Category: The Mad Hatter’s Observations

Step One – Keep your phone fully charged at all time. Also, remember to turn the ringer back on. For years, my work was such that I kept it on silent all the time, but not any more. That ringer is ON and LOUD and not disturbing any meetings or distracting me from the task at hand. This is your lifeline to the outside world and will greatly increase your response time when your mother calls, or your BFF texts or your boyfriend sends you updates from out there. You’ll need to respond to queries on social media in real time and you can’t if your notifications are off. Speaking of social media – yes, I am trolling all of you, repeatedly. Keep posting. Especially those silly quizzes. I’m learning so much about you and me.

Step Two – Fire up the kitchen. For example, on my first day at home, I dusted off my recipes and made my Dad’s favorite dish – tried and true German potato salad, paired with a mesquite pork roast. I not sure what I was thinking when I tripled the recipe and made 5 pounds. All I know is that we ate potato salad for the next 3 days. On Day Two, I made a ton of red meat sauce and promptly made 8 pounds of lasagna, to go with the 5 pounds of potato salad. I was starting to panic over the lack of eggs in the grocery store and was wondering how long the 9 eggs I had would last with all this cooking. Fortunately for me, on Day Three, I found eggs. But out of an abundance of caution, I googled egg substitutes and not only did I pick up the aforementioned eggs, I also got ground flax seed. According to Google – 1 TBS of ground flax seed plus 3 TBS of water equals one egg – since I found it on the internet, it must be true. I haven’t tried this trick out yet and I’m kinda hoping it doesn’t reach that point. Day Four saw the appearance of the crockpot and I threw everything about to expire into it. It doesn’t measure up to the lasagna, but is still edible. On Day Five, I got into the red sauce for a little 1 pound serving of spaghetti. By Day Six, I was cooked out, so it was time to take a break, but Day Seven I was back at it for some good ol’ fashion chocolate chip cookies, all 6 dozen of them. Let me remind you that there are only 3 people living in this house which leads to my next step . . .

Step Three – Exercise. DUH! You can’t have your cake (or cookies) and eat it too. Well, technically you can, but you are going to regret it. This was a tough one for me because I ran (ok – walked) my last 1/2 marathon 7 years ago and had just started back with pilates and was 3 classes in when the studio closed. It didn’t deter me from squeezing into my old workout clothes on Day Four and taking a walk around the block. Lucky me has a 2 1/2 mile block. Not so lucky me got a wedgie from my too-tight pants 1/2 mile in. This body has changed a lot since my last walk. I got shin splints on mile one. On mile two, I went to check my fitbit to see how I was doing and couldn’t read the screen because I left my reading glasses in the house. On Day Seven’s walk, I remembered the glasses but pulling them out of the old running jacket, which fit me like a sausage skin, slowed my pace down to 21.45. I got a long way to go. Here we are on Day Eight, and with rain poring down outside, I decided to go with Pilates. I dragged out an old mat, put on my favorite pilates outfit, discovered that getting into said outfit required a pilates workout, and then went on youtube to find a workout video. There were tons of them and settling in on a 20 minute beginner’s workout, I hopped on the mat and my feet stuck to it. Apparently, 7 year old yoga mats get sticky sitting in the back of your closet. I pushed through and did a few hundreds (ouch, cramp) and towards the end, managed a plank (oh my gosh! stomach). When I was all done, I ate a cookie.

Step Four – At Home Spa Treatments. Also, don’t forget hygiene. Just because we are all home, we still need to shower, brush our teeth, and put on clothes – that fit – at least until the exercise catches up with the bulk food cooking. But I like to take it one step further. I have a ton of masks, exfoliating products, skin care lotions, hair care sprays and the like. I’m taking advantage of my long days at home to actually use these products. I’ve started practicing french braiding my hair. I’ve been filing and polishing my nails. I went through all the bottles of lotion I have and started actually using them, with the famous Silence of the Lambs quote rolling through my head on occasion – it puts the lotion on. There’s a little of my dark humor peaking through when I’m left unattended at home. OH – I’m actually inserting an awesome home spa recipe here, so pay attention. For the best foot soak on the planet, mix 1 cup mouthwash, 1 cup vinegar, and 2 cups hot water in a foot tub. Soak your feet in the mixture for at least 10 minutes, or until the water starts to get cold. Trust me on this one – it feels amazing. Try to stay away from blue, purple, or green mouthwash or your feet will turn those colors. Now that I think about it – you are stuck at home where no one will see your discolored feet. Go for it! On Day Two, I splurged on a very fancy mud mask, and totally rocked it out, Peg Bundy style, while watching the Bold and the Beautiful, which brings me to . . .

Step Five – Bing Watching. Warning – do this in moderation. On Day Three, I decided to watch a list of horror movies I compiled over a year ago. I started with Midsommer, moved to the Neon Demon, and wrapped it up with Hereditary. I didn’t sleep much that night. I think I need to take in a Disney movie soon so I can recover. Gary is still out working. As he heads out to work every morning, he asks me what my plan for the day is. My response is never pleasant. But for the first time in over 3 years, we had an entire weekend together. One of the complications of this is trying to find bing worthy stuff. On Saturday, otherwise known as Day Five, we rolled through the start of 5 movies without success. They all got shut down after 15 minutes. Then we stubbled across the Amazon Prime show – “Jack Ryan”. What happened next can only be described as a bing watching marathon. We ended the first day at Midnight and picked up again Sunday for another 8 hours, after I watched CBS this Morning. This was also a first in over 3 years. It was my ritual every Sunday to watch before starting the day until I started working at Full Moon Saloon for Sunday breakfast. I took advantage of being home to watch just like old times.

Step Six – Crafts and Games and DIY (oh my) – This is a broad category and although I’m not a big book reader, I would include this on the list for those of you who love to read. I will narrow it down to what I’ve been doing with my time – mostly scrapbooking. I’m baaaack! I used to scrapbook all the time and just like exercise, set it aside 7 years ago. Day Six and Seven, I wrapped up 3 scrapbooks. On Day Seven, I fixed the door on our entertainment center and rearranged the selves so that I could put the extensive collection of albums already completed behind the glass door, to cut down on the dust they were collecting. I had to look at each one, which was like stepping into my own personal Tardis. I found myself among the pages, drowning in a sea of memories. I had found pieces of myself that were long forgotten. With so much introspection, I realized there was hope for me yet to tap into my introverted side. Then I jumped on my phone to destroy the walking dead in The Walking Dead, Our World game. I realized that I had a Walking Dead puzzle so I put it together and then mailed it off to a fellow TWD fan, so she could pass the time. Who knew that my zombie apocalypse skills would have come in so handy. Who am I kidding – if there ever is an apocalypse, as soon as my contacts run out, I’m toast. My newest game is Angry Birds, Dream Blast. I’m already at level 64, but only because I got sucked into it last night and played it for 2 straight hours. My son has informed me that the latest game craze is Animal Crossing, which he started playing on Day Seven. He says its a calm relaxing game. I’m sure he needs that, now that he’s a grown man stuck at home with his mother 24/7. He probably would prefer solitary confinement.

Step Seven – Cleaning and Organizing. OK – on the physical level this needs no explanation. Vacuum, dust, do dishes after making enough food to feed an army, wash those workout clothes so you can blame their ill fit on shrinkage, and organize a few computer and paper files. For me, that computer file organizing is the big one. I’m taking this time to go through – wait for it – 15,000 photos – stored on my hard drive. It is the side effect of having been a photographer for 13 years. I ran across a few that turned that introspective part of me on. I also ran across a lot that made me go “what was I thinking?” That’s in quotes because I’ve actually been saying out loud. I did stumble across a few that made for a somewhat twisted COVID-19 card that I made. (See Step Seven) I’ve ordered 20 and will be mailing them out soon to a select few that will appreciate my slightly sick sense of humor.

I hope this handy guide is helpful in some way to all you Extroverts. As I hunker down, I am realizing that I’m actually enjoying this. This time to wake up from complacency, return to the things I used to do when they weren’t a necessity, and accepting the fact that I do not know where it is going. I can survive in an Introvert world. If nothing else, I have a much higher respect for you. Once we come out on the other end of this, I imagine we will all be Omniverts. We’ll be ready for anything, whether we tend to keep our distance or we have to hug every person we meet. Regardless, on Day Eight, I have never felt alone.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to catch up on The Bold and the Beautiful, brush my teeth and freeze some red sauce before it goes bad.

…..Ralph Waldo Emerson. I was raised by a man of the earth. A farmer. The second father I ever had was a man of the heavens. An Astronomer. He was the only father-in-law I have ever had. He scared me at first. There was this calm quiet about him and when he did speak, I paid attention. Then I got to know him. There was no fear then – only that calm quiet, interrupted by puns, whiskey, weaving, chocolate, and puzzles. Both he and my mother-in-law kept their house open to all that needed a place to be or more likely a loving family to be with. The wonderful thing about the Klinglesmith family, is once your in – they never let you leave and that’s just how you want it to be.

I wasn’t their first stray. I was preceeded by many others and I was followed by many more. They never locked the door. They never turned away a friend. There was always room at the dinner table for one more. Although, for some reason, I ate slower than the rest of the Klinglesmiths, so I was always still at the table as they cleared everything away from around me. I guess I never had to grow up in a house full of siblings, where first come, first serve was the rule.

Now Dan Klinglesmith III has left us. Joined the universe that he observed his whole life. But he left behind so many lessons learned. I learned to say thank you when I was handed a knife – so that the giver knew you had a hold of it before he would let go. I learned that a practical joke can become a family tradition – like hanging a christmas tree upside down from the ceiling. I discovered that there are many things that a hankercheif can assist with, other than the obvious. I found out that when your daughter comes home from Belize, you can make her feel at home by pitching a tent in the living room for her. While eating dinner, you can be waited on as if in a fancy restaurant, if you simply say “while your up” every time someone stands. I have a whole new understanding of girl scout cookies since visiting the Klinglesmith distrubution center. I now know that puns can take on a life of their own, and they never get old. I learned that correct spelling is optional. He taught me how to pick my fights and he taught me that there wasn’t much in life that warranted a fight. I studied him at his loom and learned that great beauty can only be created with patience.

Before he left us, Dan made sure that his family was tightly woven together, full of love and laughter. He made sure that we were firmly planted on Earth so that we could gaze at the stars for him. Now its up to us to continue the puns and hang the tree upside down. Maybe with some chocolate and whiskey at the ready.

40 years ago I ran into my childhood friend on the playground.  I broke her glasses and formed a rainbow colored goose egg on my forehead.  We’ve been friends ever since.  Today she’s flying back home after a brief BFF retreat with me in my humble new home.  Its been a grand adventure.  She got in her Maryland scrapple and crab fix.  She treated me to that famous Wisconsin cheese.  We got to chat away the miles and the years over the fire pit while roasting marshmallows.  We spent an afternoon with her family and it felt like home.  Just as it always does and just as I know she feels when she is with my family.

My intent as I was driving her to Dulles was to take the scenic route through DC.  It was scenic but not quite what I was aiming for.  More like a roll up the windows, where are we, scenic route.  We rolled into the terminal and within seconds she was on the curb, purple suitcase in tow, and I pulled away to head back home.  And what was this?  I felt this strange punch to the stomach, and the tears came, and I was baffled.  Confused by such a reaction to the end of this quiet little retreat.  And swimming into my head, rose Billy’s eulogy at Keith’s memorial service.  I couldn’t remember all the words but I could feel the emotions of it.  Billy and Keith became friends when they were 4 years old, at an ice skating rink.  Keith collided with Billy and knocked out one of his teeth, which landed Billy in the doctor’s office.  A tale very reminiscent of how Karen and I met.  50 years later, there was Billy standing vigil next to Keith’s hospital bed, with his wife and children and then standing before a packed synagogue recounting a 50 year friendship.  Showing us the essence of Keith from the age of innocence and simplicity through the years to the man he had become.  There was the source of my ache, as the miles moved Karen and I away from each other and back to our daily routines.  It was the first time that I had ever felt any true understanding of what it must have been like for Billy.  Yet I still found myself confused as to, why now, would something like that hit me.  Through the tears I had managed to miss my turn and landed right in the heart of the Mall in DC.  Exactly where I wanted to take Karen on the ride in.  Looping around the Washington Monument and past the World War II Memorial, I snapped out of the tears.  Some times, you are meant to be in the moment with a true friend and some times you are meant to sight see.

There was something about my conjuring of Billy’s eulogy and replaying Karen and I talking about how we wished we were better about staying in touch. How life just has a way of busying us up and squeezing out those connections to people who are a part of our lives yet not part of our daily happenings.  And how hard it is to tell people we love what they really mean to us.  But if Billy could do it, why couldn’t I?  Why wait for the eulogy?  What is there to be afraid of when speaking your heart to someone who knew you before the training wheels came off your bike or before you worn a training bra? Was there for you when you discovered that there was no Santa Claus, or when you kissed your first boy, got into your first mischief, passed the driving test, failed the math quiz?

For me, it is because I must visit a time in my life when I was truly an ugly person.  My second year of college.  I had let the ills of others who had wronged me taint me like a dark cancer of my spirit. All through Freshman year, it was building and growing.  I could no longer distinguish truth from fiction.  I was only capable of building shallow superficial friendships under the guise of party buddies.  There was little self esteem going into my higher education and there was little I did to regain it.  Meanwhile, Karen and I would stay in touch, sending each other postcards from the sides of wine cooler 4 packs.  I went to visit her, she came to visit me.  We spent the summer between our freshman and sophomore years, working together at a local restaurant down in St. Michaels.  We had met a couple of guys and all 4 of us hung out after hours.  When we returned to our studies in the Fall, I continued to see one of those two guys.  And he was no good for me.  As the fall rolled into spring, my cancer of the spirit had grown to the point where my roommate, Cathy, moved out between semesters.  I started to blow off visits to Karen, driving right past her to get to him.  I partied more and more.  I alienated more and more people.  I skipped Karen’s debut as the lead in one of her college theater productions.  I became so mired in lies, I no longer knew my own truth.  And Karen was angry with me.  I was hurting her again and again with my betrayal of our friendship.  And I was so ugly, I didn’t care.

But then that no good boy dumped me.  With no self esteem and no true friends, I fell apart.  My cancer had eaten its way straight through me and had turned me into a dark mad hatter who had poisoned the tea.  I can’t remember all the details.  I don’t remember calling Karen, but I think my ex roommate did.  Cathy had talked me into seeing the campus psychologist and actually set up an appointment for me.  At the appointment, Karen showed up.  She drove the 5 hours from her campus to mine.  She was there and the look on her face scared me because in that moment I could see all that I had injured her with in those last couple of years.  I suddenly cared.  And we went through that session, and she made me speak the truth and never let up on me.  She didn’t cut me any slack.  She never wavered and never flinched with each confession I made of all the things I had become.  And if I spoke one false word, she brought me back around to honesty.  And she saved me that day.  And for a long time, I hid from her.  I could not look at her and yet at the same time, the cancer slowly lost its grip.  Loosened its tendrils from around my heart and allowed me to love myself.  I was free to be honest again.

At Karen’s wedding is when I first truly understood what she did for me.  As I stood up there reading a poem during the ceremony, I was shaking and nervous with stage fright but determined to not let her down.  She still trusted me with this important task even when I had damaged our relationship.  I have often thought of that day in the Spring of my Sophomore year, when she appeared on my doorstep, angry and hurt from my actions, solely to save me.  The selfless act of a childhood friend.  She was there to be my witness to that innocent child that still lived inside me.  The protector of that part of me that still believed in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and of course, magic.  Karen taught me how to be a true friend again.  And for that, I would drive lost through DC at any hour of the day or night, recounting eulogies in my head until I am smiling through the tears.

 

 

 

We humans have a tendency to stumble through our emotional lives, staggering between our selfish desires and our longing to guard the soft vulnerabilities of the people we love.  Sure, there are monsters among us.  The Hitlers, the Bundys, the Khans.  But they are not us.  Their dark souls will never know what it is to carry guilt.  Their hearts will never feel the pain they press upon others.  We do, sometimes intensely.  It is what give us the power to forgive.  We are more empathetic than we give ourselves credit for.

I was promoted at work.  This week I jumped in with both feet.  People have come and gone, interviewed for the job, and along the way – they all let me glimpse into their lives.  I’m full of stories now.  A grandparent who fought in WWII, a mother who had to bury her son, a man soothing his toddler by playing a Boss Scaggs CD in the car.  And a woman who shyly shared with me that she did a foolish thing in her youth.  I told her there was nothing to be ashamed of.  I had my share of youthful foolishness too.  I just never got caught.  She thanked me for not judging her.  How could I judge her?  Not passing judgement is our way of sending forgiveness to a stranger.

Thrown into the middle of my glimpses sat two apologies.  One last night from my far past.  He had no idea I had long ago forgiven him but he still needed to hear that.  He didn’t know that the damage was now a scar neatly knitted closed over the course of my life.  Then came another apology this morning from someone so deeply close to me, and it came so quickly that I was still in shock and holding the wound tight to stop the bleeding.  But it didn’t stop me from forgiving him.  Right there, on the spot.  Time to move on.

It doesn’t matter what the wrongs were.  It doesn’t matter when they happened or how.  We all find ourselves occasionally knocking on that door to selfish acts.  If it opens, If we dare to go in,  we run the risk of calaterial damage – to ourselves and to the people we love.  It’s ok.  We are human. As long as we remember that when we drink in the forgiveness offered us, we need to forgive ourselves.

I was voted most optimistic by my senior class in high school.  None of you who have come to know me in my adult form would even bat an eye at the nomination.  In fact, most would say that it was a given.  Once the glass is half full, it’s always half full.  Right?  But truth is a far stranger tale than fiction.  Not only did my 17-year-old self see the glass half empty, I saw that glass precariously balanced on some slick surface seconds away from crashing to the floor, shattering into razor-sharp bits and pieces with its half empty contents running away from its protective vessel.  If I ever did see it as half full, I was convinced that it was poison.  I was the queen of emo before emo’s existed.  I was the harbinger of ill tidings with a dash of poor me. Chicken Little and Eeyore all rolled into one cubby, ocular challenged, morose square peg.  Always looking for a passive-aggressive fight, I was notorious for deciding it was down when someone said it was up.  It didn’t even sway me when they presented the flow chart confirming the facts and statistical analysis in support of “up”.

So how on earth did I manage to win the vote?  Ah – you see – I fixed the election.  I stuffed the ballot box.  Lacking in optimism never stopped me from being opportunistic.  Now that’s a trait I’ve had my whole life.  From early on, I’ve been very capable of using charm and wit and a big chubby cheeked smile to go after the things I want.  Sometimes with a dash of “be careful what you wish for” – like the time this little toddler poured on the Shirley Temple charm on a train till I was given a Halloween’s worth of treats and an equally painful little belly ache.

In my teen geek-phase, curls and chubby smiles gave way to the power of debate and persuasion.  And so it was the day the ballots were handed out.  It was during my College Prep English class and seated with me were another 20 or so of my fellow classmates, mostly seniors.  I wanted to be voted for something, anything really.  I knew I was way out of the running for most beautiful, smart, athletic, school spirit, cutest couple, likely to succeed . . . as I read down the list I started to see that half empty glass until I heard the whispers.  Those around me saying “Most Optimistic?  Whats that on there for?  Who’s optimistic? That’s silly.  Why bother.  They shouldn’t have that one on there.”  Bingo!  I had my “in”.  I piped up to the whispering masses with my best smile “I’m optimistic.”  There was almost a collective sigh around the room.  As if I were volunteering to be this year’s harvest festival sacrifice.  Yes! they all agreed.  Cherish will save us all from the one title that was not already preordained. I watched as they scribbled my name in the blank, not caring one lick that I was about to carry a title unworthy of popularity advancement.  All I cared about was being voted as Most Something or Most Anything.

So the votes were tallied and all the most beautiful, smart, athletic, school spirit, cutest couple, likely to succeed, and most optimistic seniors were gathered together in front of the school.  It was one of the few moments of my high school life where I was standing shoulder to shoulder with the most popular kids in our class. Each Most, one girl and one boy, were photographed in front of the brick wall under the awning leading into our great halls of learning.  There I was, standing next to our class president who towered over me.  As the camera was raised, he put his arm on my head and I threw two thumbs up in the air with my best cheesy smile.  The kind of smile that charms chocolate out of the pockets of fellow passengers on a train.  In the click of a shutter, for one split second, I was most optimistic, and then I returned to my natural half empty existence.

Somewhere, somehow, over the years I evolved and the glass became half full.  Not only half full, but half full with the promise of being filled to the brim.  When Keith got sick, that never changed.  When Keith died, it never changed.  When Dad was sick, it didn’t waiver.  When I lost my job, not a drop was spilled from that glass.  Sure, I’ve had my stress, my fears, my doubts, my worries.  Who wouldn’t?  But my resolve to remain optimistic never wavered.  And now I have before me my latest truth stranger than fiction.  The breast biopsy results have returned – I have invasive ductal carcinoma – breast cancer. This blog, originally named “Keith’s Updates”, was started to keep everyone we loved informed on Keith’s progress.  So it follows that I have added a new category – “Cherish’s Updates” – and this is the first one.  All I can say right now is to check back again soon.  All the information I have is the diagnosis.  What I can update you on is this – that glass will never be half empty again.  I’ve earned every drop in there.  Struggled and strained to keep it half full, more than half full for three years now.  I can do it till my last breath, if need be.

Sometimes, a camera captures in a split second what’s inside of us all along. Those two thumbs up and that candy smile that sits in my yearbook? Maybe my teen self knew I’d need to see them now.  Maybe, just maybe, she knew something beyond her young age. Maybe she took advantage of her foolish youth to expel all the darkness and negativity from her soul back when that ugly behavior could be chalked up to teen angst. Maybe she knew that if she could add just one drop of opportunity to that glass, tip it over to half full, she would be giving her future self all the strength necessary to move gracefully from one challenge to the next.  That by fixing the vote to snatch up a worthless title in high school, she gave herself the most important one that can be bestowed upon her as an adult.