Geri's Take on... » Miscellaneous

More on Simply Being…

Geri — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 14:57:52 +0000

A short note and cool photo to remind everyone (myself, mostly) that it’s okay to be who you are. Look at these frost crystals that formed on the railroad bridge near my home. They are spectacular just as they are. And I could have missed them if I’d stayed in my warm cozy bed instead of getting up and going for the cold walk with my husband and dog.
Enjoy your day and remember to keep it simple and just focus on the next thing you need to do. It will all fall into place.

Fearless Frost

Thanksgiving Turkey Sandwich

Geri — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 01:17:06 +0000

Sounds like a Wheel of Fortune “before and after” puzzle doesn’t it? The only reason I am thinking of Wheel of Fortune is because I’ve spent the better part of a week with family members who adore Wheel of Fortune. Me, I’m more of a Jeopardy girl.

I’m getting ready for Thanksgiving and the past few weeks it has hit me that yes, I’m part of the Sandwich Generation. I have children still at home, or in college, and aging parents. I’m not alone. There are millions of us.

I am blessed. My parents and my in-laws have wonderful insurance and any help needed from the kids is relatively minimal.

Yet as I prepare for Thanksgiving (eldest son’s first time back since leaving for college!) my mind goes to all the adult children taking care of their elderly adult parents. How are they doing it? How are we doing it?

One day at a time, one meal at a time, one doctor’s visit at a time.

When faced with what can be a heartbreaking road, I’ve learned that gratitude is the best antidote for me. Not Pollyanna “all will be swell” crap. It’s the simple stuff. So in light of this week and our national feast of the yummiest dishes native to the USA, here’s my gratitude list. Feel free to add yours!

I am grateful for:
1. My health
2. My family–no matter their age, political preference, state of health or mind, lack of boundaries or too many walls to climb over. We are family.
3. My friends who keep me sane and laugh with me on this journey.
4. Great recipes, the funds to buy the ingredients and a comfortable kitchen in which to cook them.
5. Is there anything else worth mentioning?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Something’s in the Air…

Geri — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 20:05:04 +0000

In a blink, summer’s giving way to autumn. Today’s most likely the last hot day we’ll see in the Northeast.
I’ve been away from the blog due to a global move and associated tasks. Fancy speak for I’ve been overwhelmed by life.

Ripley Devours a Yellow Pepper

Great news–I have a new book coming out in June 2012 with Harlequin Superromance, set on Whidbey Island, Washington. Details will emerge as the publication date gets closer. I already have two events planned for June which is the precise reason I’m so thrilled to be back in the States full-time. There’s nothing like connecting with dear readers in person.
No matter how crazy it gets, I try to eek out at least a smidgen of serenity each day. My dog Misha is often the source of this. Sometimes it’s Ripley the Fearless Parrot. What’s your serenity source?

Misha Sniffs for Fall

Transition

Geri — Sun, 05 Jun 2011 09:14:23 +0000

Self-reflection in the Kremlin Palace

Every two to three years our family goes through a major transition. We move, whether it’s cross-country or across the globe. This year marks an even bigger transition–this may be our last big move in a long while. Our eldest graduated high school and is soon off to college. Our youngest will settle into the last years of her secondary education. I finally am face-to-face with the opportunity to write full-time with no distractions of Navy/diplomat-spouse duties.

I’m terrified.

Yet I’m very, very excited. There are all the practical aspects to be happy about. Finding and purchasing a new home (roots!). Getting active in my daughter’s last years at home as much as she’ll welcome (i.e. allow). Setting up my own office with it’s own door that I can close. Caller-ID so that I can only answer calls I need to when working. Starting over with the nutrition–bringing only healthy, clean, delicious food into the house. Leaving the dark M&M’s on the grocery shelf (we’ll see how long this lasts!). Getting a new car.

The intangible side of this transition is overwhelming, yet still, I welcome it. Whether I look at it as fulfilling my artistic destiny or dealing with can-I-swing-writing-only-or-do-I-supplement-income-with-second-job choices, it’s all good. Because I’m still on the path to discovery, still on the road to my dream of being a very successful full-time writer.

Transition is an opportunity to be kind to myself. To applaud the fact that I have an August 1st deadline (yeah, another contract!) and to NOT berate myself that it took 2 years between the 3rd and 4th contracts. I always lose by comparison–no matter what. It’s about my journey and my motives. My destiny.

Of course the big gratitude box must be checked. Grateful for my health, my family’s health, my husband’s ability to be our family’s rock (anchor, actually, but that’s too cliche when you’re a Navy family).

While I don’t wish the multitude of headaches associated with a move on anyone (e. g. the seller on the house we bid on just walked away from the short-sale 2 wks before closing), I do wish you the chance to take stock of your life and your soul’s desire. What is your heart’s desire? Are you taking little steps to get there? Even if you’re working 2 or 3 jobs to feed your babies, can you do something tiny towards your dream today? Just 2 minutes of prayer or meditation, or 20 minutes spent reading something that lifts you–can you find room for it?

Life’s not easy. Transition sucks. But they both bring untold joy if I keep an open mind and go with it.

Women Power!

Geri — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 13:10:12 +0000

Dr. Jill Biden and I, US Embassy, Moscow

We have a great example of what great smarts and a sincere heart can do for a person and in turn, for the rest of the world. Vice President Joe Biden’s wife, Dr. Jill Biden, is not only the Second Lady of the United States but also a teacher at Northern Virginia Community College. She holds a doctorate and is a fierce supporter of military families. She’s a military Mom and knows the sacrifices we all make on this unique path. I had the privilege of meeting her (and her husband!) yesterday and gave her a copy of SASHA’s DAD as a small token of my appreciation. It’s always great to be a writer, wonderful to be a published author, but even better when I can hand an extension of myself to someone as a gift. For whatever reason, but this was a great one!

The next time I get bummed about too long between contracts or the difficulty of pursuing a writing career while overseas, I’ll think “what would Dr. Biden do?” She’d get to work!

How Do You Beat the Winter Blahs?

Geri — Mon, 28 Feb 2011 09:08:09 +0000

I went to Scotland. Castles, mountains, wool, history galore. A writer’s heaven.

Where JK Rowling Wrote Harry Potter

As a kid in Western New York I loved winter and faced total confusion as my grandparents complained about the cold and snow. As long as I could make a snow man, ice skate, or even better, go sledding/tobogganing, I was thrilled.

Edinburgh Sun Rise

The years have blinked by and now I “get” what they meant. It’s tough to drive in ice and snow, and worse to walk in it, especially in Russia where the ice can be inches thick on the sidewalks. If it’s hard for me and I consider myself in okay shape, how hard it must be for the elderly who need to walk to get to the kiosk that sells their favorite (most affordable) fruit or bread.

Swan on Loch Ness

My children get a week off at the end of February for Winter Break, and we used the off-season prices to afford a trip to Edinburgh, Scotland. Friends and family in the States thought we were crazy–Scotland, in the winter? It’ll be cold, rainy, miserable! Nope. It was chilly the first few days, but a relative heat wave to us. And the last couple of days were downright balmy. In the 30′s at night, but 40′s, maybe even 50 during the day.

Edinburgh Castle--View from The Elephant House

Enjoy the photos–if you’re still in the grips of Father Frost, wherever you are, I hope they give you hope for the coming Spring. By the way, it’s 9 degrees Fahrenheit as I write, -2 wind chill.

Do You See Any Literary Fairy Dust in the Air?

Where are You?

Geri — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 16:06:35 +0000

Belorusskaya Train Station is across the street from me as I write this. You know it; it was made famous in Dr Zhivago. I never pass it or stop in it without my mind seeing Lara and Yuri under the layers of fur in their dacha. As a kid I wondered how they slept under such weight but as an adult and romance novelist I think of other things now.

St Basils, Moscow, Russia on New Year's Eve 2011

John Lennon’s “Happy Christmas” is on this Starbuck’s stereo. Yes, it’s January 12^th—Christmas and New Year’s last longer in Russia thanks to the Gregorian calendar and Orthodox Tradition. I’m probably the oldest person here. Not the oldest looking, as the hard life that Moscow offers often prematurely ages folks and I’m always surprised to find out someone I think of as ten-to-fifteen years older than I is indeed the same age or younger. But chronologically I’m sure I’m one of the “senior” people here. Moscow is a young person’s town and it reflects in the clientele. There are of course the usual smattering of super-model-thin, tall, blonde girls. They are most certainly younger and better dressed than I am, even in the new sweater my dearest gave me for Christmas on December 25th, American-style. Yet I’m content, serene.

The skies are so bleak and the snow dirty and slushy. It’s a tough time of year when the sky is still pitch dark at 8 am and never quite gets bright with the nonexistent sun. All daylight is gone by 4pm or so, adding to the anxiety that I’m not getting enough done in a day. I make a cup of green coconut tea (another nice gift, this one from Sally) and I remind myself I still have 6-7 hours of the day left to be productive.

Ah, productive. That used to mean getting more and more things done, writing another chapter, revising another manuscript. Today it means I’ve completed my writing day and in the evenings I’ll enjoy my family as much as possible with two teens who lock themselves into homework after dinner. I may knit or play with our new puppy or play with my Weight Watcher points to see if I can fit in dark chocolate M&M’s or if an apple is a better choice tonight.

I’m learning that I’m most productive in the old sense and the new when I just am.

Swimming in Jam

Geri — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 11:15:54 +0000

Do you ever feel like you’re swimming against the tide? Okay, maybe not against the tide but instead of flying in the current of life it’s tossing you around a bit, maybe leaving a few marks?
I’ve felt like this for a while now and I can’t put my finger on when it started. When we were evacuated from Moscow this summer, due to the smoke from the peat fires? When our stay in the States turned from 4 to 6 weeks and I was out of my routine for too long? When it hit me that life is constantly moving by whether or not I “hop on?”
It really doesn’t matter what caused this type of funk. And I feel guilty even saying it’s a funk. I enjoy life. I took myself and my laptop out into the city today to write this blog–I don’t know many people who can say they took their office out for a trip. Of course, they probably make a lot more money than I do, but that’s another blog (the I’m-not-defined-by-my-royalty-statement essay). It’s 55 degrees Fahrenheit in Moscow Russia on the 15th of November and I’m out here to enjoy it, for heaven’s sake.
Maybe when I was younger I wasn’t as aware of the fragility of life, the reality that we all get older if we’re blessed to live long enough. And getting older means saying good-bye to some youthful pursuits. Self-pity and self-centeredness top my favorite things to say “so long” to.
I must say I love the confidence and sense of knowing myself that maturation brings. It’s liberating and thrilling. The younger me would be horrified to know that indeed, my body can weigh the number of pounds it does–that my figure hasn’t stayed reed-thin and my clothes choices too often fall into the “comfortable writer” category. But the younger me had no clue as to the joys of raising children, dogs, novels, marriages (just one so far, Thank God).
The younger me didn’t notice she was swimming through jam. I was spinning my wheels too quickly to even note if I hit a speed bump.
Today I feel the speed bumps and heart palpitations. But I’m not afraid of any of it–it’s okay, it’s life, and I’m happy to be here.
And that means accepting when I’m treading in thick, syrupy jam. This too shall pass.

Proud to be a Veteran

Geri — Wed, 10 Nov 2010 09:23:14 +0000

When I resigned my commission fifteen years ago, I couldn’t wait to bid my active duty days adieu and head into the full-time Mom and writer sunset. I was proud of the nine years I’d served after graduating from the Naval Academy. My jobs in the Navy had been challenging and enjoyable, and at times felt so natural to me that I couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else.

Almost.

The call to motherhood came and for me the personal choice was clear–in order to keep my marriage thriving and provide the stability level for our family that I was comfortable with, it would require me to leave the service. Maybe if my husband had been a civilian I would have chosen a different path, but he was and is still, active duty. Active duty Navy, which means months away on ships or in squadrons, all over the world.

So with heartfelt good-byes I left the US Navy to become…a Navy wife. The first year was an adjustment. No longer the active duty woman in uniform, I was relegated to the back of the line at medical, the pharmacy, and even in the commissary or exchange where doing rush hours active duty in uniform have front-of-line privileges. As they should, of course. I relished time with my toddler son and before long we were blessed with his sister. The kids gave me a sense of purpose I’d never had before.

The people who meet me now have remarked that they can’t imagine me as an active-duty officer. The people who knew me as Lieutenant Commander Krotow have a hard time believing I went from the service to stay-at-home wife and mom, and now romance novelist.

I don’t see the issue. Because to me I’ve continued to serve my country. As a vet I can say that I know my contributions mattered while in uniform, and they matter now. Even if I wasn’t married to the military, raising and guiding healthy children to contribute to the greatest nation on earth is not only just as viable but essential. From a global perspective, I’m raising two kids to whom I hope I’ve imparted a sense of self-sacrifice and healthy esteem. I hope they understand and live the fact that the world doesn’t revolve around any one individual or country–we’re all connected.

Where I learned the “we’re all connected” the most was firstly in my own home with a mother who always invited strangers to our Thanksgiving table or sent a meal to the hermit who lived across the street. Secondly, I learned it during my Plebe year at the Naval Academy.

I’m part of a special, privileged, blessed team of people who’ve served their country and indeed the world for the sake of freedom and peace. What I did to deserve this I’ll never comprehend, but I’m so grateful today. Thank all of you who’ve served and support those who serve. To the countless souls who’ve lost their lives for all of our sakes, thank you.

Dog is God Spelled Backwards

Geri — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 15:18:43 +0000

Pets can be the anchor in a Navy family that moves not only from coast to coast in America but around the globe. My husband and I brought home our baby parrot when we’d been married two years, and for the next five years he was our practice infant. We spoiled him and moved him from Florida to California to Alabama to Washington State to Tennessee and back to Washington. He came to Italy and Belgium with us. When we found out we were moving to Russia for two years we were saddened to have to leave him behind, but grateful for the dear friends who are fostering him until our return. The twelve-week-old baby parrot is now 22 years old and loves to torture his foster family.

We adopted our first dog, Shadow, while in Memphis. I rescued her from the unkempt backyard of a lawyer in a very nice part of town. Animal abuse and neglect knows no socio-economic borders.

Shadow with Cookie Flour on her Nose

Shadow quickly became part of the family and joined us on our moving adventures. She came to Moscow with us at age 10, and I had some fears about her making the full two years here but she’d been so strong and healthy to date (save for the usual lab-mix issues of skin, allergies, and eating whatever she could find wherever she found it).

She stood guard at our apartment window when the President came to town and watched the First Lady’s motorcade go by.

Shadow gave the kids comfort when Daddy had to go far away for months on end, defending our freedom. The Christmas Eve that it was just the kids and I on Whidbey Island, WA, Shadow provided the comic relief needed by taking off with wrapping paper as I tried to valiantly to play Mom, Dad and Santa while the kids slept and my husband prepared his squadron for wartime a world away.

Shadow was the Gandhi of dogs. Little kids flocked to her as did adults who’d say “I’m not a dog person but Shadow’s different.”

So it was with great sorrow that the kids and I returned from our vacation/smoke evacuation this summer to find an emaciated dog that’d barely made it through the record-breaking heat and debilitating smoke. Our housekeeper took wonderful care of her, so I knew it was something more than just the rough summer. Within days we knew our beloved dog had cancer and there was no going back.

Making the decision to put a pet down is heart-wrenching. Shadow went to heaven in my arms, in our apartment (they come to the home for such events in Russia). I knew I’d never love a dog as I’d loved Shadow. The kids and my husband where equally distraught but each of us showed it in different ways. Our vet gently suggested there are so many dogs that need homes in Moscow, but I didn’t want to hear about that. Not yet.

As we grieved Shadow the house seemed so empty. The grieving brought us all together and we were able to laugh over the silly things she’d done. What I’ll remember most of all is Shadow’s strength. She could have let go while we were gone but she didn’t. She waited until we came back and could say good-bye to her properly.

Within a month I had that “feeling” that there was another dog waiting for us. Nothing tangible, but those of us who have adopted pets know the deal.

I wanted another lab-mix female. But when I showed up at a local shelter the puppy fitting this description all but ignored me. A male German Shepherd mix puppy kept leaping up on my lap and kissing my face. The mastermind behind Moscow Animals rescue, Barb Spiers, snapped a few photos. I held the boy puppy’s sisters, but they weren’t interested in me either.

I left the rescue apartment and as I walked the streets of Moscow I had an incredible feeling of peace settle over me. I figured it was just my husband’s telepathic relief that I wasn’t bringing a new puppy home on impulse.

Over the next few days the puppy wouldn’t let go of my thoughts.

“He’s going to be a regal dog, like Shadow. He’s the one for us.” I told my husband this and he quietly acquiesced to my need for a new pet in our home.

I’m a woman of a certain age with children preparing to leave the nest. It’s a sad, exhilarating, scary time.

Yet instead of getting a new sports car or plastic surgery, I got a puppy. And for today, it’s just what not only I need but our family needs. Instead of allowing a lump to grow in my throat each time I watch my eldest walk into the room, knowing he’ll be at college less than a year from now (if we both survive the application process), we toss the ball back and forth and play with Misha.

My daughter and I giggle over how the men of the family lavish oodles of praise and “touchy-feely” cuddles on the new dog.

I’m still grieving Shadow’s loss. I feel her, see her face around the corners of the apartment. But I can’t help feeling that somehow she brought us Misha.

For this last year that we have both of our chicks in the nest, an unlikely new family member is helping us to continue to bond and love each other through the inevitable changes. Misha, our native Russian dog.