When They Go Low

Today, thrown against the house by wind from the south, rain pours down. In the middle of two storm systems, I’m grateful to be home, enjoying each and every lamp lit against the gloom, relishing a warm house, and all the easy comforts of electricity – knowing a power outage could darken us at any time.

Yesterday, having business on Bainbridge, (last Thursday by the time this reaches “Her spirits rose…,”) I left home early and spent the day in the car listening to the news cycle, and found myself in tears more than once.

That morning’s announcement of the death of Thailand’s beloved King Bhumibol colored my thoughts. I knew the Sweet Bride would be so sad, I kept thinking how she, and even her mother, had known this good king their entire lives. As I drove, BBC told stories of his benevolence and concern for his people, a kind and respectful leader.

And then closer to home, the ongoing, orange-tinged insanity continued. Offensive is much too mild a word to describe the disrespectful spewings of venom toward other human beings by the Republican nominee. We have endured this for months, but this day reached the nadir with revelations by his victims.

By midday, bits and pieces of Michelle Obama’s heartfelt, furious speech began to be broadcast. I want to link the whole thing here, because Michelle put into words what we felt, both her disgust at what’s happened and her belief that “real men, strong men” don’t do this. FLOTUS’s speech in New Hampshire.

Listening to the whole speech, I realized that even in her anger, she left me with hope as she described her involvement in the U.S. Government’s initiative to insure education for adolescent girls around the world – “Let Girls Learn.”

I keep picturing Michelle at the podium literally pushing up the sleeves of her navy-blue sweater as she spoke of her hopes for young women (some of their smiling young faces in the audience) – making us want to protect them (and all children) and help them, never, ever disrespect them.

The Nobel Committee also lifted me up that day. The car echoed with the music and memories stirred by the selection of Bob Dylan to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature!

The honorable King Bhumibol, Dylan, and Michelle Obama. I want to fill my mind with their lessons, encouraging us always to “Go High”!


How About Your Personal Projects?

The Cambridge Research professor Brian R. Little, author of “Me, Myself, and Us: The Science of Personality and the Art of Well-Being” asks about our personal projects – how many we have and what they are.

Since the 1980s, Little has studied “trait psychology,” which looks at patterns of behavior, thought, and emotion, and he specifically peers through a lens of personal projects. For him these projects must have “personal saliency” – be significant for the individual. He finds people “typically report that they are pursuing about 15 personal projects at any one time.”

I read about Little’s book in connection with creativity, and was curious about his use of projects to define us. His book sometimes employs obscure (to me) words where simpler ones might do, but I reread and made notes to try to comprehend the chapter “Personal Projects: The Happiness of Pursuit.”

Little writes: “Personal projects are the things we are doing or planning on doing in our everyday lives. Personal projects can range from routine acts (e.g. ‘put out the cat’) to the overarching commitments of a lifetime (e.g. ‘liberate my people’). They may be solo pursuits or communal ventures, self-initiated or thrust upon us, deeply pleasurable or the bane of our existence. As our personal projects go, so does our sense of well-being.”

This might fall into the category of “duh” – that modern catch-all for the obvious (yes we do feel better when we get something done), but his ideas expand my list of core (really important to me) projects to include things I wouldn’t have thought of as projects. People differ in their reaction to the word “project,” but it’s interesting to think about what affects our sense of well-being.

My husband and I had a good time comparing lists when we went out to dinner the other night. Because Little devotes a chapter to personality and environmental preferences, I was curious about where my husband needed to live to support his core list. And, while making my list, I realized lists change over time, 10 years ago mine was very different.

The meaningful project and the easily done project have different effects – the latter alone is insufficient to assure well-being (too bad given how often I let the cat out), and meaningful projects tend to be complicated and harder to complete. Not surprisingly, Little says, “Well-being is enhanced when both efficacy and meaning are experienced within the same projects.”

Tangling with Little’s book is a project – but a rewarding one.





Zucchini Skillet Cakes for Baby Brother

Well, not directly – transformed into mama’s milk for him, but the rest of the family loved these cakes. During his first week, his other grandmother brought several terrific meals to Downtown Abbey – this was my favorite.

The recipe (here) is in “Vegetarian Suppers From Deborah Madison’s Kitchen,” and in keeping with how behind I feel in most everything, except in being a thrilled granny, I haven’t yet made it – but I ordered the book!

Just a few hours before her brother’s birth, Lady Baby was floating with her mom in a swimming pool, along with her dad and aunt. It was that quick! Her parents went directly to the hospital, and her auntie dropped Lady Baby home on her way.

We settled in to wait, played a matching game over and over, walked to the bakery for bread, and picked a bouquet from the neighbor’s garden. We received the first magic photo mid-afternoon, and in late afternoon drove to the hospital. Lady Baby carried the flowers and after attaching visitor stickers, we tiptoed to Labor and Delivery. Love and smiles filled that room!

The siblings look remarkably alike, her mom called Lady Baby a feminine version of this robust boy, and they seem to share temperament – peaceful and accommodating. We only stayed a little while, but what a privilege for me to see so soon this brand new lad.

Lady Baby wanted to call her teacher from the hospital parking lot – and left a succinct message: “My baby brother is born.” She sang an exuberant song about Big Sister and Baby Brother all the way to pick up pizza.

At home we played more matching game (I always lose), read a lot of books, bedded down the animals, and slept all night. In the morning we made cookies, wrapped a bulldozer, and made cards for Baby Brother and mom. (Days later Lady Baby told me: “I don’t like being alone in a house with just one person unless it’s one of my parents.” Given that reality, she was really brave.)

Baby Brother came home that day, and fall descended with rain and cold. In keeping with the season, Lady Baby started sniffles, so for the first few days could touch only her brother’s feet (good-sized feet) and watch all the ministrations to him. Her comment: “It’s a lot of work to take care of a baby.”

Such joy to watch this new and lucky boy join his loving family. He sleeps (!) and is a real armful. As I held him and Lady Baby sat close to play Uno, Mrs. Hughes (to return to Downtown Abbey names) cooked the zucchini skillet cakes, and Mr. Carson made a tasty version of ranch dressing to accompany. Good! (And terrific the next day.)

I would like to make these, I will make these – soon.