Beauty in the Cracks

Photo by Simon Lee on Unsplash

You know how, once you notice something that is flawed or imperfect, you are suddenly hyper-aware of other, similar flaws? This is especially true, I’ve found, when you purchase a new item for the house. You look around the living room, admiring your brand-new sofa, or chair, or print on the wall and…you can see your beat-up hall table age another century in an instant. And there are numerous additional chips in the mantelpiece paint, andandand…ugh. 

But it doesn’t have to be an “ugh.”

 

The Japanese have a lovely practice when dealing with worn out and broken things (cups, vases, plates etc.) They have elevated the fissures and cracks to an art form called kintsugi. The smashed pottery or porcelain is repaired in a way that is totally obvious: the artist uses gold. Not crazy glue or duct tape or any of the other ways we hide imperfection. The jagged lines of gold shine; they are beautiful in and of themselves. 

Photo by Matt Perkins on Unsplash

I think of kintsugi when I find myself spending way too much time trying to smooth over my physical flaws so that they become invisible. When I haul out the old magnifying mirror (surely a torture device if ever there was one) and make note of each and every wrinkle, the next step is often to apply “concealer” of some sort. I am abysmal at cosmetic stuff, so the usual result is a clump of caked-on makeup that actually accentuates my various skin imperfections. Lately I haven’t even bothered to try, because my age spots are popping up faster and faster, like dandelions in a field after a spring rain. Why bother?

 

When I just give up and let things go, however, it feels like a lazy solution, and I remain highly self-critical and unsatisfied with my appearance. I put away the magnifier, but then try to avoid mirrors altogether. I wonder, though…

 

Could kintsugi have something to teach me too?

 

The streaks of gold used to bind the broken things together enhance, they do not detract. While the flaws are clear, they are still treated with respect, and tenderness. Could I approach myself that same way? Could I find the middle ground between hating my aging face, and frantically trying to transform it?  I could still moisturize my skin, and gently massage those creases that life etched onto me. I could approach the mirror again, and see the face of someone I care about, someone who has lived fully. I could regard my every last laugh line and forehead furrow as beautiful.

 

I have been delighted recently to note that many celebrities of a certain age are embracing their wrinkles and their gray hair. You can see the story of their lives on their faces, and they are beautiful in a way that airbrushed perfection could never be. Now, I’m not kidding myself—I will never age like Jamie Lee Curtis or Andie MacDowell. But I can age like Elise Seyfried, gracefully and gratefully.

 

And THAT is pure gold. 

My mom at 79 (dolled up by my sister C, but there are the wrinkles, gray hair and all)

The Influencer

 

Trending influencer Elise @ dinner @

                                       Moosewood Restaurant, Ithaca NY

Christiano Ronaldo and Kylie Jenner move over.

 

There’s a new influencer in town (it's me!!!!)

 

As a long-time blogger, my burning question has been: how the heck do people make money doing this stuff? I mean, after 580 posts, “Working Title” ain’t exactly “working” for me. I am delighted to write these mini-essays and offer them to friends for free, but wouldn’t it be even MORE delightful to hear the little “ca-ching” sound when my missives are read? I think so!!

 

The deal seems to be, that I need to mention lots of products, good and services, in my social media offerings. Theoretically readers, dazzled by my fame, will automatically patronize/purchase whatever it is I’m touting, and it’s a financial win-win all around (ooh, except for the poor fans who are actually out some hard-earned moolah. But no matter!)

 

And so, with all the fervor of a newbie, I announce my Influencer Debut!! You can look forward to a future of endless product placements and links aplenty, and to heck with a coherent narrative or humorous point! 

 

Welcome to my curated world of wonder, gang. As I know you hang on my every written word, it’s frankly amazing you’ve survived thus far, with no guidance whatsoever concerning the latest popular items and destinations. But fear not, I’m about to change everything!

 

Let’s begin in my shabby-chic,1960’s inspired kitchen (think Sears, not IKEA.) It’s 5 AM, and I’m post-menopausal, so sleepytime is over. I have already consumed my first mug of Starbucks in bed (thank you, trophy husband Steve!) and I’m now rummaging in the fridge for breakfast: yogurt, berries and granola. After this hearty meal, it’s off to my capacious closet to choose my wardrobe du jour! I tend to favor sale items from LOFT, though occasionally I’ll dabble in Modcloth and Old Navy. Whatever I select, you can be sure it’s totally on trend! 

 

My WFH day commences!! Stylish silver Macbook Pro fired up, I tackle the first of several writing assignments. Oh, I know they say handwriting is better for creativity, and I do try, using my gorgeous pen sourced from wood found in an Irish bog. Alas, I cannot read my chicken scratch, so I head straight back to the keyboard.

 

Lunchtime! I don’t as a rule eat lunch, but an influencer cannot afford to miss an opportunity to suggest yummy comestibles! If I DID eat at midday, I might very well select cheese and charcuterie, with a fine baguette from Panera. 

When my workday ends, I might head to the gym, or yoga class. But who wants to sweat after a full day of influencing? So I proceed from kitchen to couch, and immerse myself in whatever is bingeable on Netflix, Hulu or HBO. 

 

Before I slumber, I haul out my array of beautifying lotions and potions, which will work their magic during the midnight hour. How relaxing, knowing my face cream is funding my retirement!!

 

Good night, all! Hope I’ve influenced you enough today (ca-ching!)

Photo by Gerd Altmann for Pixabay

The Very Worst Audition Helper

 

That would be…me.

 Especially when Steve needs assistance.

 

You see, in recent months Stevo has really stepped up his film auditioning game, which is wonderful. Only problem is, most of the time, once he gets notice from his agent about a role, he then has to submit an audition video. These are needed within a day, with little time to rehearse. 

 

I’m a very quick study. If you gave me a script, even of several pages, I could probably nail it in one take. But alas! I am not the one in the running for these productions, Steve is. Steve very often needs an off-screen voice delivering the other character’s lines during a scene. While I know at this point he’d adore for someone else, anyone else, to be that unseen presence, I’m usually stuck with—I mean game to be--doing these with him. My office is just down the hall from his in our house; there’s literally nowhere to hide. And my price of zero dollars is right.

 

My husband struggles with memorization. To be fair, many of these scripts are abysmally written, and it is MUCH easier to learn well-crafted material. Also, a great many films and TV commercials that he’s up for involve doctors, medications and medical procedures. Sometimes Steve is the patient, suffering from psoriasis or cancer or high cholesterol. Other times he’s the kindly physician, informing the invisible patient that they have some dreadful disease. Whichever side he’s on, he has to wrestle with miles-long, tongue-twistery medical terms. 

 

Here's how a typical session goes:

 

ME: Are you ready?

STEVE: Yep. I’ve been working on lines all morning! Let’s start the camera rolling!

ME: Great, because we really need to wrap this up so I can finish writing my essay.

STEVE: See, there you go again. When you get so impatient you make me nervous!

ME: OK, I’m sorry. Take your time.

STEVE: “Ask your doctor about Efflumidium. Side effects include…”

ME: My copy of the script doesn’t say Efflumidium. Mine says Emmlufidium. Which is it?

STEVE: Damn. I’ve been saying it wrong. Let’s take it again. (pause) Do you have to roll your eyes like that?

ME: Forget my eyes! Just pronounce the darned medication already!!!!!

STEVE “Ask your doctor if Efflu—Emmlyfidium…” 

ME: Not “if”! Not “if”!! “Ask your doctor ABOUT!!!”

STEVE: OK, OK. Geez. Can we try it again?

ME: One more time.

STEVE: I’ll need at least three more times.

ME: (calling downstairs) Ya-Jhu! Do you have time to come up here and help Dad?

 

Ya-Jhu of course is the very soul of patience, and in no time flat the video is ready to go.

 

Watching the Oscars the other night, I wondered if the actors up there getting their golden statuettes had to deal with terribly un-helpful partners like myself, as they prepared.

 

Christopher Guest: “Oh, for God’s sake, Jamie Lee! Try to get it right this time! Catherine O’Hara doesn’t flub HER lines!”

 

Nope. Probably just us. Poor Steve.

And we're rolling! Again!

Women's Way

 "The Trail West" (NOT the good old days for women!)

                                     

Today is International Women’s Day, as March 8th has been since 1911. Now, when it was first observed, women’s lots in life were quite different. “Mother” likely spent the day standing over a hot stove where a vat of porridge was bubbling, that she hoped was enough to feed her 17 children. Or she was scrubbing the family’s clothes with a washboard. If she worked outside the home, she had the grand choice of secretary, nurse, or school teacher. Her husband had full control of her finances. She couldn’t cast a ballot in an election. 

Well, here we are, 112 years later, and my goodness has life changed! Unlike the woefully under-appreciated gals of the early 20th century, we women are treated completely as men’s equals, with the exact same job opportunities and equal pay, and control over our own bodies, and we feel totally safe walking alone at night and…wait a minute. I guess we still have a ways to go, don’t we? And for our sisters of color, and women in some other cultures, the way forward is even longer and harder.

 

But today is a day to think about women, and to honor them and their many, many achievements and contributions to the life of the world. It offers a bigger umbrella than the limited “Mother’s Day,” and in recent decades it has morphed into, not just a celebration, but a call to action. There’s a theme each year; this year it’s "DigitALL: Innovation and Technology for Digital Equality," always pointing to areas where we as a society can improve our treatment of females. 

 

I’ve been pretty happy with my gender, even though I’ve always been aware of the drawbacks. As a little girl in a house of daughters, boys were alien territory—loud and rough and rude. Boys were the ones Sister Annunciata would usually berate, and boys didn’t cry about it. I, on the other hand, wept buckets if on the receiving end of even a raised eyebrow. Boys were a total mystery, until I had three of them. 

 

I tried hard to raise them to be kind, and thoughtful. To treat women with respect. To recognize the advantages men still have—and to be advocates for those who lack those societal advantages. And I let them know that boys can, and should be allowed to, cry.

 

We are in a time when gender identity is much discussed; for many people, it is a fluid thing. There have ALWAYS been people trapped in the wrong bodies, let’s not kid ourselves. In the past, they struggled along in misery. Now, at last, they are starting to be recognized and appreciated for exactly who they are, and that’s a wonderful improvement. I pray we will keep pushing forward toward true acceptance and inclusion of all human beings.

 

So Happy IWD to my female identifying friends. Onward, together, to make the world a better place. Not just better than 1911, but better than 2023. We can do this.

With my wonderful women, in Ireland

Jokes in My Pocket

My all-time favorite Gulman bit

I would describe myself as, at best, a part-time humorist. While I like to write funny, and people seem to enjoy the funny I write, I tend not to THINK funny, at least 24/7.  Now, I know some masters of the comedy genre can mine yuks aplenty, even from topics like relatives’ funerals and epic climate disasters. For me, though, it’s the flip of a switch: I’m sad (serious piece); I’m happy (fun piece)--and rarely the twain shall meet. 

 

That means I cannot keep up with the humor-writing machines of my acquaintance. I did a comedy writing sprint, and within a week I was exhibiting all the symptoms that I’d suffered from during my brief, ill-fated quest to run a 5K. I was dizzy, I was nauseated. Most of all, I was the exact opposite of a laugh riot. I’ll spare you my list of “hilarious” piece titles because honestly? I’ve deleted them from both my computer and my brain.

 

I had coffee with a very funny writer the other day, who shared that he keeps a notebook with him, in which he aims to write 10 jokes per day. 10. Jokes. Per. Day. I cannot conceive of such comedic bounty! To reach 10, I’d have to write Third Grade Jokes. For those who don’t recall that banner year, third graders LOVE Mad Libs. Aiden has insisted on a family session after dinner every night recently, and falls off his chair when the hysterical results are read: “After we finished our nostril (noun), it was time to take a fuzzy (adjective) nap.” Sides splitting yet?

 

Gary Gulman, one of my favorite comedians, shared 365 comedy tips online, a year’s worth. Super generous of him, and I enjoyed reading them. Alas, Gary also sings the praises of building a massive joke portfolio. Gulman’s so serious about funny, that he suggests aspiring comics use the subway ride home from a gig to analyze every failed bit they’d uttered from the stage that night. If it were me, I’d be taking an Uber to the nearest bar, and praying I’d forget ever performing at all. 

 

But I did break out a Moleskine, ready to scribble down all the inspiring humor nuggets that undoubtedly surround me. Here’s what I came up with yesterday:

 

 

 

 

You read that right. Zilch. Nada.

 

Maybe I should give up on “jokes” per se, and just write down funny WORDS instead. From years of reading comedy advice, I know for sure that:

 

“Banana” is good. “Tomato” is not, especially if you slice one into your cereal.

Words with the “k” sound are funny (“coffin” is always good for a howl).

Then there are silly actual words like “filibuster” and “hemidemisemiquaver.”

 

Tomorrow morning I’ll head to Shop N Bag with my humor notebook. I’ll load my cart with bananas, cucumbers and kumquats. Hopefully the cart wheels will go all cattywumpus, and there’ll be a hullabaloo as I crash into a display of Tastycakes. 

 

That’s really funny stuff. Right, Aiden?

"Hollywood" funny? Nope. "California"? SO funny!