Tag Archives: post50womenwriters

Sadhvi Sez: OK, I get it.

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On top of feeling like a crone (which I am), a lot of stuff seems to be happening to those I love and the planet.  How is one to cope with it all?  I mean, the town that some dear friend’s of mine (Tosh and Garima) live in was destroyed by a 1000-year-flood (Lyons, Colorado), another friend who is just one year older than me found out he has a couple of weeks to live after going in to the doctor’s to see about a bump on his head, if I think of the economy I get really nervous, and and and.

I try to not be negative, I really do.  And even when I think I am helping the planet by sending FB friends a petition to sign that I feel might make a difference, it can backfire:

“Please STOP sending me all of these causes…. Thank you I have my own causes….. I have unfriended you and still I am getting them….. because I am a friend of a friend of mine…. I am so sick of being bombarded with every bad piece of news out there ….people are just going numb ….to it all…. Everyone knows that everything is f—-d,,,, I think its time to start spreading a little joy instead of all of this fear……”

Ajita, I truly am sorry, and I get the cosmic message because I won’t be sending out any more petitions to be signed to stop Monsanto, have GMO’s labeled, or to try to get the world governments to join in to help the Fukishima disaster, I promise!

Instead, I am going to start to write posts with things that I am liking, and not just my favorite lipstick (which used to be Chanel because of the way it glided on my lips, plus the smell was a wonderful, subtle rose frangrance but is now some weird smell that makes me feel like I’ve put some sort of cheap air freshener on – yuck!).

It’s funny, but when I started writing for this blog many years ago, I was only going to share what makes me happy.  I guess I started to get a little too personal; call it the “FB” sydrome of thinking I should “share” everything.  It’s a sickness and I know the cure.

So what am I liking right now?  It’s the 21-Day Mantra Meditation Journey with Deva Premal and Miten.  I have loved singing since way back when we went to Catholic mass every week.  I can’t think of anything that I would rather be doing.  Chanting to the divine is just, well, divine, and I had forgotten about it and the places it takes me.

Take a look at the clip below, and if you’re interested, click here to jump in.

Thank You Deva and Miten!

OM

Taking Advantage of Low Interest Rates in The Twilight Zone

Oops50 Carine Photo
CARINE

I know I’m not the first, nor will I be the last person to express horror over the process of trying to get a mortgage refinance on a home loan. How many blogs are there in the world on surviving cancer, heartbreak, menopause or the death of a loved one?  I can’t imagine; but I figure everyone who writes about a tired subject gets to add something new to the conversation — maybe, hopefully — and, most importantly, gets to relieve themselves of the stress in the telling. So, forgive me for writing about an experience that has been told before, but the stress nearly did me in!

I won’t bore you with the weird, robotic and nonsensical reactions we got from The Lender in regard to average checking account transactions. Neither will I bother you with the shocking amount of documentation that is required of people with very decent income, fantastic credit scores, no debt, zero late payments and excellent property values. Doesn’t matter. If you’re just a little bit of a risk, sorry, Charlie; you don’t get to walk in the door. If you’re absolutely no risk, prepare to be abused, dehumanized, debased and grilled on all expenditures, large and small (especially the small stuff) until you want to chop off your own head off and hand it to them on a nickel-plated platter.

The fun doesn’t stop there, though. In our case, we had just been approved for a long-coveted business line of credit with the SBA. When time came to sign those documents, our mortgage broker advised that The Lender would view this new funding source for our business as a new debt — and that it would derail the refi. We had to walk away from the line of credit. Once the refi went through, we resubmitted the business line application, but the SBA said we now had to wait a year to re-apply. Why? No reason. That’s how things work in The Twilight Zone.

But that wasn’t the coup de grace! As the final condition to reducing our interest rate—not giving us more money, mind you, just giving us the same loan at a reduced monthly payment (banks make money when they resell your loan) — they demanded we close a credit card account with a $50,000 credit limit. For the last 12 years we’ve used this card as a lifeline for our business because no bank would give us a line of credit. Now we have no line of credit and no business credit card.
Banks have arranged it so that you can barely survive this world without using credit cards. (Yes, you can use debit cards. But trust me, if you have a small business that’s doing well — not bad, not great, just well — you need cash flow.) And after they’ve got us by the balls, they pull the rug out. Why? No reason needed. In fact, nonsense trumped reason every single step of the way on the hellish Road to Refi in The Twilight Zone.
But hey, our monthly mortgage payment is $800 less than it used to be!
Oh, the irony of relativity.
This episode reminds me of a line that jumped out at me in the book, Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi:
“It is amazing how, when all possibilities seem to be taken away from you, the minutest opening can become a great freedom.”

About Carine Fabius:
I love: hanging with friends, wine and martinis, helping people get to a better place. I also love meditating and Kundalini yoga; politics, writing, watching movies, art and hot weather.
I worry about: our privacy, climate change, Haiti, the second-class status of women in so many countries, the state of our food supply and the next big crisis: inaccessibility to water.
I really dislike: banks, insurance and oil companies, right wing crazies, insomnia and hot flashes.
What I do: I am the author of five books, owner of a contemporary ethnic art gallery, freelance museum curator, and temporary body art pioneer.
I am 56, married, 1 dog, 1 cat, and I live in Hollywood, California. Happy to be included in this fabulous group of women!
www.carinefabius.com

On Turning 59

I turned 59 today, and I have to say that, so far at least, this is a great age.  I like the ages with 9 at the end of them–and have for a while, at least since I turned 29.  These ages always remind me that I have one more year of being a certain decade, so I’m not really as old as I feared–at least not yet.  This is especially true for me, since I tend always to forget how old I am.  I’ve tried to blame this tendency on the fact that if you have a birthday in December, it’s hard to remember your accurate age at any point during the year–you’re always jumping forward in your mind to the next year or slouching back–but I really think it’s just because I’ve never–not since I first became an adult–been very good at feeling my age.

Age is something I associate with other people–not with myself.  I don’t know why this is true, but it hasn’t changed in any significant way over the course of my life.  I think in my mind I will always be about 35, the age where I first began to realize I was a grown-up.  That must be why when I hear something like a song from the Bee Gees or the Beatles or Sly and the Family Stone, one of those songs that transports me instantly back to the year when I first heard it (such as “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” or “I’ve Just Gotta Get a Message to You” or “Everyday People”)– it is not entirely inconceivable that I might feel like dancing in public without thinking first how ridiculous that could seem to those around me, especially my children.

In many ways, 59 feels like a reprieve.  I don’t have to adjust to the reality of turning 60, not just yet, since, for one more year, I’m still in my fifties.  As I said, the 9’s make me feel young.  And being 59 has its perks.  After all, if I weren’t 59 right now–but instead 25 or even 35–I would not have gotten to see the Beatles perform live in Baltimore on their first American tour.  I would not remember the first moon walk.  And I don’t think I would derive as much pleasure as I do from things like cell phones and text messaging–and even emails!

And, come to think of it, I don’t really think I’ll mind turning sixty.  I feel sixty already in lots of ways:  my elbow aches from “tennis elbow;” my left knee is arthritic; I have a head full of grey hair; I can’t remember a damn thing. Hell, I might as well be sixty years old!

On the other hand, it’s ridiculously hard to believe that I could possibly ever turn 60.  After all, I’m the baby in my family.  My 3 sisters may turn 60, but not moi!  Surely not!  So, I won’t think about it, at least not now.  Maybe I’ll think about it tomorrow–at Tara!

All these thoughts are here–or on the horizon.  But for now, say for the next 11 months, I’m going to enjoy being 59, without giving it a whole lot of thought, except maybe to ponder with my friends whether we will have to, at some point, rename our site “Oops60!”

Sadhvi Sez: Feeling the Spirit in this Wonderland

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Attention!!! It’s one of those days where everyone is going to be sitting up straighter and maybe even acting a bit more kind and more aware of how they treat each other because today could be the last day of the world. Exciting, isn’t it?

I’m baking an easy and simple cookie recipe today called “Chocolate Crinkles” that I’ve made for years. It’s online everywhere, with slight variations. The one I use is from Betty Crocker, and the only thing I do differently is to add some ground almonds and maybe a bit more vanilla. If you click here, you will have it.

 

What else? I’ve made 24 jars of “Marroni Creme”, which is really “Chestnut Jam” (chestnuts, sugar, and vanilla – yum!). I love to make it because no one makes it anymore.

Marroni Creme

I used to buy it when I lived in Switzerland, because it was available in the grocery stores there.
I think you can get it online, but if you’re married to a chestnut roaster, you probably just want to make it yourself, because it really is simple to make.

My husband has a few regular folks that ask for it at his chestnut roasting stand, and they are usually older people from Europe who remember, or  the children of those older people who know that it makes them happy.

And lastly, here’s a video that I took from the Dicken’s Festival at the Biltmore Village a few weeks ago. It’s one where my favorite girl singer’s are performing “Walking in the Winter Wonderland”. Enjoy!

I guess this is my last post IF the world ends. If so, tt’s been a wonderful life, and I’ve had a good time.

If it is still spinning after today, well, until next time.

Enjoy!

Sadhvi Sez: This Thanksgiving…

ON THE CLIFFS (1917) by Dame Laura Knight

The sky where I live has been this deep, crisp blue color that makes me feel like I’m on vacation in the south of France. Kind of the feeling that you get when you look at this painting.  I like feeling relaxed and dreamy when the energy this week is completely the opposite; where everyone is busy getting ready to go somewhere and do something because it is THANKGIVING!!!  The time to get together with people and to eat a lot of food and spirits, or, to be cozy with just yourself or your partner and disappear?  I’ll do both this year, and I hope you do too.

I’ll be bringing a new type of booze instead of a nice bottle of red wine to the “Thanksgiving Social Gathering” on Friday called Hendrick’s Scottish Gin that is made with Bulgarian Rose and Cucumber – sounds interesting, doesn’t it?  You know I am not a big drinker, not since I drank too many pitcher’s of Miller Lite beer at Miami U. in 1977 and did handstands down a flight of steps on my way home, but when I saw the brown bottle that looked like something found in an old apothecary, I ended up being so taken by it that I took it home with me. I am going to serve it with tonic and slices of cucumber, like they say on their website, and see if I don’t feel nice and grown-up. I’ll let you know.

HENDRICK'S GIN