“I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.” — Emily Dickinson
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Category Archives: Princess Rosebud
Sunrise/Sunset | Shana Tovah!
Happy New Year! Shana tovah!
Rosh Hashanah is one of Judaism’s holiest days. It’s also a powerful new moon, which enhances the overall spirituality of this holiday.
Meaning “head of the year” or “first of the year,” Rosh Hashanah — the Jewish new year — marks the creation of the world.
It also marks the beginning of the Jewish High Holy Days leading up to Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement.
As is the custom with all new years, it’s a time to reflect on the past and how we can improve in the future.
This is the time for apples and honey to represent a sweet new year, to be eaten with challah bread and pomegranate seeds.
L’Shanah Tovah Tikateivu
“May you be inscribed [in the Book of Life] for a good year.”
Thalassophile: Word of the Day
Thalassophile: One who loves the sea.
That would definitely be ME. I love all bodies of water; oceans, lakes, waterfalls, creeks, and ponds. I need vitamin SEA!
Thalassophile is derived from the Greek word thalassa which means sea, and the word ‘phile or philos,’ a person fond of something specific.
The word is also influenced by Greek mythology where Primordial Goddess Thalassa was the primeval goddess and spirit of the sea.
Thalassa was the literal body of the sea and in Aesop fables, manifests as a woman formed of sea water, dressed in seaweed instead of clothing. Check out her hair, which is similar to mine, lol.
This eternal spirit of the sea was sometimes portrayed rising from the water, which is definitely NOT me, as I rarely submerge myself in the briny deep.
In sky news, the planet now named Thalassa was discovered in August 1989. Thalassa was most likely formed from fragments of Neptune’s original moons, which were smashed by the disturbances caused when the ice giant Neptune captured Triton. Thalassa is unusual for an irregular moon because it is roughly disk-shaped.
Thalassa circles the planet in the same direction as Neptune rotates, and remains close to Neptune’s equatorial plane. Thalassa’s orbit is slowly decaying due to tidal deceleration and may eventually crash into Neptune’s atmosphere or be torn apart and form a planetary ring.
As above, so below…
Glimmers of Joy and Bliss
What are glimmers?
Glimmers are small moments that spark joy or peace, which can help cue our nervous system to feel safe or calm. I’ve become fascinated with finding, paying attention to, and appreciating these small joys.
We all know what triggers are…those sensory reminders that cause painful memories or certain symptoms to resurface. If you experienced a traumatic event, you most likely remember certain sounds, smells, or sights related to that experience. but few people know about their opposite: glimmers.
Experts say this mindset shift can make a positive impact on our mental health. The term was first coined by Deb Dana, a licensed clinical social worker who specializes in complex trauma.
In her 2018 book, The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy, “glimmers” refers to small moments when our biology is in a place of connection or regulation, which cues our nervous system to feel safe or calm.
This isn’t about big, expansive experiences of joy or safety or connection. These are micro moments that begin to shape our system in very gentle ways.
🌟 Being in nature
🌟 Wrapping our bodies in a big blanket
🌟 Interaction with our furbabies
🌟 Gardening
🌟 Freshly baked bread
🌟 Sharing a smile with a stranger
🌟 Hearing your favorite song
Here are just a few of my small and simple joys:
🌠 The sound of two little voices calling “Grandmagrandmagrandma!”
🌠 Hearing a hawk or coyote
🌠 Finding a hawk or owl feather
🌠 My crow family
🌠 Noticing a beautiful flower or moon or sunset or sunrise
🌠 Smelling the ocean or coffee brewing first thing in the morning
🌠 My garden
🌠 Butterflies
🌠 Wind through the trees
🌠 Of course seashells, rocks, and beach glass!
What are your glimmers?
And One Day
And, one day
We shall look back and see
It was always those little moments
That mattered the most
Those little fleeting moments
Of innocence
Of happiness
Of laughter and dance.
A little poem written by Athey Thompson
Random Mitzvah
Do you know what a mitzvah is?
I don’t mean the ultra religious definition of doing something good to fulfill one of 631 commandments and I don’t mean BAR/BAT Mitzvah, (which I never did) but doing a mitzvah has also come to express an individual act of human kindness; a good deed.
Here’s the story. A couple days ago, I had a doctor’s appointment . As I walked to the office, I said hello to two people sitting on the curb out in front. They were a bit older than me but looked frail, and the man was in a walker.
There was a wait for the doctor and I chose to sit outside because no one in the waiting room was wearing a mask (except for me) and there was a lot of coughing AND the door was closed. (Yup, I’m still a mask wearer in crowded placed, even if no one else does.)
While I was standing outside on the sidewalk, I chatted with the couple. They told me they had been waiting an hour in the hot sun (we’re having a heat wave) for their Uber. The woman was on the phone trying to find some way to communicate with the company, which is impossible, by the way.
I felt horrible that these older people were left stranded and told them if they were still there when I was finished with my appointment, I’d drive them home as I learned they didn’t live all that far away from the doctor’s office. In case you thought they could take a bus, that’s not an option. Public transportation is horrible in my area.
I went back in the office and could see that the doc was so backed up, I’d probably be forced to wait at least an hour to see her, so I decided to reschedule my visit to next week.
When I left, I saw those poor people were still waiting, still on the phone, looking pretty stressed out. I told them I’d be more than happy to drive them home, which I did.
They were beyond appreciative and repeatedly offered gas money which I declined. They couldn’t believe a total stranger would help them. The man had cancer, was diabetic, in overall poor health, and his wife wasn’t much better.
How could I not help?
It was such a small thing to do for another human; a mitzvah, a helping hand.
I have so much to be grateful for in my life; it felt nice and right to extend a simple and random act of human kindness, not for any reward in this life or the next — for no reason other than I felt like it.
In a similar situation, would you help, too?
Daddy’s Girl
Happy Father’s Day!
I learned a lot from mine about a lot of things, and I think that’s also most likely where the ancestral sarcastic form of humor emanated from as I passed it on to my son, the master of snarky, biting, brilliantly accurate commentary,
DNA is strong here…always a daddy’s girl.
He’s the one who first started calling me “Rosebud”. The addition of “Princess” seemed to make a lot of sense, especially when he did things like giving me HIS birthday so I’d be able to have another day of celebration (and presents).
I’m sorry he never got to meet the original Angel Boy; they could have talked for hours about literature and life.
At the time my dad was college age, he was prohibited from pursuing a medical career all because of Jewish quotas, the barriers Ivy League universities erected to limit the number of Jewish students.
He would have been so proud of Angel Boy’s Yale doctorate. where they previously practiced overt and rampant anti-Semitic and racist policies.
According to Dan Oren’s book, Joining the Club — A History of Jews and Yale, Yale University’s informal admissions policy to restrict the school’s Jewish student body to around ten percent ended in the early 1960s.
That’s pretty disgusting part of America’s history, don’t you agree?
Anyway, after a little detour to protest racism, I hope everyone has a happy Sunday!
Another Exquisite Disaster
We had been playing house with her dolls and I styled their hair with braids or headbands and even a sparkly tiara, when Angel Girl said,
“Grandma, take your hair down.”
“Why?”
Those giant eyes scrutinized me with piercing discernment.
(This not-quite-four-year-old is actually quite judgy and has no problem letting me know if I’m wearing the right clothes or if my shoes are tied properly. Definitely some of my DNA, haha.)
“I don’t like it up in a scrunchie, I want to brush your hair.”
Uh oh, I thought to myself. I remember another little girl who used to love to brush my hair and it always turned out to be an exquisite disaster.
When hair is as curly as mine, it’s next to impossible to brush. The only time I can attempt it is when it’s freshly washed and I comb in product.
But will I say no? Not on your life.
“OK, I replied, “but PLEASE be as gentle as I am with your hair and T’s hair. You know it hurts to pull.”
Eye roll. “OK, Grandma. Sit down and turn around.”
Yes, ma’am! These are definitely two bossy boots angel kids.
For the next few minutes, while the angel stands behind me, all is silent as her brush unsuccessfully attempts to glide its way through my hair. She was intensely concentrating on arranging my hair into a semblance of “style.”
I feel her little hands twisting and pulling and puffing up certain areas. I’m afraid to look.
“What are you doing back there? Can I look?”
“Not yet. Grandma, hand me your scrunchie.”
“Here you go.”
Somehow the scrunchie is now imbedded in all of that twisting and spiraling and brushed out tangled up curly bird’s nest of her creative endeavors.
I know it’s going to be a long hard road to untangle the knots, but when she finally tells me she’s done and I can look, the pride (and love) in her eyes was totally worth every bit of it.
“Am I beautiful now?”
“Yes, you ARE beautiful now, Grandma.”
In her eyes, I am, and that’s all that matters.
Later, after the kids were tucked away in bed, I slathered conditioner on my hair, took my wide tooth comb and spent a good half hour or so untangling the knots, and fell asleep with a smile on my face.
These are the rare moments that weave a tapestry of joyful memories. However, I wouldn’t dare share a photo of my medusa-like hair catastrophe!
Self Portrait
The Angels love to look through the photos on my phone, especially all the ones I’ve taken of them, of course.
When we clicked on this rose, I told them it was a selfie of ME cos I’m Princess Rosebud. They thought that was funny but being their dad’s kids, they just HAD to disagree…
“Grandma, you are so annoying! You aren’t a REAL princess!”
“Yes, I am.” I replied. “And you are Princess Charlotte and Prince Theodore.”
“Dad, Grandma’s being annoying again!”
OMG did they just tattle about me to my original Angel Boy? That’s too funny.
From the other room, I hear him say, “Mom, stop being annoying.”
I guess that’s going to be my legacy…however, we’re all royalty around here, so I thought I’d share this little joke to start the week.
This particular rose smells as good as she looks. Spicy and sweet, just like me.
I think a backstory needed to explain the origin of being called “annoying”, thanks to my new friend, wonderfully talented author Debbie Russell. I should have explained it in more detail and to be fair to the Angels.
I first began to reference myself that way when I bothered them as they were busy doing things (just to be funny) like standing in front of the TV during a show they were watching and I’d say, “Aren’t I the most annoying Grandma?” and they’d say “Yes, you are! Stop it!” And I’d stop, of course. Also for example, when I’d read a book to them, a book I’d literally read a thousand times before, to make it more interesting for ME, I’d change the names or spice up the story a bit differently, mainly to see if they were paying attention (which they were) and then they’d say, “Read the exact words, Grandma!” which I thought was pretty cute. And then I’d say, “Do you find it annoying when I do that?” The answer was always yes.
The Angels weren’t being disrespectful. Grandma was!
Gift With Purchase
How does a three year old know me so well?
Her mom purchased a bottle of perfume and it came with a fancy little cosmetic bag full of samples.
Apparently, as the story was told to me, Angel Girl told Mom she had to “save the bag for Grandma” ‘cos “she loves stuff like that.”
She was a thousand percent correct. I LOVE gifts with purchase because it’s like discovering a surprise treasure chest.
How did she know?
I mean, we share the Chanel connection and the ballerina connection, but gift with purchase?
How could this obviously intuitive child see so deeply inside of me?
That’s too much. My heart can’t take it. The joy.
Every single time I use that little bag, I’ll think about my Angel, and smile.
Yup. She gets me.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 