Jeanne Rizzo: The Road to the Breast Cancer Fund and LUNAFEST, Part II

Man’s attitude toward nature is today critically important simply because we have now acquired a fateful power to alter and destroy nature. But man is a part of nature, and his war against nature is inevitably a war against himself? [We are] challenged as mankind has never been challenged before to prove our maturity and our mastery, not of nature, but of ourselves.
– Rachel Carson, American nature author, marine biologist, and conservationist

Jeanne Rizzo, RN.

Jeanne Rizzo in her student nursing days.

When I asked Jeanne, in our interview in February, how she came to the Breast Cancer Fund (1388 Sutter St., Suite 400, San Francisco, CA 94109-5400, 866.760.8223), she admitted that her biography doesn’t reflect a resume that would align with her current position. She began her career as a nurse, with passionate interest in women’s health and public health in social justice issues. After she was drawn into the music, film, and theater world, which was also a great love of hers, she spent a decade doing pro bono work for nonprofits engaged in health, social justice, and environmental causes.

Engaging in breast cancer activism
While Jeanne produced benefit concerts and other activities during the AIDS crisis, she hadn’t done any pro bono work around breast cancer until she volunteered to produce the premiere of “Rachel’s Daughters: Searching for the Environmental Causes of Breast Cancer” at San Francisco’s Castro Theatre in September 1997. Allie Light and Irving Saraf’s documentary, which was produced by Nancy Evans, was a response to the breast cancer diagnosis handed down to Light and Saraf’s then 39-year-old daughter. The film was named in honor of American marine biologist and conservationist Rachel Carson, who died of breast cancer in 1964, two years after the publication of her groundbreaking environmental science book Silent Spring, which exposed the dangers of synthetic pesticides and thus helped to spur the global and American environmental movements. Reaction to the book led to the ban of DDT for agricultural uses and the creation of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. “Rachel’s Daughters” highlighted the efforts of a group of activists whose goal was to unearth the science of breast cancer and the politics of the breast cancer epidemic. Light and Saraf wanted to introduce a proactive response to the disease and raise public awareness of known and suspected causes of breast cancer, and potential strategies to reduce the risk of and even prevent breast cancer. This approach proposed a radical shift away from the then-current retrospective public health campaign of detection and treatment.

Left to right, Andrea Martin, Leslie Henrichsen of Clif Bar & Co., and Jeanne in 2002.

Left to right, Andrea Martin, Leslie Henrichsen of Clif Bar & Co., and Jeanne in 2002.

The premiere sold out, and afterwards Andrea Martin, founder and executive director of the Breast Cancer Fund and breast cancer survivor, reached out to Jeanne for help to organize a 1998 mountain climb of Alaska’s Mount McKinley, also known as Denali, and a film about the event. Despite her ongoing work on a project about war widows in Vietnam and a concert with Grammy Award-winning Sweet Honey in the Rock, and despite having never produced a film, Jeanne jumped at the opportunity: “I said yes, I said yes, I would do this.” She was already thinking about leveraging music to help tell the story of 12 women, including five breast cancer survivors, whose mission was to scale the highest peak in North America. With all her connections in the music industry, including the Indigo Girls, Sweet Honey, k.d. lang, Nanci Griffith, and Mary Chapin Carpenter, Jeanne said, “I felt that’s what I could bring.” Her role grew to include fundraising and being executive producer. “Climb Against the Odds” won multiple film festival awards, earned international acclaim, and aired on PBS stations across the country, but most importantly, the documentary raised awareness of breast cancer and the Breast Cancer Fund’s call to action.

Through Breast Cancer Fund board member Donna Westmoreland’s connections, the nonprofit organization partnered with the Lilith Fair, a concert tour and traveling music festival that comprised female-led bands and female solo artists, which allowed Jeanne to further leverage her music connections. Through this partnership, the Breast Cancer Fund was chosen as the nonprofit breast cancer group that would tour with the festival. In the years that it ran, from 1997 to 1999, Lilith Fair raised more than $10 million for various women’s charities in North America. Jeanne played a significant role managing the Breast Cancer Fund’s participation on the tours, while still running her own business. “I just kept getting drawn in to one project after another,” she explained. More importantly, she was also intrigued by Andrea’s work in the area of breast cancer research and the environmental causes of the disease.

Jeanne and her wife, Pali Cooper, with executive producer Betsy Gordon, CA Lt. Governor Gavin Newsom, and CA State Senator Mark Leno, 2008.

Jeanne and her wife, Pali Cooper, (to her right) with Geoff Callan (behind to her right), filmmaker of Pursuit of Equality; Betsy Gordon (to her left), who funded the film; CA Lt. Governor Gavin Newsom; and CA State Senator Mark Leno, 2008.

A Shift in focus
Up until 1998, six years after the Breast Cancer Fund was founded, the nonprofit was focused primarily on raising funds and giving grants to researchers who were trying to develop non-toxic treatments and alternatives to mammography, and to support access-to-care issues. While the work was important, Andrea felt that something was missing, Jeanne recalled. “She was really among the first people to raise the question of environmental causation – factors in causing breast cancer that were not the known and accepted risk factors,” Jeanne said. She was fascinated by Andrea’s quest to drill down into environmental causes. Jeanne accompanied her to board meetings and other meetings, conferences, and study groups with researchers and public health officials that the Breast Cancer Fund hosted, all the while still running her business.

When Andrea was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor in May 2001, she stepped down as executive director. Given her involvement, Jeanne offered to help on a temporary basis to stabilize the nonprofit that she cared deeply about. When the board asked for an extension, she figured she could stay a year longer. “I didn’t leave,” she said, with a laugh. “I forgot to leave; the board forgot to ask me to leave. And at the end of the year, I thought: This is my calling.” Jeanne dove deep into the science, commissioning a report called the “State of the Evidence: The Connection Between Breast Cancer and the Environment.” “We had to ask and answer the question: Is there enough scientific evidence to justify this organization focusing on the environment? And that’s what we did,” Jeanne declared. “We said, ‘That’s our mission – to focus on reducing exposure to toxic chemicals and radiation.'” The purpose of raising funds shifted from giving out grants to developing programs “to aggregate, translate, and communicate the science” for the creation of public policy and market-based campaigns, Jeanne explained.

Jeanne speaking at a public forum hosted by the George Washington University School of Public Health and Health Services, the Breast Cancer Fund, and the H. John Heinz III Center for Science, Economics and the Environment, February 2013.

Jeanne speaking at a public forum hosted by the George Washington University School of Public Health and Health Services, the Breast Cancer Fund, and the H. John Heinz III Center for Science, Economics and the Environment, February 2013.

From Mount McKinley to LUNAFEST
You could say that the seeds of LUNAFEST – or the relationships that were instrumental in the creation of LUNAFEST – were sown on the climb up Mount McKinley in 1998. When Jeanne was helping to organize the mountain climb, which she laughingly admitted she knew very little about, the climbers told her they needed good food – including energy bars – that wouldn’t freeze at the summit. PowerBar, the best-selling energy bar at the time, was already too hard and would be inedible at high altitudes. In a moment of serendipity, Jeanne discovered Clif Bar while on a bike ride in Oregon. When she returned home and found that Clif Bar (1451 66th Street, Emeryville, CA 94608, 800.254.3227) was based in the San Francisco Bay Area, she reached out to founder Gary Erickson, who enthusiastically came on board with the project and supplied the climbing team with his energy bars.

Jeanne (photo credit: Irene Young).

Jeanne (photo credit: Irene Young).

Jeanne and Gary stayed in touch and then got together again in 1999 to discuss the launch of LUNA, Clif Bar’s healthful energy bar for women. Gary, whose mother was a breast cancer survivor, committed to putting the Breast Cancer Fund logo on the bar wrapper and giving a percentage of proceeds to the nonprofit organization. The collaboration continued as the Breast Cancer Fund and LUNA began brainstorming the establishment of an “art reach program” – reaching people through art and building community. During this time, while “Climb Against the Odds” was making the rounds of the film festival circuit, Jeanne noticed that many screenings paired feature films with short films by women filmmakers. She brought her observation back to LUNA, and LUNAFEST, a national traveling festival of short films “by, for, about women,” was born.

In the first year, 35 filmmakers submitted applications. The following year, around 100 films were considered. Now, under the amazing direction of Clif Bar Co-owner, Kit Crawford, LUNAFEST draws nearly 1,000 submissions and more than 150 cities across the country are participating in the 2014-2015 season, validating its legitimacy as a respected, sought-after festival by both filmmakers and film aficionados. The festival also appeals to supporters of breast cancer prevention – the Breast Cancer Fund is the main beneficiary – and local nonprofits – each host city or local organization supports a designated nonprofit to receive a portion of the proceeds.

Jeanne and John Replogle, president and CEO of Seventh Generation, Inc., February 2015.

Jeanne and John Replogle, president and CEO of Seventh Generation, Inc., February 2015.

LUNA and the Breast Cancer Fund determined early on that LUNAFEST would not be a festival about breast cancer films, that the subject matter would not be a criterion for acceptance. “We wanted it to be a combination of showing different filmmaking styles and skill sets,” Jeanne explained. “We wanted stories that felt authentic and were well done.” In the 14 years since LUNAFEST’s founding, every year these stories “by, for, about women” still reflect this authenticity, which, coincidentally, also reflect Jeanne’s personal code – to be honest and true, and, therefore, to be a better person fully present in the world.

Postscript: Jeanne will be an honored guest at the VIP event hosted by the LUNAFEST East Bay Committee on March 21st at 6:00pm, 638 Clayton Avenue, El Cerrito. Following the reception, the LUNAFEST film festival will be shown at 7:30pm at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Center, at 540 Ashbury Avenue, one block up from the VIP event. Jeanne will open the festival with the welcome and will be available to meet after the screening. Come visit with her at either event. You can purchase tickets (for the VIP event/film festival or just the film festival) here or contact me directly.

Jeanne Rizzo: Connecting to the indomitable spirit, Part I

Believe. No pessimist ever discovered the secrets of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted island, or opened a new heaven to the human spirit.
– Helen Keller, American author, political activist, and lecturer

Jeanne Rizzo, RN, president and CEO of the Breast Cancer Fund (photo credit: Irene Young).

Jeanne Rizzo (photo credit: Irene Young).

I first heard Jeanne Rizzo, RN, president and CEO of the Breast Cancer Fund, speak at the San Francisco premiere of the 2013-2014 LUNAFEST film festival in September 2013. She approached the podium on crutches and in her introduction announced that she had pushed back her knee replacement surgery in order to attend the premiere. Jeanne shared with us the responses she received from women when she explained that she had hurt her knee while playing beach Frisbee. The older group of women winced and asked why she had put herself at risk, while the younger generation wanted to know: Did she catch it? Yes, she, indeed, caught the Frisbee. “I had a moment in the air that felt great,” Jeanne shared. “I connected to the indomitable spirit.” That story resonated with me as much as the wonderful short films that were shown that evening.

Taking risks, savoring joyful moments
Jeanne, who turns 69 this year, noted that in her era women’s options of what they could be were severely limited. However, despite growing up poor, she was the first one in her Italian immigrant family to go to college, she related to me in an interview in February. While the previous generation of women and her own followed a predictable life trajectory, Jeanne developed an attitude of doing what she wanted and challenging people who threw up barriers and told her she couldn’t do it. This attitude served her well when she and her partner at the time opened up the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco in the 1970s. “I thought, ‘Well, why not? Why not us? Why can’t we do this?'” she said matter-of-factly. In her eyes, the excitement of trying something new outweighed the risks, and the worst thing that could happen was losing money on a failed venture. “I’m willing to take intellectual, emotional, and social justice risks,” she declared. “I think it’s critical that we stand up and step out.”

Jeanne and San Francisco jazz and blues critic Phil Elwood at the Windham Hill Festival, Greek Theater, Sept. 11, 1983.

Jeanne and San Francisco jazz and blues critic Phil Elwood at the Windham Hill Festival, Greek Theater, Sept. 11, 1983.

Also critical, according to Jeanne, is being attuned and recognizing something special through one’s passion or compassion, and acting on that recognition. In the early 1970s, a guy on a bicycle refused to leave the Great American Music Hall box office until he had a chance to speak with Jeanne, who was responsible for booking concerts at the venue. After he talked his way on-stage for a brief audition and “blew her away” with his singing, she booked him for a gig and agreed to his request for a 100 percent advance on the spot. “I remember going back in and saying, ‘I just spoke to a guy who I don’t know and I gave him his full fee in advance. I have no idea what his phone number is or where he lives or whether he’’s going to come back on his bicycle or not,'” she said, and laughed. But, she added, “There was joy in that. There was joy in being right on, recognizing something special and being willing to be there with it. That was one of the most joyful moments for me.” Oh, and the singer? Jeanne revealed that it was none other than Bobby McFerrin.

We’re all in this together
Jeanne thrives on seeing the best of herself in a situation like that or seeing the best in someone else. And she has that opportunity to bear witness time and again with her colleagues at the Breast Cancer Fund (1388 Sutter St., Suite 400, San Francisco, CA 94109-5400, 866.760.8223), whose groundbreaking work and mission is to “prevent breast cancer by eliminating our exposure to the toxic chemicals and radiation linked to the disease.” Any team – be it a production crew for a concert or film or staff at an emergency room or hospital – requires different skills to come together and achieve goals. “There are people who are better than you at every single element of the work,” Jeanne said. “You want people around you who are going to bring something – that spirit – that’s going to make the whole greater.”

Jeanne speaks, with her wife Pali Cooper and CA Senator Dianne Feinstein by her side.

Jeanne speaks, with her wife, Pali Cooper, and CA Senator Dianne Feinstein by her side.

The same holds true for women who go through the journey of overcoming breast cancer, according to Jeanne. After the diagnosis, these women have to turn the corner, so to speak, and find the will to be able to turn the corner. In order to do so, they need to surround themselves with a team that will help them imagine health and wellness. “If you could be one of the people there for them in that moment, why wouldn’t you be?” Jeanne posed, and then repeated, “Why wouldn’t you be?” While Jeanne is not a breast cancer survivor, she understands what “coming close to the edge” feels like as a survivor of a head-on collision with a drunk driver on the Golden Gate Bridge in 1987 and then as a long-term rehab patient. “I know what it’s like to bring yourself back,” she confided.

The Prevention movement: ‘Start with one thing’
Jeanne pointed out that, tragically, women under 40 who are diagnosed with breast cancer have a much higher mortality rate than women diagnosed over the age of 40. These young women are much more vocal, righteous, and impatient, Jeanne has observed, which may be in part generationally driven. “But the thing that gives me hope is that you can worry about survival,” she said. Women can be concerned about every aspect – survival, treatment, access to care, preventing a recurrence, and the legacy of daughters and granddaughters and the next generation of women – because they are not mutually exclusive. “You don’t have to say, ‘Well, I can’t really think about preventing it because I already have it.’ I know more and more women with breast cancer who are very concerned about prevention,” Jeanne said. “It’s their own health and wellness in preventing a recurrence or them not wanting this to happen to one more woman.”

Jeanne and Gwen Coleman, PhD, of the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences.

Jeanne and Gwen Collman, National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences, at the Breast Cancer Fund Heroes Celebration.

When I asked Jeanne what one piece of advice she would give to a woman regarding breast cancer prevention, she prefaced her response by acknowledging that there are so many things that can be done. That said, Jeanne entreated: “Start with one thing. Don’t try to take it all on. Just find something you’re passionate about.” Be conscious about whatever the greatest exposure might be and find that one thing. For example, if you live in an agricultural region where pesticides are sprayed, that one thing might be only buying and eating organic food or establishing a community garden. A mother with young children might get rid of toys in the house that are made with toxic chemicals or drive a campaign to eliminate toxic chemicals in the playground equipment at her children’s school or the local park. A woman may research whether her cosmetics have cancer-causing chemicals and opt for safer products or establish a social media campaign with friends to bring awareness to what chemicals they are unknowingly putting on their faces or their bodies.

“Do that one thing that you can feel good about so that you’re not overwhelmed and paralyzed,” Jeanne said. “If every woman contributes one bit of her energy to one element or one aspect of the toxic exposures that we have, we will have a movement.” People need to voice their concerns and raise questions about, for example, whether their children really need the X-ray that the doctor is ordering. “I can’t say, ‘Don’t microwave plastic and that’s enough.’ I can’t,” Jeanne insisted. But what she can say and does say, is: “Be conscious, be conscious, be conscious.”

Jeanne and her wife Pali Cooper - being 'unassailable.'

Jeanne and her wife, Pali Cooper – being ‘unassailable.’

Being ‘unassailable’
While we were on the subject of proffering advice, I asked Jeanne what she has gleaned from her very full life that she could share with us women. “Self-reflection,” she promptly answered. “Being willing to understand yourself and really being authentic about who you are and who you want to be in your family and your community, and being fully there.” For example, don’t box or stifle yourself by thinking you have to do something or be someone because you’re of a certain age or because it’s the fashionable thing to do. She also called for being open to the possibilities that what is authentic for you today may evolve down the road into something else that may be more compelling for you to become. “Listen to yourself; really pay attention to yourself,” she stressed. “If you stand in your authentic self, you will be in the world a better person. You’ll be a more honest and true person, and you’ll be unassailable. You’ll be unassailable.”

Postscript: Part II of my interview with Jeanne will be posted on Wednesday, March 4th. Jeanne will be an honored guest at the VIP event hosted by the LUNAFEST East Bay Committee on March 21st at 6:00pm, 638 Clayton Avenue, El Cerrito. Following the reception, the LUNAFEST film festival will be shown at 7:30pm at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Center, at 540 Ashbury Avenue, one block up from the VIP event. Jeanne will open the festival with the welcome and will be available to meet after the screening. Come visit with her at either event. You can purchase tickets (for the VIP event/film festival or just the film festival) here or contact me directly.

Sirona Skinner Nixon: Personal chef as artist

Through all the world there goes one long cry from the heart of the artist: Give me a chance to do my best.
– Isak Dinesen, nom de plume for Danish writer Karen Blixen, from Babette’s Feast & Other Anecdotes of Destiny

As this year’s chef for the Lunafest East Bay Committee’s Lunafest VIP event on March 21st, Sirona Skinner Nixon intends to do what she’s always done as a private chef – “to provide food that is unique, beautiful, and deeply flavorful, and to wow and delight my clients and their guests.” Based on the glowing reviews of her work, there’s good reason to believe that she will meet and exceed great expectations.

Sirona and her mom Nancy Skinner cooking in her mom's home in Berkeley.

Sirona and her mom, Nancy Skinner, cooking in her mom’s home in Berkeley.

Berkeley roots,
grandma’s cooking

The daughter of recently retired California State Assemblywoman Nancy Skinner, Sirona grew up in Berkeley – the “birthplace of California cuisine” – and attended Martin Luther King, Jr. Middle School, where Chez Panisse (1517 Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley, CA, 510.548.5525) owner Alice Waters co-founded the original Edible Schoolyard. Waters pioneered the culinary philosophy of sourcing fresh, seasonal ingredients that are locally and sustainably grown. “At a young age, I understood that food tastes better when it’s prepared with ingredients at the peak of their season,” Sirona said. She remembers her excitement over taking an after-school cooking class in seventh grade. “We used the lettuce grown right there in the schoolyard to make a simple salad showcasing the beauty and flavor of the leaves,” she recalled. As a child, she was – and still is – a big fan of the popular Cheese Board (1504-1512 Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley, CA, 510.549.3183). Noting that her favorite childhood breakfast was a fresh warm cheese roll from the Cheese Board, she said, “I understood what good bread was, what the difference in flavor and texture was between the over-processed stuff at the supermarket and the good fresh stuff that was made with time and care.”

Sirona's grandmother Helene Hurd Nixon.

Sirona’s grandmother Texas Helene Hurd Nixon.

Even with the Berkeley influence, it’s clear that her culinary love was in her DNA. While other kids watched cartoons, when she was as young as two years old, Sirona was mesmerized by cooking shows hosted by chefs such as Jacques Pépin. She’d wait all week for Saturday mornings to jump on her parents’ bed and ask to turn on the television set to the PBS station KQED. Most importantly, she was inspired by her grandmother, Helene Hurd Nixon, who cooked family dinners several times a week right up until she passed away – at age 102. Some of Sirona’s fondest childhood memories were watching her grandmother make macaroni and cheese, buttermilk pancakes, French toast, crispy chicken, and glazed carrots in her grandmother’s small apartment kitchen.

Her grandmother encouraged her to experiment with ingredients, which included knowingly allowing Sirona to mix ingredients that weren’t going to work well together so she could find out for herself by tasting her creations. “This is the way we learn – throw it together and see what happens,” she said, of her grandmother’s philosophy. This trial-and-error experience became the foundation for what she loves most about her work – “creativity in menu development – combining flavors and combining dishes on a menu to tell a story.” Sirona’s cooking style pays homage to her grandmother’s “1950s Americana” style, which she says was infused with “a lot of love.” She added, “I love plays on sweet and savory combinations and elevated comfort food.”

Sirona and her wife, Sinead, campaigning for her mom's State Assembly primary race in 2008.

Sirona and her wife, Sinead, campaigning for her mom’s State Assembly primary race in 2008.

A Mom’s influence
Sirona credits her “superhuman” mother, Nancy, for her drive and determination. “It still blows my mind that she ran for Berkeley City Council at age 26 while pregnant with me and still a student at Cal,” Sirona said. “She has always pushed me hard to do better and achieve more.” Her mother instilled in her a “conscientiousness” about the provenance of ingredients and how they’re produced, and their impact on our health and environment, which led Sirona to pay attention to her menus’ “carbon footprint.” Her mother’s undergraduate work as a naturalist also influenced Sirona’s philosophy of sourcing fresh, local ingredients. “She has an encyclopedic knowledge of local edible plants,” Sirona said. “She used to take me on walks through our neighborhood in Berkeley and point them all out. We’d sample loquats, blackberries, sour grass, and nasturtium.”

Sirona's mom helps out with dishes after a pop-up dinner.

Sirona’s mom helps out with dishes after a pop-up dinner.

Sirona earned her Bachelor of Arts degree in community studies from the University of California at Santa Cruz (UCSC), which put her on a path slightly similar to the one her mother took. She still harbored a love of cooking, but feared jumping into that career and instead followed her mother’s advice to get a well-rounded education. While at UCSC, she completed a semester-long field study, participating in food service job training – essentially, a cooking school – for low-income and homeless people at the now-defunct Haight-Ashbury Food Program in San Francisco. The program taught her the difference between charity and social change. “Charity is a Band-aid over the problem, but if you go to the core of the problem and give people the tools to make a change and have a career, you can make lasting change,” she said. Participating in the program made her realize that she could no longer push aside her love of cooking, and upon graduation, she set out to follow her passion.

At work at BayWolf Restaurant in 2010.

At work at BayWolf Restaurant in 2010.

Following her passion
Sirona cut her culinary teeth, so to speak, at Michael Wild’s BayWolf Restaurant (3853 Piedmont Avenue, Oakland, CA, 510.655.6004), where her wife and business partner, Sinead O’Rourke, also worked. For five years, she worked her way up the ranks, from lunch chef, who is responsible for planning all lunch menus, to sous chef. “That restaurant was all about local, seasonal California cuisine, which was a huge foundation for me,” she said. In 2012, Sirona and Sinead moved to New York City, where they both worked for Danny Meyer’s Maialino restaurant, in the Gramercy Park Hotel. Sirona was in charge of the fresh pasta for its menu of classic Roman-Italian soul food and served as a party chef at his events company.

At Maialino Restaurant in New York City.

At work at Maialino restaurant in New York City in 2012.

Working in a restaurant with the line cooks is akin to being on a sports team and developing a tight camaraderie. Sirona acknowledged that lifestyle changes such as settling down and raising a family, however, required a shift from the physically demanding career paths of either owning and opening up a restaurant or getting promoted to executive chef. Most executive chefs, in fact, no longer cook, which is at the heart of why Sirona is in the business in the first place. Her eight-plus years in the restaurant business provided the foundation she needed to be a successful private chef, such as learning how to cook in an open hearth and wood oven, and making flawless handmade pasta. “I look at restaurant work as a rite of passage, a school to graduate from,” she explained.

Sinead and Sirona cheffing a 30-guest dinner.

Sinead and Sirona cheffing a 30-guest dinner at the host’s home.

While culinary schools and training are important, Sirona emphasized that being technically perfect isn’t enough. You have to have a “built-in or nurtured palate” to make a delicious meal that is infused with soul and love. “That’s what separates me from a lot of cooks,” she said. “You have to pay attention to your own palate when you’re layering and developing flavors.

Sirona and Sinead plating dinner.

Sirona and Sinead plating dinner.

Bay Area homecoming
Sirona and Sinead’s stay in New York City was also temporary, but their three years of success there gave them the confidence to become self-employed under their private chef business, S&S Foods, and return to their “incredible network of friends and family” and make the Bay Area their permanent home. “One of the beauties of being a private chef is you can really do it anywhere,” she noted.

“My favorite thing in the world is menu development, and the private work we do allows me to create something totally unique for every event,” Sirona said. While Sirona serves as chef, Sinead runs the hospitality part of their business, making guests feel welcomed and relaxed, thanks to what Sirona cheekily calls Sinead’s “gift of gab” – handed down from her Irish heritage – and her warm personality. “Working for ourselves and having the freedom to cook the foods that we want to cook is a dream,” Sirona said. “I get to physically cook every single day and earn a real living.”

Making a great team in life and work, Sirona and Sinead in 2007.

Making a great team in life and work, Sirona and Sinead in 2007.

In Manhattan, Sirona and Sinead’s clients hosted events in their amazing homes, including museum-like penthouses, but one of their most memorable events since coming back to the Bay Area was cheffing a 70th birthday celebration for a Napa family’s grandmother – an al fresco dinner in an autumn garden setting. “They were such a sweet family and so appreciative of our food and service,” Sirona enthused. “I remembered thinking, ‘I can’t believe this is work; I am so lucky to be able to support myself doing what I love surrounded by so much happiness and beauty.'” While she and Sinead eventually want to open a small brick-and-mortar food business, right now their private chef business is “perfect for us,” she said.

Come meet Sirona and Sinead, and enjoy their culinary offerings at the 6pm VIP reception at 638 Clayton Avenue in El Cerrito, CA. The Lunafest screening begins at 7:30pm at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Center, 540 Ashbury Avenue, one block over from the VIP event. Tickets for both the VIP reception and films are $50 per person. You can purchase the tickets here or contact me directly. Bon appétit!

Sirona Skinner Nixon (photo credit: Albert Law, Pork Belly Studio).

Personal chef Sirona Skinner Nixon (photo credit: Albert Law, Pork Belly Studio).

 

Praising the struggle, the beauty of ‘yet’

If parents want to give their children a gift, the best thing they can do is to teach their children to love challenges, be intrigued by mistakes, enjoy effort, and keep on learning. That way, their children don’t have to be slaves of praise. They will have a lifelong way to build and repair their own confidence.
– Carol Dweck, American professor of psychology and one of the world’s leading researchers in the field of motivation

Carol Dweck listens raptly to a parent's request for advice.

Carol Dweck hears out a parent’s request for advice.

Last Thursday at El Cerrito High School, Stanford professor and educator Carol Dweck told an audience comprising mainly parents and educators that we need to nurture our children and students, respectively, as learners who can grow and continue to grow as a result of our experiences with struggling, working through conflicts, and overcoming challenges. She warned that praising our children’s intelligence and ability doesn’t foster self-esteem; in fact, her research shows that such praise leads them to believe that they don’t have to work hard because they’ll get by on their smarts and natural ability. When faced with hardship, they flee or shut down because having to work hard will expose them as frauds – they’re not smart after all – in their minds and in the eyes of everyone around them. Studies show that fear of failure often trumps the desire to invest in the effort to overcome obstacles.

Dweck noted that the self-esteem movement, which instructed parents and teachers to praise kids and tell them how smart they are at every opportunity, is responsible for this “fixed mindset” mentality. Telling kids that they’re smart or they’re natural athletes also feeds into this mindset that your intelligence and skills are set for life. Research shows that they are far from set. When exposed to new stimuli, our brains reorganize neural pathways, making learning, struggles, and different experiences wonderful opportunities for our brains to grow. In order for new knowledge to be retained in memory, changes in the brain representing new knowledge must occur. In other words, you can’t grow unless you’re exposing yourself to different experiences, challenges, and struggles, and taking risks. That’s the thesis of Dweck’s book, Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, which was first published in 2006 to wide acclaim and embraced by preschools and schools across the country since its release.

The conclusion of a very inspirational talk at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Theater.

The conclusion of a very inspirational talk at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Theater.

Abandoning the non-learner mindset
While I constantly tell the kids that few things in life are easy and if they were life would surely be boring, I am guilty of this learner/non-learner mindset. Case in point: my daughter has loved animals since she was a toddler. Many people have commented through the years that Isabella’s calling ought to be as a veterinarian, given her compassion toward all animals and the solutions she seeks for protecting or rescuing animals in danger. I thought this would be her path, too, until David and I saw her struggle in the primary grades with math and science. I worried that either she had a learning disability or just didn’t have the knack for math because she would go over concepts time and again that seemed, at least to me, fairly easy to grasp for her age and abilities. I was alarmed when she was forgetting and relearning multiplying and dividing fractions throughout one academic year. I consoled myself with the fact that Jacob got the engineering side from David – he loves building and he excels in math and science – and Isabella got her creativity from me. She has a wonderful imagination, loves to tell and write stories, and is stronger academically in language arts. The trait that I love the most about her, however, is her compassion for all living things and her sense of stewardship of the earth. Oh well, I thought to myself, although she’s “weak” in math and science, she doesn’t have to be a vet to take care of animals.

Signing away....

Signing away….

Dweck would have smacked me for shutting the doors and closing the windows. For one thing, who knows if Isabella is even interested in pursuing such a career. But more importantly, I’ve just labeled her a non-learner with fixed intelligence and skills, incapable of taking difficult math and sciences classes required of pre-vet majors in undergraduate school and soldiering on. Again, Dweck pointed to research that supports the brain’s capacity to grow through challenges and hard work. While she noted that not everyone can be Einstein, even Einstein had to put in years of hard labor to become who he was. Dweck acknowledged that you can have a fixed mindset in one area and a growth mindset in another, but the bottom line is that you shouldn’t shut doors. You should encourage and support. You should validate that hard work pays off. Her advice to teachers to give to students – “I have complete faith in your ability to learn and grow, and we will work with you until that happens” – is a promise that parents can offer in the home.

Grades and working hard
Dweck would also point out that my emphasis on grades is wrong-headed. And I admit that she’s right. I didn’t use to nag about grades in elementary school or even middle school. I emphasized working hard, making learning fun and interesting, being your own advocate, and getting organized. But once Jacob entered high school, suddenly everything changed – with the changes coming from me. I warned him at the end of eighth grade that once he hit ninth grade, “grades mattered.” There was no turning back now. If he wants to get into one of the higher-ranking University of California schools – and I’m not even talking about the stratospherically-out-of-league Cal or UCLA campuses – he has to work for A’s. An 88 on a Spanish test, which he thought was pretty good, was not acceptable to me. I’ll admit that I was aghast that he accepted that score because to me it were beneath a good, conscientious student’s standards. What I really should have asked him was whether he learned something from studying and taking the test. Did he retain any of the Spanish words, phrases, sentences, or meanings? Did he learn how to prepare himself better for the next test?

On my way to an educational evening.

On my way to an educational evening sporting a ruffled bolero, boyfriend jeans, and vintage purse.

Since he entered high school this past fall, I’ve struggled internally over putting too much emphasis on grades. I sincerely want him first and foremost to be a critical thinker, writer, and reader because ultimately these are the skills that will serve all college students well, no matter what they major in, and all adults in their working world and for the rest of their lives. I don’t hesitate to point out to him how his English papers can be written more clearly, logically, succinctly, and thoughtfully. I must be making headway in this area because he shocked me by thanking me for my help on his last essay for his cultural geography class. I mark up the usual grammatical errors and words that spellcheck missed. But I also ask questions about some of his statements, which force him to think more deeply about what he had written, what he unwittingly had left out, and what he was trying to say. Dweck pointed out that if you focus on working hard and overcoming challenges, you appreciate your accomplishments more, it inspires you to continue on that path of persistence, you gain more confidence in your abilities, your brain’s neural pathways light up like firecrackers (my words, not hers), and you end up earning good grades as a by-product.

When I was in college, I cared about grades, but I cared more about loving what I was doing in my classes and soaking it all in – reading great and minor works of literature, analyzing these works through literary criticism, writing short stories and poems and sharing and critiquing the original works of my classmates, and discovering Asian-American history within our country’s history. I truly loved learning for the sake of learning. I couldn’t imagine majoring in anything but English; if I had gone into nursing or business, which were areas of study my mother had gently pushed for, I would have been miserable. So I followed my passion and that’s what I tell my kids to do.

Chocolate and brass: vintage purse (Feathers, Austin, TX), ruffled platform peep-toe pumps, Sundance belt, Laura Lombardi necklace and hoops (Eskell, Chicago), and reclaimed vintage bracelets by M.L. Moore (Green & Gorgeous, Berkeley, CA).

Chocolate and brass: 1940s vintage purse (Feathers, Austin, TX), Anthropologie ruffled platform peep-toe pumps, Sundance belt, Laura Lombardi necklace and hoops (Eskell, Chicago), and reclaimed vintage bracelets by M.E. Moore (Green & Gorgeous, Berkeley, CA).

Despite my lapses in parental judgment regarding grades, I have been sharing with my kids my stories of working hard and struggling with the hope that they’ll appreciate how I learned and grew from these experiences and apply perseverance in their own lives. For example, it took me 17 years to write my first novel and not abandon it when so many things, such as my job and other obligations, kept me from writing. When I sent out a version of my novel back in 2005, I was crushed by the tens of rejections from literary agents, and I let the rejections shut me down for several years. But my passion wouldn’t allow me to remain silent, and nearly three years after the last rejection letter of not writing or reading fiction, I picked myself up off the shoulder of the road and started writing again. And in those years, in those struggles and dark days, I became a better writer – better than when I started on the novel in 1998 and when I sent out the manuscript in 2005. These are the stories I need to remember to keep telling when my first thought is to ask Jacob about his grades when we talk about school at the dinner table.

A great combo: chocolate and brass.

A great combo: chocolate and brass.

The Beauty and promise of ‘yet’
One of the things I appreciated from Dweck’s talk was the beauty of “yet.” Instead of looking at a low grade on a test as a failure, we should view it as a concept or a subject matter that they haven’t learned yet. Instead of saying, “I’m not a math person,” we should say, “I’m not a math person yet.” Last night, Jacob told me that math hasn’t been fun since seventh grade, which I had noticed but tried to ignore. He complained that concepts were becoming more difficult for him to grasp and by the time he understands them, the test has already been administered. I quickly thought of Dweck. I dutifully told him that when he comes to understand the concept and solve the math equation, he’ll appreciate the victory more and feel a greater sense of pride because he struggled and pushed through to the other side. Persistence won over apathy. And then, breaking the spell of that revelation, that epiphany, David piped in that opening up the textbook doesn’t hurt, either.

As for Isabella, who knows if going to vet school is something she will want to pursue when she’s 18 years old? It might be the furthest thing on her mind when she’s filling out college applications six years down the road. I just want to make sure that the reason she doesn’t want to go – especially if it’s her passion – isn’t because the path is too hard. That’s where mindset parenting needs to step up: embrace the struggle and believe in the promise of and the journey to “yet.” And know that we parents, who are also continuing to learn and grow, are supporting our kids – all the way to the moon and back.

Adding stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito CA) and Anthropologie chocolate bolero jacket.

Adding stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito CA) and Anthropologie chocolate brown bolero jacket to this ensemble photo.

Lost, found, and forever kept: sisterhood and cousinhood

Jo’s face was a study next day, for the secret rather weighed upon her, and she found it hard not to look mysterious and important. Meg observed it, but did not trouble herself to make inquiries, for she had learned that the best way to manage Jo was by the law of contraries, so she felt sure of being told everything if she did not ask.
– Louisa May Alcott, American novelist, from Little Women

Celebrating Jacob's 5th birthday and my mom's 80th birthday, with Joshua and Isabella, June 2005.

Celebrating Jacob’s 5th birthday and my mom’s 80th birthday, with Joshua and Isabella in Folsom, June 2005.

When the kids were younger, I used to take them on weekend trips to my sister’s home in Folsom, about an hour-and-a-half drive from the Bay Area. My mom had been living with my middle sister Joyce and her husband when my nephew, Joshua, was born almost 18 years ago. Jacob was born 3.5 years later. When Isabella came along 2.5 years after Jacob, and David was working a lot of overtime hours, I sought refuge, relief, and motherhood support in Folsom. There, my mom doted over her three grandkids and I hung out, exhausted on the family room sofa, enjoying the cozy retreat. Oftentimes, I had to bring work, but I always carved out time for catching my breath, flipping through Joyce’s stack of People magazines late at night, and gabbing around the kitchen table.

The grandkids and Nellie at my mom's grave site in Folsom, Christmas Day 2014.

The grandkids and Nellie at my mom’s grave site in Folsom, Christmas Day 2014.

We visited a lot, and my kids really loved spending time with their cousin and their “lola,” my mom. Once Jacob started playing youth baseball, my work encroached beyond the 50-hour work week, and the three-hour roundtrip became too onerous, we didn’t visit as much. Joshua didn’t want February birthday parties anymore, so we didn’t come that month, and soon, we only came at Easter, my mom’s birthday in June, and Christmastime, then just June and December. I harbored feelings of regret, which got eaten whole, by everyone’s schedule and the resulting exhaustion. The kids complained about not visiting as often, and after my mom passed away three years ago, it was difficult when we did visit. Somehow, Jacob and Isabella became aware of the fact that when kids graduate from high school, they “go away from the house” afterwards, whether it be for college or work.

Their oldest cousin, Nick, on David’s side of the family, Joshua, and my college roommate’s son Grant are all seniors this year. In Jacob’s and Isabella’s eyes, they were going to be leaving their homes and that meant the two of them wouldn’t be able to see them easily anymore. Last year, they started lobbying for me to set up the next dinner with my college roommates so they could get together again with Grant and his younger brother Michael. They wanted to stay longer in Stockton, where David’s parents live, during the holidays to visit with Nick and their other cousins. And they especially bugged me about going to Folsom more – like old times – so they could hang out with Joshua. I’m glad they infused me with their urgency, which ignited my own urgency, which had been smothered by my to-do list and other obligations.

Ready for the short road trip to Folsom in comfortable clothes.

Ready for the short road trip to Folsom in comfortable clothes.

Though I didn’t have Martin Luther King, Jr. Day off, the kids had a three-day weekend, Jacob finished his semester so he didn’t have any weekend homework, and we had no sports commitment on Saturday. Seize the day, I told myself. Go to Folsom. The kids were ecstatic. And even I looked forward to relaxing a bit, which I wasn’t able to do this past Christmas in Folsom. I even looked forward to driving, listening to mellow music, letting my mind drift, enjoying the gray skies and the landscape bathed in a sheath of fog. I caught myself getting excited to see mom, who used to always answer the door when we arrived. When Joyce answered the door this time, however, I was overcome by that old home-away-from-home feeling, which took my hand and led me in.

Textures again: scarf (Personal Pizazz, Berkeley, CA), stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito, CA), Laura Lombardi hoops, jeans, eyelash sweater (H&M), and my own vintage Talbots crossbody bag from the early 90s.

Textures again: scarf (Personal Pizazz, Berkeley, CA), stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito, CA), Laura Lombardi hoops, jeans, eyelash sweater (H&M), and my own vintage Talbots crossbody bag in mint condition from the early 90s.

Laura Lombardi spheres hoops and Kate Peterson Designs stack of rings.

Laura Lombardi spheres and hoops earrings and Kate Peterson Designs stack of rings.

Joyce made spaghetti sauce and pasta for lunch for us. Now that she’s retired, she’s cooking, which is saying a lot for someone who had a framed saying that declared “I’d cook if I could find the can opener.” She informed me that she had “ceremoniously dumped it [the framed picture] last month.” I brought our thick binder of favorite recipes, and I marked with stick-it notes the recipes I thought she would like – easy ones with few ingredients – though she requested recipes that didn’t call for exotic ingredients that can’t be found in a regular grocery store. I’m thrilled that she’s cooking healthful meals and not eating a lot of processed frozen foods, which were her staple during her long days of teaching. It was fun to share recipes with her. And I was surprised and delighted to hear that she bought a ukulele and would take up an instrument that she had longed to play for a while. As she talked, I was content to see her finally relaxed because much of her working life was filled with deadlines, stress, report cards, and difficult students and parents. I was happy for her.

Three sisters at Christmastime in our old house, me with my baby doll, middle sister Joyce with Chatty Cathy, and oldest sister, Heidi.

Three sisters at Christmastime in our old house in Terra Bella, with me and my baby doll, Joyce with Chatty Cathy, and oldest sister, Heidi. Check out the encyclopedia dinosaurs!

The Enrado women, sans Mom, Christmas in Folsom, 2014.

The Enrado women, sans Mom, Christmas in Folsom, 2014.

We ran errands, with Isabella tagging along. We checked out the premium outlets. We Enrado women have a history of shopping, a tradition of shopping the day after Thanksgiving to get our Christmas gifts bought and out of the way and the day after Christmas to spend the $100 my mom gave each of us for Christmas. We would get up early and she’d drive us to the malls in either Bakersfield or Visalia. Of course, we would make our dollar stretch and buy clothes and accessories on sale and on clearance. When Joyce and I came home from the Folsom shops, Joshua was sprawled across the family room sofa, his pillow leaning against Isabella, while Jacob was spread out across the other sofa. Aside from the fact that they were watching the dreaded show, Walking Dead, a sense of contentment was draped around me at the sight of the three of them hanging out, if only for a very short weekend.

Joyce and me in our Auntie Leonora's house, our old house, 1972.

Joyce and me in our Auntie Leonora’s house, our old house in Terra Bella, 1972.

After dinner, Joyce suggested we spend the evening watching the movie Bridesmaids, which I hadn’t seen but she did see when her old high school friends were in town a few years ago. I’d always wanted to see it, having heard good reviews, but never got around to doing it, which seems to be a constant theme in my life. The movie was funny, and it was actually heartwarming for me to watch this chick-flick with my sister. At points during the movie, I was conscious of the fact that we hadn’t sat down and watched a movie like this – outside of a few distracted times with kids zipping in and out of the family room – since I was an undergraduate at UC Davis, spending the day or weekend with Joyce, who had recently graduated from Cal State Sacramento and was working and living in Sacramento, about 15 minutes from my campus. Those were the truly endless days when nothing seemed pressing, and it was so easy to pop over and hang out.

Hawk in a tree on our neighborhood walk.

Hawk in a tree on our neighborhood walk in Folsom.

Sunday morning, with the kids in charge of steering Nellie, the family dog, Joyce and I chatted while walking to the park and pond and around the neighborhood. It was cool and foggy, a perfect January day. She wanted me to walk with her because she felt she needed to exercise. I told her it was important to do some sort of exercise every day, how she ought to walk Nellie daily – both she and dog would benefit and she’d get some fresh air. I told her to keep moving. I told her about sleep studies that recommend women going to bed by 10PM. Knowing that she goes to bed late and sleeps in late, I told her she ought to push back her sleep pattern a few hours and her health would improve. I was always worried for her when she was teaching and only getting two to three hours of sleep a night.

Dad (his shadow) taking a photograph of us three sisters at our home in Los Angeles, February 1964.

Dad (his shadow) taking a photograph of us three sisters at our home in Los Angeles, February 1964.

After the walk she made soggy French toast, which we all ate not because we felt forced to, but because of gratitude. She had taken the time to make it. I was really proud of her. Not in a condescending way because David makes really wonderful meals and I’ve been cooking regularly for years, but proud that she was proud of her cooking. The kids took off for Joshua’s room soon after eating half of their French toast. Since we had to leave midday to make it back in time for Jacob’s hitting lesson, and I had precious few hours left that Sunday morning, I decided to wait until I got home to take my shower. I wanted to hang out at the kitchen table and keep talking, just talking. We caught up on old classmates and family and relatives. I felt like we weren’t almost 53 and nearly 55. We were in our 20s in Joyce’s Sacramento apartment. We were teenagers in her Ford Pinto coming home from high school the next town over, fearful of the blanket of hot-white fog on Old Highway 65. We were 7 and 9, playing our homemade version of the Mystery Date Game, laughing at the dud guy behind the white board game door, in the cramped screened-in porch in the back of our house, on an endless summer Sunday afternoon.

Joyce and me in front of our first house in Terra Bella, 1967.

Joyce and me and one of the many dogs in our childhood, in front of our first house in Terra Bella, 1967.

Don’t let the b@st@rds get you down

Those who don’t know how to suffer are the worst off. There are times when the only correct thing we can do is to bear out troubles until a better day.
– Deng Ming-Dao, Chinese-American author, artist, philosopher, teacher, and martial artist

My New Year's Eve outfit - faux fur jacket, vintage pin, velvet burnout trousers, and pumps.

My New Year’s Eve outfit – faux fur jacket, vintage brooch, velvet burnout trousers, and pumps.

Jacqui Naylor, San Francisco jazz-pop vocalist and songwriter, wrote a song called “Don’t let the bastard get you down,” which she released on her 2005 CD, Live East/West: Birdland/Yoshi’s. It’s a song about lovers and totally unrelated to my here and now, but when I started thinking through this particular blog topic, the catchy refrain stuck in my head.

I had a bad day at work this past Friday. It’s not really important to recap what happened. Suffice to say that an unexpected event occurred on a morning in which I was already exhausted from a chaotic week. It was the proverbial last straw that broke the camel’s back. But the silver lining was that it had happened on a Friday. As the day played out, I realized that I was going to need a mini vacation from work the moment the clock struck 5. I texted David: “Let’s watch Selma tonight.” Before he had left for work that morning, he brought up catching the Civil Rights historical movie, which was opening that day, about Martin Luther King, Jr.’s 1965 march from Selma to Montgomery, AL, to support blacks’ right to vote. I wanted to see it anyway, but I thought it timely to see it Friday evening. We took the kids. All four of us thought it was a great movie, and we appreciated its theme of equality and justice for all.

Texture in every piece of this outfit: velvet burnout, bejeweled and pintucked blouse, vintage Weiss brooch, metal sequins and beads purse, glossy pumps, and faux fur.

Texture in every piece of this outfit: velvet burnout trousers trimmed in satin, bejeweled and pintucked blouse, vintage Weiss brooch, metal sequins and beads purse, glossy pumps, and faux fur.

But it was important for me to see this movie on the heels of my crappy day because it put everything into perspective. People were getting severely beaten up. People lost their lives over a right that many of us take for granted today. My problem and my work day shrunk as each scene in the movie played out. By the time I came out of the theatre, I saw my work-related problem as a miniscule issue that will get resolved one way or another. On this I was clear: It wasn’t worth exerting another tear or another moment of weakness or anxiety.

Alexis Berger Glassworks chandelier earrings (Castle in the Air, Berkeley), vintage Weiss brooch (eBay), Sundance stack of rings, and sterling silver shell ring (Eskell, Chicago).

Alexis Berger Glassworks chandelier earrings (Castle in the Air, Berkeley), vintage Weiss brooch (eBay), Sundance stack of rings, and sterling silver shell ring (Eskell, Chicago).

What a cure, I thought to myself, as I went to bed that night. But it didn’t stop there. On Saturday, we took down the Christmas decorations. We all agreed that we felt sad to say goodbye to a what seemed like an extremely short holiday season. The house is so bountiful and festive when decked out. It always looks so stark and empty come January. At the same time, I enjoy having my clean, decluttered house back. I brought up Pandora radio on my mobile phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I chose my Peter, Paul, and Mary station, and was immediately immersed in folk music of the 1960s, much to my son’s chagrin, who took to his earplugs and listened to his own music. For me, I was in heaven. “Blowin’ in the Wind.” “If I Had a Hammer.” Crosby, Stills & Nash’s “Teach Your Children Well.” Every song by Simon and Garfunkel. Arlo Guthrie’s “City of New Orleans.” Songs I sang as a kid. Songs that were rooted in the turbulent era of the 1960s. Songs that took me back to my childhood.

Close-up of Alexis Berger's amazing glass-blown chandelier earrings, David's Christmas present to me.

Close-up of local artist Alexis Berger’s amazing glass-blown chandelier earrings, David’s Christmas present to me.

Choosing this station Saturday morning was an extension of watching the movie Selma the night before. I was in the moment. I was mindful. Life was full of vibrancy. I was in an exuberant, hopeful mood as I put away the Christmas ornaments, the Santa and snowman collection, the Department 56 Christmas in the City village settings. While boxing everything up was a sad chore, the promise of the New Year lay before me. A clean house, which translates to a cleared mind and head, allows me to focus and move forward. I also snuck in some Zen weeding in the front yard on Sunday after I took down the outdoor garland on our railings, which also made me feel cleansed.

Another close-up.

Another close-up.

I told the kids Friday evening that I’d had a bad day and it was something I had to get over, like a bump in the road. I gave them hugs. I told them I was grateful to have them in my lives because they are far more important than a lot of little things that trip me up in life. David allowed me to vent. He listened patiently. He made a point of clearing off the remaining obstacles on my road this past weekend. Gratitude is a wonderful thing to feel. It makes you buoyant. It makes those other problems shrink to the size and weight of gnats – ones you can smote with a flick of your finger. When you have a mindful weekend and are surrounded by supportive family and friends, you are ready for Monday. You breathe om with inner peace. And you say, “I won’t let the b@st@rds get me down this week.” Bring it on, Monday.

Ready for Monday. In. Style.

Ready for Monday. In. Style.