacation-bliss go down the drain.

 

I don’t want to get absorbed in the rush to get somewhere else, to be someone else, to ever-strive to do more, more, more.  I don’t want to over-schedule my days and miss out on doing nothing.  I want to carve out time and space, whether I am on a quiet beach in Martha’s Vineyard or amidst the busyness of New York City, for slowing down, and letting go.  And if that means that other commuters are going to bump into me as I leisurely stroll on the subway platform in the morning on my way to work, so be it.  ‘Cause I’m taking my own sweet time.

 

Here’s to enjoying the rest of the summer at a slow, decadent pace, and welcoming the unfolding of new beginnings in the gorgeous fall! 

 

Stay tuned for updates on fall workshops!

 

Lots of love!

 

Jen xoxo

 

Copyright © 2008 by Jennifer Garam

Smiling Is Contagious So Spread It Around!

8 Jun

The other day I was walking along, smiling to myself.  Now, there are some people who might think that I’m a total Susie Sunshine, and that this is a regular occurrence – me, grinning away, skipping through the streets.  But I can assure you, it doesn’t happen all the time.  Sometimes, I am walking along, grimacing or scowling to myself.  One might find me in this state, say, on a packed subway during rush hour commute.

But the other day, I was not on a rush hour-packed subway, and I was feeling particularly optimistic about the state of well, things, and contented, and I was smiling away, sort of unaware about it all.  When I passed a business-y woman who smiled back at me.  That’s when I realized what I was doing, so I made eye contact with the next person I passed, who happened to have been a serious-looking sort of fellow, and I deliberately aimed my smile in his direction and zapped him with it and…he smiled back!  I smiled even wider, giddy at how contagious the whole thing was, and the next person I passed smiled back at me, too!

I’ve noticed this in the past but quickly then forgotten it.  It is so simple it’s ridiculous, yet incredibly, magically, so powerful.  Smiling is contagious.  Even in this isolated, isolating, disconnected city of New York, where everyone seems to be wrapped up in their own worlds and ever-rushing to their next destinations, it is possible to share a moment of connection with each other, when you just take a milli-second out to s-m-i-l-e.  And then you get the benefit of being zapped back by someone else’s smile, and energized by it.

This shit really works.  For sure.  Try it.  Maybe today.  And for those Advanced Placement students, perhaps you can give it a go during rush hour commute…

Painfully Perfect

23 Apr

I just went running in the park and it was so beautiful it hurt.  Like, I would never be able to take all that amazingness in, you know?  I’m not equipped to handle it; I’m wired for depression and anxiety, worry and struggle, repetitive obsessive thoughts and endless list-making.  My senses are so dulled from the craziness and hectic pace of day-to-day life that I barely notice the new baby leaf buds uncurling themselves from tree branches.  Just barely.  And if a lightening bug happened to flit by me, I might notice it in my periphery and sort of maybe register it and then keep walking, thinking about what I forgot that I forgot to do that day, or what I have to remember to do tomorrow.  I likely would not pay its alighted form the kind of attention I would have when I was a kid, and spent an entire dusky summer evening with friends, but lost in my own world, chasing them around my yard, mesmerized.

After my run I sat on a bench facing the water and breathed.  My mind was empty, calm and clear, and I could feel all 360 degrees of my beautiful surroundings.  I wanted to soak in this moment, to swim and swirl around in it; to do somersaults and backflips and underwater breathless handstands, but I climbed out before I had even adjusted to the temperature and feel of it.  I climbed out thinking, “What a perfect moment, I should write about this moment,” and then I started drafting it in my head, “I’ll start like this and it will go like that and this part over here will be really great.”  And that’s how I lost my moment.

I walked home as the sun was setting wrapped up in my inner monologue and missed 99.7% of all the beauty available to me on the way.

Whenever I take a dip in a perfect moment it feels like falling, to let go of my anxious thoughts that anchor me in the existence I know so well.  And I almost immediately realize that I can’t stay there long before the thoughts return.  In some weird way, constant thinking stands guard, and protects me from painfully perfect moments, because how scary and powerful would that be, to let go of everything and just feel quiet, calm, connected, peaceful and…happy.

But I’m glad they took a break and abandoned their post, maybe to grab a quick cup of coffee or smoke a cigarette, and left my mind unguarded, even if for just a fleeting moment.

Just Enjoy It!

16 Apr

Last weekend was supposed to be cold and rainy and I had planned on spending Saturday filing.  Or.  Avoiding filing.  But I woke up to a room filled with sunshine on Saturday morning, and my apartment was a little almost-hot and stuffy, like that temperature it gets when you know it is time to put your air conditioner in your high-up window, no matter how scary this prospect might be, or how much it reminds you of the story your 4th grade teacher told about what happens when someone drops a penny, a penny, off the top of the Empire State Building, and forget the fact that your apartment is not actually that high up (or that time of year to call your handy neighbors and ask them to put your air conditioner in for you while you “supervise” and provide “moral support”).

Anyway, as someone who has self-diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder (me), spring and summer are really my seasons; I am a much better person in these balmy months, and I was totally psyched about this unexpected sunny turn of events.  I bounded out of bed and took a nice, bask-y type of stoll through the beautiful bright Brooklyn streets, ambling to the bank to take out some cash for my morning Starbucks/reading/writing ritual.

I approached the bank door at the same time as this other women did, and she said, sort of to me, “I hate this weather!” 

I did a double take.  WHAT was she talking about?  Did I hear her right?

“What?” I said.  “It’s gorgeous out!”

“Yeah,” she explained, “but then tomorrow will be cold and rainy again.  It’s one day nice and then back to being cold.”

OK, I’ll admit that this winter, while not particularly chillingly cold, has been dragging on for a particularly chillingly long time, and it would be nice if it would just get warm already and then, stay that way. 

However, this was the farthest thought from my mind on Saturday, when it felt like (could it be?) it was in the 70’s, and perfectly, perfectly sunny.  I leisurely strolled through my morning errands, went for an invigorating run in the park for the first time in a year (the last consecutive 12 months calculation, not the kind of year that started in January), got a flavored ice coffee with a splash of whole milk in it, ambled to the park with a good self-help book in tow where I sat on a bench and read, people watched, and basked some more, got a cup of ice cream that turned out not to taste very good but that was neither here nor there because I could eat it as I walked outside, basking in the warmth of the sun still some more.  When inside my apartment at intermittent intervals throughout the day, I threw open my windows, turned on the radio and blasted  pop music, and took in deep, full breaths of the warm, sweet, summer-smelling air.

But on one of my ambling strolls, I encountered this negativity phenomenon once again when I passed two women and overheard one say wryly to the other, “Enjoy it while it lasts!”

!!!!!

I wanted to turn around and scream at them:  “Just enjoy it, period (exclamation point)!  Just fucking ENJOY IT!!!”

But I didn’t.

I am one to skip out of the present moment and leapfrog into some future imagined catastrophe (and perhaps I would benefit from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy as a result of this, as I recently learned that it addresses changing patterns associated with catastrophic thinking, but this is somewhat besides the point).  In fact, to bring this back to my AWESOME NEW CELL PHONE, this is something I did this weekend when I was setting it up – I imagined it was going to be a huge, complicated ordeal and that my phone wouldn’t work, that it would be a faulty, broken, useless phone sent to me (deliberately?  maliciously?) by Verizon, and that I would then have to go through this whole (imagined) rigmarole to replace it.  And then I accidentally put the battery in backwards and my phone didn’t work, which was somewhat, if not totally, a self-created, self-fulfilling prophecy. 

But this is one of the things that most annoys me about myself.  And it most annoys me about our society.  Something totally phenomenal could be happening in the present moment and people are already out of that fantastic, glimmering moment and onto:  “It’s not going to last!  Better get ready and brace yourself for how shitty it is all about to get!”

It’s like, when you ask someone how they’re doing and they’re like, “Getting by,” or “Making it through,” or “You know, I’m surviving.”  Don’t we want to do more than just get by, jumping from one anticipated disaster or shitty circumstance or cold, rainy day to another, without taking any time to stop and smell the roses on a beautiful, warm, sunny spring day?

I’ve been checking the forecast, and it’s supposed to be 74 degrees on Friday.  I’ve already picked out my outfit; I’m going to wear my black summer sleeveless sundress and open-toe shoes, and I have plans to meet a co-worker at lunch and I anticipate that we will sit outside on a bench in midtown Manhattan, sipping ice coffees and basking in the sunshine.  And I don’t care what the forecast has in store for Saturday, I haven’t even checked.  But either way it won’t take away my enjoyment of warm, sunny Friday, even if Friday turns out to be not so warm and sunny, which would be annoying, and then I’d have to last-minute pick out another outfit that morning, which could throw my already precarious morning groove off (I’m so not a morning person) and possibly cause me to be late-ish to work, but this would not be a catastophe worthy of devoting any advance time to dreading.  And it won’t take away from tonight when soon I will throw on my winter wool coat over a spring top because there is a chill in the air, and meet a friend for dinner and drinks, and not think about to do lists and errands and things that could go wrong and phones that could break, or potential cold rainy days in the future, and instead choose, make the choice, to just enjoy it!

Copyright © 2008 by Jennifer Garam