Some Unsolicited Advice for Martha Stewart

Let me just say that I am a big fan and I love your show. I have daydreamed about living in your tasteful home, your prolific garden, and your gorgeous kitchen. I frequently visualize myself mixing complicated French fruit tarts in your minty green bowls.You’re so talented and very creative.

I hated that you were sent to jail, I admired your strength and internal fortitude to just do it without whining. I cheered your comeback and watch your show whenever I can. In other words, I have your back when I hear you being badmouthed.

This morning I was just fooling around, googling lots of different subjects, but I suddenly noticed all the articles about you, Martha Stewart, becoming a grandmother. Apparently last March, your 45 year old daughter, Alexis, had a baby girl by surrogate. Martha, you were on a business trip when the baby was born so you didn’t see your grandchild until the baby, Jude, was 3 days old.

I’m guessing (based on what I’ve read about their relationship) that Alexis is a little entitled. I watched the TV show Alexis had with her girlfriend where she and her friend made fun of you following your programs. It was produced by your production company so I’m assuming they had your permission. It was horrible and embarrassing, but Alexis must have made some money off of it.

I think, Martha, that your were probably not an easy mother, I get that, but I see trouble in your future so I’m offering my help. You have your area of expertise and I have mine. My area is being a grandmother. I have 4 grandchildren under 7, three girls and one boy. I even write a blog called, thegrandmotherdiaries.blogspot.com to document my experiences with my babies. As I've said, I’m an admirer and also a grandmother with some experience now; I have some advice if you would like it. Yes? Read further. No? I still love you and my feelings aren’t hurt. Well maybe a little…

1. Your daughter was going to return that big box full of embroidered baby things you gave her and buy herself something. I have a sneaking suspicion that Alexis is going to use this baby as some kind of weapon against you. Back off with buying stuff until later when your daughter settles down. It’s the way of heartbreak, honey. Don’t let her break your heart over stuff. Maybe Alexis wants some presents?

2. Martha, you said you don’t want the baby to call you ‘grandma.” Are you kidding me? First off, the baby will call you whatever she can pronounce. I was “Dama,” then ‘Bama,” and finally “Grandma.” Just wait. You can decide when she finally gives you a name. It is the baby who will probably name you.

3. In a few years, Alexis is going to want some time off. Also it may not be years, probably weeks. Just wait. Your daughter is doing this alone so she will need you. Just let her know you will be there to help.

4. Something Alexis needs to hear: Your mother and your daughter will have their own relationship that has nothing to do with you. You don’t own your child, Alexis. You do have the right to limit things, but geez, give your mother a break. Grandmas do get to spoil a little, like staying up a little later, extra ice cream. For God’s sake, lighten up a bit. Both of you.

5. Martha, let this little girl decide what you do with your time together. When she starts to walk, just follow her. She’ll adore your yard and plants, the outdoors. Make her little boats to float in rain puddles. Make simple cookies. Have some songs she likes and sing them all the time. Do bring her books like Alexis says, but you’ve always valued handmade stuff. Make some books with her. Get out your sewing machine. I made my granddaughter a revamped Barbie RV that was so fun to do. I make paper dolls and pear tarts. In other words, do stuff together if you can. It’s so fun you won’t believe it.

6. You have all the money in the world. Cut back on your work so you can spend time with this little girl while she’s still under 5. You will never regret it. I promise.

7. I think you may be a person who is really hard on herself, Martha, but this little girl will absolutely love you beyond reason and love you for just arriving on her doorstep, before you even do anything. You won’t believe how that feels. Talk about unconditional love. Even if you make mistakes. Just enjoy this baby.

8. The purity about being around small children is that it is just like meditating, you are just in the moment with them. This time is magical. Don’t miss it.

9. And Alexis, I know that it took me a long time to view my mother as another woman with needs and faults, etc. This period is really important for you, your mother, and your baby girl. Remember this: the more people who love and share their lives with your child, the better. It will only enrich her experience of the world.

So, that's it, Martha. I wish you smooth sailing as a grandmother. It's really the best thing. Except, now you have one more person to worry about, fret over, lose sleep about, and hold in your heart every day. If you need any more advice, just call.

She Wears Her Love Like Heaven

Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished. ~ Mary Oliver

Allow me to spend a few minutes telling you about the youngest baby in our family, Ava. She’s 17 months old with very blond wispy hair not long enough to make ponies or use barrettes yet. Big dark blue eyes and a giggle like a stream of pure water in a bubbling brook, Ava puts her head back and laughs so you can see her latest molars.

She’s been on her feet since a few days before her birthday, then began running full speed. Her latest trick, while her big sister Rebecca does her version of River Dance, is to dance on her tip toes. Who knew a baby could be so clever?

When I come to the door she bangs the top of her head three times with her hand, points outside, and runs for the refrigerator. That is shorthand for, my sister is home, let’s play outside, and can we bring a Popsicle with us? As I said, Ava is very advanced. My daughter was teaching her baby sign language, but she has made up some of her own that we all understand.

There is a circular space through the kitchen, dining area, and living room where a child can run in circles for hours without hitting her head. When I come over, Ava will get her sister to run with her, she stops short in front of me so I can say, “Boo, “ which makes her scream, bend over at the waist to laugh, wriggle with delight, then run some more.

Before I had grandchildren I didn’t realize how much kids love routine, how they crave the same games, but they definitely do. When I stay for dinner, I get the pleasure of giving both the girls a bath. Sadly, my darling Rebecca is done with singing games and powder, but Ava still thinks Baby Magic lotion and Johnson’s Baby Powder are the most spectacular things. Lotion on hands, backs, baby bottoms, arms, cheeks, and powder everywhere spread around by little hands, and then topped with baby footie pajamas. She smells like heaven when I kiss her sweet cheeks and nuzzle her neck. I go home covered with powder and lotion, also, so much so I can’t stop at the store on the way home because I’m such a mess.

I still call her Baby. She’s probably my last grandchild so I keep my nose buried a little longer into her neck to kiss her, holding her a little tighter next to my heart, watching her a little longer , and savoring her sweetness while closing my eyes to remember her at just this very moment. Then I release her knowing she's off to her business of growing up. Which, of course, is how is should be.

Where Has Mary Gone?

I’ve always really liked Mary. She was always easy to talk to and she was always kind. I never bought the namby pamby virgin they tried to sell to us as children. I saw her as strong, regal, a woman with her own mind, and internal power. So when she showed up in my home town a few months ago I was thrilled. Who wouldn’t want Mary to show up?



People who have been following the story of The Surfing Madonna knew it was going to happen, but still. It was shocking. She was here, then boom. Gone. Mysteriously our beautiful blue Mary showed up on the corner of Vulcan and Encinitas Boulevard a few blocks from Moonlight Beach in Encinitas on April 22 of this year and disappeared last Saturday.



Born under the Coaster train underpass, the gorgeous blue/green/golden mosaic showed up right before Holy Week and was an immediate hit. Tall, yet holding herself like the queen she is, Mary stood on the board arms extended, balanced on the surfboard, veils flapping wildly in the wind, her golden glow surrounding her with her motto to the left of the 10x10 foot mural. None of this ‘pray to me’ business for our new Guadalupe sister. It’s Save our Ocean. Her message is timely, simple, and profound.



The city council of Encinitas, the southern California beach town where I raised my kids, had a fit. They called her ‘illegal’ (kind of like her other sisters and brothers from Mexico), they called her trashy and demanded her removal. They reacted as if gang graffiti had been painted there. The city called in experts to assess how much it would cost to remove her. They even spent $2,200 of city money for an estimate.



Mary’s image captured the imagination of the community and even the nation’s news. Her beauty, the mystery of her appearance, her message of saving the ocean brought people to the corner to see and touch her. Mary even had her very own flash mob who wore long Spanish mantilla’s on their heads and held candles. St. John’s, the local Catholic Church, told the city they would welcome the mosaic on its coastal campus. Other businesses on PCH 101 offered her a sanctuary as well.It was all too much.



The artist had hoped to remain anonymous, but when they threatened to take her apart and haul her away, coastal artist Mark Patterson came forward. He had dreams about Mary for years, finally he heeded her message. Mark traveled to Italy to learn mosaic, gathered the stained glass, and created her as a gift to the city with a reminder of the ocean’s vulnerability. Patterson agreed to a fine of $500 and to pay the fee for the removal estimate. Mark’s looking for a place for Mary along Pacific Coast Highway that won’t cause a traffic hazard so he and his friends took Mary down, carefully took her apart until they can find her a new home.



I’ve been thinking lately about how important art is in our lives. It surely evokes emotional responses such as hope or horror. It has the capacity to lift us higher, make us cry or laugh, or demand it be removed from our sight. Art elevates the conversation, shows us something new about ourselves. It can give us a glimpse of our better angels or our worst destructive tendencies. Art reflects our humanity back to us so we can examine who we are.

"We are all meant to be mothers of God, for God is always needing to be born." Meister Eckhart



Quitting Smoking: Getting Over Myself

I remember thinking a few years back, “What if I treated myself the way I treat my kids? What if all that love and understanding, compassion and forgiveness, unconditional kindness was directed to my own heart and head?” What a revolutionary thought! Like every good Mama, I dismissed the idea. Ridiculous. Well, I never did anything with that thought before now and I can say with certainty, it really did the trick.



My last blog was January 30th, four months ago. At that time I said I was looking for a way to transform myself in a good way. I don’t know if I’ve accomplished what I meant, but I did quit smoking and had to wait a month to be sure I had a handle on it before I came back to Open Salon. Nothing worse than a self-congratulatory hypocrite.



I did it. I kicked the habit. How did I do it, you ask? With an acute awareness of my lack of self discipline, tons of patience, and kindness to myself. I never thought I could do it. I’ve tried so many times and failed miserably. This is the first time I just took my time and learned how to do some serious and kind self-talk. Oh, and drugs. I took Chantix for 3 months.



I started to smoke at 13, buying my cigarettes at vending machines in gas stations. I seriously started smoking at 18. I grew up in a world where most of the adults smoked. In the 70’s, I smoked through 2 pregnancies without the doctor saying a word about it. It has been 43 years since I woke up without running for a smoke to go along with my first cup of coffee.



Breaking my habits one by one, I started with the first cigarette in the morning and the last one at night. I used to smoke 3 cigarettes before even took my shower. I won’t tell you that I didn’t love it. I did. Even now, probably 2 times a day I have an intense craving. But if I breathe deeply, remember what a drag tasted like, I’m fine. The moment passes.



The downside of quitting: The drug gave me terrible insomnia. I had crazy acid dreams that woke me up and I couldn’t fall back to sleep. For example, I was being told to jump in a well with a walrus. I was saying,”No, you have to tell me your plan for getting me out.” I didn’t get an answer so I didn’t jump, but I opened my eyes at 1:12 a.m. and stayed awake all night.



I would have to take an over the counter sleep pill before I went to bed to sleep enough to go to work to function, make a living. For one month after quitting the Chantix I was utterly, pathetically exhausted. That’s going away. I just realized I feel pretty good today and I’m going swimming.



The good reasons to quit: my grandchildren. I just don’t want them to remember me as the lady in the backyard by herself, margarita in one hand, cig in the other. I want to breathe and not be a sick old lady. That’s the truth of it. I was really nice to myself while I made mistakes, backslid, felt sorry for self. It worked. I waited longer each day to have one, finally realized how silly I was to have 2 a day for about 6 weeks. I just set the date and did it.



Do I miss it? Yup. Then I take a deep breath and it feels good. I am taking one day at a time. Conveniently, with an addicts’ sense of logic, I kept a pack by my bed stand with 2 cigarettes in it. I told my sister I kept them so that I didn’t feel deprived and I could have ‘em anytime I wanted. Then I realized that those words were like an alcoholic saying he can drink anytime he chooses.



I threw them out. Along with my hand lotion, mouth wash, and hand sanitizer in my front seat. Oh, and I got the new car.



I also promise if I walk by you in the street and you have a cigarette, that I won’t wave my hands and make hissing noises, with a disapproving scowl on my face. I hated that before and I hate it still. This is a beginning that I like. Cheers.



Though your destination is not clear

You can trust the promise of this opening;

Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning. john o donohue~



Aiden and I and MLK: A 5 Year Old's View of History

My grandson, Aiden, and I spent the school holiday together. He is beautiful with reddish blond hair, light blue eyes, and even has one big dimple when he smiles. I picked him up at 3:00 p.m. to drive him to my little cottage, or "my tree house" Aiden calls it. We make up songs on the way to my place and sing "Puff," "This Land is Your Land," though we only know one verse of each. Once we arrive, we have a plan.

Always one to initiate cooking projects, Aiden told me that he wanted to make a cherry pie. He began kindergarten last September so he is starting to understand or at least be aware of some historical events. Here is a recap of our conversation:



A: Grandma, today is Martin King's birthday.



Me: Oh yes, I know, Aiden. He was a good man.



A: He was shot dead. Then he died.



Me: I remember when it happened. It was very sad.



A: Did you know he was in JAIL, Granma?



Me: Yes. I did.



A: Why was he in jail, Grandma? (his auntie is a sheriff who works in the jails so he fascinated by the notion.)



Me: He broke a law, but it was a very bad law. Do you know what an unjust law is , Aiden? Some white people thought they were better than black people so they wouldn't let them eat in restaurants or drink from the same water fountains...there were terrible mean laws just for black people. He went to jail to change the laws so that they said we are all the same.



A: What's dead mean? Is Martin in heaven, Grandma?



Round and round we went trying to make sense of a good man, trying to change bad laws, arrested, sent to jail, shot dead, and ending up in heaven.



And then we made pie. It was a good day.

Holy Sparks for the New Year: Repairing the World



“Don’t do to others, that which is abhorrent to you. That is the law.

All else is commentary.”

The Talmud

I had a teaching colleague who confided in a mutual friend about me, “The trouble with her is when she sees a problem, she thinks she supposed to fix it.” It kind of blew me away. I thought that was what everyone did.

When my sister Sandy was alive, sometimes when I would call her, she could tell just from the sound of my voice. She would ask me, “Are you having trouble with the cruelty and stupidity of the world again?” The answer was almost always “yes.” We’d talk things over, so in a short while I usually could get back to my hopeful and optimistic self.

What if there was a way to repair the world? How are we going to fix this deeply flawed world? Is it something that is our work to do? The problems are so big, our power so small. But is it really? How can we make things better for each other and ourselves? I have an idea that might work, at least a little to alleviate the horrible troubles we are going through right now.

One idea I’ve picked up along the way is the idea of Holy Sparks. This is from Jewish Midrash (a story) that explains our obligation of performing acts of kindness and help. We can repair what’s broken in the world and restore the world to wholeness and peace by correct action. These actions are called “tikun olam,” or “repairing the world.”

The actions can be as simple as showing kindness, prayer, feeding people who are hungry, listening to a distraught friend, lending money, sitting with a person who has lost someone, visiting the sick and imprisoned, reconciling with a family member, etc. The belief stems from the understanding that sparks of Divine light are in all matter.

Imagine this: Every time we perform actions to help someone, the sparks are released exploding into the sky so that the Divine’s goodness is revealed to the world. See the sparks like fireworks. If we miss an opportunity to do any of these things put before us, that spark is trapped forever. You only get one chance for each action. If we release enough holy sparks the world will be transformed.

Last year I was driving my grandson, Aiden, home from preschool. He was 4 at the time. I pulled up to a red light. On the median divider stood a homeless man, as sad and bedraggled as any person I had ever seen. He was holding a cardboard sign asking for help. I reached in my purse, found a $5 bill, looked him in the eye, and handed it to him. The man smiled and I smiled then I drove on. After a few minutes, Aiden asked, “Why did you do that, Grandma?” I said, “Well, I just believe we need to help each other if we can.” When we got back to Aiden’s house, he ran in his room, rustled around for awhile, then came out, hugged me, then handed me $5 of play money from his toy cash register. It was such a reminder of how kids watch us to see how to act. His action made me cry .

The imagery of holy (whole) sparks speaks to my heart. When we get it right, we help, we nurture, we share, and WOW. A golden spark lights up the sky. The New Year is an opportunity for starting out on a different foot, to forgive, to get out of our own heads and troubles, to be the face of good in the world. What we need more than anything is hope that things will get better. Isn’t it worth a try?

I am speaking to myself as much as putting this idea out in the world, but I just think that if enough of us try it, it’s a beginning.

What if 1/3 of us did it? Or 1/2 of us? Would the world look like a different place?

Mama's Christmas Carrot Cookies and Family Cookbook

In my family, we had tea every day at 4:00 p.m. My mom always had homemade cookies, muffins, or date nut bread to go with the tea. She was a wonderful cook and her house always smelled like heaven. She died about 15 year s ago and I still miss her every day.

A few years after my mother died, I discovered that I didn’t have all of her recipes. I had a few favorites, but was missing many more. I felt kind of panicky because I had lost something extremely valuable. I began to email my sisters and nieces hoping to find the rest. Much to my relief, the replies came quickly with so many recipes that I began to compile them into categories. That gave me an idea so I emailed again, this time asking for everyone’s favorite memories of my mom. When those rolled in I knew I had the makings of a family cookbook. While reading everyone’s stories, I understood that my mom made everyone feel special and loved. It also made me cry more than I had in years.

 

Everyone who has lost an important person in their life knows that grief comes in waves. It hits you hard, and then goes away. I could be driving down the street feeling fine, hear a song on the radio like “It’s a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong (her absolute favorite), then I’d burst into tears. Having the cookbook to put together gave me a mission that year and it helped me to get through the holidays.

At the time I didn’t have a digital camera, so I drew and painted pictures of the food by memory. I cut out and glued the paintings on each recipe to put together one master copy. Next I color copied each page and I made 12 copies. I let Kinko’s put a clear plastic cover and back page and they bound them in plastic, also. The cover showed through nicely. I made a copy for each sister and for all nine of our children, put them all in large envelopes and mailed them off several days before the holiday. The carrot cookies were only made for Christmas Eve so I wanted them to arrive in time.

Mama’s Christmas Carrot Cookies


Preheat oven to 350 degrees

Cream the first 3 ingredients below:

½ cup softened butter



½ cup shortening



1 1/8 cup white sugar



Add 2 eggs



1 ½ cup carrots



(cook until soft, then put through the food processor or blender)



In a different bowl:



Sift all 3 items below through a metal strainer:



3 cups flour



2 tsp. baking powder



1 tsp. salt



Mix all the dry and wet ingredients together.



Put parchment paper on a cookie sheet.







Make rounded tablespoon size drops for the cookies-I use a medium sized melon baller.





Bake for around 12 -15 minutes- They don't get brown just check to see that they are firm, but watch for the bottom burning.







Orange Icing



1 package confectioner’s sugar



2 oranges grated



Juice the oranges



½ stick of butter, softened



Add the sugar and butter then mix. Use as much orange juice from the 2 oranges as needed but don't make it too runny, then add in the grated orange rind.



When the cookies are cool, spoon as much icing as you want over the cookies.



Cut maraschino cherries in half, blot on a paper towel, and then place one on each cookie after icing. Delicious- not too sweet, but the flavor of carrots and oranges together is so wonderful.


Here's what my niece Cindy wrote in her memory of my mom for the cookbook: "The joy of walking up the stairs to her home after a long, long trip-tea every day-how wonderful it was for the whole family to be together-date squares, carrot cookies, reading on the back porch, having her put her large knitted afghan over me for a nap, sweet peas growing in her yard, decorating Christmas cookies at her house with all the cousins, watching her bring plates of food to neighbors who were alone or sick. She was so loving." If you ever have the opportunity to put together a family cookbook I know you will find it an exercise in love.















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