Updated List

I updated my list this morning, filling in red those figs I've already done. It's been a while since I've actually done anything, except ride a horse. And that I've not yet done at a full gallop. But, more on that later.

I have also decided that two of my figs are no longer desires of mine. They include: take my kids on an airline flight alone and take my kids to a fancy restaurant.

At the time of writing this list, I was in the beginning of my year alone with my kids, as my husband had recently deployed to Afghanistan for a year. I was scared to death of that year. I worried I wouldn't be able to take care of the kids myself, that I'd yell too much, sleep too late, somehow muck up Maggie's first day of kindergarten....and on and on and on.

A few months into the year, I realized I was living my life pretty much crippled by fear, just waiting for the days to pass until Ray came home, hoping I didn't mess anything up in the meantime. I decided to write this list because of that quote from the movie The Shawshank Redemption, when Andy says to Red, "I guess it comes down to a simple choice really. Get busy living or get busy dying."

My best friend from Peace Corps quotes that all the time. I think that quote is saying, in simpler terms, what Plath is ultimately saying in the fig quote. Get busy living, or get busy dying.

I realized that while Ray was deployed, while I was living there in California scared to make a mistake, to take care of my kids, to be a 'bad' mom, I was dying a little bit. So, this list was a kind of way for me to get busy living.

Part of that living was to tackle some of the parenting fears I had, such as riding in an airplane alone with two toddlers and taking them to a fancy restaurant, forcing them to behave well and thereby feeling like a successful (and partly French) parent because my kids could feast on filet mignon or upscale pasta.

A funny thing happened, though, with my husband's deployment. I didn't fall apart. I didn't ruin my children. I didn't sleep too late, muck up kindergarten or fail to pay the bills on time. I took care of the house and kids. I made friends. I tackled figs, repelling the rock wall at the gym, watching the sun rise in Paris, reading Hemingway. This list very much helped to push me from inside my house and myself to outside my house, into the kitchens of friends, to the park with my kids, to Spain for a wedding and so on. By the end of the year, I no longer feared any of it, and of all the feelings of confidence I gained, the confidence I now have as a parent is by far the greatest.

I wanted to take my kids on an airplane and to a fancy restaurant not because I thought any of us would enjoy it, but because I felt I had something to prove. If I could accomplish those things, it meant I was in control, and if I was in control, I suppose I think that meant I was a good mother.

I am happy to report I no longer have any desire to force my kids to a fancy restaurant and I no longer hover on the cusp of feeling like a failure because my kids don't eat foie gras.

So, I'm going to strike those from my list of 52 Figs and replace them.

I'll post about the replacements later this week. I have some ideas....but I want to be sure.

Happy Saturday! Ray let me go back t bed until 10 and took the kids to the airport all by himself. Bless his heart!

Returning....with Quote 22 of 52

I am coming back to 52 Figs, having been gone a long time now. In large part, my focus and energy has simply been elsewhere; though elsewhere is, ironically, directly related to 52 Figs after all. Most of my free time, energy, thought and focus has been consumed with horseback riding, a fig that seemed quite simple (almost easy) when I added it to my list over ago.

The past 10 months have shown me that I was wrong to think I could go galloping across an open field after a few lessons on top of a horse. I have been surprised, even amazed, by the whole process of learning to ride a horse. It's much like learning to speak a language, just when you think you can carry on a conversation or speak with some level of fluency, you realize you haven't a clue how to say something as simple as: where is the restroom?

I will write a complete update about the fig of horse riding at another point. It requires and deserves much more time than I have at the moment. But for now, I am back after a necessary rest, and I am looking again at my list of figs and thinking about which ones are calling to me next. I have learned, through this experience, that the figs can't be plucked too early. They ripen on their own, so to speak. So, when I'm ready and when they're ready, we come together at some middle ground and get to work.

This morning, I have begun to review the list and think again, beyond horses, of what comes next. I was thinking this morning of a Buddhist quote I heard somewhere, someday, along the way, and it seems apropos to this moment.

What you are is what you have been. What you'll be is what you do now.

Buddha

Happy Thursday and Happy 2012.

Photo above is the Buddha at Leshan.

Signature Cocktail....

I finally made, drank and basked in my own signature cocktail. I researched a lot of cocktails to find just the right one.

Now, you may be wondering why a girl needs a signature cocktail and who on earth even has one? Well, people in my family have them. My sister's signature cocktail is a Pimm's (Pimm's served with ginger ale and/or lemonade and heaps of fresh fruit and cucumber....it's DELISH). Her husband's signature cocktail is red wine, which he drinks every night and which he wears every night at the corners of his mouth, sort of like a Frenchie Joker from the Batman & Robin movies.

Okay.....I'll let you take a moment with that mental image.

Anyhoo.....my other sister's signature drink is the Hot Toddy (whiskey, honey, lemon and black tea). She serves this when it's cold and wet outside, which means she can serve it year-round since she lives in the Pacific Northwest. She also serves Hot Buttered Rums, but I think the Hot Toddy is her signature. And it's so 'her.' If you met her, you'd understand.

My husband's signature cocktail/drink is Shiner Bock beer, from Shiner, Texas. He will drink other beers....but only if he has to. If you come to our house, you'll be served Shiner. If you don't like that, you can bring your own. We're strictly a Shiner or BYOB house in these here parts. (I don't really talk like that, just so you know)

My Father-in-Law drinks Courvoisier, which he refers to as 'the spirit that lives in the glass.' He's a good time after a glass or two of that stuff. He also really likes it when I whip up some Hot Buttered Rums for an after-the-kids-go-to-bed treat.

My mother has yet to identify a signature cocktail. She'll be tempted to steal mine, but she can't have it. She'll have to find her own. If I was to chose a cocktail for her, I'd chose something strong and classic, like scotch and soda or something like that. She is married to a manly-man now, and they live on the Oregon coast, so a stiff drink goes very well, I imagine, with the stiff winds of that particular area. I can picture her in the lovely window seat she has on her second floor, watching the ocean waves crash against the rocks, perhaps an elusive submarine emerges, and she drinks her scotch and soda and is happy to be indoors.

Well, that's just my suggestion.

On to my own cocktail. It's been a long time coming. First, it's part gin & tonic. I fell in love with the classic gin and tonic in college when we would drink it during the summers. My best friend at the time, Lori, and I would drink it before we'd go out for the evening, with loads of lime, and when I drink it now it makes me feel young again, young and Texan and on the verge of dancing the night away at The Midnight Rodeo.

Fast forward about 15 years and I'm in a liquor store on Bainbridge Island picking up tequila for my Brother-In-Law's birthday bash. He's the red wine drinker, but he also has a 'thing' for margaritas, which he serves on the rocks and so strong it could take the taste buds right off your tongue. So, I was there in the store and ready to pay and low-and-behold I saw a tiny bottle of the loveliest, most exquisite kind. It was all delicate and fluted, and I picked it up and bought it. Actually, I bought two. That night, at the big fete, we opened the bottles and passed around the liquor for everyone to try (communal style out of a brandy glass, cause that's the kind of people we are), and it was just the sweetest, most delicate thing I'd ever tasted. It's quite strong alone; though I'd drink it that way if need be. It's almost like a syrup, really; though the website says it has only half the sugar of most liquors. It's difficult to explain except to say it's like drinking a bouquet of sweet-smelling, late-blooming flowers. (I'm not sure what that means, by the way, but didn't it sound good?)

It was...........St. Germaine.

Have you heard of it? I hadn't. It's French (love it already) and made of elderflowers by some adorable French men who actually take the elderflowers to market by BICYCLE. I mean.....if that's not the dog's tuxedo?

Here is a photo so you can see just what I'm talking about:

Cute or cute?

Here is a photo of the bottle itself:

Lovely or lovely?

But St. Germaine alone couldn't be my signature cocktail. So, while perusing the St. Germaine website, I came across their recipe section and what did I find there??????

The St. Germaine Gin & Tonic.....two parts gin, one part St. Germaine and three parts tonic.

And just like that....my front porch became a little bit brighter. Signature cocktail....check.

PS - any photography tips are welcome....for your own sakes, people.

PS(2) - I keep seeing motorcycle sidecars up and down the Carolina highways and it's as if they're taunting me......

On my way.....

Williams Sonoma London Double Old-Fashioned Glass

I am on my way to pick up the liquor to make my signature cocktail. After much thought and research, I have chosen one cocktail in particular to master and always have on-hand.

I looked at all sorts of cocktails over the last week or so. I think it should be sort of timeless, classic, nothing too flavored or syrupy or smacking of short skirts, late-night outings at bars and clubs and a morning hangover. Nothing Sex and the City.

So, I narrowed it down in my mind, and then I spoke to my sister, Andrea. Andrea is very confident and doesn't waffle over decisions (except slipper tubs and shutters). She knew straight away what she thought my cocktail should be, and interestingly it was exactly what I thought of first and ultimately came back to myself.

So.....I'm off to buy the necessary ingredients and give it a try. I'll make a lovely little tray tonight when Ray gets home.....because a signature cocktail should be a drink one drinks regularly.

That's what Andrea says, and I agree.....which is kind of what our lives as sisters have been like.....Andrea making strong pronouncements and me standing next to her, nodding my head, one hand sort of stuck in my hair, saying, "Uh huh, Uh huh."

I'm off..........more later.

Correction

Apparently kings reign and horses have reins. Ouch. And I was an English major. I stand corrected.

The Love Fig

I haven't written about this fig, because I was afraid it was fleeting, my new-found love. I thought it would be much like many other adventures in my life, super-exciting at first and then...a gradual slow-down. I've done a lot of that in my life, and now I'm more cautious. I feel I must take my time to see if something will stick with me, if I will love it even after it's hard.

I have been reading a book entitled The Intentional Family, and the author argues that something isn't a ritual until you've gone away from it and come back to it....and I love the idea of that. I love it because, as a perfectionist, I always feel that whatever it is I'm doing must be done right, perfectly, the first time. If not, then I simply wasn't meant to do it, am not good at it or can't fit it into my life. I don't allow for ups and downs.

Okay....onto the fig.

I began taking horseback riding lessons three weeks ago. It was all very flurry-like because it happened so quickly and without much thought. I just saw the trainer at the local spring street festival, and she had lesson times available at the exact time I had kid-free hours available, and we set it up and it was done. I arrived at the stable on the designated day and time, and Cackie was there, waiting for me.

Cackie is my trainer. Isn't that a total horse-training name? I don't know why I think it is, since I have no experience at all with horses, trainers or people named Cackie, but it fits very well in my mind. Cackie, the horse trainer.

I had no idea what to expect. The only thing I knew was that I wanted nothing to do with English riding and would insist on Western riding lessons. I once attended a horse show in DC, and I was more than horrified by the whole dressage bit, where the horses were prancing about the ring in all sorts of humiliating attire. No, I'd rather do barrel racing and wear fringed chaps than do any of that.

Cackie teaches English-style riding, saddle seat. Only.

Okay. I wasn't going to make a fuss, and the barn had shaggy barn dogs that were slightly mangy (in a rustic rather than dank way), and the horses were peeking out from their stalls to see who I was, and I couldn't very well turn tail and go home simply because I didn't like the saddle. I said nothing. I loved it all too much, and I wasn't even on the horse yet.

Cackie asked me, "Have you been on a horse before?"

I said, "Oh yes, I rode several days on a trail ride in China."

She kind of looked at me, and I assured her that when I said "I rode" what I meant was that I sat atop the horse (with much help getting me up there) and then let him do his thing while we rode through the mountains of Sichuan looking for camp. I never used the reigns. I never said anything to the horse at all, other than a few bits of encouragement that I'm sure he felt were condescending and tedious. Anyway, I told Cackie, "I don't even really know how to get up on one of those things."

She thought that was pretty funny and assured me that by the end of our lesson, I'd at least know that much.

I got up on the horse, Ace, and Cackie told me that she was going to teach me to post.

What?

Post.

This is when the rider moves up and down the saddle to the rhythm of the horse's trot. It sounds simple. It is not simple.

Add to this that an English saddle has no horn, and what on earth did I have to hang onto for dear life?

Add to that that Cackie wouldn't let me use the reigns until I could post not only without them, but without using my hands to hold on to anything....anything. Just my thighs. Just rest them on my thighs.

I figured it would take me about a year to do that.....but I gave it my full--force effort. I focused. I rose up and down in the saddle, wobbling more than a bit and sort of flopping about while double-boucning in the seat.

"Don't double bounce," Cackie called out. "Pretend the seat is on fire."

By the end of the first lesson, I was posting with no hands.

I know.

I have had five lessons so far. It is more fun than I've had in years. YEARS, I tell you. I can't hardly think of anything else, and when I'm home all I want to do is cook and clean and play with kids so that when the next lesson comes around, I am free to focus entirely on the lesson, the horse, the posting up and down with no hands. It is exhausting, physically but also mentally. I use all my attention, focus and determination to do well. I really want to do well, not because I want praise, but because I want to learn more. I can't learn more if I don't master each step, and I desperately want to do that. It is thrilling. It is totally unpredictable (for me), and just when I think I've got something down, Cackie says to me, "Okay, here are your reigns."

Lordy, it's just lovely with the reigns. There is more control. I can steer the horse (poorly but somewhat). Ace seems to know we're in business and gets to going at a faster clip when I have the reigns. I sit up higher and post better with the reigns. And then....just when the reigns are so exciting I can barely stand it.....Cackie says, "Okay, let's use a crop."

I could go on. Instead, I will just post a short video here. I will say, in my defense, that by the end of this lesson, I was riding without the lead. But what does it matter. All of it is just so thrilling. I get to go again tomorrow. I have no idea what I'll do in a week, when the kids are out of school and I might have to postpone the lessons. I will figure it out. I must.

Here is the video.....Cackie, Ace and MamaP.

Knitting.....fussy fig.

I went to the knitting shop today, and Liz (my friend's aunt) told me emphatically that I cannot start to knit a sweater until I do a gauge.

That is, I have to determine if my yarn and needles will make the same size pattern that is called for. I have no other way to better describe it. You knitters know what I'm talking about.....

It's something I have avoided, and it speaks to an issue I have with myself that I'd like to overcome. Much like egg whites in a recipe, I am fearful of doing anything I don't already know how to do and that I am uncertain I will be able to do well. I know, for example, how to knit a baby blanket. So that's what I do. I knit baby blankets. But I'm fairly certain I'll mess up a sweater or socks or gloves, so I just avoid it and knit more baby blankets....or I cook egg-white-less cakes.....or I learn only Chinese (instead of a much more practical language), or I refuse to play any sports in public. Okay, you get the point. So, this sweater is more to me than a sweater. It's a chance to go further into a subject area I'm not particularly comfortable or confident with and to actually learn how to do something well instead of being a crafting dilettante.

Anyway, I'm doing the uber-popular Shalom cardigan. Over 4,000 people have knitted it on Ravelry, and everyone says it's simple and cute. I agree about the cute part. I think it looks cozy and not super complicated and a great project for the beginning knitter.

The woman who wrote the pattern has a blog, Involving the Senses, which I like. She makes me want to add pottery to my list of figs!

Anyway, I'm going to do the gauge tonight and take it back to the shop Saturday to see if I need different needles and/or yarn. At least I got to spend an hour today getting to know Liz, and I'm getting to work on my sweater!

MamaP