Happy 2025

2025… lovely, not the year itself, who knows about that, yet. The numbers 2 0 2 5, they work, not symmetrical, not perfect, no huge kerning issues, a nice start to a new year. This is how graphic designers see the world. 2021 was a lot of kerning, the number one needed to be moved left a bit in each large scale use. 2025 has promise.

I was just listening to a podcast of the best advice collected from 2024 (notice the hole between the right of the 2 and the slant of the four… good riddance). I took away a few things… most new year resolutions are punitive, so instead of saying NO CARBS just eat one really spectacular cookie (instead of denying yourself then eating 10 crappy cookies). I like that that advice. I like a good cookie. Another was from a new parent who said the best advice they received was to “raise the child you have, not the child you want”. That is amazing advice, for both the parent and the kid. And the las one I loved was the best way to give advice is to LISTEN. Listen to what the person is saying, they might not be asking for a solution, a story, your opinion, they might just need you to listen. I definitely need and love that advice.

Cookies. I think they are wonderful things, I love the advice of if you are going to eat a cookie, eat a really good one. I worked with a woman once, old school Philadelphia Main Line rich, think The Philadelphia Story starring my fellow Katharine (with 2 a’s) Hepburn. Her mom’s rule growing up was if you wanted sweets or desserts… you made them. She was an amazing baker and she was thin. No processed foods for them, they had sweets when they really wanted them, it was work. Brilliant.

Children. We spent the holidays in California with my son and daughter-in-law. It was spectacular, their house, their rules. I helped by chopping for the chef, who made an amazing vegan pasta extravaganza for Christmas dinner. While they worked I quietly cleaned their front entrance and wiped down all the windowsills, then moved on to the backyard which is so functional it should be lived in year round. The whole time thinking about my parents coming to our home and gardening or cleaning or organizing while we worked. Remembering what it was like to come home and see a chore done and feel the love when they said they enjoyed doing it. I so enjoyed it. Helping set up for their party had a few bumps, not everyone sets up the same, my 40 years of party hosting was clearly not the way to go, so we did what we could…then we listened, and left for a few hours. The perfect solution. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. The “kids” put on an amazing party. New Years Eve chatting with 20-30 somethings was a pretty wonderful way to start a new year. The point of this is we are learning that to have nice relationships with our now adult offspring, we connect on mutual terms. It feels weird to let go of the reigns…but I am finding it is amazing.

Listening. I haven’t commented on social media or swooned for a while, a resolution to give it up for a bit after getting involved in a little fuss in our town. Trying to explain a different side to a situation…I was told by an online stranger that if I didn’t agree, just be quiet, nobody wanted my opinion. First he called me ma’am… to which I replied, please call me Kat. He then said “oh, you are one of THOSE”. One of what I thought? Does any woman on this earth like to be called ma’am? Maybe if you are 95 and from Georgia… maybe. I am none of those things. I am a girl from Queens and I speak my mind, and if you don’t like how much I talk please… stop listening. Maybe that is good advice too… it is ok to stop listening and engaging if you have nothing nice to say, sometimes it is ok to have a different point of view.

So this 2025 I plan to continue my connections with lots of in person gatherings…eat a really good cookie when I want one…learn to make mocktails that stand on their own…listen more…notice and appreciate the joy when it sneaks in to my overwhelming and difficult at times life…be grateful for my family, and tell them I love them, a lot…and to embrace each day because in 2024 we lost a lot of good people.

Wishing you all joy, health, and peace.

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Atlantic Ocean Peeps visiting the Pacific.

Mashed Potatoes

There are few things in life better than homemade mashed potatoes. Leave a little skin on, boil with tons of fresh garlic, more than generous amounts of butter, salt, pepper, cream cheese, and half and half. Not too smooth, not too crunchy, make it just right…like baby bear’s bed. They are what dreams are made of.

My son and his wife are not coming home for Thanksgiving. Somehow him being away at holidays was harder for me when he was single. Now it is sad, but it is as it should be. Of course I have been searching for something to send them to make being away from us all easier on them, but that thing doesn’t exist. If I send a pie, it is not my pie. If I send a basket of something it seems cold and distant. I am certain that whatever I do, whatever I send, will cause them to cry and miss us and regret their decision.

Hint…It is me who is regretting their decision, because I adore them and I will miss them and I don’t want them to miss us. Letting go is hard.

They will not be missing us.

They will not be missing us because they will be hosting their first Thanksgiving together as a married couple. They will be rearranging their home to fit a nice big table. They will be making lists and shopping, then shopping some more. They will be buying cooking tools they never pictured themselves needing. They will question why they only have one refrigerator. They will be cutting, and dicing, and preparing…and they have got this because they are an amazing team. They have been training for it their whole lives, watching the masters living through the stress…and the satisfaction…of hosting a holiday celebration.

In a lovely morning chat I learned of their plans. A friend will do the turkey, everyone will bring contributions, and Jacob… asked for my mashed potato recipe.

No longer feeling blue, I am absolutely thrilled. Our traditions will live on, new traditions will be made, and everyone I love will be taken care of. I hope they enjoy every minute of the process, even the bumps… and if they don’t, they are always welcome here.

Happy Thanksgiving Prep Week to all. Enjoy it.

“The David”

I was recently reflecting with a group of friends about high school. They pictured me as a girl from a tv show, “you were the one running the student government, had the lead in the show that was fundraising for some cause…and everybody knew you.”

100% no. I was pretty quiet, my bestie was the shining star. I was an observer. While my Noel was glowing on stage with the other dancers in the exclusive D3, I was with a crew of other non stage worthy people running the tape recorder. The teacher, a 90 pound women of a certain age who insisted on wearing leotards and rolled up parachute pants would screech. “rewind, clap clap clap, go back to that part, clap clap clap, who is paying attention”, as she rushed around burning the two calorie lunch she just consumed. It was a John Hughes movie. And just like in the movies, when I was a senior…a cool new kid came on board the tape recorder crew. He was a Junior. He was tall, super cute, and he found the whole D3 thing very entertaining. He was always ready with the under the breath, perfectly timed, snarky comment about the current crazy situation…a master at seeing the ridiculous.

His name was David. 

I knew of David already. He was friends with kids from my neighborhood, he was my bestie’s…little sister’s bestie’s…big brother. I’m sure I got all the apostrophes wrong there. Apologies. 

Senior year I was photography editor of the yearbook, David was my “Junior Asssistant”, he would be editor following me. Following my footsteps…except for the fact that he was too smart and too cool to follow anyone, yet, he had a way of looking at you where you felt like he was really listening, learning, and hearing you…he was lovely.

As life goes… people go off in different directions, I went to art school where I did become an 80s teen movie stereotype and blossomed into Kat. David and his long black thrifted trench coat, awesome hair, and brilliant mind went on to study something super smart I could never explain or understand no matter how patiently he explained it. We saw each other maybe once or twice, he always had a sweet smirk and happy eyes, always interested in hearing about what was up. He somehow understood I became who I was meant to be. He got it.

Years later we were both experiencing a beautiful wedding…my brother Fred, who contains a ridiculous amount of space in my heart…was marrying David’s sister Jodi. I am pretty sure the conversation happened when we were in the East Village at a restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. Memories are blurry. I was holding my son who was showing anyone who might look his finger nail polish, it was red and orange on alternating fingers, to match the bridal party. David walked up to us, he smiled at Jacob, he smiled at me. “Can you believe after knowing each other for so long, we are now related?” Related. That is a big word, I could not be happier. Our families were so right together, and now we were one.

Many gatherings with blended family later we fell into just being comfortable. Those relatives you see when in town, history, memories, good times. He was still brilliant…a finance, history, policy smart guy with an inner creative spirit that came out in his new business ideas and cooking and collecting beautifully designed goodness. David was just always someone who was popping up in thoughts because he was so good, at so much.

David was Jodi’s Fred. Jodi and I bonded in so many ways but understanding what it was like to completely adore, respect and love our brothers…no matter how squirrelly they might be at times…was one of the reasons we became sisters, drop the in-law part. We knew what to LOVE in all caps, horn blowing emoji, tons of exclamation points…our brothers meant.

David passed away from a heart attack a few weeks ago. Sudden. He was not old. He was not done. He left behind a loving wife and two incredible kids. I heard the news and went silent. My first thought was Jodi. Oh beautiful, kind, never a bad word about anyone Jodi. I felt so guilty she was experiencing my nightmare. She would need to be the rock, she would need to care for her parents during the unthinkable. There would be nothing anyone could do to ease her pain, because the pain would be unimaginable. Life. Is. Not. Fair.

Jodi is not one to want to be the center of attention…she should be, because she is one of the most gracious, beautiful, talented, and intelligent humans I know… but it is not her thing. Jodi was now front and center, to eulogize her big brother. She was so calm, so clear, so in control. I wept watching her. I wept for her new forever. I believe in gifts from beyond, signs, moments, where a bit of goodness is passed on to those still on the earth. I am passing this one on to all of you… from Jodi, from David.

Excerpt from Jodi’s eulogy, after describing David’s love of history, learning, and travel… David taught me to always turn around. Turn around and look at the world from a different perspective. Just literally turn around. Whether you were hiking through the woods or wandering in a city, the view of everything you’ve just passed will be different in reverse. It’s so true and I have shared this with everyone I know. I just did, this past weekend. We even call it “The David”. My sons and I always say: “Don’t forget to do ‘The David’”. I hope you will all do this, and think of David when you do.

We can all learn from looking back. We always need a different perspective. Embrace and share “The David”, we will all be better for it. I dream of a day when I am walking in a city and I see a stranger turn around to see the experience they just passed, I ask them, are you doing “The David”? Yes, they say, how did you know? I will respond… because I knew him, he was a great guy.

Love to all.

to Mom (verb)

Hello America, Hello World… today is a big day in our country and I am a hopeful mess.

As I have mentioned before, when I was little I wanted to grow up and be a mom…not a graphic designer, production manager, volunteer, or wife…just a mom.

I have been fortunate to be all of the people listed above, and I am blessed for what each of those roles has taught me, but nothing can teach you about life like being a mom.

Don’t mistake my definition of the word mom to mean…someone who has given birth. To me a mom is one who nurtures, who gives, who sees, who provides unconditional love, and who understands the concept of embracing joy. It is a verb, it is an action word. You do not need children to mom. Having kids makes doing it even harder, especially having teenagers.

Many people in our country are in a bit of a tizzy. How could people vote for him? What is wrong with them, don’t they read? Why would people vote against their own interests? Don’t people see his true colors? Can’t people see he is only in this for himself?

I am not making a political statement here. I am speaking facts of what is making people crazy at the moment and about a week ago it all became a bit more clear to me.

When talking to a friend about the difficulties of taking care of our elderly parents, having them in our homes 24/7, caring for them, overseeing their health and safety, respecting that they are our parents…even though they forget the word for fork on a regular basis and wake up many mornings asking if it is Christmas yet. We discussed the cost of putting parents into a “good” home. Around here that can cost 12-15 thousand dollars a month for a memory care unit. That is ridiculous and not possible. I mentioned that in the rest of the world, multigenerational living is the norm. Parents live with their children, adult offspring live with their parents, sometimes many generations in one home at one time.

What this thought made me realize is our country is so so so very young, we are so far behind the rest of the world. Our country has been very lucky…every generation has done better than the last…until now. Our country is in its adolescent phase. Adolescents are very very scary. I loved being a mom, I was terrified of being the mom of adolescents.

Some adolescents do not listen, do not want to hear truth or facts, they want to do what they want to do, they know best, they would rather burn down their own house than admit they are wrong. Some adolescents follow the rules, dot the i’s and cross the t’s, know better than everyone else and let everyone know it, they are extremely annoying. Many want to squash their success…even if they go down with them. Then there are the quiet adolescents, the ones nobody notices until looking at the yearbook 10 years later, the ones who don’t feel like they have a voice, but if they just had some confidence they could rule the school. Unfortunately they stay quiet, they are not heard.

Our country is made up of these stereotypes right now… and it is terrifying. The rest of the world…the adults…have survived being a young country, they have survived horrific situations and continue to do so. They know life is difficult, unfair, and ever-changing. They do not expect perfection. They adult and they enjoy the good moments when they can get them.

If anyone is going to help our country grow through this adolescent phase…it is a woman… a woman called Momala.

I guess that was a political statement. I stand by it. I have hope.

For Jacob & Ella… your very own Swoon

Our “kids” just got married and there will probably be many Swoons to come about the process of being a wedding coordinator, but this one is about my Swoon.

It started with…

Mom, do you want to do a toast, or should dad, or do you both want to? Then it became, Mom, can you do the talk during the ceremony, something about love? Dad and Teresa will do the toasts. Then it became something like you don’t need a theme, just do the church ceremony talk, it should be kind of big because we don’t want anything too too religious so Pastor Debbie is going to keep her’s short.

Pressure.

How hard can writing a speech to be read in front of 150 people on one of the most emotional and raw days in your life be? It isn’t like I have some sort of disability that blocks what my eyes are reading and what my mouth is saying… oh wait…I do have that disability. My friends told me it would all work out. I have beautiful friends.

I have received many requests for copies of my Swoon to the “kids”, so I am posting it here. It is more of a typical Swoon than a wedding speech, but I guess that is to be expected. When you get to the “game” take note, when the mother of the bride heard the first prompt…the look on her face was one of both shock and delight, her reaction will stay with me forever. She is a fun lady.

Here goes…

Wow, you are so so very beautiful. Welcome and thank you for sharing this overwhelming and delicious weekend with us. 

If someone asked me to create a perfect moment, this might be it…well, actually, I would have have my dad sitting next to my mom and I would have Mark Ritts sitting next to Teresa. I believe they are here with us today, enjoying the festivities, eating some heavenly jelly beans, and taking it all in.

Taking it in…being present enough to take mental photographs. Visual blips captured in our minds forever. Those moments we return to again and again…when we need a push, a virtual hug, or a bit of confidence. 

The night before our wedding a dear family friend pulled me aside. Kat she said,
you two have done everything you can to make tomorow what you want it to be,
now is the time to enjoy it… and most of all remember it. Freeze moments and take mental snapshots. They will stay with you forever. 

It was one of the best pieces of advice I have ever received, and I try to apply it to all of the amazing moments in my life.

Jacob, I had never experienced instantaneous love, until the moment I met you. I knew we were two peas in a pod when my water broke at 12:01 am…on your due date.

You naturally woke up at 5 am…so we could read, craft, and play before I had to go to work…we had a full day of curiosity and creativity before most people were even awake. You continue to be innovative and an incredible problem solver, and you are ridiculous and fun. From sculpting your hair for crazy hair day to supplying you with found objects to make your masterpieces…we have done a lot of really amazing things together. 

Dad once said, our 22 year delayed maternity leave drive across the country was “my masterpiece” in parenting you. But I think the parenting moment I am most proud of was towards the end of that drive. 

While experiencing the splendor of Monument Valley, I noticed you were becoming a pile of nerves the closer we got to the West Coast. I asked you if you wanted to call Ella and see if she wanted to fly out and meet us in Vegas. 

I knew it was time to cut the umbilical cord…
so that you and Ella could start your life together …
driving into your new home state as a couple.

To the surprise of anyone who knows the bond I have with my kids, this was actually a really easy decision…because Ella…Ella has always been the right one. 

From the moment she somehow levitated down her Baltimore brownstone steps
to “meet her friend Jacob’s mom” …
then…leapt into the backseat of our already at capacity Prius…
settling horizintally across the back seat passengers…
I knew I liked this human very very much. 

When Jacob mentioned that “there was a girl”,
my mind went right to Ella, because of course it was Ella, it was always meant to be Ella. 

How could it not be? As you all know, is not hard to love this lady…
she sparkles, she exudes positivity, she fits into any group, and she does all this while being incredibly hard working, intelligent, and ridiculously talented.

Ella made our kid swoon, and there is nothing better than a good swoon. 

Ella and Jacob, you are so very right for each other…
you survived a global pandemic as new apartment mates, you create amazing themed parties, you make beautiful music together, you raise our two grandkitties like pros,
and you both embrace and love eachothers families… as of they were your own.

You two are one of those rare couples that truly fit.
Spectacular on your own…but udder perfection together. 

There are many times have I have learned from you both. I love your love…
your admiration…patience…kindness…playfulness, and support for one another.
You are each other’s best cheerleaders. Please aways be thankful for the privilege of having each other…because it is a gift.

One of the best things about big weddings is experiencing a room full of people from different parts of your lives all together at once…a group that might never meet, if it were not for you.

So here is where we get creative, in honor of our game loving son Jacob…
and the deceptively competitive Ella… we are going to play a game. 

Here are the rules.
Anytime you identify with a prompt, please raise your hand up high, then you can put it down. Please don’t be shy, in order to work, everyone really needs to particiapte.
It would be horrible if my first game failed in front of a bunch of game designers.

Please raise your hand if you…

have had Jacob or Ella in your uterus…or witnessed their birth
have known either of them for more than 10 years 
have ever played games with them?
have worked with them?
have vacationed or lived with them?
and finally, please raise your hand if you love Ella and Jacob.

Someone recently said to me that they thought big weddings were a waste. At first I found it an odd comment…given who they were talking to…but after I thought about it, I was grateful. It made me think. 

What is the value of having almost everyone that you care about in this world…
together in celebration? 

People you have known since birth, friends you went through puberty with,
your college besties, your workmates and mentors, family friends, and relatives…
Having all the people who have helped create who you are…all in one room. 

I think the answer for most would be… priceless.
Having you all here, creating this beautiful moment is absolutely priceless.

Jacob and Ella, now it is the time…
the time to hold eachothers hands and to look at this group,
and take a mental snapshot of this sea of perfection… 

now archive it…
archive it for when you can’t stand eachother,
archive it for when life is serving up some bumps…
because there are always bumps in a well-lived life. 

Remember these glorious faces and what it feels like to be surrounded by joy.
Remember what your young, smooth, and soft hands feel like intertwined…

Because at this moment…at this moment…everything is right in your world.
Because with the kind of love you feel right now…you two can get through anything. 

…and that was that, I did it and I didn’t trip up too much because I too was looking out into a sea of love and support. It. Was. Awesome.

Photo: Jacob and Ella at the spectacular Hudson River Museum, Yonkers, NY

Parallel Lives

Hi Swooners! Long time no swoon. Well, that is not true. I have been in a constant state of swoon over here in wedding preparation land. We are under a month away from my son’s wedding and I am over the moon with glee.

I was getting lasered yesterday…a perk of being Armenian and 58…and chatting with my hair removal Jedi warrior. Side note, every time she zaps my chin my fillings tingle, a little rave in my mouth. Anyway, she was smiling from ear to ear as I told her about all the plans. “Wow, you get to help, not just the bride and her mom? Wow, your families like each other? Wow, the bride and groom seem so creative, this is no typical wedding.”

The truth is, she is right about all of it. In 4 minutes she had us figured out. I am so beyond fortunate to be able to help plan this wedding, I mean no crazy drama, no bridezilla, none of it. I am starting to get a little sad that in a blink it will all be over. Sigh.

It is down to the finalizing numbers, picking wines, making slide shows, dotting all those i’s and crossing the t’s. It is the time when I burst into tears thinking about how time is just so devious, dragging on and being over in a blip, all at once.

One amazing thing about being from New York is that even as a Protestant, one gets to attend MANY Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. I am a total fan. Young people studying, self analyzing, doing a good deed, and writing a speech baring their souls. It is a lot, and it is all things good. One of my favorite parts is the slide shows, 13 years of the celebrants life in a flash. So much good. My daughter has collected images for her sister (to be) and brother’s night before festivities wedding slide show. The second of many parties over the weekend. I just had the pleasure of creating the “side by side” slides to be used.

Side by side. Images of their parallel lives lived across the country from each other. No idea the other existed, no clue they would be in college together, or someday married. The thing that is so striking to me is how many side by side slides there are. How could two kids have such similar lives? I think the link is creativity and love.

These two grew up in homes where creativity was encouraged and love was plentiful. I look at these pictures and realize neither has crazy generational wealth, they are privileged but will need to work for their supper… what these two have is generational creativity and generational love…and that is clearly worth so very much.

Two beautiful souls, I am so very grateful they found each other.

Thank You Dr Ruth

Summer in Douglaston, Queens…in the 80s. We had no idea how beautiful our lives were. A day at the pool, swim team practice, maybe a diving lesson, no supervision, snack bar french fries with lots of ketchup and a “mixed drink” of every flavor of soda in the fountain, ice cream trucks, games of Spit on the front lawn, a walk to the bay, back to the Club. Maybe a swimming or diving meet thrown in, or a water ballet practice, or a Fourth of July fair, there were always distractions to keep it fresh. Home for dinner, a shower, back to the Club to hang out. Repeat.

Summer nights. Figuring out an outfit. Fishing through the bins of my grandma’s 1940s meticulously hand-beaded blouses. Formal wear for her, vintage finds for casual summer nights me. Capri white pants, a little straw hat, a vintage blouse, ridiculously huge hair, and purple lipstick. A look. Remembering this all is a great exercise, I highly recommend it.

We would congregate, just show up, no cellphones, then walk the neighborhood as a mob, carrying a huge boom box loaded with 50 pounds of batteries. When I say “we” I mean the guys, it was actually pretty chivalrous back then…they bought the beer, they carried the heavy “portable” stereo equipment, they kept us from doing the bad stuff I had no clue they were doing. Many nights we ended up at the Club where we connected the box to the tennis shop’s free electricity, batteries running out no longer a worry. Sitting around, talking, torturing each other (flirting) we learned how to be with people, no screens, no distractions…just us, and music, and then one summer, with… Dr. Ruth.

I think it was James who introduced us to Dr. Ruth. James was an amazing soul. He went through many fashion moments including leather biker…lots of experimenting and creativity. He would quietly single me out, “Muench, you like art, what about these pants?” The next minute in full boy mode with the guy crew saying some dude-like stupid thing. He was a chameleon and he knew the world was a bigger place than Douglaston.

Dr. Ruth was on the radio really late, so I am pretty sure we were all listening to a cassette recording, remembering what happened 40+ years ago is not always easy. What I do remember is the quiet. We listened while she empowered us…empowered us to ask for pleasure, refuse advances, be in charge of our bodies…she made it all 100% ok. Whether you were straight, or gay, or maybe open to anything…the message was that sex was great as long as it was bringing both parties joy. Listening to her advice as a mixed group of horny teenagers…was the best way to have sex ed…together. No judgement and everyone learning from the same source.

Sigh. My husband just told me Dr. Ruth was the age we both are now when she started her media run, she then went on to publish 40 books, lecture, and teach. When I think I am getting old I just need to look at Dr. Ruth, once again teaching me to own it, to live life, and to find the pleasure.

Thank you Dr. Ruth. What a little firecracker you are.

Photo Caption… Page from a photo album I created in the 80s, using my mom’s Canon ae-1 then printing in black and white on her enlarger. A very cool mom. Our Douglaston Crew on the Club front lawn. Me (top right) in my Sally Jessy Raphael huge red glasses after being tackled by Tim. Life was innocent, and slow, and delicious.

The Room of Requirement

Saturday morning…laundry, catching up with a neighbor as we walk our dogs, straightening the house, a delicious cup of crazy hot tea. I love lazy mornings. I was opening a box of totally groovy lucite mini clipboards when my Greg walked in the room. His look said Do I want to ask? I did not give him time to leave, I like to explain my madness. At church last week a lively mom of 3 littles saw me decorating rocks with the kids during coffee hour and asked if I was in charge of the “keep the kids busy crafts” at the back of the sanctuary. It seems some generous loving person replaced the paper and crayons with… not exactly church pew friendly craft kits from a company known for notoriously complicated with a million tiny pieces products. No sorry, I said, but I can be…I’ll have a new plan in action next week. Thus, the clipboards with blank paper attached to let their creative juices flow, no glitter involved.

Describing the mom so he knew who I was talking about..a ball of energy, she brilliantly juggles kids, coffee, and conversation with a smile. This reminded Greg of his lunch bunch…their energy is a lot. They feel safe in his room which transforms from printing, to clay, to painting, to lunch…it’s a Room of Requirement. Why was that familiar? From Harry Potter he said, the room that you go to and it becomes what every room you need. It has the unique ability to transform itself into anything required at that moment in time. Nothing makes my heart swell more than hearing his room becomes the room that these kids need.

Our Room of Requirement was the room we entered when we viewed our house for the first time, a three season porch, almost the length of the whole downstairs. It had 40s wicker furniture with thick black and white striped fabric, and a zebra skin rug on the floor…talk about groovy. This room transforms into what ever we need it to be. Thanksgiving, Easter, Christmas, tables lined up, too many people, too close together, I would not have it any other way. Birthday parties, neighborhood craft nights, Girl Scout meetings, movie making camps and premieres, it is like tofu, taking on what ever flavor needed. It has been a sculpture studio for my son as he created a lighthouse and a painting studio for 4 little girls creating oversized Sesame Street inspired abstract color field paintings. Recently it’s been a staging area for wedding table designs, props lined up awaiting a yes or pack it back up. And now, a warehouse for the chosen wedding props awaiting their big day. This room allows us to mold it and abuse it, and love it. I adore that I have a name for this room now, our Room of Requirement.

Hugging my dude and professing my admiration for his ability to be there for his kids he interrupted my swooning to say, Kat, I brought up the Room of Requirement because that is what you are, you are a Person of Requirement, you give people what they need at the moment they most need it.

Wow. Overwhelmed. Seen. Loved…all before noon on a cozy Saturday morning. I might just crawl in bed and read, today is already a win. Ha. That is never happening.

How is everybody doing?

Just checking in are usually the first three words I sputter when leaving voicemails. Please note, nobody (including me) seems to listen to voice mails anymore, we just call back and say, hey, you called?…but that’s a different Swoon. I tend to check in with my peeps often, a quick call leads to being an ear to someone in need and allows me to get off some steam. Very inexpensive therapy.

Sesame Street was big in our house, the show, the songs, the little plastic “guys”, the stuffed animals…big. I once ran across O’Hare airport between flights and jumped back on our first plane to retrieve “Erniebert” from the seat back pocket. Risking being arrested was much more pleasant an option than vacationing for a week with out those dolls. To be fair, Ernie and Bert did seem rather relieved to be rescued. Melmo, was my Olivia’s favorite, she found him both hysterical and the best cuddle in town. Every time she met him she went up and just hugged him, not understanding why we would interrupt her for a picture. Melmo…aka Dad in a very smelly rented costume…showed up at her 2nd birthday party. If he had been part kangaroo and she could have just stayed in his pouch, life would have been perfect.

Elmo posted on X this past Monday…now that is something anyone time traveling from 1950 would not understand. I am not an X person but I am a New York Times person. Today they had an article about Elmo’s post which was…”Elmo is just checking in! How is everybody doing?”

There were thousands and thousands of responses…Elmo, I’m depressed and broke. Elmo my dog rolled around in goose feces. Elmo this morning I had a good grapefruit, Elmo each day the abyss we stare into grows a unique horror. Wow, this is a lot for a little red monster to take on…but he asked. According to X the question was seen more than 140 million times and people actually took the time to answer, to be heard.

Being heard. I follow a Travel the National Parks page (I’m told that dreaming about the future is healthy). A parent posted something like Can I ask a question and get honest answers? I see all these pictures of families and they look so happy, the kids look like they WANT to be there. Is it just my kids who fight constantly, whine, and seem bored to tears much of the time? The responses were 99% you are not alone, go on the vacation, get through the tough times, the kids will remember the good, there is always good. 1 percent did have perfect children (ha, sure they did). I love that this person reached out and for the most part people heard her pain and responded with truth. Sometimes just saying our hurt aloud makes it less painful, and sometimes we find out we are not alone.

Walking to school the other day my little guy asked me, Kafrine, would you rather see the world in no colors or not be able to taste anything? I was floored. One because he was curious about my thoughts and two, because wow, that is a big question for a little guy. I asked him how that question came to him, and he replied YouTube of course.

Of course.

Little red monsters, YouTube prompts. Quick texts…checking in matters. And if you were wondering… I would rather not taste anything. Colors both vibrant and muted bring me crazy amounts of joy. I would miss the memories that come with food, but I would also be a size 6, and that’s a win. Which would you pick?

What Other People Think

The other day while scrolling I noticed a picture of three women from my neighborhood. They were out celebrating a birthday with dinner and a show in the city. All of them moms of elementary and middle school peeps. They were together and they glowed. One of them has my sense of humor, her glorious pictures of smiling kids include captions like “Day 753 of Christmas Vacation”, I am sure I have written the same. Things can be wonderful and exhausting and trying all at the same time. Watching the next generation of moms is glorious, I have nothing but good will toward their energy, waists that are still waists, and tight neck skin. They seem much more confident than I ever did. It is encouraging to see confident women.

I just joined a local FB page called Fifty & Fabulous. A woman was hoping to start a book club for women over 50, the response was so overwhelming she decided there was a need for an over 50s page of connection and goodness. That’s what women do, they see a need and they create a space, it is a beautiful thing. This group already has over 400 members, it spawned a few book clubs, a lunch at a local restaurant, thoughts on visits to museums, and a general feeling of wow, isn’t it nice there are so many people on the same journey I am, I am not alone. It is nice to feel understood and to connect, even if just on social media. Someone posted an excerpt from a book called “The Courage to Be Disliked”, I felt like someone was in my head, in my soul… how did they know I needed that book that very moment. There are probably very few outings I will take with the group, life is too complicated for that now, but little gems like this book…priceless.

Alone, sometimes I feel very alone. My husband is a teacher, good teachers give 150% of themselves for 9-10 hours a day. They teach the subject they have mastered, are part therapist, and part parent. There are days he does not have a chance to pee or eat because a student shows up in his room during his “free” period and needs a connection. He never turns them away. He comes home and he is done, fried, completely spent, he needs his brain to relax and reset. I get it but after a day of taking care of others and working I crave a bit of conversation and connection.

I connect with my ladies on my morning walk. My high school bestie who is up at 5am to exercise and bake before work…my college girlies who are walking dogs or driving kids to school…my Pleasantville ladies via a never ending text chain. It is time to vent, to listen, to celebrate, to be. There is nothing more healing than a group of women supporting one another. These friendships take work, you need to be vulnerable and willing to be raw, showing your truth is brave.

Being a wedding coordinator for your son… that is brave. Trying not to step on toes, trying to give advice with out being pushy, trying to respect your place…and actually get shit done…one might say it is a no win situation. I am not really competitive person, I don’t need to win…but unfortunately I still like to be liked. So, filled with anxiety about the “mother of the groom dress” I reached out to the mother of the bride to follow her lead. To give a bit of reasoning to my anxiety…I will say she is brilliant, funny, talented, and has a rock star body, oh and she is gorgeous. My text went something like, “I am thinking I need to be me, but I don’t want to overstep my place, and I know you should pick your dress first, but I am technically a human square at this point…same in height and width, and I found some dresses online, think Stevie Nicks maxi dress but fancy material and flowy, but it is your day and your call and and and…” She wrote back the most gracious note about not wanting to be constrained and squeeze into sausage casing and wanting to be comfortable and give all the glory to her spectacular daughter…she was funny and kind and all things good, and she removed dresses from my list of things to be anxious about. Stevie Nicks it is…for now.

I was on the phone with my high school bestie telling her the story, she wanted pictures and she is one of the few I sent them too, you can only take advice from so many. We chatted about dresses and proper “uniforms” for events…and being our age but being ourselves. We discussed designers that fit our quirky needs, and at the same moment we let down all walls of shame and texted each other pictures of dresses we recently considered. Dresses we thought better of after seeing the sheer (literally) insanity of. We looked at the texts and squealed… same designer, same completely wacky and inappropriate looks. It is lovely to be able to be so myself with someone who is just as ridiculous as I am.

My daughter was asking me if she should accept an invitation to lunch with a friend who tends to cancel a lot… my opinion was yes, taking risks and being vulnerable is important, it is the only way we grow. Whether it is by starting a FB group, being honest about insecurities, showing others our wacky sense of “style”… putting ourselves out there is the only way to be true, it is the only way to learn not care about what people think.

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