Happy 20th Birthday, Supernatural!

On Saturday, the fandom celebrated the twentieth anniversary of the premiere of Supernatural. The show ended its run five years ago, and its popularity has only grown with meet & greets, conventions, and the fans following the actors on to new projects, continuing to buy the merch and donating to worthy causes through Stands and Random Acts!

I had toyed with the idea of posting a reflection on Saturday, the day of the anniversary, but I also thought I would actually approach the anniversary the way I approached my watching of the original series: late.

I did not come to the fandom when it premiered in 2005, but during its hiatus on its way to the second half of its seventh season. I had a lot of catching up to do, and I made it, just barely when the show returned with the second half, and I’ve been with them ever since.

I brought my teenage daughter along for the ride and that has also been an exciting dimension to this fandom as well.

I’ve written before how I’ve never been big on horror, and Supernatural felt like horror, so I avoided it. Luckily for me, my friend wrote up a trigger list for each episode so I could go in with my eyes open and make the choices as I went along. I’ve seen every episode except Bugs and I don’t plan on seeing that one even now.

I was also in the middle of a new diagnosis of severe depression, and Supernatural was really one of the things that kept me in a solid place as we adjusted medication, found a therapist, and began writing as therapy. Supernatural was a big part of that recovery, and continued to be a go-to when I need something in the background to keep my mind still. I’ll talk more about this later today when I publish today’s Mental Health Monday, coming this afternoon.

The Pilot episode gives a good introduction to the characters and their journey; however, my first episode was The French Mistake with breaks all of the fourth walls, and really pulled me into the fandom before it pulled me into the series. If you’re already familiar with the actors and their characters, The French Mistake is a fun episode that still moves the story forward.

So, happy birthday Supernatural! Twenty years since the premiere is a milestone, as is the fifteen years on the air! Let’s go: we’ve got work to do.

A New Year of Inspireds

We haven’t gotten through the first week of January, and our potential is still out there. Still within us, ready to break forth. Our ambition. Our motivation. Our inspiration. How will we keep it at the forefront in the coming months?

I’ll share five ways that I plan on being inspired this year.

round button colored green with three sentences:
1. Ankose
2. Everything is connected
3. Tout est relie

Remember that everything *is* connected, and look at the world that way. How is what I’m doing affecting the people and spaces around me? Be aware. Be present. And sometimes, be still.
Setting Intentions. I have a great new planner for the year and it has space for weekly and monthly planning/goals/ progression, and I’m hoping to stick with it all year.
My writing group and their encouragement, their feedback, their continuing friendship.
Taking what I need and leaving the rest. Good advice in any situation and hopefully will maintain lower stress even as the world becomes more stressful.
Carry an umbrella, bring a sweater or hoodie, tuck a notebook and a pen in a bag, and go. Go forward. And take notes.

My four words for the beginning of the year. They may stay all year; they may transform; they may be added to or replaced. And that will be okay because it will be what I need at that moment. Follow along and let’s see how it goes.

Inspired. Intentionality. Inclusivity. Interconnectedness. 2025.

My Jewish History, Part 3

I’ve been thinking a lot about my observances and views especially since coming across the thoughts of Robin Wall Kimmerer in reconciling her own feelings on her family’s rituals, but also since the terror attacks in Israel on October 7th and the rampant antisemitism since then. I wonder if I should be doing more as a Jewish person. I wonder (for the first time) if I should have converted – it’s not that I don’t believe; I do believe wholeheartedly, but am I betraying the Jewish people? Am I still Jewish to others? *I* know I am still Jewish. I just feel on the outside. I have always felt somewhat on the outside. I’m more religious than some; I’m less than most. Does what I do count? Who decides that?

I have many thoughts, but they are not forming cohesively and rationally. They come in screams and anger and heartbreak. And reflection.

My Jewish History, Part Two

Before I had kids, things seemed so simple. My husband and I combined what we were already doing religiously. On the High Holidays and Passover, he usually went to work, so there was no conflict. At work, he ate what he wanted, and at home, we continued to eat matzo. It was the same when the kids were born. That is, until he began working from home, but we continued to make it work as we blended our two religions with our children.

Our wedding was an interfaith ceremony as well. We were married under a chuppah or canopy. We had a Rabbi and a Priest. We (my spouse) broke the glass, which represents the remembering of the destruction of the temples in Jerusalem. We celebrated Christmas and Easter with my in-laws, and the Jewish holidays and Thanksgiving with my family. This continued after our kids were born.

After we were married, we continued to celebrate the Jewish holidays with my family. We also celebrated Thanksgiving with my family and then went to my husband’s family for Christmas and Easter. Thanksgiving somehow felt Jewish to me. It wasn’t overly religious, especially if your family didn’t go to church. I also felt that it was inclusive of all traditions. No one was left out. Now, I realize today that when I thought that I wasn’t thinking about the Indigenous people who we peripherally celebrate on that day as well, but to me as a Jewish person, it was the one holiday that I wasn’t left out of things. It became a bigger holiday for me, and for my kids.

When my kids were born, I knew that they would be raised in both faiths and celebrating both sets of holidays – Jewish on my side and Catholic on my husband’s side. Even though he and his family weren’t religious, they still celebrated Christmas and Easter in his family, and we continued that with our kids.

We would travel from our home in upstate New York to our families: mine for Thanksgiving, which my in-laws would attend, and his for Christmas. We would still see my parents during that time, but the primary celebration was spending Christmas Eve at my in-laws and spending the night. We didn’t begin to stay at our own home on the holidays until we had a house and wanted the kids to wake up there on Christmas morning.

My Jewish History, Part One

^{A family piece that’s come down from my mother. A Rabbi, praying.}
^(c)2024

This is the first part of a three-part series. The impetus was something I read in Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, which I will reflect on in the last part. Part One delves into my childhood, growing up Jewish in what I consider a fairly religious household, although it was less religious than my grandparents’ households that my parents grew up in. Looking back, it is certainly more religious than I raised my own kids in, and that will be discussed in Part Two. Part Three, funny enough is the part I wrote first, but then kept expanding and writing and re-writing, and realized there was more backstory than I could fit into that section. I hope you enjoy reading about my past lives, and my reflections and reconciliations with who I am today and how I became that person, at least in this one aspect of my life.

Inspired. January.

Another year begins.

As I mentioned at the end of 2023, I plan to make more specific goals and follow through on intentions. I also think it’s important to look back and see if there is anything I could have done differently or better. I’m sure that there is, but I’m also proud of the work I’ve done in 2023, especially in my writing and expanding my writing and creativity.

In 2023, I made a total of 210 published writings. Most of these appeared right here, although a few of them were submitted to writing classes. This amounted to a total of 74,626 words. I may not have “won” Nanowrimo this year, but I did do a lot of writing.

I expect to teach a writing class again this spring, this one for eight weeks. I’m finalizing the syllabus and power points.

I’ve fallen into the Doctor Who rabbit hole. That will end this week after I rewatch the last two specials on Disney+ (for the second time). I loved the Christmas special that is starting out Ncuti Gatwa’s run as The Doctor. He returns in May with his first full season. It was brilliant to see David Tennant and Catherine Tate return as The Doctor (the 14th this time) and Donna Noble, my favorite Doctor/Companion pair.

Our tree went up with help from my middle son (he put it up) and my daughter (she put on the lights), and we celebrated Chanukah for a few extra days since we were interrupted by Covid by both myself and my husband. So far, entering the new year healthy.

I’ve expanded my spirituality, attending regular religious services as well as numerous retreats throughout the year. I’ve already scheduled a few for the next three months. I’ve also participated in the Cursillo movement and am currently writing a meditation card that is similar to other groups’ Examens. I am also on the women’s weekend team this fall. I’m looking forward to my presentation.

This is an Election Year (I mean, I guess every year is an Election Year, but this is a Presidential Election Year) and Election Connection will return in the near future, perhaps as early as next week.

Inspire will continue as Inspired as will Friday Food, and other fun series; yes, including Mental Health Monday, also popping up next week and then sporadically throughout the year. Suggestions and questions to address are always welcome, either as comments or as emails. There are also a couple of new pages coming soon! I’m very excited!

Overall, I’m looking forward to 2024, and I hope you’ll visit me here throughout the new year.

Inspire. December.

For nothing will be impossible with G-d
Luke 1:37

It’s been a rough one, and so it’s been a little rough getting to the inspiration portion of our post, but we will get there. I have been enjoying the little things of Advent: the readings, the faith enrichment I’ve been attending, the multicultural program on holiday lights, a workshop on the Redemption of Scrooge which links into our own priorities for this holiday season.

I’m also seeing how close G-d is to the surface of my life. In recent years, I have truly felt His presence, but the number of actions that had to take place recently really shouted out loud that G-d is everywhere. I believe that, and have always believed that in my heart, but to see it in tangible action can be overwhelming and the gratitude for that is at play and it sings out and amazes me.

Despite only recently finding Jesus Christ, I’ve always been a religious person in my own way, teaching my family our traditions, lighting candles at Chanukah, eating matzoh at Passover, fasting at Yom Kippur, but in finding Jesus, I have also found other ways to see G-d’s presence that I wasn’t always fully aware of.

Some back-story. On the home page is a personal update that included my falling down the stairs. I have been healing, slowly but surely, and I haven’t been able to drive. I’ve only just started driving locally. My husband has been alternating between vehicles depending on which car has more gas, where it’s going, or just arbitrarily choosing which car to take. He picked up my daughter and her friend from work the week of Thanksgiving, and was waiting in traffic, completely stopped with his turn signal on, when a pickup truck slammed into the back of the car. At the last minute, the pickup driver realized he was too close and moved to the right, trying to avoid us, but hit our car on the rear right side rather than dead on in the middle of the trunk. I think this caused more damage than it would have the other way.

Fortunately, no one was hurt.

Because of the holiday it took nearly a full week to get an estimate and find out that the insurance company would not repair it but deem it a total loss.

The idea that a car that we used multiple times daily, trying to teach two kids to drive, and get us from here to there in a town with limited public transportation isn’t worth the cost to fix it is something I will never understand. I do understand the cost-benefit analysis that goes into the decisions, but for us that car was worth much more than its monetary value and I don’t mean sentimentality, but necessity.

We were reasonably upset.

As it was before the accident, my husband was driving me (and everyone else in the household) everywhere; some days he was driving from one place to the next, never leaving the car until we were all home for dinner.

For one of the faith enrichment evenings, I got a ride from some friends of mine. (This is where G-d comes in). Afterwards, we were going back to their car when another mutual friend walked with them and was talking to them, asking if they knew anyone who was looking to buy a car – she was selling her father’s car. I immediately asked how much she was selling it for.

One week and a day later, we had a new (to us) car. We’re waiting for the insurance money to pay her for it.

Had my husband driven me, I would not have known about the car.

Had another friend driven me (as was the plan), I would not have known about the car.

Had the woman been parked in a different area of the parking lot, I would not have known about the car.

For me to be in the back seat of my friends’ car when this woman told them about her father’s car, and them just hearing about our car accident (and that we only found out that day it would be totaled) was nothing short of a miracle.

It was G-d’s hand in everything, and sometimes we stay aware of His influence just enough to recognize it and jump on it, and of course, when something like this happens, proclaim it.

Have a blessed finish to your Advent and a Merry Christmas.

Advent: First Sunday

The theme and, I suppose the objective also, of Advent is waiting in joyful hope. This is often the titles of books marketed to Catholics for their Advent reading. And that is really what it is. Becoming Catholic taught me that the Christmas season begins on Christmas Day, and the season of Advent is a special time in its own right. Last year, I was given a set of four candles for my Advent wreath and this year I have coupled those candles with my daily reflection book, my daily readings, and beginning on Tuesday, the Novena of the Immaculate Conception. However, this Advent, while I am in joyful hope and I am waiting for the birth of Christ, I am also struggling with parts of my faith and parts of my life.

I’ve spent this entire month writing for Nanowrimo, just stream of consciousing my way through my book about my travels to Wales, and I’ve made great progress. I am very pleased. I have almost reached the 50,000 word goal and I anticipate that I will complete it before the 30th.

Nanowrimo Kick-Off at the Library.
(c)2022

My personal update on the Home page explained my accident, and I believe I am in the must get worse before it gets better stage of recovery. My ankle is much better, and I am driving a little, but not far, staying in our small town when I am able. My husband has been doing everything. While I can cook, I can’t do any lifting and standing for a long period of time is difficult. Thanksgiving actually was the least stressful I have ever had. I gave a lot of directions and stirred one dish and added marshmallows to another on my own, but I had to rely on everyone else to do the heavy lifting. There were hardly any of the usual arguments, we put the turkey in the oven around 10:30am, and then everyone was free until about 4:30 when the sides would need to be prepared. I couldn’t believe how well it went.

I was even able to go to church for Thanksgiving mass. I wasn’t sure how it would go; it’s been just over a year since we lost our priest, and while our new priest is a joy, I do not like change. I wondered if we’d keep the traditions that we’ve had, that I’ve gotten used to over the last few years, and I was happy to see that most traditions held.

Our church gives all the parishioners a loaf of bread and a short prayer for our Thanksgiving table. It is one of the things I love about our church – those seemingly little things that are so personal.

Right before Thanksgiving, my husband was driving my daughter home from work when they were rear-ended. Hard. No one was hurt, PBTG, but because of the holiday we won’t know about the car until tomorrow or Tuesday. It needed to be towed from the accident. This is a struggle, and a sadness, and it is hard to get past the awfulness of possibly losing the car, something that was so important to our family. Of course, we are so relieved and grateful that no one was hurt, and it was only materials that may be lost.

Last weekend, I returned from my annual retreat. The theme was Change. And I have gone through so many changes, and many more continue to happen, whether I like it or not. I had to laugh when I found out the theme. I discovered it soon after my first reconciliation with our new priest, and after giving him the litany of things that are bothering me, and frustrating me, he commented, “Boy, you’re going through a lot of changes.” Yes. Yes, I am! In addition to the new priest, my therapist is retiring (soon!) among other things.

And I shouldn’t forget the good changes. I taught for the first time in a long time. This was for adults and it was a writing class. Next semester, I’m teaching two, so that is both exciting and terrifying. This one went well (I think), and I hope the next ones go as well and better (crosses fingers). As with all teachers, I spent more than I made, but such is the life of the classroom. I’ll hope to downsize my affinity (obsession) with handouts and maybe lower my overhead.

I’m hoping that with this Advent, I can slow down. I can focus. I can focus on my faith, and also on how I’m approaching the things in my life. It is a good time to reevaluate and reassess and wonder about the changes that will inevitably be coming, whether I like it or not.

Through it all, I’m trying to keep my perspective and my faith. This is the first day of the Advent journey which will ultimately end with the Birth of Christ. But of course, that is only the beginning, isn’t it?

Some photos that I wanted to share: The first two are works-in-progress sketches on I did on my retreat from things that I saw around me in the dining and the conference rooms. The third photo is the statue of Harriet Tubman and William Seward outside the library where the Nanowrimo Kick-Off was held on November 1st. I was also there when they dedicated the statue. I love history.

Statue of Harriet Tubman and William Seward.
(c)2022

Thank You, Jes—Angela. <3

I watched a lot of television as a child. One of my deepest memories is lying on the living room couch, sick from school, and watching Happy Days. It wasn’t this particular episode, but I actually watched live as Fonzie jumped the shark. I wonder when my own teenagers use that phrase if they know where it came from or if they realize that Mom and Dad were there when history was made.

Consequently, when I think back on my childhood television watching it is blended together. I can’t distinguish how old I was when I watched certain things. Was it in elementary school? High school? College? And the plethora of genres and actors are infinitely uncountable.

I went through an Abbott and Costello phase. A Claudette Colbert phase. Katherine Hepburn. Cary Grant. Grace Kelly. Harrison Ford. Nancy Drew & Hardy Boys. Simon & Simon. Matlock and Murder, She Wrote. Lou Grant. The list goes on and on. I even wrote Star Wars fan fiction, which I hope is buried deeply in an abyss somewhere never to be found again.

I was especially drawn to shows about detectives, lawyers, and writers. If they were all three, well, that was the ultimate trifecta jackpot.

One of my favorites was Murder, She Wrote starring Angela Lansbury. I have always continued to admire her and follow her career as much as possible. In reading celebrations of her life, I’ve learned new things, although while they sound new, they also sound familiar. Perhaps I’ve heard them before and they sit in the back of my brain waiting for the reminders.

Two stand out in particular. Her daughter had fallen in with the wrong crowd and was abusing drugs, being encouraged to steal from her family. Angela moved the entire family to Ireland. The person influencing her daughter? Charles Manson. The second to stand out was that Angela hired, and even wrote specific characters for specific actors so that they would get their acting hours in to remain eligible for their union benefits. She was good people.

I was much younger than the core demographic for the show, but I was drawn in, to the stories, the characters, and the writing – both Jessica Fletcher’s writing as well as the writing of the show itself. I would find myself being able to anticipate plot points and guessing who the murderer might be and why I thought that. This is one of the reasons I love Only Murders in the Building so much. It gives me the same interactive feeling of being a part of the show.

With Murder, She Wrote since I was so much younger than Jessica, I had something to look forward to; something to attain, to reach for. She started writing later in life – a middle age that was far off for me – and so it was never an impossible dream, but something to sit on in patience; to strive for.

The picture I’ve used of Angela Lansbury as Jessica Fletcher epitomizes my idea of a writer. I sit at my dining room table right now, clicking and clacking my keyboard as the words form on the screen. Where the sink and window are behind her, mine are within my field of vision, a tea kettle quietly bubbling, its blue light illuminating its base in place of Jessica’s tall, silver coffee pot. Next to me, there is a cup and a straw of Diet Coke, but it is often hot tea. I have papers and pens, pencils, and markers strewn about the surface of the table, a three-hole hole puncher, a pencil case, a church bulletin, a handful of bills, and of course, I’m wearing my glasses. It’s as if the fantasy life of Jessica Fletcher has come alive for me here.

And it is alive. I’m teaching a writing class, I’m writing a book, among other things, I’m drinking something full of caffeine, and I’m moving onto the next sentence, the next paragraph, the next chapter.

I’ve been thinking a lot about chapters lately, but that needs another sheet of paper, and the groceries need buying. Maybe I still have a little Jessica Fletcher in me after all.

Thank you Jessica. And thank you, Angela Lansbury. Rest well.

Update on Mental Health Madness

Be careful when complaining about all the commitments you have scheduled and listed out. As of last night, I have no commitments, zero, nada, zilch. None.

The spoiler is that I have covid. I suppose the good news is that those new-found allergies are not allergies, which I will appreciate more next spring. For anyone interested in the less-than-sordid details, read on:

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
	1	2	3	4	5	6
7	8	9	10	11	12	13
14	15	16	17	18	19	20
21	22	23	24	25	26	27
28	29	30	31

Griffins and Ginger Snaps

-I write, and I have a blog because of course I do-

my 42