Phew!

After four days with Hurricane Sandy in Miami--lots of wind and rain--I was worried that I wouldn't get home before it hit the northeast. The day before I left (Saturday) was perfect weather: sunny and cool and breezy in beautiful Miami. But the weather reports had me itching to get on a flight home. Took a 6:45 one to Newark, rumors swirling that EWR was closing at noon. My connecting flight to Providence left at 11:51 and I made it! Kept thinking about getting stuck without Annabelle in NYC, and for how long that might be. Grateful to be at home as the storm hit, playing Connect Four and doing jigsaw puzzles. Hosted a couple of hurricane dinners. One, chicken with grapes, couscous, green beans, apple crisp. The other, spaghetti carbonara, garlic bread, olive oil grape cake (which I just finished off for breakfast). Tonight we'll eat sandwiches with all the fixings I bought in case we lost electricity.

Now that I've sighed with relief, I have to say how upset I've been watching the destruction in my beautiful NYC. New Yorkers are the strongest, most resilient people around, and they will be fine. But it breaks my heart to see so much underwater or ruined.

Here in RI, one of my favorite spots, The Coast Guard House, is destroyed. Brings back memories of nights spent on its deck, drinking beers and watching the ocean. I hope they too can rebuild.

It is nice however to be at home non-stop, get work done, play with Annabelle, cook and read and enjoy family, friends, and home...

Haven't stopped moving yet

I know, I know, I know. I haven't caught up on emails yet. I'm behind on just about everything. When I said Yes! to everything this fall, I knew that some time, probably mid-October, I would short circuit and  the time is now. Add jet lag to the mix and you've got stressed out me!

But I am heading to beautiful Miami on Wednesday, and though it is work, I always de-stress there. Warm weather. Palm trees. Good food. Good friends. And I am hoping to steal some time to get my proposal for a new novel in shape, which would make me feel oh so happy.

In NYC now and had the great pleasure of coming down with Annabelle. She is such a good traveling companion, and is off to watch the debate and eat ravioli with Cousin Chip while I teach. She got to go to the Book Room at Penguin and scored a LOT of books. She's already read two and is lugging her bag o' books across Greenwich Village now.

Sam's visit home was a whirlwind, if whirlwinds can be too short. No sooner did he land then we were talking about his ride back. But we managed to squeeze in some good dinners (spaghetti and meatballs at Gogo's, big fat steaks at home, slow cooker pulled pork) and even a Name Game before I dropped him off in Hartford and cried my way back home.

I am looking forward to a more peaceful state of mind, more time at home and some overdue nesting.

Lots of traveling means lots of time to read, and I have to recommend STONER, THE YELLOW BIRDS, and THE VANISHING ACT. All novels so good I wish I had written them.

Still knitting Sam's blanket, and started a new thank you dishcloth. My new knitting room has proven to be the refuge I had hoped for, and even in this hectic time I have managed to find a few moments there to cast on and knit a few rows...

Home from Italy

What a week! What a wonderful week. Highlights, in no particular order:

Porcini. Raw in salad. Cooked in risotto. On top of steak. On top of pizza. Roasted with potatoes.

The Last Supper. Breathtaking.

Drinking wine in the garden in Milan.

Having interviews with Italian media and an interpreter.

Drinking prosecco with myItalian team.

La Scala.

Florence. Everything about it.

Our suite in the palazzo.

Our rooftop dinner and the 360 view of Florence at night.

The pontes at sunset.

Gelato. Lemon for me. Strawberry for Gogo. Coconut for Annabelle.

My event at the bookstore next to the Duomo.

Talking with all the Italian knitters.

Drunken spaghetti.

Volpe wine bar.

The David.

Sipping cappuccino at a sidewalk cafe.

Florentine steak.

My new suede coat.

Watching Annabelle fall in love with Florence.

Nebbiola.

Wine tasting and lunch at the winery.

The fog over the hills in Piemonte.

Church bells.

Zucchini blossoms fried. And stuffed in ravioli.

Steak tartare.

Drinking wine with Cousin Gina every evening.

Room service.

Apricot tart and fresh figs.

Salami.

A week with Gogo and Annabelle and Cousin Gina.

And then:

getting pink roses at Logan.

Sipping the single malt from London Duty Free in my own bed.

Waking up at home. Missing Italy. Loving being back...

October

Sore arms from lugging too many bags, sore throat from talking too much! Still on the road, waking up in my NYC apartment with my mind already listing everything that I have to get done before we leave for Italy on Sunday. My favorite and best sleep is my jet lag sleep, so I am already looking forward to falling into that bed in the hotel in Milan and sleeping hard! But that isn't until Monday, which makes it easy to invoke Robert Frost and say I have miles to go before I sleep...

I have almost finished another dish rag, this one all yellow and pink and purple. I'm knitting these for all the wonderful generous writers who are sending blurbs for THE OBITUARY WRITER. I'm knitting thank you into every stitch.

Making progress too on Sam's Wave blanket. Only two more skeins to go before it's finished and I start Annabelle's. Will I get all three done by Christmas????

On the reading front, I started THE UNLIKELY PILGRIMAGE OF HAROLD FRY last night and fell immediately in love with it. The first sentence: "The letter that changed everything arrived on Tuesday." Yes! How hard it is for me to convince beginning writers that the event that puts the story into motion shouldn't be obscured. They worry about being too clear, an instinct I understand. But this simple opening completely captivated me, as did every sentence that followed. My only complaint is that I was too sleepy to read more than a dozen pages last night. The author is Rachel Joyce. Read this one!

Well, I am off now to get a haircut. My hair has gotten ridiculously long since my last haircut in Florence in November! So Nissan will have quite a job this morning! There's nothing like a haircut to lift a girl's spirits and start her day off with some excitement.

And then I am home tonight, giving Annabelle the silly little presents I bought her in Baltimore--a stencil of hieroglyphics and a pink bendy eraser--and a million hugs. Off to NC first thing in the morning, and then Friday home again.

Time to pack up my little pink suitcase and head off into the NYC morning. I hope you are getting more rest than I am!

Trains!

I am really collecting Amtrak miles this week! Did my usual trip to NYC on Monday and then home Tuesday. Digression: Before I left on Monday, I put a flank steak in a Ziplock bag with a marinade and threw in some sliced portabella mushrooms. Got home Tuesday at 7, threw that flank steak on the grill, and had the most yummy dinner in no time!

Anyway. Thursday took a train back to NYC, connected to the Long Island Railroad, and did a really terrific event at the Northport Library. Doris there is an amazing librarian, and her kids' book club was such fun! The trek back to Manhattan got me to bed after 11, and I overslept this morning, waking to that gorgeous sound of rain. Loved lying in bed and gazing out the window at the rainy street. And the rain did not keep my buddy from meeting me for breakfast before I went back to Penn Station and boarded yet another train to DC this time.

I'm always impressed anew when I step into Union Station here. What a gorgeous building! And then out to the street with the statues and all the marble. Just beautiful. Unfortunately I got right in a car and was taken to the oxymoronic Crystal City. Climbed into bed at the Hyatt and am about to take a cat nap before my talk tonight.

In the morning: another train! To Baltimore and the Baltimore Book Festival. Hoping to get to the Museum of Visionary Arts in the afternoon, then dinner with an old friend.

My panel with Susan Straight is on Sunday at 3, followed by my good friend Laura Lippman's, and onward to dinner with them.

Monday: the train back to NYC! I am getting a lot of knitting done, folks!

Tuesday: the train back home!

Then I am off--by plane--to Wilmington, NC for a few days at UNC there.

I will have just a couple of days to be home, do laundry and pack for a week in Italy. I've got miles to go before I sleep, but that trip is nearing and I'm just starting to get excited...

The Day After

Well, yesterday was simply one of the saddest days I've had in years. Was it because it would have been Grace's sixteenth birthday, that milestone in every kid's life? Was it because I had to spend the day alone here in NYC to teach? Oh, it's pointless I suppose to try to understand why some days just slay you. This one did.

Then the oddest thing happened. Those of you who read this blog regularly might remember that just last week I thought about contacting someone who has been out of my life for some time. I didn't do it. Last night, feeling so melancholy, I walked back from The New School after class, lost in my thoughts. It was in so many ways a perfect fall evening: chilly and clear and all good NYC things. But sad me just wanted to crawl into bed with a glass of single malt and a good book, go to sleep and wake up to the day after. I turned onto Bethune Street, and was right in front of my building when seemingly out of nowhere that very person appeared. I was so startled that I called his name, and he was so startled to see me there.

We stood beneath the lamplight talking for quite some time. Laughing. Catching up. In many ways it was as if no time had passed. He remembered that it was Grace's birthday, and that remembering and acknowledging it reminded me why I had loved this guy so much in the first place.

So much is lost in life. People we love. Friendships gone awry. Misunderstandings and mistakes. Somehow seeing him this way was just what I needed. We hugged goodbye, a good hard hug. Part of me wanted to stand on that street all night. Part of me wanted to make a plan to see each other again. What can be repaired? What can be regained? I really feel that this serendipitous meeting was some kind of divine intervention.

I came inside and got in bed. And it was after midnight. The day after had arrived, and I was grateful.

All these places had their moments With lovers and friends I still can recall Some are dead and some are living In my life I've loved them all...

One of my all time favorite songs, and sums up how I am feeling today. September brings such bittersweetness with it. As Grace'a birthday approaches, I can't help but relive the wonderful days leading up to it. Sam had just started pre-school at Gordon, and my midwife thought the baby was coming earlier than expected (my due date was October 1), so I explained to his teacher that I might disappear soon to have my baby girl. Her eyes popped. "You're pregnant?!" she said. "Nine months," I told her. Grace was only 6 pounds, three ounces. Such a calm and beautiful baby.

We went to a fundraiser at Slater Mill and I sipped my first glass of wine in months, with midwife's blessing. I remember the blousey black dress I wore, the cool September air, how happy I was. Grace was just days away.

The night before I went into labor, I ate pasta with pesto because my midwife said pesto helped bring on labor. I woke early with the first signs. Lorne was off to a meeting in Boston, so Sam and I stayed in bed together talking about his new baby sister coming, me with one eye on the clock as I timed my pains. Soon enough, I called my father who came and brought Sam to school, then took me for a midwife visit. She told me the baby would be born that night and I should go home and eat to build up my strength. My father made me my favorite beef stew and I ate it up. Lorne arrived back home and the pains were coming fast and furious. While he loaded the car, I lay on the floor of our foyer, which is where our new nanny found me. She'd been with us about three days! We got to the hospital around 4, and Grace was born at 6:40 PM.

There have been moments these past few days when I miss her with such intensity that I actually double over.

My family has had such a big loss this year with the death of Auntie Dora in a car accident. And then my mother's best friend died just a few weeks ago. Maybe this is why this year feels especially sad, and makes me think of other people I've lost, like my friends Barbara and Karla.

But also people I've lost over misunderstandings or bad behavior. This morning I almost emailed an old friend who is the only person who would enjoy a funny thing that happened to me. A few years ago we had a falling out and although I hear about him from time to time, and have even glimpsed him, I stay away. Today I thought: why not? and looked up his email address. But I chickened out. And I reminded myself WHY we're not friends anymore. Do I really want to open that door? Yet I am in such a sentimental weepy mood, that I want to reconnect with everyone I've loved, let bygones be bygones, and have them back in my life.

Maybe we should all email an old friend we've lost today...

As I often do when sadness takes hold of me, I read poetry. Today I found comfort in Ruth Stone and Yeats, and this by Emily Dickinson:

I measure every Grief I meet (561)
by Emily Dickinson
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, eyes –  I wonder if It weighs like Mine –  Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long –  Or did it just begin –  I could not tell the Date of Mine –  It feels so old a pain –  I wonder if it hurts to live –  And if They have to try –  And whether – could They choose between –  It would not be – to die –  I note that Some – gone patient long –  At length, renew their smile –  An imitation of a Light That has so little Oil –  I wonder if when Years have piled –  Some Thousands – on the Harm –  That hurt them early – such a lapse Could give them any Balm –  Or would they go on aching still Through Centuries of Nerve –  Enlightened to a larger Pain –  In Contrast with the Love –