Joy Examination

This past summer, I have very consciously recorded in my brain's notebook a particular feeling. You know that warm, effervescent feeling that bubbles up from the deep well of all the feels? I realized this feeling was on the endangered feelings list. And you're thinking, Oh for the love, Kendra. Get over yourself and your first world non-problems.

But I needed to keep this notebook in my brain so that I could. Get over myself.

The notebook log of joyful feels:

May

- Sitting in a park in Savannah and watching my kids play independently on the playground.

July

- Backfloating in the neighborhood pool on a weekend afternoon with hubs and kiddies - Walking at the Chattanooga Market, flanked by both my kiddies

The pattern I see is that joy is 100% more likely to occur when I am with my family. I like the odds of that.

*** I got contacts this past summer. I wear them and I like them but I am still adjusting to facing the world without my double-goggled barrier. There is a lot one can hide behind the Velma-inspired specs. You can hide tired better, you can masquerade as someone who is put together. I'm afraid of how naked my face is now, how it might betray me, let others see my joyless countenance.

*** The little boy with autism who likely wandered away from his grandparents' home and drowned in Lake Erie this past weekend had lived in my hometown. I was so heavy with the sads yesterday, thinking about his family and their loss and how hard autism is and how long the summer days can be with little children and yet we wouldn't trade them for all the world. Then, this evening, I drank in all the images of my hometown, where street after street, families placed luminaries up and down the sidewalk to send a little love and light out into the darkness of pain and grief and uncertainty.

Amazing how the heaviest sadness can be followed by the most noble acts of downright goodness.

***

I realized this past summer that joy comes at a tremendous cost in this world. It is expensive, and buying it at wholesale is not an option. It requires pacing through the aisles of great injustices and terrible-awfuls where we sometimes have to linger because of congestion. Joy is the item we fight for, and we would not want to purchase it with a coupon--the cheap stuff isn't long-lasting and will just leave us wanting more. Joy can be fleeting but it has taught me more about a God who loves us and wants us to experience it in endless supply.

Romantic Getaway in #CLE

As an early 10th anniversary present, my parents offered to watch our monsters so we could get a fancy hotel room in downtown Cleveland. Our gratitude was basically incalculable. Lodging What can be calculated, however, is how great the hotel was. Allow me to recommend the Metropolitan at the 9 because, in addition to waking up in a monster-free king-sized bed, there were other amenities to enjoy.

To start, I want to highlight something that is minor but important. You will read a lot of reviews on Yelp, etc. and they will mention the paintings on the walls throughout the hotel. The paintings are somewhat sensual (see also: sultry silhouettes OW OW!). Dear readers, this is not the ambience that our family of four usually seeks when lodging elsewhere. But on this particular night, the paintings were sort of nodding at us with approval. They seemed to whisper, Yes, isn't it great to be a grown-up! You can have candy for dinner if you want! And sit up on the rooftop deck! So while the reviews are accurate--the paintings could be kind of awkward if you were putting your grandma up for your rehearsal dinner-- the Met is clearly a grown-up friendly establishment.

The hotel itself is modern but homey. Sometimes a modern aesthetic can be cold but the main hues of black, red and white are all hedged with wood and plants and even some old timey pieces like rotary phones and Art Noveau posters. Our room was modern, spacious and all the furniture choices were so comfortable. Speaking of airy and comfortable: you have to be comfortable with the air that basically sets you apart from your bunkmate(s) and the shower. The shower is in the middle of the room. Pro-tip: it will not generate enough steam for modesty's sake. So shower free, travelers, or go home. :)

Wow. This hotel just sounds like the perviest place, doesn't it?

You have to ask the front desk for the robes, FYI. Just didn't want you to expect and not receive.

We did not patronize the restaurant at the Met but we did take full advantage of the Heinen's that is literally next door to the Met in the gorgeously restored Cleveland Trust Building. Now that place is special. It was so lovely to be able to grab some top shelf chocolate and berries for a late afternoon snack while watching "Million Dollar Listing: New York" and not "Littlest Pet Shop," per usual monster request.

Dining We had dinner reservations that evening at Crop. It was a beautiful evening so we walked across the Carnegie Bridge. I would not recommend this to my gal pals who are in stiletto heels, but it is a lovely bridge to traverse otherwise.

Crop was impeccable from the cheese platter and truffle popcorn (swoon!) to the short ribs and beet salad. Be sure to ask the host/hostess for a tour of the vault if you are able. It will really round out the experience.

Of course we stopped by Mitchell's just down the street from Crop on W. 25th because the raspberry chocolate chunk as well as the campfire s'more flavors are near-religious experiences.

Transportation We Ubered our way back to the Met. It was our virgin voyage as Uberites so our ride was free. Isn't that spectacular? You, too, can get a free ride. Thank you, Mr. Darryl, our first UberDriver.

When we returned to the Met, we wanted to check out the rooftop deck. The deck is really amazing--what a great spot for an afterwork apertif or a post-Tribe game libation. As we gambled around the deck, a very burly employee said, "Oh! You guys missed it!" He was stuttering and I don't know if he had been over-served or had a speech impediment but he wanted us to know that the rooftop deck party was over. We had only wanted to catch a rooftop view, though, and he welcomed us to take a spin around. "You missed it!" guy was perhaps the most memorable encounter of the evening.

In the morning, we took advantage of the gym which is clean and fairly large but nothing spectacular. We put the bookends on the overnight with a mid-day trip to the West Side Market for procuring cannoli, coffee and other treats.

I would DEFINITELY book again at the Metropolitan, but only and especially sans kids.

That one time I hung out with the cast of #OITNB

Prologue: That headline was a complete misnomer. It was only one member of the cast of "Orange is the New Black." Clickbait much? Also, Everyone I went to high school with who reads this will say, Kendra, please to get over yourself. To which I will respond, It's nice when some things never change, isn't it? ***

In 1998, I was a freshman in college. It is well-documented that the internet was brand new [to mine eyes]. I had also spent the prior four years in an all-girls Catholic high school run by nuns. It was everything you've read: strict, overprivileged, competitive, and raucous fun. But I was much too busy overachieving for the fun part, for which I was rewarded by a local civic organization with a sizable scholarship.

Pro-tip: don't ever give a 17 year-old a scholarship in the form of a check made out directly to her. She might use it for another kind of education.

Like she might teach herself how to use the internet. And buy a flight to New York City.

The plan for the weekend that I told my mom: I was staying with my high school gal pal at Fordham. The plan for the weekend that I didn't tell my mom: I was staying with Greg at NYU and would place a call on his landline to my gal pal at Fordham to say hello for two minutes.

In the weeks leading up to my maiden voyage to NYC, I realized I had no clothes that were not ill-fitting because for the 12 years prior I had worn a polyester uniform that resembled the upholstery of chairs found in nursing home lobbies. That scholarship once again came in handy when I received the most cliched of clothing catalogues in the college mail: Delia*s. I called 1-800-DELIA*s with debit card at the ready and proceeded to buy a full outfit that I deemed suitable for NYC hijinks. Per the custom of tele-service, the operator noted that because I had spent $50, I was eligible to receive the free Cosmic Kitty tote. Cosmic Kitty was not my style per se, which, we had established was Catholic tartan chic, but a girl needs a catch-all for NYC, surely.

Full disclosure: I no longer lie to my mom. I no longer use civic scholarships for weekend rendezvous. Or to buy clothes from Delia*s.

Fast forward to my arrival in NYC. It is hard to imagine but none of us had cellphones, so when I asked Greg to meet me at LaGuardia, the only thing he knew was approximately when my flight was arriving and that I would be wearing blue glitter headboppers. Somehow we found one another, like two star-crossed loves in a Rumi poem.

This is Greg:

NYC was a drug to my system. I was so electrified by the Big Apple. The Drifters were right--the neon lights ARE bright on Broadway!! There really is always magic in the air....

During my last full day in NYC, we went to see the debut of "Ragtime." On our way, we stopped at Greg's friend's apartment. His friend was named Chernus and all I knew was that Chernus went to Juilliard. Remember that I had spent four years besting other girls on geometric theorems and not watching "Party of Five." I didn't have ticket stubs from Barenaked Ladies Concerts. I didn't have an ex-boyfriend with a pager. I didn't (gasp) know what Juilliard was.

Pity. The. Fool.

I stood awkwardly in the doorway of Chernus' apartment. It had exposed brick. The walls were covered in posters of cultural things. The posters were in frames. Chernus was, like, a grown-up. Who went to Juilliard. Whatever that was.  Greg and Chernus joked and traded notes about Broadway shows. I stood frozen in the doorway, clutching my black tote, the embarrassing Cosmic Kitty reversed to my side so no one could see.

I bawled in the balcony at "Ragtime," all over my Delia*s cardigan sweater. I hadn't packed any tissues in my Cosmic Kitty tote because I didn't know that a live performance could wreck a person like that.

After the show, we met Chernus by the back door to the theater. And we met Audra McDonald and took a picture with her. We wouldn't realize that you could only see my forehead in the picture until we developed the camera film. So meta.

As we were walking back to the subway, Chernus said he had to go. Greg said, "Kendra, show Chernus how you do the reindeer dance from 'Waiting for Guffmann.'"

Hah. That's okay, I said.

"She has to protect her Cosmic Kitty," Chernus laughed.

And that is the story of the time I hung out with Michael Chernus, aka Cal Chapman from "Orange is the New Black."

Meow.