As you probably know, if you've read my blog before, or read the essays I've written for the Shadow Work email newsletter over the past 2 years, I took care of my mother at the end of her life and have been grieving, and thinking a lot about grief, since she died September 2, 2011.
Over the past 6 months or so, the grieving has shifted, so that it's far more clearly about grieving my own mortality -- the inevitability of my own eventual death -- than it is about grieving Mom's passing.
That's partly why I haven't been attending the quarterly memorial services held by the hospice organization that cared for her. Although I suspect the people of Rainbow Hospice would say we grieve many griefs at the quarterly service and not necessarily just the most recent loss of a loved one, it hasn't seemed quite right to go and grieve for myself.
I'm really aware of grieving my own mortality today, and frankly, also for the mortality of my partner, Paul. Grief has been more on top since April 8th, when a friend of mine died, but last week put it squarely on top, and I only just realized it today while sitting on the CTA going downtown. There I sat, crying on the Red Line, because for most of last week I was hearing Paul having difficulty breathing, and I've come to associate having difficulty breathing with the end of life. My mother's "death rattle" lasted for 3 days, and I don't know if that's unusually long but it certainly seemed to last forever. My friend Loren Binford's death rattle lasted less than 24 hours, but I listened to it at close range for hours on the evening before he died as I sat in his room at Evanston Hospital. During the afternoon other friends of Loren's, many of whom call themselves Friends with a capital F because they are Quakers, as he was, but the last of them left at 5 PM and I stayed on until 11, primarily to act as advocate since he had no family, until I knew for sure that the hospital was going to treat him as a hospice patient and neither take any heroic measures nor fail to make him as comfortable as possible.
So last week, when Paul had an asthma attack brought on by dust and working in cold air as he helped an elderly friend of ours move out of her apartment, and it turned into a relapse of the pertussis he had last year, I heard him having difficulty breathing, and I think on some unconscious level Mortality moved higher on the list of things I was experiencing. And I didn't realize it until today, probably because he's in the hot climate of California's central valley and on the phone last night it seemed his breathing was finally back to normal, and probably also because I finally caught up on sleep.
I find it difficult to think about my mortality, and Paul's, without feeling some shame. The shame says, That's seeing the glass as half-empty, it's so "negative"; how about seeing the glass as half-full, that you've had a wonderful life and most likely have many more years? Why grieve at all, in fact, if you have another 30 years to enjoy? Those 30 years are going to be far happier than I would have imagined 18 months ago, because I now have Paul, and I can also look forward to my daughter's wedding next year and her eventually having children.
I think the shame has made it harder for me to see that I've been grieving. Shame so often acts like a foggy blanket, obscuring the truth that is too painful to see.
It feels really good to write about it.
There's another kind of shame around this, too, I think. This other shame is harder to hear clearly, so I guess it's still coming to the surface. It's about my spiritual beliefs. Is it really in line with my spiritual beliefs to be grieving my eventual death? It seems ungrateful to the Divine that I've felt so close to at times.
That's all I can hear clearly so far, perhaps the rest will come.
That night at Evanston Hospital, I held the vigil alone, as I'd done for my mother in her final hours, and there's something sad just in that, that there wasn't a family gathered at his bedside hugging each other as we cried to see him leave. I didn't have someone to really grieve with for my mother until a full week later, because the family members who lived nearby don't do grief in the way I do and even believed that they weren't grieving but only joyous for her (and our) release.
Last week I was listening to "The Pilgrim's Chorus" from Wagner's opera Tannhauser, as sung in English by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. As I said to Paul, it was played at my father's memorial service in 1990 at his request, which said he wanted it played loudly enough that he could hear it. When my brother Tim arrived in Glenview, he came to my house, where I was playing "The Pilgrim's Chorus" in anticipation of the service. As he walked in, I said to Tim, "No matter how loudly we play it, he still won't be able to hear it." And we held each other and cried for a long time. That's the kind of grieving I want to do when I lose someone, grieving with complete support. Quakers aren't very emotional as a rule. Loren's service will be held next Sunday, and I'll likely be one of the few crying openly and getting as many hugs as I can.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Thursday, December 6, 2012
The "It's not Christmas if we don't __" list
My daughter Joanna and I were talking before Thanksgiving about a list that everybody seems to have, on which there are items without which it's just not Thanksgiving dinner.
For me, the list for Thanksgiving includes turkey, stuffing, cranberry, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie. I note with some dismay that with the exception of the turkey, they're all high in carbs. I eat a fair amount of turkey throughout the year, actually, because I love the taste of it.
I think there's a similar list for Christmas, and it's not just about food but about experiences as well. This morning I'm wondering what's on my list of must-have Christmas experiences this year, because I've moved this year, moved in with my honey, and sharing Christmas with a man I love for the first time in about a dozen or so years.
There was a time when my "it's not Christmas if we don't" list included a rather lengthy list of movies and TV shows I had to watch: all the traditional stuff you've undoubtedly seen yourself, like the claymation movies Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, the animated Charlie Brown Christmas, The Snowman, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and The Velveteen Rabbit, and the live-action movies like It's a Wonderful Life, White Christmas, Holiday Inn, The Night They Saved Christmas (a very guilty pleasure, since it's not a very good movie) and the original version of The Bishop's Wife.
I think the list was lengthy because Christmas was a hard time for me emotionally as a kid, and I clung to those movies to tell myself what Christmas "should" be like. The family should be happy in each other's happy and not criticize each other, and they should tell each other how much they care. They should glow, basically.
Over the years, I think thanks to lots of Shadow Work processes that have helped me connect with parts of myself and connect with other people more deeply, my must-watch list has shrunk down to almost nothing. I'd like to share The Bishop's Wife with Paul if he hasn't seen it, and it's been so long since I watched Charlie Brown Christmas that it would be a welcome treat.
I think what's on my list this year are, first, finding out what's on Paul's list and doing as much of it as possible; listening to and creating as much music as possible; spending at least a little time staring into a fire (even if it's Radiant Fireplace 2 on the DVD player) and talking about Christmases past; at least a little time looking at Christmas lights in the neighborhood; and time spent with Joanna and her fiance James. Gifts aren't very important to me, either to give or to receive, and I'll be involved in much more gift-giving this year than I've been in a while, but that's okay. I prefer to tell somebody I love them on a regular basis and consider it more effective than gift-giving.
The music has become something of a challenge, because I worship at a Quaker meeting where there's a minimum of music, and much of the music there is of my own prompting. I think most of my Quaker friends don't have music high on their own must-have lists. I've been listening to Handel's Messiah for several weeks, as I often do at this time of year, and singing along. I probably won't make it to the Harris Theater's Do-It-Yourself (singalong) Messiah this year as I did last year, but I highly recommend it.
Clearly, listening to, and singing along with, The Messiah is on my must-have list for Christmas. Didn't think of that earlier! I also look for chances to sing my other favorite Christmas pieces like "O Holy Night."
Last Christmas my favorite musical event was the 11 PM service at the First Congregational Church here in Evanston, where James's mother, harpist Marcia Labella, has been part of a music ensemble that plays during interludes and Marcia plays a harp solo. (She is so skilled.) It was a great experience, with a really loud organ playing favorite Christmas hymns and carols at a good volume, and led by an excellent choir on the chancel that was singing some excellent harmony. Sadly, it looks like Paul and I will miss attending that this year, but for a happy reason, that Paul's son and his family from Atlanta will be in the Kankakee area, so we'll spend Christmas Eve down there.
For me, the list for Thanksgiving includes turkey, stuffing, cranberry, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie. I note with some dismay that with the exception of the turkey, they're all high in carbs. I eat a fair amount of turkey throughout the year, actually, because I love the taste of it.
I think there's a similar list for Christmas, and it's not just about food but about experiences as well. This morning I'm wondering what's on my list of must-have Christmas experiences this year, because I've moved this year, moved in with my honey, and sharing Christmas with a man I love for the first time in about a dozen or so years.
There was a time when my "it's not Christmas if we don't" list included a rather lengthy list of movies and TV shows I had to watch: all the traditional stuff you've undoubtedly seen yourself, like the claymation movies Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, the animated Charlie Brown Christmas, The Snowman, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and The Velveteen Rabbit, and the live-action movies like It's a Wonderful Life, White Christmas, Holiday Inn, The Night They Saved Christmas (a very guilty pleasure, since it's not a very good movie) and the original version of The Bishop's Wife.
I think the list was lengthy because Christmas was a hard time for me emotionally as a kid, and I clung to those movies to tell myself what Christmas "should" be like. The family should be happy in each other's happy and not criticize each other, and they should tell each other how much they care. They should glow, basically.
Over the years, I think thanks to lots of Shadow Work processes that have helped me connect with parts of myself and connect with other people more deeply, my must-watch list has shrunk down to almost nothing. I'd like to share The Bishop's Wife with Paul if he hasn't seen it, and it's been so long since I watched Charlie Brown Christmas that it would be a welcome treat.
I think what's on my list this year are, first, finding out what's on Paul's list and doing as much of it as possible; listening to and creating as much music as possible; spending at least a little time staring into a fire (even if it's Radiant Fireplace 2 on the DVD player) and talking about Christmases past; at least a little time looking at Christmas lights in the neighborhood; and time spent with Joanna and her fiance James. Gifts aren't very important to me, either to give or to receive, and I'll be involved in much more gift-giving this year than I've been in a while, but that's okay. I prefer to tell somebody I love them on a regular basis and consider it more effective than gift-giving.
The music has become something of a challenge, because I worship at a Quaker meeting where there's a minimum of music, and much of the music there is of my own prompting. I think most of my Quaker friends don't have music high on their own must-have lists. I've been listening to Handel's Messiah for several weeks, as I often do at this time of year, and singing along. I probably won't make it to the Harris Theater's Do-It-Yourself (singalong) Messiah this year as I did last year, but I highly recommend it.
Clearly, listening to, and singing along with, The Messiah is on my must-have list for Christmas. Didn't think of that earlier! I also look for chances to sing my other favorite Christmas pieces like "O Holy Night."
Last Christmas my favorite musical event was the 11 PM service at the First Congregational Church here in Evanston, where James's mother, harpist Marcia Labella, has been part of a music ensemble that plays during interludes and Marcia plays a harp solo. (She is so skilled.) It was a great experience, with a really loud organ playing favorite Christmas hymns and carols at a good volume, and led by an excellent choir on the chancel that was singing some excellent harmony. Sadly, it looks like Paul and I will miss attending that this year, but for a happy reason, that Paul's son and his family from Atlanta will be in the Kankakee area, so we'll spend Christmas Eve down there.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
A few movies seen recently
I rent movies from Netflix and from the Evanston Library, and Paul and I generally see several films that are new to us each week.
A recent favorite was Moliere, a fictional story about a period in the playwright's life when nobody knows where he was or what he was doing. It was so well done that I was completely swept away. The story is primarily a love story and a drama but there's a good deal of humor in it as well. Fabrice Luchini plays a clueless nobleman who's trying to worm his way into a beautiful courtesan's good opinion, and he pays Moliere to write something that will impress her. The costumes and sets are spectacular. Highly recommended.
On the strength of Luchini's performance, we rented The Women on the Sixth Floor, which is a little film, enjoyable fluff, not very realistic but fun to watch.
Clash wasn't quite so good; it's a martial arts film purportedly filmed in Vietnam, but the plot and acting aren't quite up to par. Perhaps the best thing about the film was that even the toughest characters revealed some vulnerability. The silliest thing about the film is that the fighters pummel each other for 10-15 minutes at a stretch with not much effect.
Watching Black Robe wasn't a hopeful or cheerful experience, but the cinematography is unbelievably beautiful and the story compelling. I expected a lot more gore than I saw, after having been warned that the film was hard to watch, and I think the real reason it's hard to watch is that it's the story of missionaries who are on such an arrogant, pointless errand.
Last night we watched The Owl and the Sparrow directed by Stephane Gauger, about whom I'd like to know more, as he's clearly American but fluent in Vietnamese. We listened to part of the director's commentary last night and hope to listen to the remainder tonight. The hand-held camera work is a little jarring at first, but it does have the impact Gauger was looking for, of placing the viewer right into the movie. After about an hour of the film I realized I was watching the movie, I'd become unaware of anything but the characters. It's a very sweet story of a little girl on her own on the streets of Saigon who plays matchmaker between two lonely people.
A recent favorite was Moliere, a fictional story about a period in the playwright's life when nobody knows where he was or what he was doing. It was so well done that I was completely swept away. The story is primarily a love story and a drama but there's a good deal of humor in it as well. Fabrice Luchini plays a clueless nobleman who's trying to worm his way into a beautiful courtesan's good opinion, and he pays Moliere to write something that will impress her. The costumes and sets are spectacular. Highly recommended.
On the strength of Luchini's performance, we rented The Women on the Sixth Floor, which is a little film, enjoyable fluff, not very realistic but fun to watch.
Clash wasn't quite so good; it's a martial arts film purportedly filmed in Vietnam, but the plot and acting aren't quite up to par. Perhaps the best thing about the film was that even the toughest characters revealed some vulnerability. The silliest thing about the film is that the fighters pummel each other for 10-15 minutes at a stretch with not much effect.
Watching Black Robe wasn't a hopeful or cheerful experience, but the cinematography is unbelievably beautiful and the story compelling. I expected a lot more gore than I saw, after having been warned that the film was hard to watch, and I think the real reason it's hard to watch is that it's the story of missionaries who are on such an arrogant, pointless errand.
Last night we watched The Owl and the Sparrow directed by Stephane Gauger, about whom I'd like to know more, as he's clearly American but fluent in Vietnamese. We listened to part of the director's commentary last night and hope to listen to the remainder tonight. The hand-held camera work is a little jarring at first, but it does have the impact Gauger was looking for, of placing the viewer right into the movie. After about an hour of the film I realized I was watching the movie, I'd become unaware of anything but the characters. It's a very sweet story of a little girl on her own on the streets of Saigon who plays matchmaker between two lonely people.
Yogi Tea's Cold Season tea
When I lived in Colorado, I discovered Cold Season tea, made by Yogi Tea, which to my amazement cleared up nasal congestion when I had a cold and generally left me feeling better.
Yesterday Paul came down with a cold, and I made him a cup of this tea, with some honey added, and it had the same kind of near-miraculous effect. He had a second cup late in the evening and another cup this morning, and I haven't heard him sneeze since dinnertime last night.
Here it is for sale at the Yogi Tea website, and here it is for sale at Amazon, where you can buy it in bulk and (I think even) using Amazon's Subscribe & Save feature.
Yesterday Paul came down with a cold, and I made him a cup of this tea, with some honey added, and it had the same kind of near-miraculous effect. He had a second cup late in the evening and another cup this morning, and I haven't heard him sneeze since dinnertime last night.
Here it is for sale at the Yogi Tea website, and here it is for sale at Amazon, where you can buy it in bulk and (I think even) using Amazon's Subscribe & Save feature.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Lincoln the movie
Paul and I saw Lincoln on the day it opened here in Evanston. It was excellent, and Daniel Day-Lewis' performance was on some other plane, really extraordinary, one of those once-in-a-lifetime portrayals that I'll never forget.
I've read a good deal of and about Lincoln during my life, and one of my favorite fantasies is of going back in time to meet him. In most ways, going back to the 1860s would be the worst kind of nightmare because as a woman I'd most likely be ignored, I would be surrounded by people with very different values, and I would never see my loved ones again. But I'd love to meet Lincoln just to satisfy my curiosity about what he was like. I think it was Shelby Foote who said that Lincoln is the American Saint, and I think it's true, and I'm glad to say that some of his foibles are on view in the movie.
Day-Lewis seems to inhabit Lincoln's body, to convey with convincing truth Lincoln's body language and physical presence. I read in TIME that Day-Lewis attempted to duplicate Lincoln's unusual walk (he placed his whole foot on the ground rather than beginning with his heel), and that's noticeable. In one scene that seems to be my most vivid memory from the film, he's standing in front of a window with one hand crossed behind his back holding onto his other elbow. Something in that stance seems absolutely right and also manages to convey a kind of vulnerability that is so appealing and, I suspect, also dead right. That vulnerability means to me that if I were to go back in time and meet Lincoln I'd most likely start weeping the moment I saw him. And he'd make a joke about his ugliness having that kind of effect on me.
Two other moments: one in which Lincoln is talking with someone, and his irritation at what they're saying builds to the point where he winces and his cheek muscles flex; and another in which Lincoln has awakened his secretary, John Hay, and gives Hay's knee a hard shake to emphasize a point.
Of the movies I've seen that were directed by Steven Spielberg, I think I've disliked more than I've liked. Loved Raiders of the Lost Ark years ago. Didn't enjoy Jaws or Jurassic Park because I don't enjoy being scared or upset but consider them well made. Was mesmerized and haunted by Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan. Liked E.T. okay, liked Minority Report a lot, hated Close Encounters when it came out but have since come to appreciate it. Don't remember 1941 or The Blues Brothers well enough to say what I thought of them but haven't seen them since, which says something. Hated the sequels to Raiders, hated Hook with a passion, disliked Empire of the Sun, and most recently considered the hours watching War Horse and The Adventures of TinTin a waste of time.
So I was skeptical in the extreme that I'd like a film Spielberg made about Lincoln and am happy to be proved wrong and relieved that a take on Lincoln with so much money behind it is a pretty good look at the man.
At times the Lincoln's dialogue is hard to follow but for the best of reasons, that it appears to have been plucked from the time. Spielberg captured several iconic moments familiar to anyone who has studied Lincoln: seated in a chair with his son on his lap and orating for his second inaugural. I thought ending the movie with a recap of the second inaugural address was an odd choice, as John Wilkes Booth was standing just a short distance away, but I can understand why he'd want to end with "with malice toward none, with charity toward all." I'm feeling much more charitable toward Steven Spielberg than I would've imagined.
I've read a good deal of and about Lincoln during my life, and one of my favorite fantasies is of going back in time to meet him. In most ways, going back to the 1860s would be the worst kind of nightmare because as a woman I'd most likely be ignored, I would be surrounded by people with very different values, and I would never see my loved ones again. But I'd love to meet Lincoln just to satisfy my curiosity about what he was like. I think it was Shelby Foote who said that Lincoln is the American Saint, and I think it's true, and I'm glad to say that some of his foibles are on view in the movie.
Day-Lewis seems to inhabit Lincoln's body, to convey with convincing truth Lincoln's body language and physical presence. I read in TIME that Day-Lewis attempted to duplicate Lincoln's unusual walk (he placed his whole foot on the ground rather than beginning with his heel), and that's noticeable. In one scene that seems to be my most vivid memory from the film, he's standing in front of a window with one hand crossed behind his back holding onto his other elbow. Something in that stance seems absolutely right and also manages to convey a kind of vulnerability that is so appealing and, I suspect, also dead right. That vulnerability means to me that if I were to go back in time and meet Lincoln I'd most likely start weeping the moment I saw him. And he'd make a joke about his ugliness having that kind of effect on me.
Two other moments: one in which Lincoln is talking with someone, and his irritation at what they're saying builds to the point where he winces and his cheek muscles flex; and another in which Lincoln has awakened his secretary, John Hay, and gives Hay's knee a hard shake to emphasize a point.
Of the movies I've seen that were directed by Steven Spielberg, I think I've disliked more than I've liked. Loved Raiders of the Lost Ark years ago. Didn't enjoy Jaws or Jurassic Park because I don't enjoy being scared or upset but consider them well made. Was mesmerized and haunted by Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan. Liked E.T. okay, liked Minority Report a lot, hated Close Encounters when it came out but have since come to appreciate it. Don't remember 1941 or The Blues Brothers well enough to say what I thought of them but haven't seen them since, which says something. Hated the sequels to Raiders, hated Hook with a passion, disliked Empire of the Sun, and most recently considered the hours watching War Horse and The Adventures of TinTin a waste of time.
So I was skeptical in the extreme that I'd like a film Spielberg made about Lincoln and am happy to be proved wrong and relieved that a take on Lincoln with so much money behind it is a pretty good look at the man.
At times the Lincoln's dialogue is hard to follow but for the best of reasons, that it appears to have been plucked from the time. Spielberg captured several iconic moments familiar to anyone who has studied Lincoln: seated in a chair with his son on his lap and orating for his second inaugural. I thought ending the movie with a recap of the second inaugural address was an odd choice, as John Wilkes Booth was standing just a short distance away, but I can understand why he'd want to end with "with malice toward none, with charity toward all." I'm feeling much more charitable toward Steven Spielberg than I would've imagined.
Casein-free recipes
My partner Paul is allergic to casein, a protein present in milk and cheese. I've developed these casein-free recipes to supply two of his favorite foods, cornbread and chocolate eclair pie. The cornbread recipe is adapted from one I found online, and the eclair pie is adapted from a recipe from our friend Betty Hoos of Glenview. (Her original uses whipped cream in addition to milk and butter.)
CASEIN-FREE CORNBREAD
Dry ingredients:
1-3/4 cups cornmeal
1/4 cup soy flour
1 tbsp baking powder
3 tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
Remaining ingredients:
1 can creamed corn (make sure it contains no milk)
1 egg, beaten, or 1/4 cup Eggbeaters
3/4 cup soy milk (plain or Vanilla)
Grease an 8"x8" pan and preheat oven to 350. Blend the dry ingredients well. Add the corn, egg and soy milk, and blend well. Pour into pan and cook for 35-40 minutes until a toothpick or wooden skewer inserted into the middle comes out dry. Allow to cool for at least 15 minutes before cutting. Total calories 3230. Divided into 16 equal pieces, 202 calories each.
CASEIN-FREE, INSANELY GOOD, CHOCOLATE ECLAIR PIE
1 box (14.4 oz?) graham crackers
1 large package (6 oz.?) Jello vanilla cook & serve pudding
3 cups soy milk (plain or Vanilla)
1 jar (7 oz?) marshmallow fluff
1/2 tsp Healthy Balance margarine
Chocolate icing:
1/4 cup melted Healthy Balance margarine
1/3 cup cocoa
1-1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
2-1/2 tbsp soy milk
1/2 tsp vanilla
Make the pudding with the 3 cups of soy milk, following directions on the package. When finished, remove from heat and stir in the marshmallow fluff until blended. Allow pudding fluff mixture to sit while you grease the bottom and sides of a 9" x 13" pan with margarine. Cover the bottom of the pan with a layer of graham crackers; you will most likely need to cut several crackers vertically. Pour half the pudding fluff mixture over the graham crackers. Cover the mixture with a second layer of graham crackers; if possible, start from the opposite end as before so that the layers are staggered. Pour the other half of pudding fluff mixture over the second layer of graham crackers, and cover with a third layer. You should end up with about 2 leftover graham crackers. Make the icing from the ingredients listed, if necessary adding a tiny bit more soy milk to achieve spreading consistency, and spread the icing evenly to completely cover the crackers. Refrigerate at least a few hours before serving, can be made the day before.
CASEIN-FREE CORNBREAD
Dry ingredients:
1-3/4 cups cornmeal
1/4 cup soy flour
1 tbsp baking powder
3 tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
Remaining ingredients:
1 can creamed corn (make sure it contains no milk)
1 egg, beaten, or 1/4 cup Eggbeaters
3/4 cup soy milk (plain or Vanilla)
Grease an 8"x8" pan and preheat oven to 350. Blend the dry ingredients well. Add the corn, egg and soy milk, and blend well. Pour into pan and cook for 35-40 minutes until a toothpick or wooden skewer inserted into the middle comes out dry. Allow to cool for at least 15 minutes before cutting. Total calories 3230. Divided into 16 equal pieces, 202 calories each.
CASEIN-FREE, INSANELY GOOD, CHOCOLATE ECLAIR PIE
1 box (14.4 oz?) graham crackers
1 large package (6 oz.?) Jello vanilla cook & serve pudding
3 cups soy milk (plain or Vanilla)
1 jar (7 oz?) marshmallow fluff
1/2 tsp Healthy Balance margarine
Chocolate icing:
1/4 cup melted Healthy Balance margarine
1/3 cup cocoa
1-1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
2-1/2 tbsp soy milk
1/2 tsp vanilla
Make the pudding with the 3 cups of soy milk, following directions on the package. When finished, remove from heat and stir in the marshmallow fluff until blended. Allow pudding fluff mixture to sit while you grease the bottom and sides of a 9" x 13" pan with margarine. Cover the bottom of the pan with a layer of graham crackers; you will most likely need to cut several crackers vertically. Pour half the pudding fluff mixture over the graham crackers. Cover the mixture with a second layer of graham crackers; if possible, start from the opposite end as before so that the layers are staggered. Pour the other half of pudding fluff mixture over the second layer of graham crackers, and cover with a third layer. You should end up with about 2 leftover graham crackers. Make the icing from the ingredients listed, if necessary adding a tiny bit more soy milk to achieve spreading consistency, and spread the icing evenly to completely cover the crackers. Refrigerate at least a few hours before serving, can be made the day before.
Friday, November 23, 2012
An incredible testimonial
Just received this testimonial to Practically Shameless in an email from a woman I knew in Colorado.
"Just a note to let you know I'm reading your book now. I know, I know, one I should have read long ago but I'm pretty sure it's the kind of book you read when the time's right.
I want you to know that I'm so glad you wrote this! I'm going through a healing journey now (not a fan of that phrase but it's apt, isn't it?). I've been reading Brené Brown's work on shame and took your book off my shelf to read it for more insight on the topic.
It's incredibly profound for me and revealing a lot about what's not working in my life. Your story and experience is so similar to mine it's...I don't know what, shocking, incredible, amazing...or perhaps we all have a similar inner critic.
It's very painful but also helpful to understand some of my behaviors and thought patterns. I'm getting a lot of insight to be able to do more work to let go of what's not working and step toward a brighter future. Now I understand the desire to connect accompanied by the desire to isolate.
Thank you for your courage and compassion in telling your story. Seeing how you turned your life around helps us know it's possible for us. I know it's helped a lot of people and I'm glad I'm one of them.
Grateful for you and proud of your work."
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