Two years ago, I started a self-indulgent phenomenon on my own accord and called it Fancy Friday. The gist of said idea was to plop my ass in the sand every Friday (usually at Soho Beach House) and just be while the two kiddos were in school. You know, to disconnect from my BlackBerry and simply enjoy the present moment (which continues to be a challenge for the ADD demon lurking inside of me). At first, I would find myself twitching like a heroin addict in my chaise lounge — grappling for my phone for another fix — paranoid I was missing out on work, scoring potential new clients, yadda, yadda, yadda… but then something magical happened. I stopped caring.
Poof, just like that.
When I got the whole “keep calm and disconnect” thing under control, I realized my gregarious nature was craving female companionship. And so I decided to let my friends in on what felt like my dirty little secret. And their responses were something along the lines of, “Maria, you are a MENSA genius!” (um, that’s a lie) or “Hello, why didn’t we think about this ages ago. Duh.”
Now in its second year, Fancy Friday has spiraled into a really important time for my soul. And I’d like to think my fellow Fancy Fridayers, Ginger, Marcella, Mary Jo and Sofi would agree, too. Like a visit to a therapist’s office, we discuss our kids, try to work out our problems, complain about pain-in-the-ass clients, vent about our family — you know, the kind of headaches that invariably come with being a mature adult. And somehow, these worries placate by a simple dip in the ocean and just talking. Oh, and the spiked lemonade helps, too.
So the takeaway here? Life is short. Make time for the relationship that matters the most in your life — the one with yourself. Dedicate some time to living mindfully and engaging in slower activities. And despite living in an era increasingly dominated by technology, we as human beings crave tangible, intimate connections — so nurture this need.
And if you ever want to join me on Friday, just say the word.