Mere trifles, and a bit of faking

The Marie Curie Cancer Care Swimathon is a mere 8 days and 11 hours away!!
My training is going well, and I have clocked up 2.8k in training so far as a lead up to our big 10k swim, which starts next week. 
I've suffered from awful neck strain, my legs ache, my arms feel like lead, and my hair has turned green, but as much as it hurts, it feels really great to be "doing good".
In addition to swimming as much as I can, I am also doing an Aquafit class for aerobic training to build up my stamina. 
My trainer, Trisha Quinn is quite amazing. As she watches us jumping and gurgling in the pool, she often chirps: "That's it ladies, keep it going! And, if you get weary, just dance!" Hmm, I think there's a rule for life in there somewhere...
We've had a really great response to our Swimathon efforts. Hazel, a lady from from my Aquafit class, has asked to join our team. So now, our overall team Swimming goal has jumped to 15K! 
Our fundraising is going really well, too. Our initial fundraising goal was very modest: £300. I just didn't think I had it in me to fund-raise. But, the support has been really incredible. And, I've caught the fundraising bug! It is amazing how fearless you can become when you really believe in something.
We have solicited support, with a zeal that has surprised even me. (My mother will be so proud that I'm following firmly in her charitable footsteps.) As a result, I have upped our Team goal to £1000! (...Maybe I'm being too ambitious?...)
Feeling generous? 
We'd love your support! 
Here's a link to a the secure donation site: Marie Curie Cancer Care Swimathon
Look us up under "Simply Swim", type in "Alycia".
Not that I needed another challenge, but I decided to have a fundraising Coffee Morning at Barford Church, next Monday. I have NO IDEA how to organise a Coffee Morning, that oh, so British ladies' institution. 
Thankfully, my very generous neighbours have offered help by baking cakes and goodies. Marie Curie head office are sending balloons and decorations, so it should look very nice.
Several local vendors have also been very generous in offering me an array of VERY NICE raffle prizes: including a gorgeous rug from The Polished Floor and Carpet Co. in Leamington Spa, and two extra special massage/pamper packages. So, hopefully, with the £5 donation, and the raffle we will inch closer to our £1000 goal.
All of this is taking much more time and effort than I had expected. (Live and learn!) I am really glad that I have done it, but, my goodness! 
This week, I am working on submitting and application to the RSC for their "Open Stages" project, on behalf of the Barford Drama Group. And, of course, there's the Royal Wedding Street Party to organise and arrange!
With all of this swimming, fundraising, prepping and planning, I lost track of a major obligation I had for this past Saturday. Last Saturday night was the annual WI Quiz. The WI Quiz is one of the hottest tickets of the year in Barford. 
Like a madwoman, I volunteered to make a pudding/dessert for the Quiz Supper. I was so proud of myself for raising my hand to volunteer during the meeting. "I'll make a lovely Chocolate Cake," I thought to myself. 
Just as I was settling into my dreams of chocolate decadence, I was brought swiftly out of my revelry by the following words: "You should all make the same pudding, to keep things consistent. Ladies, please make a Trifle."
My heart sank. 
I have never made a Trifle. I love them, of course, and find them simply divine, but they are  far, far out of my culinary welkin!
And thus, I panicked. And did what any sensible American Girl would do -- I fake it. I bought all the ingredients and asked (begged) someone else to make it for me!
God bless our dear, dear blessed Sally. What a saint she is! On the promise that I will one day allow her to show me how "easy" it is to make a Trifle, Sally, graciously made my WI Trifle for me! Bless her!
I'm not really a coward, I have just been so, so overwhelmed, I just could not do or take on more.  
I will certainly deserve a little break after all this is said and done!
One lovely, well-deserved treat recently: I luxuriated in the indulgence of a gourmet evening at Stratford College with my DEB last Friday. It was, as usual, a fabulous evening of gorgeous food and wine. The next day is always spent in the grips of a marvelous "food hangover".
And certainly felt it in training the next week! Alas, no long-term rest for the wicked! 

Purpose, at last

Over the past few weeks, I have felt myself slipping into an ever-increasing, self-pitying state. The “poor me” syndrome is a chronic and highly contagious illness. It strikes sufferers in varying degrees, from the legitimately lamentable to the absurd. 

Missives from two friends this week helped me to shake my blues. Both were written from a place of despair. One, was from a friend who is an incredibly talented artist, an American, who, like me, feels set a drift in sea of uncertainty in this green and pleasant land.

Also like me, she can recall with great ease a tremendously fulfilling and urbane professional life, recently left behind; wherein she felt valued, respected and rewarded for her achievements. Now, living in Britain, her “education, experience, street cred and accomplishments” seem to count for very little. Her applications to local charities and libraries, for jobs she could do in her sleep, go unheeded and unanswered. A sorry state of affairs, and I know how she feels.

I was humbled by the words of her message: “I know you want more from your life here,” she said. “But right now I'd be happy with a bit of what you have.” I was struck to the core but my own general lack of gratitude. It’s so much easier to look at what we don’t have.

The other missive can from the opposite direction. A plea for advice - from a friend best described as, “a woman who has it all”. No, she really does. She doesn’t realize it, of course. I love her to bits, but there are times when we clearly see the world in very different ways.

She was seeking my advice because a man, a work colleague in her office, has been consistently “ignoring” her. He’s not rude or mean. Just, indifferent. No matter how nicely dressed she is, are how she smiles, jokes, flirts, etc. he “pays [her] no attention at all”.

And, it bothers her. The other men in the office find her very attractive and amusing. As she describes it, they seem to hover around her in a “Mad Men” kind of way. And, her husband adores her, too, but, it is this one minion, who refuses to become an acolyte, who drives her to tears and despair. “Why doesn’t he like me?” she sobbed virtually, on email.

I sat perplexed, staring at my computer screen, feeling that I had suddenly slipped by time warp back to High School. I sat, watching my cursor blink incessantly, words utterly escaping me.

“Where have we gone?” I thought to myself aloud. “How has everything become ‘a problem’, even when it isn’t one?” As I lost myself in existential thought, I was rescued by a ping in my inbox…

“Hit the pool and make a difference! Join the 2011 Swimathon and support the work of Marie Curie Cancer Care” - the headline announced.

The thought of doing something good for charity struck a very deep and immediate chord for me in that moment. And, it suddenly lifted me out of the silly, hapless wasteland in which I was now rambling. 

“I’m going to do this!” I thought, and before I knew it, I was ready to register! First, a short message to my darling DEB: “Wanna join my team?” Short, sweet reply back: “Yes!” So, the DEB and I are taking on the swim of our lives as part of the world’s biggest fundraising swim! The money we raise will allow Marie Curie Nurses to provide free care at home to people with terminal cancer and other illnesses.

We have decided to do a 10K swim, and will be doing it in my beloved hobbit-sized pool at the gym. It will take us ages in that tiny pool, but we think the Marie Curie Nurses are worth it! We are swimming in memory of two of our beloved parents, lost to cancer.

Our Swimathon mission has really propelled me this week. It is so, so, so, wonderful to have a goal. A clear, precise objective that can be reached. An attainable, sizeable goal. 

And, a goal that is bigger than “me” and my needs.

http://www.swimathon.org/index.php

Doing my bit for charity...

“New to You”

VINTAGE & PRE-LOVED DESIGNER FASHIONS

 

Saturday, 7 Nov 2009

10:00 AM – 3.00 PM

Barford Memorial Hall,

Barford, Warwickshire

Admission £2.50

Teas, Coffees, Raffle

Featured Seller: 

Portion of proceeds to Cancer Research UK

Calendar Girls and Ladies who lunch

Gorgeous, glistening, Autumn day – I love October! English landscape whizzing past, dressed in dazzling colours of Indian summer. 

I am riding ‘shot gun,’ with our W.I. President, en route to Claverdon for the Myton Hospice Ladies Lunch at Ardencote Manor.

Upon our arrival, my fearless leader makes a bee-line for a tall, blonde woman at the bar. It was Tricia Stewart, the leader of the original Calendar Girls. (Helen Mirren played her in the movie.)

I was thrilled to have an opportunity to meet her, she was stunning! And she was just as ballsy and effervescent standing before me, as she had been portrayed in the film. 

After we were introduced (and I’d taken a ton of photos), over a “welcome drink,” we chatted about W.I., New York City and writing.

She has written a memoir of her Calendar Girl experience, and had a copy of the Japanese edition with her. (“I have no idea what it says,” she beamed brightly, “but the pictures are the same, so I guess that's alright!”)

She shared with me the hilarious story of a friend of hers, a struggling, New York writer (aren’t we all?) who, in act of sheer desperation and utter genius, successfully pretended to be her own agent! 

Tricia’s friend used a false name, a fake voice and 'do-it-yourself' letterhead, and managed not only to get her feet through numerous, previously locked “we-only-deal-with-agents” doors, but actually she got her manuscript onto the right desks, and negotiated a very nice book deal for her top 'client': herself!

What a hoot! Happy, happy, joy, joy, to think of all those silly publishers getting duped by a super savvy writer!! Ha! And, quite frankly, they all deserve it.

Our conversation was interrupted by one the formally dressed Ardencote Servers inviting us to take our seats in the grand dining room. 

The tables were gorgeously decorated with autumn flowers, brightly polished silver, menu cards with Tricia’s picture on the front, and a small collection box for donations to the Hospice charity.

As I took my place, I glanced about the room, and I was struck by the realization that in that instant, I had become my mother... 

Around me was a beautiful sea of fashionably coiffed graying heads; richly clad in designer bouclé and pearls.

I was undoubtedly one of the few women in the room under the age of 60, and yet, I felt at home, and a strong sense of kinship. 

I recalled the times when my mother would allow me to skip school for the afternoon, to attend one of these same sort of lovely, special, charity, social lunches with her, in aid of the League of Women Voters, UNICEF, or the March of Dimes, to name but a few.

It may be an ocean apart from the tiny world outside Little Rock that I grew up in, but clearly  not so different in some ways. 

For, here I am now, bazillion miles and dozens of years away from that time and place, continuing that great feminine tradition of women who care, and hope in some little way to make a difference.

(In this moment, I miss my mother incredibly, and she seems, as she is, an ocean away. I wish that she could have been there beside me.)

Over the elegant servings of lamb shanks and mustard mash, Jo, the delightful octogenarian seated to my right, tells me of the joy she feels giving her time as a regular volunteer at the Myton Hospice.

Jo’s body is slowly giving way to time, yet her spirit as quick, lively and fresh as a teenager’s. 

“There is so much to give, and the smallest thing can make a big difference,” she tells me, her crystal, blue eyes sparkling.

One person can make a difference. 

And this sentiment was at the heart of Tricia Stewart’s dynamic, after-lunch speech.

Tricia electrifies the room with her hilarious tales of how the Calendar Girls came to be the global phenomenon that they are.

Humble and humorous, in true-blue, Yorkshire fashion, Tricia regaled us with the highs and lows of her Calendar Girl experiences:

“Helen Mirren cut her teeth playing me, then went on to play The Queen!”- Tricia Stewart

I left that afternoon feeling energized and inspired.

 At the heart of Tricia’s message was the indefatigable power of love, and the power of one.