things i know (this week, anyway) #9

- Just because it's on Facebook doesn't mean I have to look at it. Zuckerberg gave us the "unsubscribe" button for a reason.

- The friend who demands you tell her all of your symptoms when you're sick, and then shows up at your house with chicken soup, Gatorade and saltines is a good friend indeed.

- Spelling counts. In school and in business relations, but especially in online dating.

- Everything changes.

- Ask and (more often than not) you shall, in fact, receive.

- There are things I didn't know I could write until they spill out of my fingers and miraculously appear on my laptop screen.

- It's time to be done with the "Shit _______ Say" YouTube videos.

- Google Docs: good for more than just work.

- I would be a whole lot more likely to actually donate to my Alma Mater when they solicit me for money if they would take five minutes to find out what I'm doing with my life.

- If my twenties have been for learning hard life lessons, I hope my 30's will be for actually applying them.

- I still don't understand what I'm supposed to do with bronzer.

things i know (this week, anyway) #8

- Old habits die hard, but with enough work and determination, they do die.

- Having a trusted friend with whom to bounce ideas around is an important piece of the creative process (for me, anyway).

- A fried egg = a quick improvement for the ordinary burger.

- Red lipstick is always in.

- We need to hang out at least twice before you start calling me "Gabs."

- STOP EATING FAKE FOOD. Eat the real thing, just less of it.

- G-chat is where good communication goes to die.

- The sweetest part really is acting after making a decision.

- It's important to be aware of what kind of learner you are, and then make a point of taking in information in the way that works best for you.

- Everyone should have a photograph that instantly boosts his or her mood. This is my current one.

- You should eat more kale. Lots more.

things i know (this week, anyway) #7 (holiday edition)

- Things feel extra-meaningful and charged around the holidays, for better or for worse.

- It doesn't cost anything to be nice.

- It is an extremely satisfying feeling to watch someone close to you open up a gift you know he or she is going to love.

- If you want to get to know your parents better, play a drinking game with them.

- Everyone deserves to indulge in a little contained gluttony a few times a year.

- Extravagant New Years Plans are almost always ultimately disappointing--keep it simple, local and inexpensive.

- Being the only single person at family gatherings is sometimes difficult. Not heartbreaking or soul-crushing--just occasionally and briefly a tiny bit painful. Because there is always going to be that moment when you're all walking somewhere together and everyone reaches for his or her partner's hand, and you have to just fold your arms and keep walking.

- Holiday giving should extend to charities that are meaningful to you (and if you have children, you should involve them in the process). I recommend Heifer International.

- Just as everyone is entitled to a little gustatory overindulgence around this time of year, they should also be allotted a little extra patience and compassion.

- Try a splash of eggnog in your coffee. Just a splash.

you kids get off my lawn!

Late this morning, I had a very important work call.

I work from home, so when the call started, I was in my kitchen. The cell phone reception in my house is less than wonderful, so, not wanting to miss anything, I headed to my front porch to take the call. I opened my front door and stepped outside, where I encountered two teenage boys, one of whom was mid-puff on what looked like a pretty densely-packed joint. The other looked up at me, smiled and said hello.

"Hang on just a moment," I said to the person on the phone. "OK, you guys need to find somewhere else to go."

"Why? We come here every day. This is our porch."

"No, actually it's not. It's my porch and you have to leave because I said so."

"Make us."

My jaw dropped. I would never, ever have said that to an adult when I was a teenager (or, um, ever). Suddenly all my years of teaching and working with kids fell away, and I realized just what was really going on there: two hoodlums were mouthing off to a mean lady--and she was too nervous (and pissed off) to do anything about it. They laughed at me and my obvious lack of a plan. Teeth clenched, I turned around and slammed the door shut.

Not wanting to miss any more phone time, I grudgingly shut the door, locked it and headed to the backyard, where service is not quite as good as the front of the house, but still better than the kitchen. Fifteen minutes after finishing my call, I went out to the front porch where evidently they had finished smoking and headed back to third period, or whatever.

I sat on my front steps, wondering what I should have done. Should I have told the person on the phone that I'd call him back shortly and then handled it? But, if I did that, what should I have said when they refused to leave? I have nothing against pot (though I don't think they should have skipped class to smoke it), and I realize I have no idea about the home/school situations of these kids, but I still don't think I should have to host their mid-morning cannabis party. The whole thing made me feel like an overprivileged narc, and also like a total wuss. And also really old.

So, my guess it that they'll be back soon and my question to you, wonderful readers, is, what should I do next time? Threaten to call their school (it's right across the street)? The police? Just leave them to it? Ask for a hit? Blast opera? Please help.

seen

It's a basic human need to be seen. Not glorified or placed on a pedestal (indeed, those are needs that some humans have, but they're not basic ones). Rather, it's an elemental and very real need for us to be looked at, listened to and accepted for who we really are. Not by everyone we come into contact with, but by a select and crucial few.

But of course, this doesn't always work out the way we hope. Sometimes the people we need to see us most simply cannot. Maybe their vision is clouded or they are distracted by other things. Or maybe they do see us but forget to let us know.

But since it is a basic need, we work tirelessly to get it met. We play up the way we think others want to see us. We allow ourselves to be compartmentalized if it means getting the attention and acknowledgement we crave. It may work for awhile, but eventually, we grow to resent others for loving the edited selves we presented to them...and ourselves for doing the editing in the first place.

My guess is that changing this pattern is two-fold. First, it seems like a good idea to look deeply at what and who we are and simply decide to accept it unconditionally. Next, we have to stop adjusting the brightness, volume and channel of what we present to the world. We can't make anyone see us, but if and when they choose to, we can do everything in our power to ensure that what they see is an accurate picture of what is really there.

And finally, we can work hard to really see others. Because it's the right thing to do, because it feels good and because being seen as fully as possible by us will help them to see us back.

coruncopia

It's been a year of bigger professional success than I ever thought possible
As well as the responsibility that accompanies it

It's been a year of more late nights

spent working

And fewer spent dancing

A year of learning which relationships to let go of

And which to work to repair

A year of making enormous messes

And learning how to clean them up

It's been a year of making plans

And a year of following them

It's been a year of learning to write with my heart

And not with my still-intact fear

of judgment and shame

It's been a year of saying "no" despite guilt

And "yes" despite misgivings

It's been a year of more than one dodged bullet

It's the year I learned how to

gracefully and articulately express anger

It's been the first year I realized my identity as a writer

And the last one I worried I should have chosen something "safer."

It's been a year of cooking and baking and eating

And writing and editing and rewriting

It's been a year of putting it all out there, hoping others like what they see

But learning to be okay if they don't

It has been a year of valuing friends and family above all else

It's been a year of the good, the hard, the scary and the fun

Plus a big, whopping heap of the unexpected

It's been a full year

And I am so utterly, deeply, unbelievably

Thankful for all of it

lucky

Whenever I am asked what I do for a living, here is how the conversation usually goes:

Asker: So, what do you do?

Me: I'm a food writer.

Asker: Oh really? Who do you write for?

Me: Well, a few different publications, but mostly myself.

Asker: Huh? Yourself?
Me: I'm...well...I'm a professional blogger.

Asker: Wow! How'd you make that happen?

Me: I got really lucky.

Lucky! I say I got lucky. As if I'm talking about getting out of a speeding ticket or finding $5 on the street, and not my life's work and livelihood. Yes, luck is involved, but it's in tandem with a whole lot of work, sweat, disappointment, rejection, perseverance, learning and tears. I love what I do, but even when you do what you love, there are moments when quitting is tempting. I don't quit, though. I work my ass off.

And yet, I tell people I'm just really lucky. I say I was in the right place at the right time--that I made great connections with talented people who helped me make great things happen. I take myself out of the equation. I say this so often that I begin to believe it myself. I am haunted by the fear that one day my luck will run out.

I hear many of my women friends speak about their successes the same way. They attribute their achievements to other people or happy coincidences. There is passivity in their descriptions of what they do for a living--and what they hope to one day do. I wonder if it's simply because they feel pressure to talk about work without claiming too much credit, or if these are their true sentiments. For me, it's a fluctuating combination.

But today, I had my first look at the the mock-up of the layout for my first book. My words, and my recipes, on the most beautiful pages in the most stunningly gorgeous font with the most incredible illustrations I had ever seen. For the first time, I had a visual of what it was going to look like and was able to truly imagine it on a shelf in a bookstore. Also for the first time, I realized that this was all actually happening--that I actually wrote a book that someone wanted to publish. A book that is going to be good.

And sure, luck was a part of it, and certainly many talented people were involved. But none of it would have been possible without me.

Lucky or not, I made it happen.