Something happened on my birthday in July. This year I threw myself a party. You know you can do that don’t you? Don’t wait for someone to throw you one…do it yourself and be fab!
It was a magical midsummer night’s eve. An adult version of a kids’ party: a long table studded with flowers in tiny vases, flickering votives, sequins tossed about, streamers winding in amongst the flowers and candles, games with prizes and party favors. Gourmet pizza and fine Italian wine. A spell was cast. [Read more…]
I tend to staycation in August because I like to travel off season when prices drop and kiddies are in school. (Bucket list trip coming up in September!) However, as I click through Instagram, enjoying the photos of people enjoying their glam vacations, I do feel the occasional stab of envy.
Tropica is like France in August: the locals disappear, mostly to their beach homes. The streets of Meriland are left to tourists, wandering blindly in the inhospitable, suffocating heat.
Whoa! If it’s one thing I’ve learned from blogging…people love a whiff of misery. I’m expecting a tsunami of hits on this post. It’s human nature: people like to read about those who are worse off than they are so they can feel better about themselves. Or, we like to read about someone who has the same problem, so we feel we’re in the same boat.
Well, no misery here except, very simply: At this august moment in my life, I can look back and say: I have never been properly, truly loved by a man.
I can hear the followers of Camp Liza canceling their subscriptions as I write. Because who wants to read about death? The fact is, if you think about death, like the Buddhists do, you will live ever so much a more beautiful, rich life. And we all want that.
So today, let’s think about death.
This post is inspired by the accidental death of a friend last week. It was a day like any other. An artist, he went to work. A big machine fell on him. Yup.
One day last week I cried so much I had to drink tall glasses of water for the rest of the day to rehydrate myself. I cried for different things that both were and weren’t happening to me. I won’t bore you with my “stuff.” I’m sure you have your own.
I invoked Tony Robbins’ “90 second rule” — but I turned it into a four hour rule, because 90 seconds seemed a little too short for me (haha). The 90 second rule is to let yourself feel your pain, sorrow, suffering for 90 seconds.
On Tuesday it will be three weeks since I had my hip replacement surgery. How to give you an update without sounding all boring about medical blah blah, when there is so much more in life to think about.
And that’s the point. Get on with the health and recovery but put your attention on the delicious stuff of life that awaits.
Why do we love hospital shows so much when the reality is so not nice? That’s putting it mildly! For as long as I can remember there’s always been a medical show on the air — because doctors and hospitals bring on the drama. Unwanted drama.
I won’t dwell on boring medical blah blah, but here’s what’s happening. After five years of pain that I ignored because, who wants to pay attention to pain…I’ll be having a hip replacement this week. Not how I planned to spend the Easter hols.