Silence Echos

The "T" Word

  Another little fact that most people don't know about me is I make my bed everyday. And every morning when I am doing it I have the same conversation in my head about the process.  "Why in the world are you making the bed? It's not like anybody ever sees it one way or another.  This really is an exercise in futility." That is the internal dialogue every morning.  I always grapple with the question "why make it if you are just going to get back into it in about 15 hours?"  So why do I continue to make my bed?  For a long time I think I did it because I am a neurotic neat nick:  Everything must be in its place.  I also like the way it looks when I come home at the end of the day; it is a bit of reassurance that there is a small corner of the universe that I have control of and it is in order.  Those are some of the reasons I compulsively make my bed each morning, but just recently I began to make it for a totally different reason.

There is someone else I know that is also a compulsive bedmaker- my dad.  Everyday, even if he is on vacation my dad makes his bed.  I think I must have got it from him.  My dad and I are alike in quite a few compulsive idiosyncratic ways.  Neither of us likes tomato sauce on anything, but we both love Bloody Mary's.  And we absolutely must have a watch.  If we forget to put on our watch(which rarely ever happens) then we are upside down for the rest of the day. We both love almonds and read while we watch TV and neither one of us suffers fools gladly.  It is so strange the things that are passed along in our genetic coding.

Just recently my family found out that my dad has prostrate cancer.  The "C" word has suddenly become very real.  I have had so many different responses when I have shared with people what is going on.  For the record let me say that I think that the first response one should give when told that someone has cancer is- "How terrible for your Dad.  I am sorry."  What I have heard that doesn't really work for me is "Oh prostrate cancer that is the best kind of cancer to have- if you have to have cancer." This is usually followed by some story about a random uncle or cousin that sailed through the surgery and is just fine.

I am a smart person I know all the statistics and the prognosis with  early detection.  But there is more than just the "C" word at play here- there is the "T" word - TIME.  With this diagnosis comes the realization that I don't have all the time in the world to spend with my dad.  And growing up in a divorced family and my dad living 800 miles away I haven't had enough time.  I am just beginning to realize how alike he and I really are.  This has been a comfort to me in the last couple of years, and makes me feel less alone in the world.  I finally begin to understand where I came from so to speak. So to think that my time with him is limited scares me in a way I have never been scared before.

When I got the news about my dad,  I didn't know how to feel, all the above emotions hadn't sorted themselves yet.  I was at loose ends.  I was in desperate need for someone I love and trust to hug me and tell me things would be ok, no one was around;  I had to default to other means of comfort. I don't do drugs anymore, and I have given up carbs, so I bought myself a cashmere sweater, actually two sweaters.   Which hasn't really worded out to well because every time I put on either one I think to myself "I bought this sweater because my dad has cancer."  But at the time a good cashmere sweater for forty bucks gave me the release of serotonin that I needed.  Anyway ...  as I wandered in the mall carrying my sweater, an old Bonnie Rait song, "Nick of Time", was playing. 

Verse II
--------
I see my folks, they're getting old, I watch their bodies change...
I know they see the same in me, And it makes us both feel strange...
No matter how you tell yourself, It's what we all go through...
Those eyes are pretty hard to take when they're staring' back at you.
Scared you'll run out of time.

Chorus
------
When did the choices get so hard?
With so much more at stake.
Life gets mighty precious when there's less of it to waste.
Hummmm...Scared she'll run out of time.

I realized that's exactly me:  I'm scared I will run out of time. 

A couple of weeks ago when I was making my bed, I had the realization that my dad was probably making his too.  Suddenly the bed making was no longer an exercise in futility, rather it became a shared experience, and it has become my daily devotional.  As I pull and straighten and tuck and fluff I pray.  I pray for health and wholeness for my dad, and I pray that I won't run out of time.

 

Hiding behind my Sunnies

All I really want to do today is hide behind my sunnies, which, for those of you who don't know, are my sunglasses.  Sunnies is a term I wish I had coined because I do love my sunglasses, but alas I got it from a Bravo reality show. My sunglasses are my grown up security blanket; they are my shelter as well as my shade.  And they help me look fabulous even when I don't feel fabulous. I 've been told that my sunglasses are somewhat bold and aggressive.  Someone told me that this summer, and I was secretly pleased that my sunglasses work, in some manner, as a "Do Not Disturb" sign! When it comes to my sunnies, I say the bigger the better- all the better to hide, my dear.  And this week I feel like hiding, so I have on my really bold and aggressive large Versace sunnies.

The Sound of Closure

Here is another thing that I am terrible at:  I never quite know when to quit on somethings.  I was recently reminded of this when I was watching The Hustler with Paul Newman.  There is an intense scene where Fast Eddie, a young pool shark, who has taken on the best in the business, Minnesota Fats, is up $11,000 dollars, but he doesn't know when to quit. His manager begs him to leave and get some sleep, but rather than walking away he keeps on playing and loses the money after 25 hours of play and a bottle of Bourbon.  Minus the pool playing and the bottle of Bourbon, I am just like this guy: sometimes I just don't know when to quit when I am ahead.

Lessons learned at a wedding-Misi's Post

I have mentioned in blogs past how hard headed I am.  I can be quite resistant to change, and if they would make Dread a Olympic event, I would have tons of gold medals.  I am a champ at dreading things.  What can I say?  It is who I am.  But I am working on it.  I told my friend Jonathan just the other day that I am working on cultivating a quiet spirit.  He laughed.  Well, he knows me pretty well and knows that this is quite an undertaking.  But I have had some gentle prods from the universe that it is time to tackle this mindset. Given my hard-headedness these proddings usually have to come completely out of context in order to

#1 get me to pay attention and

#2 really take the truth to heart so it can affect change.   

So of course what better place than Meridith's wedding? I never would of guessed that being a bridesmaid was actually just a cover for Misi's mini-life lessons seminar. 

I Surrender to the Strawberry Ice Cream Misi's post

Yesterday morning I just happened to catch the Counting Crows on A&E's Private Sessions.  It was a great treat as Adam Duritz is a long standing crush of mine.  It was agood mix of performance and him talking about the whole musical process.  He is a weird tension of  happy and melancholy- which is probably why I dig him because that sounds a lot like me.  He, of course, was talking about the newest album, but in the midst of talking about the new songs he interjects and mentions the song "Accidentally in Love." 

Tales from the bridal party Misi's Post

  If anyone is reading this blog you will notice that it has been almost a year since our last post.  I really don't have a very good reason for going silent other than I let life get in the way of my writing, and I was busy licking my wounds.  Meridith, on the other hand, was planning the event of her life.  Meridith got married on June 13, and let me tell you it was an event.  And I had a ringside seat. . . as a bridesmaid. 

Is anybody out there? Misi's very delayed post

I am thinking about writing again.  I recently was in a friend's house and discovered by accident that he is a painter.  I was delightfully surprised because I am by art the way I am by books and music - all are life lines that feed my spirit.  When I questioned him about painting he replied that he just didn't really have time to paint anymore, to which I replied "It is a tragedy to have such a gift and not use it."  Immediately, I thought of this blog and how it has been silent for over a year.  Well my friend Deb was there, and she immediately said it out loud.  "Well how long has it been since you wrote?"  Busted twice.  I do try to pay attention to messages from the universe.  So this the second beginning of this blog - No big promises just  baby steps to try and use the gift I have been given. 

Bouncing into Graceland Misi's Post

Since my last post there has been a swirl of change in my life both personally and professionally.  Not just with me, but for a fair amount of my friends as well.  The air around us seems charged- there is a tension. Perhaps this because change, no matter if it is good or bad can be threatening. Interestingly enough just before all of this stuff started to shake down I kept having this persistent thought:  I need to get a copy of Paul Simon's album Graceland. When I was 18 or 19 the album was a favorite of mine. Maybe because that was about the time I fell in love with Africa and much of the album was recorded in South Africa and featured many African musicians and groups.  It is an amazing album, but  I had not listened to it in ten years or more. I initially dismissed it as just an errant thought.

But it just kept coming up. I would walk into a store, and hear the ending strains of one of the songs from the album.  In hindsight, it was rather like someone telling me I needed to buy a crutch before I had even  broken a leg. I couldn't figure the urgency, but the nagging thought finally wore me down.  I found a copy at the used CD place for $3.00. Actually the place was going out of business so it was 25% off of that. It really is amazing how small a price we sometimes pay for some clarity and comfort.

Stupid, Skinny and Talented -Meridith's Dilemma

  There is an equally loaded reason that there are no photos of me on this thing-despite many people's urging. It’s the same main reason as to why I haven’t posted in over two months –which I just realized when I saw the date on Misi last brilliant post. My life has been about photographs or more specifically my looks because I don’t have a mind like Misi that can carry me. When we started, I refused photos for the opposite reason as Misi but somewhat the same, I didn’t want to be qualified by my looks. My current position is actually the only job I've had in New York that I didn't get from submitting a headshot with my resume.  I have this completely hidden secret that I built a life around overcompensating for by being tall, busty, striking and talented:  I really can’t read. There I said it.

Skinny and Stupid - Misi's dilemma

There is a good reason why there are no pictures of me on this blog.  Largely because I am not usually thrilled with how I look in photographs.  There for awhile I wouldn't even let anyone at for any reason take my picture.  This is because I am fat.  There I said it. 

Justice served -Misi's Post

On Memorial Day and I found myself engaged in some pretty heavy conversation post sun and hamburgers.  My friends and I were discussing the concept of justice and whether people are "punished" for the things that they do.  My friend Jonathan said that there is something in us all that wants to see bad people pay for the things they do, but perhaps that doesn't happen.  This idea certainly does rankle.

Patti LaBelle and a Skinny Welshman by Misi

I am a music girl.  If you have been reading this blog you probably have picked up on that by now.  Music keeps me accountable in ways that flesh and blood sometimes fails to do.  It is in my car and in my ipod hammering in my ears,- the mainlines to my core where soul meets body. There is a an amazing quote by the Irish writer Sean O'Faolain which says, "In the presence of great music we have no alternative but to live nobly."  This is exactly what I am mean.  There is something about certain music that gets inside all the hollow places in me and reverberates and demands action. 

A Day to Remember - Misi's Post

Monday was Holocaust Remembrance Day, or Yom Hashoah.  (It is actually April 15, but this year it was observed on Monday because the 15th fell on  a Sunday)  But on Monday there was tragedy at  Virgina Tech.  As I as watching the news, I was struck by the irony that Liviu Librescu, an Israeli professor, survived the Holocaust only to be gunned down in his classroom.  But he died a hero.  He blocked the door giving his students time to go out a window and escape.  I make a point every year of observing the day in some small way.  I usually discuss it in my classes and talk about the impact of the Holocaust and World War II and how it marks the move from the modern age to a postmodern one.  This year when I was talking to my classes about the Holocaust, I had one of my students raise his hand and say, "Yeah, I don't really think to much about the Holocaust because I'm not Jewish." 

Todd Oldham and Vicodin Misi's Post

It has been a crazy couple of weeks for me health wise. Lots of pain and lots of vicodin and a trip to the ER, but no definative answer as to what underlying health issue is.  Being laid up I have watched alot of TV, the more mindless the better.  Mostly I have been watching Bravo.  You know, the cable channel that has made a name for itself by generating  such shows as Project Runway, Top Chef, and Top Design.  These are all  reality TV shows structured around a contest to see who will be the top clothing designer, top chef or top interior decorator.  It sounds dreadful I know, but they are mind numbingly fetching at times, especially when you are stoned on pain killers. 

Meridith with no Make-UP

So I made a huge declaration a few weeks ago to start naming things just as they are even if it's not as pretty as I'd like, and then I didn't really post for I don't know how long.  So here I am no make-up no editing nothing all that profound to say except what's been going on in the last few weeks cuz it was all a bit crazy.

Wearing my heart on my sleeve, so to speak Misi's Post

I have another confession to make:  I hate those rubber colored bracelets that people wear.  It all began with Armstrong beating cancer and the very clever idea that would allow people to identify with those who had the disease or mark themselves as a survivor.  By purchasing the bracelet they could also be part of to finding the cure.  Great idea. A  real movement started, but then of course everyone wanted a piece of the action.  Soon there were rubber bracelets for everything, thus in my opinion rendering them ineffective. When you wear one, no one even bothers to ask anymore what is is that you are trying to say to the world.   And let's be honest, minus a message they just look like crap; these are not great accessories.  All that said I now have another confession to make:  Just last Sunday I put on one of those tacky, overdone  bracelets.

Celebrating Patrick Misi's Post

St. Patrick's Day is always a mixed bag for me; to tell the truth it makes me more sad than anything.  You see, I think Patrick is one of the greatest individuals to every walk the planet and to have him remembered for things that are largely myth drives me crazy.  I don't just think about Patrick on March 17.  I think about him 2 or  3 times a week, sometimes daily.  I borrow from the Catholic tradition and say very often under my breath, "Patrick pray for me".  And I mean it.  I want so very much to be like Patrick.

I'm Ready to Make Nice

I remember sitting in my quiet house tucked in the woods of a small New England town, watching awards shows and feeling connected to something much larger.  At the time, I thought award shows were the most riveting things on television.  Loving the fashion goes without saying, but it was the acceptance speeches that I just had to see.  As a young girl I thought accepting an award on national television was it - that was really truly living and making something of yourself.  Not because it made everyone in America know your name, but because you could take that attention off yourself, off the Hollywood glamor and thank the people who stood by you when nobody knew your name.  Maybe I watched Beaches too many times as a kid, knowing I totally was Better Midler but really longed to be Barbara Hershey.

I always watched these shows while secretly writing my Tony speech in my head.  In college we even had Anti-Tony Speeches reserved for those Simon Cowellish professors who treated us like dirt and would never be thank in the real speech. As I've grown older and life continued to get more complicated and I don't live in that tiny town, my thoughts on this have shifted on this considerably. However this year, I have really truly felt inspired by award shows again.  There's a real sense of rejuvenation and hope in the air despite the circumstances around the world that could easily cancel out all hope. 

Things that were wrong are being made right.

Ditto, but then some - Misi's Post

I am resisting the urge to just say Ditto to everything Meridith wrote in her most recent post. I too feel as if I am struggling to get a breath in this life of mine.  Rather than explaining all the reasons that I haven't written in a month, just read Meridith's blog.  She pretty much covers it.  I am immensely grateful for her naming all of it, now I can just get to all that has gone on in the month since I have posted. Oh,there has been plenty to write about.  I had a couple of "Firsts" last month.  I listened to my Dad give his first homiley as an ordained deacon in the Catholic Church; I performed my first funeral, and I got to see Patti LaBelle live.  And I am going to cover them all , but I think I better start with my Dad.

Honest Moment - Meridith

                          
So I have another chronic TV  addiction - Grey's Anatomy.   I actually rid myself of this addiction for a good half season - but it came back.  It's a little similar to my Idol addiction in that I start out smiling and happy that it's on again and inevitably end up in complete hysterical tears much like my favorite drunk party-goer in Breakfast at Tiffany's.   It's actually the first doctor show with the exception of Scrubs that I let myself watch - in fact the only TV drama I've watched in six years. I turned to comedy in my entertainment and my coping mechanisms. But for some reason, despite my boyfriend's insistence that I stop putting myself through this misery, I watch Grey's Anatomy.

gen·tri·fi·ca·tion [jen-truh-fi-key-shuh n]

1.    buying and renovation of houses and stores in deteriorated urban neighborhoods by upper- or middle-income families or individuals, thus improving property values but often displacing low-income families and small businesses.

If you are looking for an uplifiting read...By Misi

If you are looking for an uplifting read - keep looking. I  have spent alot of time in the last weeks thinking about why I often have trouble saying what I really feel, need or want.  I am trying to get to the root of what causes me to keep silent.  So I have been excavating the past in the last couple of weeks, and there is one summer of my life that I keep going back to.  The more I think about that summer, the more I realize its lasting impact on me.  Do you remember the first time you ever wished for someone to die, the first time you actually had murderous thoughts?  For alot of you the answer is probably never, but for me I remember clearly.  It was the summer I turned 10.

To Be Simon... Misi's Post

I too have a confession to make about American Idol.  I don't like it. I have tried, but I just can't seem to embrace this cultural phenomenon.  My friends are all fans of the show, and when we go out to dinner there is often talk of the contestants, the musical selections, who should have been voted off and who should have been kept on.  I must admit my eyes start to glaze over during these conversations, and I start to balance my checkbook in my head. I am, however, a bit envious of Simon Cowell.

Confession

Last week, I wrote about very difficult portion of my life.  It was one of many, and unfortunately I have been told that a lot of these events can lead me to dangerous behaviors and additions.  I have often heard that admitting the problem is the first step.  Misi and I have been holding each other accountable to write on the highest level by placing that accountability in front of the entire world.  So I am going to hold myself accountable in front of all of you that are reading to help me relieve an addiction that has plagued me for 6 years.

Cleaning Windows - by Misi

I have been visiting some strange places on my Ipod lately. In recent days, I have grown a bit tired of listening to my old standards.  It is really a shame when you have over thousand songs on the Ipod and you cannot find anything you want to listen to.  So, I have been forsaking my play lists and exploring the musical archives.  My taste in music is a bit eclectic.  This is largely a result of the different people who have drifted in and out of my life. People are often surprised by the songs I know and love. 

Kaddish

Today, six years ago, my life came together by falling apart.

I remember the ride from my home to my parent’s home, parent’s home to his parent’s home. The world looked different.  Everything was in sharp focus.  When I think back on that day all I can see is a camera zooming in slowly, snapping out, and capturing the shot.  I remember the trees on route 2.  I could see the exact line of where the branch ended and the air began.  Before that day, I never noticed those trees or the thick layer of crystal on top the snow or that there is a definite beginning and end to everything.

It had snowed heavily but ironically snow had nothing to do with it.  It happened exactly the way it should have and I found out exactly how I had envisioned it a few days earlier - never dreaming the vision was in fact that - a vision. 

Paul -he's now Paul until that day he was Mr. Howley - Paul called me on the phone. I can still replay it exactly in my head. "Hi Meridith. It's Paul Howley.  Adam died today.  There was an accident”  I, for once in my life, was at a loss for words.  In my head I was screaming "he's my Best Friend” but the screams we're stuck inside my head and chest where they would remain for years. 

These Are Days-Misi's Post

These are Days – 10,000 Maniacs

These are days you will remember

Never before and never since I promise

Will the whole world be warm as this

And as you feel it

You’ll know it’s true

That you are blessed and lucky

It’s true

That you are touched by something

That will grow and bloom

You…

I have a private New Year’s tradition: I sit and listen to These are Days by the 10,000 Maniacs and think about the year that has gone by.

This tradition actually began with my friend Gary, who died earlier this year.

Another Top Emailed Article

As I ponder all the things one is supposed to ponder in the new year, I keep coming back to this recent event that could have just as easily happened right in front of my own eyes.  I keep pondering in amazement of the actual event but more importantly, knowing that I definitely would not have acted the same way as this man did.

Leaving Wilson - Misi's Post

There is a television show that is in syndication that I watch whenever I get the chance.  I will not tell you what it is because as soul baring as some may think I am, I am not ready to come clean on that one just yet.  Most people would be shocked that I even watch the show, and even more shocked that every time I watch it I walk away with a bit of truth that hangs around me for the day.

I guess I found the River I could skate away on - Meridith

You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone…when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for you kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place. 
                                                                                                                            ~Garden State

The Good Fight- Misi's very truthful post

There is something that a lot of people do not know about me. When I was 20 years old I tried to join the Peace Corp. Most of the people who know me now would never believe that Misi who is all eyeliner and lipgloss, purses and shoes wanted to join the Peace Corp. But I wanted it more than anything.

The Fruit We Bear - Meridith

So we are pretty well into this blogging experiment and it would be silly to not draw a comparison of what we are doing to Rainer Maria Rilke’s "Letters to a young Poet." This piece has been with me for a long time. For awhile, I focused much of my life on this one passage:

"You are looking outside, and that is what you should most avoid right now. No one can advise or help you - no one. There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must," then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse."

Red Velvet Cake and Kierkegaard by Misi

     This time of year is usually hard for me.  I do not do holidays well, and I have a tendency to get rather sullen and nasty. Just call me Ebenezer. Why is that?  Probably because I bring to the holidays the baggage of a kid from a divorced family and less than perfect childhood. All the disappointments of every other year seem to return full force a few days before Thanksgiving and the discontent follows me until after New Years. But this Thanksgiving I had an experience with a Red Velvet Cake.

Meridith's very tardy tale

I guess I’ll start there – very late. I tend to exist in this bizarre state of completely embracing all of the choices I’ve made as integral parts of my journey and at the same time constantly dissecting the mistakes made in effort to find some profound life lesson to justify the pain. This internal conflict could be one of the reasons that have been very late returning to the city of Boston after I left over 4 years ago, and that delayed trip took place last week which amoung other things contributed to the tardiness in posting.

Traveling Mercies - Misi's very late Thursday Post

I was in Key West last weekend to celebrate the birthday of a friend, and say my final goodbyes to another friend who had recently died. It was a strange journey.   Key West was the first place that ever really sang to me, and even now there are not many days that I am not homesick for that island.  But the days lived there... I guess I would have to borrow a line from Dickens "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.”

Take me out of context -Meridith

Today the number two most emailed article on the New York Times’ website is entitled "For Evangelicals, Supporting Israel Is ‘God’s Foreign Policy." This was a nice way to start my day of preparing for opening night of DAI(enough), a new, startling, provocative, and –miraculously- entertaining solo show about the splintered Israeli psyche. This is a topic which apparently sits on the minds of more people than just me, or the above article would not rank so high. What I love about this article is how the author seemingly intended it to be a ‘talked about piece’, as shown in this quote:

"Despite all the spiritual shortcomings of the Jewish people," Dr. Dobson said, "according to scripture — and those criticisms come not from Christians but from the Old Testament. Just look in Deuteronomy, where Jews are referred to as a stiff-necked and stubborn people — despite all of that, God has chosen to bless them as his people."

"I Still Haven't Found What I am Looking for" Misi's Post

I believe that the most defining moments of our lives often go unrecognized until much later. When I was 16, I  borrowed my mother’s two-tone Ford Granada to drive 20 minutes to buy the new album from U2 - The Joshua Tree. I can still vividly remember the towers of cassettes and records- the predominant colors black and white and gray- the now famous photo of the band with the Joshua tree in the background.

  I was hooked from the opening cords.  But it was the second song on that album that set me free.  “I have climbed highest mountain - I have run through the fields only to be with you - only to be with you - but I still haven’t found what I am looking for.” I remember feeling the need to pull over and absorb what I was hearing.  Then I was shouting , “I didn’t know anyone else felt this way.” 

Time for the Race to End - By Meridith

There are a few times a year when New Yorkers are outnumbered in their own town. During these times if New Yorkers remain in their designated areas and "non New Yorkers" remain in theirs – the side effects of these two groups commingling is kept to a minimum.

The New York Marathon disrupts this whole system. For those of you who don’t know the New York Marathon spans all five boroughs of the City of New York, beginning in Staten Island crossing into Brooklyn and Queens, then groovin on by the 59th Street bridge into Manhattan and up to the Bronx and back down ending on 72 St – thus making it impossible to keep people in their designated areas.

72 street is slightly a "non New Yorkers" spot. They are allowed to place flowers and take pictures at Strawberry Fields or visit Tacky House on the Green. The more astute "non New Yorker" will navigate his way to the Dakota to see where Lennon was shot then quickly notice the subway that will take them back to the more familiar territory of Times Square. But on Marathon Day everyone ventures beyond 72 and Central Park West to the un-chartered waters of Columbus Avenue, Amsterdam Avenue and even as far up as the nineties. They are met by pre-fix brunch complete with free Mimosas, specialty shops like Zabars, and neighborhood pubs filled with colorful locals.

This is when they enter my world.

How To Read Our Blog

Consider this your guide to our blog.

Tune in Tuesday for Meredith's post

Tune in Thursdays for Misi's post

Tune in Sunday for our responses to each other's writing.

The "About" section - make sure you keep checking in there.  It is not like other blogs where it is completed at the advent of the site and never bothered with again.  We think it should be changing - we are not going to let you behind the curtain all at once.  What fun would that be?  You will find out about who we are from people who know us.  Twice a month, we will invite someone to talk about who they think Meredith and Misi are.  It should be fun and frightening. 

To answer the question, "Where are your pictures?"  We are choosing at this time not to post pictures of ourselves on the site.  We want to be indentified by what we write. There will be photos that represent what we are writing about, how we are feeling, and images that our guest writers feel represents us.  So there are no headshots for now.

If you have a question that you would like us to answer about something we have written , why we are reading the books we are, how we justify our music selections, ask away- in the comment section.

Reader Discretion:  Beware- we are about naming things.  There will be some who read our blog who are not so ready for the things we are naming.  It is our hope that if we do offend, you will come back and read again. 

Also special thanks to our sponsor, who we will remain anonymous, just in case....  you never know what Meredith and Misi might say.

Begin the Begin... Misi's Thursday Post

I can be incredibly stubborn.  I often have to be dragged kicking and screaming into many things only to find they are actually pretty OK.  I have no idea why this is.

            My mother would tell you this behavior began very early.  When I was about 3 and half I was to attend a large holiday party with parents.  My mother bought me a a full length quilted skirt with some crazy design on it to be paired with a red turtleneck.  I cried and screamed and threw  quite a fit because I absolutely did not want any part of wearing that skirt.  A true contest of wills ensued, but I was eventually out the door in the skirt pouting and sniffling all the way.  This is the part of the story that my mother loves: I dragged myself in that party like a martyr,and then everyone in the place started making over me, telling me how beautiful I was in that outfit.  Not five minutes in the door, and I was working that room and that outfit like the whole thing had been my idea.

This blogging business is a lot like that quilted skirt...

How Eve Ensler taught me to get over myself - By Meridith

The Power and Mystery of Naming Things – By Eve Ensler
I believe in the power and mystery of naming things. Language has the capacity to transform our cells, rearrange our learned patterns of behavior and redirect our thinking. I believe in naming what's right in front of us because that is often what is most invisible.