Manic Pixie Dream Girl

could cancer bring out my inner Audrey Hepburn?

ICYMI: Last week I was honored to be featured in this profile in

Oldster Magazine

which brought a heart-warming outpouring of support. Thank you to everyone who commented and to the supportive community at

The Isolation Journals with Suleika Jaouad

I highly recommend both of these publications. They will reaffirm your faith in humanity.

I hate roller coasters.

Yet in 2017 at Coney Island, I rode the historic Cyclone. It was a family milestone moment - we were getting ready to drop our oldest daughter off at college - and I felt it warranted a big gesture, one that would take me out of my comfort zone as we prepared to enter this new phase of life.

Riding the Cyclone wasn’t as bad as I expected and I really enjoyed being able to woof about it afterwards. My two daughters, who had flanked me during the ride, dutifully expressed their admiration. Then, they took off for the Thunderbolt, famous for its vertical drop and inversions, and rode it over and over again until closing time.

I’m beginning to appreciate the physics behind roller coasters as I embark on my cancer ride. Gearing up for surgery next week, I’m at the stage of shifting between maximum potential and kinetic energy.

I’ve been basking in the warmth of support from friends, family, and strangers on Substack. I’ve been preparing for surgery like Rocky Balboa before a big fight, because I’ve learned from experience that the stronger you are going in, the easier the recovery.

I’m pounding the elliptical while listening to powerful playlists made by a friend; I’m running to Stop Making Sense; I’m swimming; I’m playing pickleball and lifting weights; I’m eating kale and kabocha and beets and salmon in the hopes that I can Vitamin A, B, C, D my way out of this.

“Cancer is full of surprises, some of them good,” someone told me, and I have set the intention to make the most of the coming year. Thanks to our conversation about rowing programs for breast cancer survivors, I found Team Survivor Northwest. A part of me thinks it would be cool to take up dragon boat racing next spring.

On a whim, I submitted an entry to a writing contest. “Look at you go!” remarked my fellow-writer oldest daughter.

Just like they buoyed me on the Cyclone, both of my daughters are supporting me via daily text threads. Their gif game is strong.

And thus, the term “Jersey Virgo” was born.

But if I’m honest, it all feels a bit manic.

Though I like the image of myself as someone undaunted by challenges and, for the most part that’s who I am, there’s no denying the fear and frustration over the centripetal forces that will dominate my life for the next year. Even though my cancer was caught early, the prognosis is good, and there are legions of survivors to reassure me it’ll be okay, I’m still going to go through some things. Every now and then (often, annoyingly in the middle of the night), I remember that.

The other day I started thinking about my hair.

During chemo, I plan to try the cold cap in the hopes that I can salvage my thin, fine hair, but I’ve been warned the success rate is limited.

I Googled “head coverings for chemo patients” and found lots of chic and exotic pre-tied scarves and turbans, along with jaunty berets and cloches.

Now my social media feeds are filled with ads featuring beautiful women in turbans, with the slogan “Be empowered, be yourself.”

Maybe this would be an opportunity for a style refresh. I Googled “French Girl Style” and “Classic French Hair Cuts” and imagined myself looking chic and sleek with short hair, bold matte lipstick, a button down shirt, and cigarette trousers.

Who am I kidding?

Bad hair day (after a night in a tent)

I am not naturally that pulled-together of a person, though I am proud to say I rocked my three months with an ostomy bag. Clearly, I will need to let go of expectations and enjoy the ride.

Anne Lamott comes in handy at a time like this.

My gift to myself, which I am gifting to you, was her opinion piece which ran in the Washington Post a few days ago. Do yourself a favor and read the whole thing.

Aging has brought a modicum of self-compassion, and acceptance of what my husband and I call “the Sitch”: the bodily and cognitive decline that we all face sooner or later. - Anne Lamott

At Beckler Peak a few days ago. I didn’t give a shit about my hair.

The Best Things I Recently Cooked to Satisfy Cravings

Red and Yellow Bell Pepper Sauce with Sausages adapted from Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking and The Kale Salad That Started it All from Joshua McFadden’s Six Seasons (that salad is all over the Internet. Google it and you’ll find it).

I’ve been grooving on food in a way I haven’t since I was pregnant - the cravings have been distinct and undeniable and, not surprisingly, veer towards comfort food.

Like many New Jersey women in the ‘60s and ‘70s, my mother (who inspired my love of cooking) made delicious Italian food. There was nothing better than coming into a warm house on a cold, crisp autumn evening to discover that she was making Rigatoni in Tomato Sauce, with Peppers and Italian Sausage.

Marcella Hazan has a version of this, which I adapt to be more like my mother’s. First and foremost, I only serve it with rigatoni.

Red and Yellow Bell Pepper Sauce with Sausages, adapted from Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking

3 meaty bell peppers (red, yellow, orange); 4 T extra virgin olive oil; 2 T chopped onion; 4 Italian sausages cut into 1/2-inch pieces; salt and pepper; 1 28 oz can chopped San Marzano tomatoes (original recipe calls for only 1 cup of canned chopped tomatoes. I like a saucier, tangier sauce).

1. Cut peppers into 1-inch square pieces (original recipe says peel them. I don’t)

2. Put olive oil and onion in a saute pan over medium-high heat. Cook until onion turns gold. Add sausages, cook for 2 minutes, then add peppers and cook for 7-8 minutes; add salt and pepper and stir.

3. Add tomatoes and simmer for 20 minutes.

4. Serve with cooked rigatoni or the past of your choice (Marcella recommends pappardelle). Marcella suggests tossing pasta with 1 T of butter, which I never do. Non-negotiable is serving this with freshly grated parmesan cheese.

Marcella’s iconic Tomato Sauce with Onion and Butter is also all over the Internet. If you’re not familiar with it, stop what you are doing and Google it immediately.