Liver Instead of Roses

Posted on May 7, 2012 by lauralavigne

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I tend to get pretty darn anemic and my strong (stubborn?) spirit often prevents me from noticing that I am super low, until I am almost ready to get transfused. But, while I will eat it if it is in front of me, I dont like to prepare meat.

Chris, on the other hand, could eat meat three times a day – but cant figure out how to eat fresh vegetable or fruits more than once a month.

Both of us are horrified and frustrated with each other’s shortcomings and have been complaining about it for years. When we are together, I can often be seen handing him tall glasses of green juice as well as bowls of salad. He usually puts nice steaks in front of me. When we are apart, we each worry about what the other is not eating.

This weekend, we did something about it.

Yesterday, I spent an hour making and freezing fresh greens/berries juice for him, and proportioning it in daily packets. His job is to every night, pull one out of the freezer and drink it in the morning.

He got up extra early, this morning, to prepare me single servings of (delicious) chicken livers. And freeze them. My job is to every night, pull a packet out of the freezer and eat it in the morning with my iron supplement.

Why we didn’t think about it before … I dont know,  but I guess that sometimes love is more about liver and arugula than about roses and diamonds. Who’d have thunk, huh?

 

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The Freaking Contrast

Posted on April 28, 2012 by lauralavigne

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I was doing a little website remodeling work and started to watch one of my speaker videos. That one, taken a couple of years ago, is a fairly close up shot of me talking. The framing is really nice and I remember liking it a lot. Or rather, as much as I can like a close up of me talking for several minutes. But tonight, I really liked it. And in some way, it really disturbed me how much I liked it.

I’ll explain: I really liked it because I looked pretty darn good in it. All I kept thinking was: wow, my skin looks really firm. Which is kinda weird because I sure as heck never once thought that at the time it was taken. For very good reasons. Next, it really disturbed me because I knew right away that the reason I noticed my skin being so firm was because… of the contrast! Damn it. The Freaking Contrast. The Freaking Contrast that speaks of this new little bit of softness that has moved in, around my mouth, around my chin.

When I first noticed it, one morning, I thought I must have slept funny. But in the afternoon, it was still there.  I remember thinking: oh boy.

I don’t feel any different than I did when that video was taken. If anything, I feel better. But the softness stuff… that’s different.

And so, I started to feel bummed. I started to let The Freaking Contrast talk to me. Talk to me about what had been – and no longer was. And about what hadn’t been – and now was. It was not a fun conversation.

But then… something bubbled up. Something quiet at first but tinted with a promise. And as I paid attention and as I let it come all the way up, I noticed that it was actually kind of cool.

It was about The Freaking Contrast again, but different. It was about turning it around and looking at it from the view point of two years from now. Two years from now when the softness thing may have moved in a little more steadily. If I looked at today from THAT perspective, The Freaking Contrast started to say really nice things. The conversation became much more pleasant. It said: wow, look at that almost firm jawline. Look at these almost smooth cheeks. Nice…

So, here I am. Maybe that’s the little bit of trickery all women use at some point – and dont talk about – and I am only now discovering it.

Which is just fine because like many other things about being a woman, I think we have to figure this stuff on our own.

I don’t think anyone can prepare us for The Freaking Contrast.

 

 

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Changes…

Posted on April 26, 2012 by lauralavigne

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I think she has owned this building for 50 years – and for 20 of these years, I have been in love with it. The smell, the feel, the staircase, the fact that it doesn’t have hot water, that some of the sinks need to be handled a certain way. I love the plants that she lovingly waters and grooms … and her.

I am not sure how old she is but she moves like a schoolgirl and dances like a ballerina.

From the day I moved onto the island, I had been dreaming of finding a reason to have a space in here. I even considered starting my bakery in that tiny (tiny) kitchen, on the 3d floor.

Of course, it reminds me of Paris. And of Spain. And her accent only adds to the European cocoon-ness.

A few years ago, I finally rented a small office in this haven. When I left, a year later, my heart cracked a little just as she assured me that “I’d be back.”

She was right. Last June, she handed me the key to The Ballroom – the ultimate essence of this amazing building. And with it she said “I knew you’d be back. You belong here.”

And darn it, I do. Whether it is at 2:00 when the sound of guitar students is in the air or at midnight when I am all alone in the darkness, I know I belong here.

And I realize today that a lot of that sense of belonging has to do with her. With her quiet, smiling and kind presence.

This morning, as I walked up the sweet 55 steps, something in the air was different. I could hear her talk a little bit loudly to someone and when she saw me she said: “Hi Laura. I have exciting news.”

I waited as she seemed to take a good long while to wipe down one of the lower leaves of a plant before slowly straightening up, turning to me and telling me that … she had sold the building.

The next few minutes were strange as she and I let our mouths do what mouths do in times like these. Our eyes joined the party too, and started to do what eyes do when the heart is too full to hold it all in.

She walked back downstairs and I walked into the Ballroom.

A little while later, I spoke with the new owners and was assured that our lease was safe and that all would remain the same. And that Maria would still be here on most days, playing her jazz music and tending her bookstore.

Which is nice. Really, really nice.

So why have I been crying most of the afternoon?

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Posted in "Being", Friendship, LIFE, Relationships, Tough Times | 6 Comments

Allegra

Posted on April 25, 2012 by lauralavigne

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A few days ago, reading a genealogy site (something I dont usually do), I learned that my great grandmother’s name was Allegra.

Allegra. What a beautiful name … it means “happiness” and that made me feel so good, so connected too (when Costa mentioned yesterday that it was an allergy medicine, I had to work just a little bit at keeping the warm glow intact).

For the last couple of days, Allegra has been on my mind. Who was she? What did she look like? What did she like?

Allegra…

Last night, I was making dinner for the boys and Allegra was drifting in and out of my mind. I felt drawn to her. The water was boiling and as I grabbed the pack of angel hair pasta, my eyes fell on the label. Allegra.

Something settled in me.

Before falling asleep,  I sent my mom an email asking her for whatever she could tell me about her grandma. Whereas this may seem like a simple request to most people, my family has been known to place a lot of weird taboo energy around this sort of stuff and I had to do a little pushing past that to press “send.”

This morning, my mom writes (in her typical Frenglish) that “Allegra was not my grandma but my aunt. She was very kind and sweet and was a seamstress. She used to make dresses for my mom. She got deported and died in Aushwitz and we received proof, after the war, that while in the concentration camp, she had been used as an experiment about women fertility. All I remember about her looks is that she was little and with large breasts.”

So, that’s it for now. Was she married? Did she have children of her own?

And … was she happy?

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The Dalai Lama & the Gas Station

Posted on April 20, 2012 by lauralavigne

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Last Saturday, we watched the movie “I AM,” at the Center. A room full of people focused on the idea that “we are one” and that “tiny acts of kindness” are what it takes (this from the Dalai Lama). I was feeling pretty good. In fact, I was feeling damn good because aside from the occasional times when I act … unpleasant (it happens – ask my kids), I really do feel that we are all one, that if I hurt you, I hurt me. That if something really awesome happens to you, it happens to me, too. Or that it’s about to – like in a preview. It’s not a thinking thing or even a belief, it’s a … I dunno…  a part of me. And I’m also a big fan of tiny acts of kindness so really, the day after the screening, the choir having been artistically preached to, my cup was pretty full.

But my gas tank wasn’t and so Chris and I headed to the popular casino gas station to fill up the tiny Mazda’s tiny little tummy before going to Seattle.

All repleted, we were making our way towards the highway when I noticed that someone was parked at the very top of the hill, right on the curvy part of the road. Thinking that if they had stopped there, they must be in trouble, I accelerated right towards them. Pretty fast, just in case. Chris turned to me and said something like “What the heck are you doing, babe?” Before I could answer him, I had reached the stranded car and noticing that one of the occupants was outside of the vehicle, looking at me, I slowed to a crawl and started to look for a safe place to pull over and help him. At which point, Chris’ eyes were boring holes onto the side of my face as he shouted “No, no, no, don’t stop!!!”

I was annoyed. Had he not seen the same movie I had seen?? Was he going to let that poor police officer stand there all by himself? Wait. That poor  … what???  That’s when I realized what Chris had been trying to tell me all along. No one was stranded on the side of the road. Instead, a police car was hiding, trying to catch people who were coming out the gas station, happy to have a full tank and ready to use it – fast. My guess is that the officer also may have been wondering what the heck I was doing when, after having taken one look at him, I accelerated drastically. Towards him. Again, he may have been wondering why I was trying to park my car as close as I could to his, even though he had not (yet) instructed me to do so.

This is the kind of thing that cracks me up so much that a week later, I can still startle my cat by laughing out loud just thinking about it at random moments (it’s also the kind of thing that makes people ask me if I smoke a lot of weed and if I’d like to go with them to Burning Man. Which in turn, really cracks me up.)

Here’s to little acts of kindness, good laughs  – and possibly to paying a little closer attention.

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Posted in "Being", Communication, Funny Stuff, Happiness, LIFE | Leave a comment