hug.

v., hugged, hug·ging, hugs.

v.tr.

1. To clasp or hold closely, especially in the arms, as in affection; embrace.
2. To hold steadfastly to; cherish.
3. To stay close to.

v.intr.
To embrace or cling together closely.

n.

1. A close, affectionate embrace.
2. A crushing embrace, as in wrestling.

[Probably of Scandinavian origin, akin to Old Norse hugga, to comfort.]

huggable hug'ga·ble adj.
hugger hug'ger n.

Yesterday on my walk I looked over and saw an oddly shaped person. Then I realized it was two people. They were hugging. Then I remembered how sweet hugs are and how much I love them.

There's Something About Martha

About twice a year, I indulge in a little secret and guilty pleasure. I buy a Martha StewartLivingmagazine. That means twice a year I actually have the desire to own an ice cream machine and make my own stationary. I grew up dreaming of the days when I would host dinner parties with my matching Royal Dalton fine-bone china. The courses would be numerous, the crystal would be Waterford, and the pearls would be better than June’s. I really, really liked the idea of hosting parties. I do not know now if it is something that came with the focus my family and religion put on my being a wife and mother--but I REALLY got into the "hostess" aspect of my expected future--everything else seemed a little too daunting to wrap my brain around (like the actual marriage and motherhood parts).

When I read Martha Stewart, I get carried away to a land of what might have been—still could be. I dream of a place where children are well-behaved and have perfectly curly hair--and they run through fields of daisies with you, hold your hand, and then tell you all their secrets. I dream of a place where my husband (one of which I do not have) would wear a salmon colored tie on Easter because it went with my dress and he likes to match. I dream of the ideals of what I grew up wanting. I've never been able to actually face the realities. Perhaps that is why Martha's monthly publication still holds power over me. It represents something I could never fully embrace, even though I was taught to, even though part of me wants to, even though it sounds more than divine.

Why, in this issue alone I had all of the following thoughts:

1. I want to weave my own picnic mat and then learn how to tie it together with beautiful twine—take it to the beach and eat freshly made custard, berry tarts with little sprigs of mint on them.

2. I want to create a pattern for my very own utensil holders for each place sitting. I will make them out of cute plaid material made of out woven hemp (durable for years to come!).

3. I would like a butterfly stencil. I will use this to cut out various colors of butterflies and attach them to a white table cloth to create a harmonious look for my summer party. There will be butterfly shaped place cards with names written in my perfect calligraphy. I will even make butterfly shaped ice cubes to put in the Wonderful Watermelon coolers I will have juiced myself that afternoon.

4. I will have a lazy afternoon brunch that consists of chive omelets with chanterelles, cornmeal-fried trout (I caught myself), tomato-sorrel-basil panzanella, and fried squash blossoms. Note to self—what is a chanterelle?

5. I will get good at croquet. I will. I promise--in a sundress, with a headband, and a perfect tan.

6. I will grow and pick currants and raspberries and make them into jams and chutneys.

7. I will make fresh lemonade daily.

8. I will learn how to fertilize my peonies…I will first learn how to grow peonies.

9. I really want to tidy up my non-existent potting shed by “sprucing” up the paint and shelving.

10. I really want my sheets to match my nightgown (which is diaphanous).

And while it is hard to write these things without sounding like I’m mocking them (and her)—part of me still wants this life. Part of me wants to make homemade sorbet instead of buying it from my local neighborhood grocer. Part of me wants to make scalloped edged, delicate notes in dreamy handwriting instead of sending e-cards. Part of me wants those perfectly coiffed children and husband in a pink tie. And part of me wonders if it will only ever come true (and rightly so, as I am so perfectly content in life right now that I can't imagine having the energy for the ten things listed above, let alone babies and husbands) in my daydreams. I'm sort of ok with that. Actually, I'm MORE than ok with that.

Unusual

Today I was taking a walk. That is not unusual. I was walking in the afternoon. That was not that unusual. Lots of old men passed by me on bikes. That was not unusual. The air was crisp, cool, and delightful. That was not unusual. I had good music on my iPod. Even, that...was not unusual.

Then, a man--a real live, young, good looking man walked towards me and as he passed me in slow motion, and the sun shone behind his head like a halo, and he just SMELLED like a warm, sweaty, sensuous GOD of a man with overwhelmingly good genes and pheromones that knocked me off my feet...and I wanted to throw him down to the ground and have my way with him...and I realized I've been boxed up in my house and at work and cold like a nun for four months and my hormones are crazy and I just REALLY want.....

Well, anyway, that was unusual.

To Be Got

Me: Hmm, no one really gets me.Him: Gets you?Me: Yeah, you know, I just want someone to understand me. Like really really.Him: You are ungettable. That's part of your charm.Me: That's adds a poetic flare to my "ungettableness". Just make it charming. But charm is still lonely.Him: But that's the cool thing about you: if anyone could figure you out, you wouldn't be you.And no one wants you not to be you. Stay true to your unfathomability.

Brave Enough To Say

Life is short. There are many things I never said, but wanted to. My goal for the rest of my life is not to let any of these moments pass me by again. Go out. Go out and say what you want to say to that person you want to say it to.


Here are some things I was not brave enough to say, but I am now:

1. It was New York, it was a birthday party, I wore a cozy white sweater and a mauve scarf in my hair that matched my winter cheeks. I came into the party; it was crowded and full of heat. The heat that comes from 100 horny kids in their 20s who aren’t allowed to have sex yet. I didn’t think much when I had seen you at other functions, but you came up behind me and leaned in to the back of me and whispered something funny. It made me laugh...the quickest way to turn me on. I turned around and saw you. Why hadn’t I noticed you before? After you made me laugh and laugh, you asked me into your bedroom. I think I responded with a yes that was too fast because birthday cake flew out of my mouth and we laughed. I sat on the edge of your bed nervously. I wanted you to sit beside me. Instead you sized me up and down, asked me a few philosophical questions and surmised the perfect classical CD mix to make for me. No one knew classical music like you. You sat diligently at your computer, while I entertained you with fresh and funny anecdotes (and secretly crushed on your 70s Bill Cosby-esque sweater). You smiled with those blue eyes, and handed me the CD. Our hands touched. I said “thank you”. I wish I would have been brave enough to say, “I like you and your sweater.”


2. We were cooking food in your kitchen. I was young then. I didn’t know I was pretty. We were pretending that we were the host and hostess of the hottest FoodNetwork cooking program that ever graced the small screen. I did my best Julia Child impersonation; you laughed and beat the eggs too quickly…were you nervous? The quiche was cooking; you came up behind me and surprised me, putting your arms around my waist, resting your chin on my shoulder, you smiled into my neck. I never knew before then that I could actually feel a smile. I was breathless for the first time in my life. I was embarrassed, My tell-tale cheeks reveled it. I took both of your hands and removed them from my waist. I pushed your tan hands back into your personal circle…I pushed your shoulder and told you “to stop that.” I wish I would have been brave enough to say, “This feels safe; I like it in your arms.”

3. I was standing in line for the M10 bus heading to Harlem. I had just finished watching a Christian Bale movie by myself in the theater on 42nd street. You came and tapped me on the shoulder. You surprised me. You said that you had noticed me in the theater, and then you had noticed me in line for the bus. You said you would like to get to know me. That my eyes had light in them that was different from the thousands of people crossing your path each day. You gave me your card. I smiled cautiously. I never emailed or called you. I wish I would have said, “In a city full of millions, thank you for noticing me.” 

4. It was London, it was fresh and exciting and new. You waltzed passed in such a state of utter confidence that I actually felt it, you looked at me, you smiled. I shyly looked at the sidewalk while asking myself if I had ever seen anyone quite as beautiful as you. The answer is no...I never had before, and I never have since. You walked by, my eyes followed you, your eyes turned and glanced back at me once. You winked. I blushed. I wish I would have been brave enough to say… "Can I buy you a drink?”

5. We sat on the couch on a rainy Saturday. I was tired. We put on a movie. I feel asleep on your shoulder and you held my hand. I woke up to the credits and the smell of you in my nose. I breathed it in and the lifted my head to be kissed. We kissed long and slow and hard and soft on that gray Saturday. I do not think I've ever had a better Saturday before or since. Perfect in its simplicity. I've still never found anyone quite like you to kiss. If you ever want to kiss again, I'm open to it. I've been trying to be brave enough to say that, but I know it is a circular motion with us that complicates things...but maybe complications are worth it to our lips.