A question I had

I'm so sad today. I've been trying to keep my posts happy but once in a great while I have to give in and indulge in a little self pity. I'm wondering about men. Specifically, I'm wondering if there is such a thing as the "ONE". Now I've always been a bit jaded... but I am fortunate to have been in love and have that wonderful feeling. The thing is that it comes and it goes (the feeling that is) I mean I've been married and I though he was the one I wanted to spend my life with, have kids with, get sick and old and take care of each other for better or worse etc... but then that changed...worse got to be to much and we happily went our separate ways. Now this has happened a few times in my life (only one marriage but a few relationships) with men who I really thought were the one but were not. So, this is the burning question...Is there such a thing as the "ONE" or is it possible for any of us to be perfectly happy with any other of us at the right time or in the right circumstance? And if there is no such thing as the "ONE" where dose that leave us? where dose it leave me? Doomed to enter into serial relationships earnestly looking for the "ONE" who exists only in my mind? Oh well, I was just wondering....

What's new?

I haven't posted in awhile... I started school in September, so I've been busy. It's a good busy though, I think.... I guess you only find out in retrospect. Lea is busy w/ school, clubs, girl scouts and dance... She will be dancing @ Lincoln Center with her troop in January... I am so excited about that I can hardly contain myself!!! We are gearing up for holiday madness...shopping, decorating and final exams, Christmas concerts, fund raisers, radio city... and the like...The table is a wash with books and half researched papers and piles of bills and school notices, both Lea's and mine... These we push to the side to make room for our take out dinners...These are the best times of our lives... That's all I have time for right now... and it has been a long time since I posted a recipe so I thought I'd do that too...


Lisa'a 5 minute soup..

2 boxes organic vegitarian broth

2 bags baby spinach

2 cans goya small white beans

tons of garlic and olive oil....

heat oil...put in sliced garlic and saute for a bit

add broth bring to a boil add spinach...cook down for a few minutes..

add white beans bring to a gentle boil till the flavors blend and the soup is heated through...

add some bread and salad for a quick satisfying meal....

The church of higher education

I used to go to church, even when I was a girl I would make my mother drop me off there and I would spend the day. I would go to Sunday school then stay for choir practice then attend services. I had a white king James version Bible given to me by my grandmother which I would bring with me I still have it, along with about 6 other bibles which I have collected or inherited over the years. They all sit in my book case gathering dust, gently admonishing me to straighten out my life, their pleas falling on deaf ears.

My life with respect to religious belief has been interesting as I grew up in a very diverse neighborhood and while we were culturally christian we weren't militant in the belief that our way was the only way. My best friend and next door neighbor was one of Jehovah's witnesses, the kid across the street was Jewish, most of my friends were Catholic, my father's business associate was Greek orthodox, my great grandmother was a born again christian and we were Lutheran. I attended services with all of them, I wanted to because I was hunting for God.

As I have gotten older my search for God has become more subtle. I have stopped looking for the formula, the "right religion, the right prayers" to get God to hear me and grant my desires. It seems so silly to me that I lived my life like that for so long, if my prayer is pleasing to God I will prosper, if my prayer is pleasing to God my daughter will be kept from harm. I turn on the t.v. daily and see people holier then me by far being wiped out by natural disasters, see distraught parents burying beautiful children taken from them senselessly.

I used to like to go sit quietly in front of the tabernacle in church, in front of the consecrated host, Jesus himself and pray. I had a little blue prayer book and I would recite all of these prayers, I would do a rosary and then I would thank God for all that was good in my life, then I'd ask a few small favors. One day I looked at the tabernacle and got so irate, in my mind I started berating God, how dare you stay locked safely in that box while we suffer out here? Why do you think you are so special giving your only begotten son when you are God??? So many human mother's and father's have given their only begotten sons and daughters. These human children have suffered physical fates worse then Jesus' death in some cases I'm thinking of Jessica Lundsford snatched from her bed raped and buried alive clutching a stuffed animal.

Where is this God, who allegedly created us this way? Are we created in his image? Why is it blasphemy to ask such questions? If God created us so poorly that the very first humans who were allegedly closer to perfection and had direct communication with him succumbed to temptation where does that leave us today?

These are stressful times to live in, war, climate changes, pedophiles with their own constitutionally protected web sites extolling the virtues of love for "lg's" little girls, but I am here now and I am glad. I look around me at the sheer beauty not just of the visible world but of atoms and molecules, of mathematical equations and of the people who generation after generation keep doggedly pursuing answers to questions, and I am filled with awe. I have come to believe that the real root of all evil is ignorance. The only thing that gives me hope is the small opportunity I have in this world to eradicate it, and to that end I have recently joined a new church, the church of higher education. Wish me luck as I embark on this next part of my journey.

the art of being human

I don't remember the year that I met her, I think 2002. It was over the summer, she was my professor for a phych course I needed for the nursing program. I was not looking forward to the class because next to ob/gyn and peds I hate psych the most. I knew that I would never choose to work with psychiatric patients voluntarily and so learning about them struck me as a waste of my valuable time. There was a delay in the start of the program because of some nebulous problem on her part. When she finally did show up she was all in a dither, a rolling suite case behind her.

She introduced herself and apologised stating that she had just arrived from an archaeological dig in Israel which had been cut short due to illness. She said that she had been through a whirlwind of tests in the past few days and I noticed an ugly bruise in the crook of her arm. I thought that if I had to endure a class I wasn't particularly interested in at least the professor was shaping up to be interesting.

The course required us to experience locked wards where we met some very sick patients. It was very frightening as some of them appeared as though they could be dangerous. She was always kind to the patients and to her students, she had a wide eyed gentile innocence as well as a keen understanding of both groups and was perfect in getting us to interact in a way that was beneficial to all.

At some point the tests that she had undergone at the beginning of the course revealed that she had cancer. I honestly can't remember if it was ovarian or uterine, but she told us that the tumor was inoperable and that she would try a round of chemo to see if that would reduce it's size. That's when the most amazing things started happening, because facing her mortality with her changed the entire focus of the class.

I remember sitting in a conference room on the locked ward at Brookhaven hospital as she was telling us about her tumor. A student asked her a question about it and she literally took the students hand and extended the girls fingers and helped her palpate the tumor. She told us that this was all happening very fast and that she was having a little difficulty assimilating it all, she then broke down sobbing and told us that we would be her last class, she told us that we would get through this together. Because of her extensive training in psychiatric nursing I had to trust that she would be able to Shepard us through the wild roller coaster ride of emotions.

She made a point to get to know each student, and especially sharing with each student the positive qualities she found in them. She also would pick a different student to help her wheel her suite case of books to her car each day. It gave us extra time with her and allowed us to feel as though we were helping a woman who we now viewed as our friend. When the conversation drifted from psychiatric nursing to her illness, always her primary focus was how the others around her were dealing with her illness particularly her children and husband, but us as well.

As the course progressed the tumor grew larger and we watched her girth expand, yet she was determined to complete this course with us. One day during a lecture in the classroom she became overwhelmed with pain, a lab assistant brought a geri chair and she sat down, they then put her head way down and her feet up in an effort to reduce the pressure the tumor was exerting on the pelvic floor and reduce the pain (this she shared with us as a nursing intervention). We all sat there in rapt attention as she continued to lecture us virtually upside down, her color pale almost green, the roots of her long hair which grazed the floor were damp with perspiration.

The class ended and she invited us to dinner at her house, it was a beautiful day as I recall, sunny and warm but not humid as it was toward the fall. Her home was lovely somewhere on the north shore overlooking water, high ceilings sunny and peaceful. We ate and then we walked a while on the beach, then the pain became overwhelming for her so we headed home where she lay in the bed waiting for the morphine to kick in. Instead of asking us to leave she invited us to sit on her bed with her until the waves of pain subsided and we knew she was better. Then we said our final goodbyes to someone we had honestly grown to love.

We got word of her passing later that fall, the funeral is a blur to me I know I was there because I have a prayer card I remember her husband asking all of the students who came if we'd like to join them for dinner afterward, but we declined feeling awkward and not looking to prolong our pain. At out pinning we honored her as best we could, there was a slide show and readings, her husband and daughter were there in her place to watch her last class graduate. needless to say there were plenty of tears.

In December 2003 I got a call from a former professor to verify my address. When they were going through my deceased professors papers they found notes to some of her students, and there was one for me. Just before Christmas I received a short hand written note. the letters are wispy as though she didn't have the strength to press the pen to the paper. there are extra letters inserted in the words as if the pen was writing faster then the morphine allowed her brain to think. The message was simple, she thanked me for my work and admonished me to study hard. The final line says I'll never forget that you are an angel, love you.

I only knew her for 6 weeks, I didn't see her every day, and the days I did see her were only for a couple hours. She passed 5 years ago and yet all I have to do is think of her and I cry. She taught us so much more then the art of nursing, she taught us the art of being human.

Laura's wedding

I went to a neighbors wedding yesterday, she is my age and it was her second marriage. It was beautiful... in her sisters backyard, casual but elegant. As I walked into the back yard where the ceremony was to take place my eyes were drawn to this ENORMOUS woman... this was not just pleasingly plump...this was the Venus of Willendorf with feet...You know I go to these functions alone 'cause Ray is married and I'm looking at this formidable woman thinking to myself I bet she's got a date...and lo and behold she was being followed by this skinny short man who was not only her date but live in lover as well...

Once I got my bearings I remembered that I knew them both, graciously they adopted their single acquaintance to their table. Eventually things settled down and the ceremony began. The minister said some lovely words about marriage everyone welled up with tears. Everyone including me, I guess we cry for different reasons. When I was married to my ex and I attended weddings I cried 'cause I'd listen to the vows and know that I'd married the wrong person. Yesterday I listened to the vows and cried 'cause the right person is married to someone else. Of course marriage changes people, and I also wonder how marriage would change us. I like to think that because we're older 41 and 55, that we'd be immune to the pitfalls that younger people fall into, but I wonder if marriage is somehow a recipe for disaster.

I think the wedding vows suck and that the problem starts there. Vows should go something like this:
I think I know who you are, and based on this I choose to enter more deeply into a relationship with you.
Today in front of God, family and friends I promise to love you, to treat your heart and soul gently as I would have my own treated. I promise to continue to get to know you daily, to speak with you to make love with you. And as I get to know you I promise to help you achieve your dreams and goals, and to daily remember this precious fragile ephemeral love which is between us and nurture it. This is the center of the world for us, it is to this we retreat at the end of the day and from which we emerge renewed and refreshed into the world. When we keep our love strong we can go forth clear headed and confident to face the challenges of life.

I think a big problem with marriage is that there is no escape clause. the vows should not end untill death do us part, they should end with something like I swear to do my level best with you and I expect the same from you. I will keep myself healthy physically, emotionally and spiritually and I expect the same from you. I will not suffer you to watch my abuse and neglect myself because I know you love me and I know you will do the same for me. I promise you today that I will strive to be part of the soloution not the source of any problems for us and I expect the same of you. I swear to you today that I will do everything in my power for as long as I can to nurture and grow our love and our life. But I would not condemn you to a life of suffering with me if I do not uphold my end of the agreement and I say to you today infront of God and these witnesses I will not stay with you if you do not hold up your end of this marriage. Isn't that better????

Well anyway the wedding was wonderful, the kids swam in the pool next door...the men lit off fireworks in the driveway, and the bride and groom wound their way slowly and happily through their guests. These two have come through a lot collectively, they know what they have in each other, it was beautiful to see and I feel privileged to have shared their wedding day with them.

the gynecologist

The other day I had a gynecologist appointment, I arrived to a waiting room which looked like it hadn't been decorated since 1984. The dirt/khaki color rug next to the tacky mauve floral print wall paper accented with a dusty faux palm tree. The lights were dim, perhaps to save on the electric bill or perhaps to hide the ugliness of the office. The staff greeted me with a hearty "we need to make a copy of your insurance card". I sat in the office surrounded by motherhood magazine...eeewwww as if I'm remotely interested in pregnancy @ this stage of my life. So I watched some morning talk show with a staff member who came out to hand me my insurance card and became enthralled with the show as she dangled my card just out of my reach. I was then called in to the exam room by a sweet young lady who never did introduce herself to me, there she took my blood pressure and gave me the usual paper garments with the instructions to put it on with the opening in the back. And there I sat... in the cold as my toes turned blue listening to the muffled tones of the staff talking and laughing outside the door for what felt like an eternity until the Doctor came in...He spent probably 5 minutes with me and I left with a prescription for a sonogram a surgical referral and a vague feeling that he didn't hear a word I said.

Later that day I had an appointment for a haircut and as a treat I decided I'd get a facial as well. upon entering the salon I was greeted with a friendly " Hi, Lisa". I was asked to please take a seat until my stylist was available, I was offered a beverage and a snack and there was better reading material available. As I was getting my hair cut a young lady came over and introduced herself to me and told me she'd be doing my facial. when my haircut was finished she led me to a quiet room gave me a soft robe to put on, I was instructed to lie on the table with my head on a pillow and she then wrapped me up in blankets and put a towel on my head. She covered my eyes with a cloth so the light would not bother me as I tried to relax and then she engaged in pleasant small talk as well as keeping me informed about what she was doing so I wouldn't be taken by surprise.

lying on that table just short hours after my gyn visit got me to thinking about the vast differences in those two experiences. I'm kind of speechless actually. It's my own fault for thinking so low of myself to stay with a doctor who specializes in women's health and yet so obviously knows nothing about the needs of the population whom he serves. I had an epiphany during the facial... I am worthy of an experience which preserves my dignity, an experience which leaves me feeling respected and validated...not empty and violated... I'm in the market for a new gynecologists...I will be printing this out and sending it to the old gynecologists in hopes that he will clean up his act...

stuff of my own

What does it mean to own something??? I have been told recently that I don't feel worthy of having anything of my own...I've been ruminating on this for months. At first it upset me and I set about making plans to aquire some of those things that I apparently don't feel worthy of, namely a husband and a home.

Regarding the husband I got to thinking, I do miss the second income, and the freedom the extra money provides...However I do not miss the extra cooking cleaning laundry and conflict. When I was married there always seemed to be what he wanted vs what I wanted and it felt like we both ended up loosers... Of course what he wanted was someone content to eat on a 20$ a week budget...and live in a 1 bedroom apartment for the rest of her life...but I digress...

So can you really have a husband of your "own"??? my husband had a child with another women befor he met me she was married and wouldn't leave her husband for him (BECAUSE HE WAS TOO BROKE) but he never got over her it was that whole forbidden fruit thing...so she had a husband and he had a wife and they had eachother so what does it mean to have someone of your "own".

what about a house??? what about all those poor people who were wiped out by Katrina?? They worked hard all their lives they had insurance and they had a place of their "own". Had a place, now they have memories and heartache. what about people who "owned" houses but got sick and lost the ability to pay for them...now they don't have anything either...and why do I want a house of my "own"??? I would be spending upwards of 60% of my current income for a very small place which I wouldn't be able to decorate the way I wanted or maintain properly with out working a second job...and if I worked a second job I wouldn't be home to enjoy the house...you see I could go on and on...and then there's eminent domain to worry about....


I keep going back to this...do we ever really know a person??? do we ever really know ourselves as a matter of fact??? and If we don't fully know ourselves ('cause we busy ourselves with the pursuit of owning stuff) how can we fully know another?? We pick a person with whom we think we share things in common with whether it's values or hobbies or church and then we build a "relationship" around that. We show different facets of ourselves to our significant other and if they like it (positive reinforcement) we add more of that and if they don't we hide it. Sometimes this is insignificant but other times burying part of your personality has bad implications...life is hard enough...why do I want to complicate it with someone of my "own"??

values change subtly from age to age, and even the most objective and learned amongst us cannot help but be influenced by the culture we all find ourselves immersed in. Do we seek to aquire things simply because "that's just what you do"?? It gives us something in common with our fellow man and thus satisfies that primal need for belonging??? Ultimatly we end up alone 6 feet underground, our home a small pine box..