wisdom

Hi you guys,
Below is my latest Huffington Post. You see, after the election,once I stopped reeling, after I gave up on politics and put away the raw cookie dough, I decided to write to the girl/woman who will most certainly become our first female president.
Carry on,
xox

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/an-open-letter-to-the-fir_b_12903170.html

Dear Future Madame President,

I find great solace in knowing you are out there.

Selfishly, for the sake of my eighty-year-old mother who was emotionally invested in this past election for reasons that are obvious, I hope this finds you occupying a seat in a college classroom, a non-profit, the senate, or some other adult occupation at which you excel–and not a bouncy seat at a pre-school.

If you’re currently a millennial well, I suppose that’s okay seeing that makes you tech savvy enough to never get yourself caught up in any kind of email kerfuffle.

By the way, watch those selfies and delete your Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat accounts–they may come to haunt you.

That being said, a long and arduous path was cleared for you this year with the nomination of a woman by a major political party, so you can cross that milestone off your list. But don’t worry, many more lay ahead.

It will be my great honor to call you Madame President. You are clearly a badass and I am humbled after witnessing the journey it took to get you here.

Just know, you have some pretty big heels to fill young lady. My wish is that you have the intellect of Hillary, the sass of Elizabeth Warren and the authenticity and oratory chops of Michelle Obama. I know this is a tall order but I think you’re up to the task.

A few more things: Be unapologetically smart. Go ahead. We can take it.

But practice humility and for god sakes learn how to say “I f*ed up, I’m sorry, I was wrong.” It forgives a myriad of sins and is even more rare than hearing the truth in Washington.

Please. Remain a student of history so you can learn from our mistakes.

We got so close this year and the loss still stings. Maybe we were overconfident. Maybe it just wasn’t the right woman. Maybe we underestimated the level of misogyny in our country. Perhaps we dropped the ball… Bigly.

You will bridge the divide. Without being perceived as harpy, bitchy or scary. YOU will be the “better angel of our nature.”

Most importantly, what history and the next four years will come to show is that you can’t keep women down. Numerous indignities have been heaped upon us over time and what did we do?

We got stronger. And we came back. With a vengeance.

Madame President, I trust you have had enough setbacks in your life to smooth out any rough edges–but not enough to put out the fire in your belly.

In closing, I wish you the winning trifecta of wisdom, intellect and wit–and the confidence to display them all in equal measure.

Most of all, and I’m sure I speak for women all over our great nation–I wish you grace.

May grace be your superpower and your co-pilot as you take on the Herculean task of being the most powerful woman on Earth.

Rest assured you have my unapologetic admiration and support until the day we finally meet.

With great anticipation,
J.B.

Hey there,

Tiny rant…

I’m so freakin’ over this election! Who’s with me?

Dear Buddha, I want my peace of mind back. I don’t want to hear about walls, deportation forces, emails, hacks, or the “fixing” of anything.

I am currently on the lookout for my wisdom, serenity and divine nature. If you see them, will you tell them I’ll leave the light on for ’em?

As for the hat…who doesn’t love an acorn hat?

Which brings me to other breaking news: I have squirrels who love to bury their peanuts (don’t ask), in my planters so I sprayed squirrel repellant on some newly planted flowers today so they’ll stay inside of the pots for a change.

Word to the wise: Always smell the repellent before you spray it liberally around your garden. 

This stuff smells like the nastiest dog fart mixed with the smelliest teenage feet, with just a hint of Uncle Bill’s breath after a Hoagie—and a big fat cigar. Needless to say, it is some serious stank.

But they were right. I haven’t seen a squirrel all afternoon. I have also not been able to go out back without gagging.

Just another day in my glamorous life!

Carry on,
xox

This is a recent essay by Liz Gilbert and it’s just so damn good I had to share it with you guys.
xox

Take it away, Liz!

Dear Ones –
The other day, I was talking with someone on this page about how to walk through the world with “an undefended heart”.
This person was saying that she wants so much to live with an open and undefended heart, but then it always happens that people hurt her and attack her when they see that she is open. She doesn’t want to leave herself vulnerable to that sort of pain. So she shuts down. Understandably.

So what is to be done?

How do we live open-hearted lives without being victims of constant attack?

Allow me to introduce you to the Alpha Mare.
This is an idea that came to me through my beloved friend Martha Beck, who explained to me how the psychology of a herd of horses works. At the top of the hierarchy of a herd of horses, there is an alpha mare. She is the leader. (Stallions come and go, but the mare is in charge of the herd forever.) All the other horses look to her, in order to know what to do and how to feel. As long as she remains calm, the rest of the herd feels calm. And the alpha mare is always calm, because her boundaries are AIRTIGHT. She knows exactly who she is, and nobody messes with it. Nobody approaches the alpha mare without her invitation. Nobody imposes themselves upon the alpha mare against her will. The alpha mare never lets herself be influenced by another horse’s fears or anxieties or aggression. She knows what the right thing to do is, and she does it. Everyone else follows. She doesn’t need anyone’s approval for anything. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission. She lives and breathes from a place of integrity and certainty, because of her strong and appropriate boundaries. And as a result, SHE IS ALWAYS RELAXED.

And because she is relaxed, everyone around her is RELAXED.
Thus the whole herd can live safely and peacefully around her, with undefended hearts, and the alpha mare’s heart is undefended, too.
It is fear that makes you defend your heart, but once you have discovered appropriate boundaries, you do not need to live in constant fear.

Until you learn how to hold appropriate boundaries, and stand in integrity, and speak your truth, you will never have a relaxed moment in your life. You will live like a fugitive, always on the run, always hiding, always afraid of being exposed.

A heart without healthy and appropriate boundaries can only suffer in a constant state of anxiety and defense — vigilant against the next attack,helpless against other people’s will.

To live with an undefended heart does NOT mean that you walk out in the world like a helpless child, wide-open and boundary-less, and you just let anyone do anything to you that they please. That is not openness; that is weakness.

No. You can only live with an undefended heart once you know the difference between “This is OK for me,” and “This is not OK for me” — so you never need to worry or stress about what’s going to happen to you next, or somebody will say next, or who will harm you.

Once you know the difference between “This is OK”, and “This is not OK”, you can walk anywhere in this world safely — your guard down, your eyes filled with curiosity, your soul filled with simple wonder.

That is the alpha mare, and she’s hiding inside you somewhere, waiting to come out.

I know she is.

ONWARD,
LG

Baba Rajneesh.words for the wise the word FUCK by Mazanga_Von_Badman

My friend Steph sent this to me the other day.
Her husband thinks we need to start following this guru. It could be that he thinks we would appreciate his blissed out nature or his silvery spacesuit, but I’m guessing it’s because of his deep and profound UNDERSTANDING of the word, fuck.

I love this Baba, I really do, and I’m sure you can guess why.

If you gave me a dime for all of the fucks I’ve said OUTLOUD, I’d be richer than that idiot, bigot, candidate with the orange face and horrible comb-over.

If you laid the fucks I’ve written end to end, well, we could all walk a road of fucks to Mars and colonize it this weekend.

I’m telling you. This guy gets it. He really does.

But be warned: watching this is a little like watching Mother Theresa being interviewed by Howard Stern.

It’s so wrong it’s right.

Carry on,
xox

Hahahaha. Snort-laugh! I swiped this from a friend of mine and a reader of this page (thanks, Ernie!).

It almost caused a stream of coffee to shoot out of my nose like a fire hose because, well, because…it reminded me of that bad habit I have of offering unsolicited advice and how it has bit me in the ass.

It also reminded me of braking suddenly (Hypothetical Situation Alert), for a decision impaired squirrel who was standing upright in the middle of the street with a peanut in his mouth (pure fiction), which may or may not have been the cause of the car who was following too close behind me to swerve up and onto the curb.

It also, also, reminded me of a blog post from last year on this very subject which explains my predicament addiction and its consequences.

Is this a reprise you ask?
Why yes, yes it is.
But don’t blame me it was prompted by a funny meme, a snort-laugh, a squirrel, and nose coffee.

Happy Saturday & Carry on,
xox

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER BAD HABIT

Bad habit #319 – I offer unsolicited advice.

I know! It sucks—big time.
I’m working on it, but sometimes I can’t seem to help myself.
I write a freakin’ advice blog for God sakes!

It’s a very masculine trait, problem-solving, one of the last remaining vestiges of working in a male dominated career and making it a priority to develop only the male side of my personality.
But enough of that, that’s a huge generalization and an exercise in stereotyping. If I try to reverse engineer how I became this way…well…
…I’m the eldest of three, and the younger kids would often need my help with…stop it, Janet!
Enough!

You see, if presented with a dilemma I will chew on that bone, sucking out the very marrow of it until I’ve come up with a plan.
Make that three plans.
Usually, a Plan A which is the best, (of course), to Plan C which I recommend only as a last resort.

From directions in the car—to what to order at my favorite bistro—to how to dump the chump, if you seem…uncertain—I’m your girl.

But you see, that’s the thing. I haven’t paid enough attention, or taken the time (a minute and a half), to distinguish what’s going on with you.

Is that look on your face the I’m working this out, I’ve got this look? Or, are you lost in a fog of uncertainty only wishing I would open my mouth and help you out? (No one has ever gotten that far so we’ll just have to imagine that one.)

Or this, right out of left field—maybe you’re just making conversation!

It’s a subtle difference (not really), and once I started to observe THE MASTER—I understood, and I decided to take a page out his play-book.

My husband has developed a sort of super power.

It was acquired and has been honed after years of having his head bitten off.
Like an exasperated praying mantis after yet another beheading, he started to pay closer attention. He learned how to read me and slowly but surely he has become the Master of Silent Advice.

Now you may be wondering what the hell I’m talking about.

He has mastered the skill of silence. Not indifference, make no mistake—the two can be easily confused and he’s lost his head a few times over that one too.

No, in the fifteen years we’ve been together he’s had the opportunity to be able to observe me closely when certain situations have presented themselves and then he listens —waiting—because honestly, whether I’ve got things covered or I’m lost in the fog—I look the same.
Like a freaking deer in the headlights.

You see, it’s a nuance thing.

And here’s the key, the Golden Ticket so to speak:
He only extends me a hand or offers me advice—when I ask him.

What?
If you wait, someone will ask you?
What a concept, that is genius!

So if you’re around me these days you may notice a strange look on my face as you tell me about your day. Oh God, don’t mistake it for disinterest—I’m literally biting my tongue…listening.

Waiting for you to ask me what I think.

You’re gonna ask soon—right?

Because I’ve got this.

Plan A is genius (if I do say so myself, humility is my next hurdle).

So ask me already!

Being aware you have a problem is the first step…right?

Carry on,
With big, big love and buckets of gratitude for putting up with me,

Xox

The other day when I was feeling emotionally pushed and pulled every which way, subject to the whims of every jackass on the planet, it was then that I took a moment to find solace by having a chat with my dog.

Ruby, our boxer-shark puppy is now two years old which is the equivalent of fourteen in dog years and in that respect, she does not disappoint.

Every bit the bitchy, whining, sassy teenager, she is a walking contradiction: clingy yet distant, anxious but chill, a confusing mix of stupidly goofy and wise. She is utterly and completely dissatisfied in every moment—and she has no problem letting you know. She has a way of looking at you as if you just asked her for a ride to the airport. Perpetually disgusted.

If she’s at home, she’d rather be out. If she’s in the car she’d prefer to walk on some grass. If there are two dogs to play with, she’d hoped there would be three—and all boys. She searches frantically for food the minute she finishes eating. Being that I, her mother, am the model of moderation (and obviously, a master of bullshit), I have NO IDEA where she picked up this behavior. I’m thinking she’s modeling her dad.
Anyhow…

You can imagine my state of mind if I was seeking comfort and advice from this spoiled, over-indulged, canine equivalent of Kylie Jenner—big lips and all.

I sat down next to the sleeping princess and heaved a giant sigh, you know, the universal signal for I need to talk.

She barely stirred.

In order to get her attention I did what always works with my husband— I started petting her.
I rubbed her floppy velvet ears and moved down to her belly which caused her to roll on her back, legs languishing in the air (okay, what’s wrong with this picture? I was the one in dire need of a belly rub!).

She seemed open to dialogue so I started the conversation: “It must be so great to be you. Not a care in the world, no worries, just play and sleep, sleep and play. What does it feel like to always be in an attitude of trust? Trust in your wellbeing and that fact that all of your needs will be met? Huh? Tell me, what’s it like being you? YOU,  little dog, you are so lucky”.

With that, she opened her eyes just enough to make out who the fuck was interrupting her nap, tilted her head back, streeeeeeeetched her legs further into the air, yawned and farted.

And in that moment, the clarity I received was as overwhelming as the stench that filled the room.

I knew she was right. About EVERYTHING.

Yep. I told you she was wise.

Carry on,
xox

“Whether or not it is clear to you, the Universe is unfolding as it should.”

This poem, the Desiderata, was popular when I was a teenager in the 1970’s. I remember hanging the poster on my closet door—between Bobby Sherman and Davey Jones of the Monkees.  At the time it made very little impact on me. I thought it was pretty, but I was busy chasing boys and singing in Glee club!

The other day I was reminded of it, so I looked it up. Shit! I had to share this with you guys! This thing feels more relevant than ever!

The Universe quote above—holy cow! I’m JUST getting that! Now—after forty plus years!

“Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”

Silence? Peace? Oh man! I needed that yesterday!

“Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.”

Right?! So true! That 3am awefulizing that we all indulge in occasionally. FEAR.

The take away? Old posters from the walls of your teenage bedroom possess a wisdom you were completely unaware of! (Maybe I absorbed some of it through osmosis!) AND…

“Even with it’s broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world.”

“Strive to be happy.”

Love you guys!

xox

*Below you will find my latest Huffington Post essay you guys.
A reworked post from earlier this year about aging, and mothers and feeling completely unprepared for middle age.

And believe me when I say, that I know that you’d rather watch a slide show of Aunt Tilly’s vacation pictures from Bocca; than to write a comment on a fucking blog; I’d love it if you’d gush about me over at the Huffington Post. Then once I build a following, you can all go back to the anonymity of the shadows. Thank you and I love you.
xox

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/things-my-mother-forgot-to-tell-me-about-aging—-a-cautionary-tale_b_8155736.html

(This was taken during my five, um, 11, okay—15-year “awkward phase” — you can see she had her work cut out for her.)

I was reminded recently — as I continue my snarky, sweaty slog through my 50s — that I’ve done so without the guidance, advice or fair warning of my mother.

She was too busy; engaged in the parental heavy-lifting of delivering the three of us to adulthood, that it never occurred to her to share these pearls of wisdom.

So I’ll do you all the favor; pulling back the curtain to expose all the hidden truths (in no particular order), of life in middle age.

1.) Invest in a good bra, and for God’s sake, if you have anything over a D cup, don’t jog. It is for that reason alone that I have to tell the girl at Nordstrom that I wear a 36 long.

2.) Carry an across-the-shoulder messenger bag and keep the weight below 35 pounds. Yes, you heard me. I have a divot in my shoulder and the posture of a Sherpa from carrying around the kitchen sink everyday for over 40 years.

Oh, and ladies — after you stop menstruating, you can toss all the tampons. I’m giving you the all clear. I put them in my time capsule along with my Midol, my flat stomach, my perky tits and my happy-go-lucky disposition.

It’s okay — give up the fight.

3.) If someone says they’re sorry — forgive them. You may never talk to them again, or wish them well — but the forgiveness will set you free.

4.) Make eye contact and remember people’s names.

My trick? I repeat it back to them and use a rhyming game (in my head, not to their face).
Along those lines — Listen without interrupting, ask people questions about themselves and always introduce yourself and anyone standing with you.

These are the Golden Rules of any dinner party, staff meeting, black tie event or ladies restroom line — really, any social situation you may find yourself in.

5.) Use those dental-pick-thingies every night. I brush and floss like a maniac and yet I still manage to pull an entire steak dinner out from between my teeth with those things!

6.) Listen to advice but only from the smart people — never the stupid ones. Pay attention. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.

7.) Word to the wise. You can forget about those mustache and chin hairs.

After 40, pubic hair will lose its genetic coding and start migrating around your body.

It will crawl up your stomach and onto the back of your legs if you let it. I tried to wrangle mine, to fill in my over-tweezed eyebrows (a ’70s fad that went horribly wrong), but to no avail. I did find one on my arm last week. Consider yourselves warned.

8.) Men stay boys all their lives. This needs no explanation.

9.) Stay curious. About people, life and the planet. It will help you to appreciate and demystify every seemingly mundane thing that surrounds you.

10.) Beach hair only looks good on 23-year-old models named Tia. The same goes for a navel piercing. Trust me on this.

11.) This is a big one. A lie is someone’s imagination working against them. Remember that.

12.) Always carry matches or a lighter. And lipstick. Always carry lipstick.

13.) You will never use calculus beyond college — but good table manners, clean fingernails and comfortable shoes will carry you far in life.

14.) Carrying (and reading) an interesting book will be an amazingly effective airplane conversation starter — and the perfect companion when dining alone.

15.) Be polite and try every food that is offered to you, (which means eat a bull testicle even if you’re a vegetarian.) It will broaden your horizons in unimaginable ways and make you a sought after dinner guest.

16.) Self-tanner is a catastrophe-in-a-can waiting to happen. Make peace with your paleness. End of story.

17.) Know that your looks will fade and reconcile yourself with that. Your neck will waddle, the hair on your head will thin, and your breasts will sag. If you decide to take matters into your own hands, make sure your surgeon has a light touch.

You still want to look like you — only rested.

19.) Pay attention to your feet. They will start to fight back after 50. All the years of squeezing them into severely pointed, one size too small, five-inch heels have made them…cranky.

Can you blame them?

20.) Take the effort to make a good first impression — you may never get a second chance.

And last but not least — reinvent. Don’t rest on you laurels, don’t question your intuition, and don’t tell yourself you’re too old, too fat, or too busy to reassess your situation and reinvent yourself.

Now pay this information forward and don’t say I never gave you anything.

“Slow down. Stay in one place for a while. Stop searching for what’s next. Give life a chance to show up for you.”
~Cheryl Richardson

I love this blog post of Cheryl’s. I’ve had the privilege of seeing her speak oh, I don’t know, half a million times over the years, and I love her message of self-care.
This is a little different for her, it feels mystical and magical, yet wrapped in an ordinary evening at home
In these waning days of summer—let’s all just slow down,listen, and let life show up. (There’s that surrender again!)
xox

~*~ If I hadn’t listened, I would have missed this.

It was 10:30 when the oppressive summer heat finally gave way to cool night air that kept the mosquitoes at bay. I plopped down on a zero gravity chair in the middle of our deck, pushed back on the arms, and came face-to-face with a stunning, cloudless sky.

I can’t remember when I’ve seen stars so bright.

My plan was to catch the end of the Perseid meteor shower that started a few days earlier. So I settled into the chair, adjusted the pillow underneath my head, and made myself comfortable.
As I gazed up at the stars, I shifted my eyes this way and that, doing my best to take in the full sky before me. I didn’t want to miss anything.
Ten minutes passed.

I focused more intently, widening my vision so I could see everything possible without having to move my head.
Five more minutes. Nada.
There’s nothing like waiting for a shooting star to remember what “attached to results” feels like smile emoticon.
Be patient, I told myself (about a hundred and fifty times). Just let go of any expectations and enjoy the beauty of the night.
I took a few deep breaths as my mind began to wander…

I wonder what’s happening out there in the wide-open spaces between the stars? Is there anyone looking back at me? Where did this all begin anyway?

Come back, I ordered my wandering mind, be present for this experience.
But my existential angst continued…
How small of a speck am I on this revolving ball? Why are we here, really? Are the souls of deceased loved ones out there somewhere looking back at us?

Ten more minutes passed and still no sign of a shooting star. Disappointed, I figured I missed the finale, so I thought about going back in the house.
But something told me to stay.
A little voice invited me to appreciate the solitude, to soak up the silence, and just be with the immense beauty of it all.
So I listened to that voice and I stayed.

Over the next ten minutes or so, I melted into the Oneness before me. No agenda. No expectation. No need to see anything.
Just me and Presence hanging out under the stars.

And that’s when astonishment arrived.

For the next hour I stared in amazement as the meteor shower above my head turned stardust into the most extraordinary entertainment. One shooting star after another filled the night sky, some with long streams of light trailing behind.

Mystery. Awe. Wonder. Magic. An experience to remember.

All because I surrendered to the wise little voice inside.

Later that night, as I crawled into bed feeling wrapped in the love of the Great Universe, I thought about that voice and how I need to pay more attention to her invitations.

Slow down, she tells me. Stay in one place for a while. Stop searching for what’s next. Give Life a chance to show up for you.

Wise indeed.
xo Cheryl

http://www.cherylrichardson.com/about/

As my husband deftly backs our car out of the driveway I can see from my passenger seat’s, bird’s eye view, that he is once again thisclose to a couple of landscape lights that dot the path down to the street.

He’s darn close…closer than close…he’s pretty damn near on top of them…”Um, you’re getting pretty close to those lights” I interject nervously. I can’t help myself, even knowing full well what I will hear next. “No I’m not.”

And just like the thousands of times before, he makes it down the driveway with millimeters to spare.

Jackass or genius? I’m still not sure.
It makes my heart pound and turns me into a nervous wreak every time and I have to admit: one of these days I want one of those metal lights to peel back the side of the car like a freakin’ can opener.

I just want to be right!

What the fuck is that? Well you guys — its human nature, that’s what! Sometimes I just want to be right — no matter the cost. Geesh! Will I ever learn?

When the water main busted back in 2009 and spewed millions of gallons of water into my store I was certain it was the DWP’s problem. And the insurance company’s.

Through no fault of my own I had been put out of business overnight. I wanted people to pay. “Make it right you jerks.”

Four years, three lawsuits, thousands of sleepless nights, buckets of tears and hundreds of cases of wine later – we settled.

It cost me tens of thousands in attorney fees (the truth is, they are the only ones that make any money), it most certainly cost me my peace of mind, and it almost cost me my marriage.

I felt life had been ridiculously unfair and I just wanted justice. But I paid a huge price.

After that craptastrophe of bad choices and heartache, I was forced to reassess my life strategy. I looked for the nugget inside the shit.

Did I want to be right OR did I want to be happy?

I was operating under the flawed premise that big checks with lots of zeros and vindication would make me happy.

Only time and focusing my attention on the future instead of the past would eventually fill that happiness void.

AND…
I started studying The Path of Least Resistance.

What choices can I make now that will get me what I want and where I need to be, with the least amount of blood, sweat and tears.

That’s a concept, right?
What about “no pain, no gain?” What about standing up for whats right?
We erect statues and monuments to the warriors whose lives are fraught with struggle. Was that me? Was that the life I signed up for?

Fuck no! Not anymore.

Sometimes life isn’t fair, oftentimes we get dealt a raw deal, so do we make it worse you guys, by digging in and fighting the person or situation or do we get quiet, gain some clarity, some perspective, and then make the hard choices from that place?

I am in NO way advocating rolling over and playing dead, or throwing in the towel at the first hint of conflict!

If someone fucks you over by all means get compensation, but know this: you will NEVER get every dollar that is owed you and they will NEVER admit their guilt or say they’re sorry. EVER. And eventually…that has to be okay.

Listen, if you’re like me and you want justice and you want to be told “Oh, you’re right, we were horribly wrong, here’s what’s fair and oh, by the way, we are So sorry, ” it ain’t ever gonna happen.

Remember this is coming from a Pollyanna with sunshine up her ass.

I’m not cynical — I’m someone who learned the hard way that life would have been so much easier and in the long run happier, if I had just recouped what loses I could and then moved on with my life, instead of marinating in the deep, dark, treacherous cesspool of the legal system for four years —just to tell my sad story, get everyone’s sympathy, feel vindicated and get fully compensated — all which never happened by the way.

I have several people around me who are currently going through some incredibly difficult and unfair situations and this is the advice I’d offer…but only after they ask.

Start off with the best people around you. The no-shit takers—yours or anyone else’s. The most informed yet least vindictive experts you can find.

Have an endpoint in mind, a reasonable dollar amount, and a timeframe that doesn’t make your head explode.

Don’t fight for fighting’s sake, meaning, if at all possible don’t play mind games that incite rage (you know what I mean) and don’t let your own rage write emails, refuse to sign documents, negotiate, compromise or make deals.

Don’t let it bother you each time he pulls out of the driveway, and for Godsakes don’t wish a car wreak on him when he drives like a jackass.

Being right is highly over rated, hard on relationships, and wildly expensive. Take it from me.

Carry on you warriors,
xox