I’ve known Marcy for 49 years, sorry Marcy I know that irks the shit out of you when I put it in print, and today is her birthday.  We call each other for our birthdays and say the same thing each time. Boy are you old.  And then it goes on from there.  We catch up, we laugh, we laugh, we laugh, we laugh, just before we cry we say I love you and hang up.

She is one of those witty, sarcastic, comediennes that light up my life and she’s been doing it for years. My guess is she will continue to do for many more years.   The quips and quotes just roll off her tongue and hit exactly in that part of my brain that triggers laughter and serotonin induced insurance that laughter is indeed the best medicine.

I have other friends like that.  They haven’t been in my life for quite as long, as a matter of fact one is very new to my world, but just the same they have that same gift.  The gift of comedic timing, catchy phrasing and double meaning that plummets you into fits of laughter.

My friend Willa fits the bill perfectly.  She is loud and brash and to-the- point- spin- you- around and catch you when you’re about to fall down from the hilarity of her words.  I love this girl.  I talk to her on occasion, usually when I need something because she is a genius in the world of accounting behind the scenes and I, frankly, am NOT.  I make no bones about it and for some reason she has taken pity on me and saves my ass regularly.  Aside from that she has a heart of gold, which she will deny, she has strength and a certain stature that can only come from circumstances well lived or should I say well survived.

And then there is Marianne, story teller extraordinaire.  Famous for having to be talked off the cliff before she says what absolutely NEEDS to be said but would cost her some skin.  Thankfully, I am the one she tends to call for such talk downs and I couldn’t be more obliging because it is hysterical.  God love her she can rant to beat the band.

I will forever be grateful for her tale of youth told at a most critical moment of my life.  My friend Cookie was very sick and she told the best “stink eye” story I have ever heard, or will ever hear for that matter.  Details remain sealed because I’m not sure if the statute of limitations has run out but suffice to say she brought me to my knees with that one.  I have continued to pull it out and read it whenever I need to shake off the bullshit around me and it never fails to lighten my load and bring me to my knees with laughter again and again.  Hopefully she will allow me to publish it one day.

The gift of laughter is precious and imperative for a good life.  I am glad to have these women and their amazing gifts in my life.  As Willa said just today:  “If I can get you to blow your coffee out through your nose then I have done my job!  Rock on cool lady…And always laugh…Otherwise the crazies win.”

Blessed am I to know them.

It has been unusually hot at the beach this year, I mean in the 90s kind of hot. That did not stop me from being on the beach Thursday but on Friday I needed something a bit different. I’m headed to The Loft in West Harwich for a Reflexology Session and Pedicure with Mia Hill. This comes highly recommended by Trudi and the three other women I dined with the other night. Mia is to die for they say. Ok, off I go.

I don’t normally get a pedicure before I come to the Cape because I am extremely hard on my feet. The Girls and I walk about three miles each day, then once on the beach the sand and pedicures DO NOT get along. If there is a day of iffy weather toward the end of my stay I will splurge and go to the spa otherwise I’ll see the ladies at 17 Nails when I get home. Did I mention it’s been extremely hot this year on the Cape? Giving my skin a break is the equivalent of iffy weather in this case.

The Loft is a tiny little house on Route 28 next door to Leddie’s Paint that you can blow right by if you don’t know it’s there. Mia should do something about that… The air is filled with the aroma of spa lavender and lemon grass and the meditation music is playing softly.  So far so good.  The foot bath is steamy and relaxing, the scrub invigorating and the move into the massage table/overstuffed chair is just a sinking in and sinking away from the world.

The Reflexology Association of Canada defines reflexology as:

“A natural healing art based on the principle that there are reflexes in the feet, hands and ears and their referral areas within zone related areas, which correspond to every part, gland and organ of the body. Through application of pressure on these reflexes without the use of tools, crèmes or lotions, the feet being the primary area of application, reflexology relieves tension, improves circulation and helps promote the natural function of the related areas of the body.”

I found reflexology very interesting.  It seemed a series of strokes, taps, pressure application and pauses that was not really systematic but was indeed effective.  I never really knew what method was coming next but the outcome was wonderful.  The session took a full hour and then Mia completed my pedicure with a foot and leg massage and some snappy pink polish. All total I spent two very relaxing hours at The Loft.

As relaxed as I was when I left I also found I had enough renewed energy to get my shopping done at the Chatham Jam and Jelly and Chatham Pottery.  Carol at Chatham J and J is always happy to see me and my list arrive at the shop.  I have a frequent buyer account there and she is always generous with her discount.  She knows if I don’t go home with certain of her stock I’ll be in BIG trouble.

Over the years I’ve collected quite a few of Chatham Pottery’s hydrangea pieces.  I’ve learned to pace myself as they are a bit expensive and I don’t have the room for collections that can’t be put to good use every day.  I’ve learned that “saving” pieces for company is a waste of time so my china and crystal are my everyday dishes and glasses and that gives me huge satisfaction.  As I look around the showroom I see that I’ve got a hell of a good collection and don’t really need anything.  Damn.  And then they show me the oops shelf.  I know all about their seconds but the oops?  Apparently when they try something new and she doesn’t like the design as much as she thought she would it goes onto the oops shelf.  There’s nothing wrong with it, it just doesn’t work for the store.  BUT IT WORKS FOR ME…. The most recent experiment was the hydrangea pattern with an antique wash.  There was a wall mounted planter and a mug.  SOLD!  The mug will be spot-on for tea (pun intended) and hide the tea stain perfectly and the planter works beautifully against my building on the front porch.  Just saying, one person’s oops is my SCORE.

The end of a perfect day.  Tomorrow it’s back to the beach and then home on Sunday after cleaning up the best I can so Trudi doesn’t use my name in vain.  I know she doesn’t and even if I scrubbed from top to bottom she would do it again anyway, God love her she has more energy than anyone I know.

I love my home on Stowe Lane and if I could move it to the Cape, with its quirky (but year round) neighbors and family I would, but that doesn’t seem possible.  At the end of this Cape trip I’ve come to the conclusion that the effort of making a new life for myself in yet another state might not be for me.  I do know like I know that the two weeks I spend there each year do more for my body (not counting the header I took on Tuesday) and soul, my writing, my outlook than anything else in my life.  Then the fact that it cements my friendship with the Cronin’s ever more is the icing on the cake of my vacation.

See you in September, San, Lina and Toto too

I tried to find a possitive quote about crutches but there simply aren’t any.  Why then did the mention of crutches last week leave me smiling all day.  I mean the kind of smiling that you can’t stop and hurts your face.

Well done San, two weeks ahead of schedule, cleared for crutches.  Thought I’d give you a little preview of where they should end up once you’re done with them.  Should only take a few days, no?

Decisions are one of those things that always seem to be tinged with either worry or joy.

Just recently I received a call from a dear friend who had finally made the decision to resign from a job that was running her ragged.  It was a good and exciting job that fulfilled that part of her that has always worked and been extremely successful at anything she’s ever touched.  She is dynamic, incredibly talented and unmistakably in charge.   She is also over sixty so jackassing up and down the East Coast calling on OEMs isn’t exactly what she had in mind after she retired (maybe too early)  from her last job.  But the lure of the money and the excitement of the start-up were irresistible.

Fast forward to an instant when you realize the time with your Mother may be running short, your grandchildren might not see you often enough, your family leaves messages on your cell phone instead of Skyping and you’re sitting in an airport waiting for a delayed flight and the lightning bolt hits.  Still the decision is difficult to make.  What will tip the scales more, the worry or the joy?

I’ve made some very big decisions in my life and each time I’ve agonized for far too long and become far too enmeshed in the decision making process to the point where I was unable to act.  These were decisions that were to be made strictly for myself , they may have been for my good and yet the worry far outweighed the joy and I hesitated. He who hesitates and all that…

What does that tell you about how you feel about yourself?  Where does the worry come from?

Then there have been times when I was put in a position to make decisions for others.  These have been the source of my biggest regrets.  My Sister and my Father both had to live with decisions I made for them and to this day I question the outcome.  The decision to have a portion of my Father’s colon removed ultimately resulted in his death from sepsis. Why couldn’t he have lived with a questionable polyp, he was almost 80 years old and suffering from dementia.  I knew it was the wrong decision when he awoke from anesthesia and not only didn’t know me but was frightened by me.  How prophetic. What if?  I’m learning everyday not to go there.  But sometimes I do.

Decisions happen every day, some are benign and some life changing.   Amelia Earhart said, “The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is its own reward.

So now I approach things differently.  When I’m up against the decision making process I pay attention to the tip of the scales.  Worry gets me more things to worry about.  Joy brings me more joy.  I’m glad my friend made the decision she did.  She is still dynamic, incredibly talented and unmistakably in charge…of herself.  Her job never defined that and she had joy in her voice when she called to tell me of her decision….and just a tiny bit of worry but not enough to tip the scales.