Here it is, lucky 7...though, with my training schedule for my new job, it was a tough one to think up, orchestrate, and complete....oh well, at least i managed to focus enough to fulfill my commitment. Social Column 7
This is my first spring in Delmarva, and I find it breathtaking. I have never seen more beautiful flowering trees and bushes, and everything is magically green and lush already.
You know from last week's column on the first Ocean City Marathon that I am not athletically inclined, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy the great outdoors. The "great outdoors" here is truly that. What I find fascinating is that there is so much diversity. Like a peaceful walk along the beach? Go to Assateaque. Like a beach studded with bronzed bodies and 3 miles of boardwalk chock full of shops and an amusement park? Go to Ocean City. Want a serene forest with a meandering river? Go to Pokemoke State Park.
My personal favorite is Assateaque Island. Last year, as I contemplated my move here from the midwest, the wild ponies at Assateaque were an almost mystical draw for me. Where else in the world could I experience that? And to live in a place where seeing them was as easy as going to the corner store for a paper? The park is located 8 miles south of Ocean City, and may be reached via MD RT 50 to MD RT 611. Assateaque has the distinction of being Maryland's only ocean park ,and is a barrier island bordered on the west by Sinepuxent Bay, and the east by the Atlantic Ocean. Some of the recreational activities include fishing, swimming, canoeing, biking, crabbing, and clamming. Both the state park and the national park offer camping, too. A good bet if you want a full list of things to do is to stop in at the Barrier Island Visitor Center, located to your right before you cross the bridge to the island. Speaking of the bridge, it is awesome to park your car in the provided parking lot, and walk across the bridge. There are telescopes set up, and it's a scenic and painless way to enjoy the view and get exercise at the same time.
If miles of pristine beach, unbroken by manmade structures is too quiet for you, head out to Ocean City. I haven't experienced the hustle and bustle of the boardwalk in the summer yet, ( I think that will be a column of it's own), but even my winter walks have given me a taste of what that will be. The boardwalk stretches for almost three miles, from the inlet in South Ocean City to 27th St., and is chock full of shops, food pavilions, and amusements. In 1902, the first boardwalk was just a few blocks long and built of wooden planks that hotel keepers rolled up and put on their porches during high tide. The boardwalk as we know it today was lengthened and renovated in 1962, after a March storm leveled the existing structure. It is a great place to stroll , shop and people watch. A must is to ride Trimper's Carousel, which is the oldest continuously operating carousel in the county, with two tiers of painted and carved animals. It is also the location of the celebrated Spring Fest, a four day festival of entertainment, arts and crafts, and food, celebrated Thursday through Sunday, May 5-8. ( I will be there!).
Pokemoke State Park? I wouldn't do it justice if I squeezed it into my limited space in this week's column. I am planning a picnic there next month, with a tour of nearby Furnace Town, so look forward to an in depth story on my adventure. Enjoy our beautiful spring, and see you at Springfest this weekend!
omplete....
Monday, April 25, 2005
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
April 12th~~
I thought i had escaped the birthday....My mom was born on April 9th. Those of you who know me realize that it is a date, along with her death-date, that is a flag to my emotional health, my life.
She died the day before my 14th birthday...she was my friend, my best friend. She understood me as no other, and being with her was being with myself, because I never saw the boundaries that proved she wasn't me. Crazy? Probably....especially if you have never been that comfortable, that safe, with another human being. And yet, it wasn't all comfort and roses...there was plenty of pain caused by her drinking, and it wasn't a BORING kind of comfortable, rather an intellectual playmate, with deep, metaphysical succor, surrounded by a sense of innocence and fun and love for God, people, animals and nature.
WHEW! what a person to lose...Is it any wonder I am on a subconscious quest, trying to find/be/recapture those things, with every human being i am intimate with?
I thought I had escaped this time...for her birthday and her deathday have triggered intense emotional meltdowns for me.
The first year, at 14, I held a razor to my wrist, and wanted to die. ( I was to chicken, too full of desire, to do that)
The rest of my teenage years, I stuffed myself with chocolate and books and straight A's, which was a chubby yet productive way to hide the pain.
I did other things to try to bring her back...not ready nor able to discuss them now., but some stand out in my memory...
At 26, holding my first born, fantasing that he was SHE, reincarnated, and holding my baby tight, looking for signs of her spirit...
At 35, working as a bartender, drinking Rum and Coke like water, until i was so dead drunk i was terrified of the loss of control, and walked around the building after work mumbling to her, begging her to come back.]
At 42, the age she herself died, putting an empty chair across from me, trying to DIALOG with her, forgive her for leaving me, and ending up wailing like a lost child, such an eerie keening that I ended up laughing at my desperation...
And now, the eve of being 50, letting the date pass without frantic calls to my sisters, without seeing her reincarnated, without getting pie-eyed...Almost smug in my surety that I am over her...
Until i realized yesterday I made "Mommy's chicken" a dish i haven't made in over two years. Until I made "stuffed cabbage" tonight, a dish i haven't made in at least five. I used to help her squish the meat, and was very serious as she instructed me how to wrap the filling around the cabbage...
So, I haven't escaped, have I? Each redbird, OUR bird, I see, makes my heart catch. The chicken was delicious, and the stuffed cabbage smells delightful.
This year, Mom, I cooked with you. It was always a favorite thing we did. You are still my best friend, and always will be. Happy Birthday...love, LeeLee
Ps. I still miss you.
I thought i had escaped the birthday....My mom was born on April 9th. Those of you who know me realize that it is a date, along with her death-date, that is a flag to my emotional health, my life.
She died the day before my 14th birthday...she was my friend, my best friend. She understood me as no other, and being with her was being with myself, because I never saw the boundaries that proved she wasn't me. Crazy? Probably....especially if you have never been that comfortable, that safe, with another human being. And yet, it wasn't all comfort and roses...there was plenty of pain caused by her drinking, and it wasn't a BORING kind of comfortable, rather an intellectual playmate, with deep, metaphysical succor, surrounded by a sense of innocence and fun and love for God, people, animals and nature.
WHEW! what a person to lose...Is it any wonder I am on a subconscious quest, trying to find/be/recapture those things, with every human being i am intimate with?
I thought I had escaped this time...for her birthday and her deathday have triggered intense emotional meltdowns for me.
The first year, at 14, I held a razor to my wrist, and wanted to die. ( I was to chicken, too full of desire, to do that)
The rest of my teenage years, I stuffed myself with chocolate and books and straight A's, which was a chubby yet productive way to hide the pain.
I did other things to try to bring her back...not ready nor able to discuss them now., but some stand out in my memory...
At 26, holding my first born, fantasing that he was SHE, reincarnated, and holding my baby tight, looking for signs of her spirit...
At 35, working as a bartender, drinking Rum and Coke like water, until i was so dead drunk i was terrified of the loss of control, and walked around the building after work mumbling to her, begging her to come back.]
At 42, the age she herself died, putting an empty chair across from me, trying to DIALOG with her, forgive her for leaving me, and ending up wailing like a lost child, such an eerie keening that I ended up laughing at my desperation...
And now, the eve of being 50, letting the date pass without frantic calls to my sisters, without seeing her reincarnated, without getting pie-eyed...Almost smug in my surety that I am over her...
Until i realized yesterday I made "Mommy's chicken" a dish i haven't made in over two years. Until I made "stuffed cabbage" tonight, a dish i haven't made in at least five. I used to help her squish the meat, and was very serious as she instructed me how to wrap the filling around the cabbage...
So, I haven't escaped, have I? Each redbird, OUR bird, I see, makes my heart catch. The chicken was delicious, and the stuffed cabbage smells delightful.
This year, Mom, I cooked with you. It was always a favorite thing we did. You are still my best friend, and always will be. Happy Birthday...love, LeeLee
Ps. I still miss you.
Monday, April 11, 2005
April 11th~~
So much is happening in the gladiator world of my finances; Romans 10/Christians uhuh. My back molar is aching and pulsing, and I wrote my column to the staccato beat of pain. Doesn't matter. All those things are just what is, right now, not who I am, not who i will be.
But, beyond those things, that are colouring my perceptions, the glory of spring here in Delmarva is enough to make a poet weep. Each highly sketched work of art reveals itself in high drama: a robin, scarlet breast swollen and bright, perched on a gnarled tree of white blossoms....rich, vibrant fields,trim, emerald green against tall, bleached swatches of last years hay....pansies everywhere, like party hats, planted by delirious homeowners and shopkeepers alike, in urns, in planters, scampering down walkways.
And the scents!! Chicken shit from the farms, and brown manure being flung from huge farm trucks in the fields...Sweet magnolia and dogwood and witch hazel blooms....first cuts of grass, with the sleepy lawn mower ruuurrr as a backdrop, and , underlying it all, the smell of the sea.
Spring comes like the sudden passionate kiss of a lover here. Long anticipated, longed for,and all encompassing, when first felt.
I am in love.
So much is happening in the gladiator world of my finances; Romans 10/Christians uhuh. My back molar is aching and pulsing, and I wrote my column to the staccato beat of pain. Doesn't matter. All those things are just what is, right now, not who I am, not who i will be.
But, beyond those things, that are colouring my perceptions, the glory of spring here in Delmarva is enough to make a poet weep. Each highly sketched work of art reveals itself in high drama: a robin, scarlet breast swollen and bright, perched on a gnarled tree of white blossoms....rich, vibrant fields,trim, emerald green against tall, bleached swatches of last years hay....pansies everywhere, like party hats, planted by delirious homeowners and shopkeepers alike, in urns, in planters, scampering down walkways.
And the scents!! Chicken shit from the farms, and brown manure being flung from huge farm trucks in the fields...Sweet magnolia and dogwood and witch hazel blooms....first cuts of grass, with the sleepy lawn mower ruuurrr as a backdrop, and , underlying it all, the smell of the sea.
Spring comes like the sudden passionate kiss of a lover here. Long anticipated, longed for,and all encompassing, when first felt.
I am in love.
Social Column 5~~~I admit it. I am thoroughly infatuated with art and artists. My mom doodled pagodas and swanky ladies dolled up in furs, and both of my sisters are talented with pencil and paint. Me? I can draw a pretty good stick figure, and a bunny fashioned from a capitol B., but, that's about it. To make up for the glaring lack of talent in my family's artistic gene pool, I have become an avid art enthusiast, instead. I have traveled to some of the finest art museums in the world, but what I really love the best are local, intimate art galleries.
I used to think that they were for only for the upper crust, and I have to admit I was intimidated by going to an opening reception. Could be because of the first one I ever attended, where even the fresh strawberries were dressed up in chocolate tuxedos. Yikes!
The galleries I have experienced here are different. I think there are several reasons for this. First of all, the beauty of our bays and beach and farms draw artists here like a magnet. indeed, I consider our area a Mecca for aspiring and established artists alike. Secondly, there is a laid back, casual feel to the galleries I have attended, where people can visit in jeans and t-shirts, if desired, making art "shopping" accessible to all, yet the art itself is world class.
The first gallery I visited since moving here is a case in point. The Waterline Gallery, located in a historic building in downtown Berlin, is both elegant and casual. The caliber of art is phenomenal, yet they still do fun things like their monthly open-mic night, where they provide music and appetizers as well as art. Watch for a spectacular reception on April 23rd. Gallery information is available at (410)641-9119.
Last Saturday I was able to add a new favorite to my ramblings in the art world. I stepped into The Beachcombers Easel Art Gallery, on the corner of Routes 50 & 611 in West Ocean City, and immediately felt the excitement of a great array of creative art mediums, including hand wrought jewelry, and sculpture. The owner, Edith Vogl, is a fifth generation painter herself, and the gallery is very supportive of both emerging artists and those who are already well ensconced in the area. They were holding one of their monthly receptions, complete with snacks and champagne, but the best part was being able to meet several of the featured artists themselves. Doris Price, from Millsboro, De, has been a studio painter for more than thirty years. A diminutive woman with powerful personal magnetism, her paintings reflect a bold radiance and love of music. Jim Adcock, an Ocean Pines resident, taught art in Baltimore in the 70's, and has lived here for over 10 years. He has a special gift for taking the landmarks and icons exclusive to our area, and painting them into cherished memories. It was wonderful meeting you both, Doris and Jim. Look for Beachcombers next reception on May 14th, featuring Judith Johnson's dreamy waterscapes. The gallery can be reached at (410)213-9433.
Well worth a visit is A Step Above, another art gallery in downtown Berlin. With over 4,000 square feet of display space and over 100 regional artists showcased, I was fascinated by all the different types of art available. Rustic birdcages, hand painted bottles, pottery, carvers, hand-woven clothes, stained glass, as well as a painting gallery, the owner, William Outten, has done an outstanding job promoting the work of local artists. They also hold monthly receptions; and the gallery can be reached at (410)629-0988.
These are just a few choice gems in my foray in the art world here. Do call and find out monthly receptions, hours of operation, ect. They are food for the soul and alot of fun, too, and you might just take home a precious memory of the Eastern Shore.
See you next week!
I used to think that they were for only for the upper crust, and I have to admit I was intimidated by going to an opening reception. Could be because of the first one I ever attended, where even the fresh strawberries were dressed up in chocolate tuxedos. Yikes!
The galleries I have experienced here are different. I think there are several reasons for this. First of all, the beauty of our bays and beach and farms draw artists here like a magnet. indeed, I consider our area a Mecca for aspiring and established artists alike. Secondly, there is a laid back, casual feel to the galleries I have attended, where people can visit in jeans and t-shirts, if desired, making art "shopping" accessible to all, yet the art itself is world class.
The first gallery I visited since moving here is a case in point. The Waterline Gallery, located in a historic building in downtown Berlin, is both elegant and casual. The caliber of art is phenomenal, yet they still do fun things like their monthly open-mic night, where they provide music and appetizers as well as art. Watch for a spectacular reception on April 23rd. Gallery information is available at (410)641-9119.
Last Saturday I was able to add a new favorite to my ramblings in the art world. I stepped into The Beachcombers Easel Art Gallery, on the corner of Routes 50 & 611 in West Ocean City, and immediately felt the excitement of a great array of creative art mediums, including hand wrought jewelry, and sculpture. The owner, Edith Vogl, is a fifth generation painter herself, and the gallery is very supportive of both emerging artists and those who are already well ensconced in the area. They were holding one of their monthly receptions, complete with snacks and champagne, but the best part was being able to meet several of the featured artists themselves. Doris Price, from Millsboro, De, has been a studio painter for more than thirty years. A diminutive woman with powerful personal magnetism, her paintings reflect a bold radiance and love of music. Jim Adcock, an Ocean Pines resident, taught art in Baltimore in the 70's, and has lived here for over 10 years. He has a special gift for taking the landmarks and icons exclusive to our area, and painting them into cherished memories. It was wonderful meeting you both, Doris and Jim. Look for Beachcombers next reception on May 14th, featuring Judith Johnson's dreamy waterscapes. The gallery can be reached at (410)213-9433.
Well worth a visit is A Step Above, another art gallery in downtown Berlin. With over 4,000 square feet of display space and over 100 regional artists showcased, I was fascinated by all the different types of art available. Rustic birdcages, hand painted bottles, pottery, carvers, hand-woven clothes, stained glass, as well as a painting gallery, the owner, William Outten, has done an outstanding job promoting the work of local artists. They also hold monthly receptions; and the gallery can be reached at (410)629-0988.
These are just a few choice gems in my foray in the art world here. Do call and find out monthly receptions, hours of operation, ect. They are food for the soul and alot of fun, too, and you might just take home a precious memory of the Eastern Shore.
See you next week!
Friday, April 08, 2005
Friday, April 8th
I feel like a nomad in duststiffened jeans and worn shoes. I don't know how i made it thru this winter, struggling like crazy with bosses intent on making me their concubines, pay that i made when i was 20, and juggling finances and justin and my heart vrs. my head.
But, make it i did. The daffadils are nodding their golden heads, and somehow remind me of the sleepy field of poppies in the wizard of oz. I want to tip each of their heads up, look into their eyes, and say WAKE UP! But, who am i to tell another living creature how to enjoy their day?
I am ablaze with the thought of flowers to plant, i can see them breaking through the earth, tiny slivers of brave green, nourished by sun and water into boisterous flowers...streaming scent and colour and winking with delight at life.
I tried on my jeans that i wore the first time i met Rikk....somehow, the comedy went like this....PULL! PULL!! TUG! TUG!! Huh? what's wrong with these pants? did they SHRINK, in storage over the winter? Must be the humidity in the attic...
Nah...my hips are wider and my belly a little buddha. Thank God it all looks better, naked, lying down. Still, that's no excuse. I will keep walking, stop eating ice cream, and get back into those cute little tiny jeans with the winking tear over my right cheek.
Got a new job...not a maybe job, not a just-ANYTHING-to-survive-job,but a sales position with a national bedding company. Full benefits, paid training, ect. I am not loving it, of course, because it isnt where my heart is...but, I will seize the opportunity to get out of debt, get ahead., while i continue my writing.
Time to go try on the rest of my summer clothes. I think i am going to be rudely awakened, and can see alot of South Beach menus in my near future....later...
I feel like a nomad in duststiffened jeans and worn shoes. I don't know how i made it thru this winter, struggling like crazy with bosses intent on making me their concubines, pay that i made when i was 20, and juggling finances and justin and my heart vrs. my head.
But, make it i did. The daffadils are nodding their golden heads, and somehow remind me of the sleepy field of poppies in the wizard of oz. I want to tip each of their heads up, look into their eyes, and say WAKE UP! But, who am i to tell another living creature how to enjoy their day?
I am ablaze with the thought of flowers to plant, i can see them breaking through the earth, tiny slivers of brave green, nourished by sun and water into boisterous flowers...streaming scent and colour and winking with delight at life.
I tried on my jeans that i wore the first time i met Rikk....somehow, the comedy went like this....PULL! PULL!! TUG! TUG!! Huh? what's wrong with these pants? did they SHRINK, in storage over the winter? Must be the humidity in the attic...
Nah...my hips are wider and my belly a little buddha. Thank God it all looks better, naked, lying down. Still, that's no excuse. I will keep walking, stop eating ice cream, and get back into those cute little tiny jeans with the winking tear over my right cheek.
Got a new job...not a maybe job, not a just-ANYTHING-to-survive-job,but a sales position with a national bedding company. Full benefits, paid training, ect. I am not loving it, of course, because it isnt where my heart is...but, I will seize the opportunity to get out of debt, get ahead., while i continue my writing.
Time to go try on the rest of my summer clothes. I think i am going to be rudely awakened, and can see alot of South Beach menus in my near future....later...
Monday, April 04, 2005
Monday, April 4th~~
I know i have been consumed by my column in the paper...rediculous, really, in the grand scheme of things, but not so rediculous, in my own scheme.
And isnt that the way it really is? I love tulips, i can sit in the cold and dirt and study their form and structure and touch their leaves, waiting to delight in their color, their intrinsic femininity, get pollen on my nose, that alien male touch, that tickles, that sticks, just as a man, in his desire, sticks to a woman.
Uhoh. I can hear those that love me starting to squack..."don't be so open! watch your boundries! have some MYSTERY!"
Truth be told, within my smile, within my words, so open and free, I am as the tulip, layered, opening only with the sun, done in by rabbits and small, nibbling creatures, closing tight, and holding fast, against the pecularities of spring.
Cold won't destroy me. Neither will rain, nor sleet, and snow. I guess the worst I can go through is a bit of frostbite, or maybe a season or two without flowering.
I can handle that. Cuz i know my roots grab deep. Later.
I know i have been consumed by my column in the paper...rediculous, really, in the grand scheme of things, but not so rediculous, in my own scheme.
And isnt that the way it really is? I love tulips, i can sit in the cold and dirt and study their form and structure and touch their leaves, waiting to delight in their color, their intrinsic femininity, get pollen on my nose, that alien male touch, that tickles, that sticks, just as a man, in his desire, sticks to a woman.
Uhoh. I can hear those that love me starting to squack..."don't be so open! watch your boundries! have some MYSTERY!"
Truth be told, within my smile, within my words, so open and free, I am as the tulip, layered, opening only with the sun, done in by rabbits and small, nibbling creatures, closing tight, and holding fast, against the pecularities of spring.
Cold won't destroy me. Neither will rain, nor sleet, and snow. I guess the worst I can go through is a bit of frostbite, or maybe a season or two without flowering.
I can handle that. Cuz i know my roots grab deep. Later.
Social Column 4
Food. Glorious Food. Having grown up in an Italian family, this is one subject I hold close to my heart, if not my hips. I can remember being swathed in a flowery apron, peeking into fragrant, simmering pots, with my grandma teaching me her "secret" recipe for macaroni and meatballs. Later, I learned at my mother's side, for she was a formidable cook, entertaining my father's business clients with savvy international cuisine.So, I am no stranger to "good eats." A very lucky woman, I have lived in Florida, and eaten fresh fish grilled in dockside cafes, in Alabama , where the BBQ reigns sublime, in North Jersey where the bread is the best and the deli's are divine, and in Detroit ,where widemouth bass is served on a charred cedar plank. But I have to tell you, for sheer diversity and delectiblity, Delmarva is winning my Salvitating Award, tongue down.
Maybe it has to do with the ocean breezes and the freshest of seafood? The fresh vegetables from the local farms? The cosmopolitan influence from our visitors from New York, Baltimore, and DC? I don't know, I don't really care, all I know is that if Chefs have a heaven, it's here.
But don't take my word for it. I asked a local Bed and Breakfast owner where she suggests her guests go eat...She looked up and to the left, as if the sky held the answer to my question, then, hand in chin, replied " hmmmn...that's a hard question to answer.. I love to suggest The Atlantic Hotel, for it's ambiance, charm, and sophisticated cuisine. The Globe Theater always has great sandwiches and now features evening specials, with great artwork and collectibles for sale., and Goober's is a favorite breakfast spot for locals.All three restaurants are located in Berlin.
Personally, I love the crabcake sandwich at Captain's Gallery,on the water at West Ocean City's Harbor.Crispy outside, sweet and succulent inside, all served in a fresh roll..YUM! This past summer, family came in from Long Island, NY, and we had a steamed crab feast to die for, courtesy of Crabs to Go, on the corner of Routes 50 & 589.It was the traditional eastern shore feast, and we served the spicy crabs piled on a newspaper tablecloth,family style, with plenty of beer and wooden mallets to crack through the shell to the tender crab inside. I love the roast beef at Bull on the Beach, at 94th St.& Boardwalk, sliced thin, flavorful, and piled high.It's great when you are oystered, clammed, and shrimped out, and just want some solid beef under your belt. Fager's Island, 60th St On the Bay, is a romantic, extravagant restaurant, which I found pricey, but worth it. The black pepper crusted blue cheese steak is to die for, and I confess I spent a full 10 minutes in the ladies room, just sitting on the plush sofa, and admiring the lavish fixtures. (it's the little things in life that count.)
There have to be a MILLION restaurants to choose from. But, what if you are sun and sea tired, and just want a shower and movie at the condo? I can't wait until Avalon opens, a upperscale gourmet market and takeout located near the White Marlin Mall in Ocean City. The owner has a vision of the freshest of vegetables, delectable salads and entrees, and citified expresso and coffees, packaged and ready to enjoy at home, at the beach, or for special social functions. Won't be bad for hard working mom's and dad's, too tired to cook, either. They plan their grand opening for early May, 2005. I love the sandwiches and bologna hotdogs at Coin's restaurant,( a little cholesterol is good for the soul, sometimes) located at 28th St, downtown Ocean City. You've got to have a pizza place, and I like Mione's, at the White Marlin Mall in Ocean City. The large pizza was tasty, with real mozzarella cheese, not that fake stuff, and big enough to satisfy even a lusty eater like me.
So who have I left out? I bet a LOT of great restaurants, alot of places that locals and vacationers alike hold tight, as the closely guarded secrets they are. Come on, share..! We all love to eat, we all want to know the "hot spots" to go..I have given you a few of mine., what's your's??? Let me know via the Bayside Gazette, or my web-address, listed below.
See you next week!
Food. Glorious Food. Having grown up in an Italian family, this is one subject I hold close to my heart, if not my hips. I can remember being swathed in a flowery apron, peeking into fragrant, simmering pots, with my grandma teaching me her "secret" recipe for macaroni and meatballs. Later, I learned at my mother's side, for she was a formidable cook, entertaining my father's business clients with savvy international cuisine.So, I am no stranger to "good eats." A very lucky woman, I have lived in Florida, and eaten fresh fish grilled in dockside cafes, in Alabama , where the BBQ reigns sublime, in North Jersey where the bread is the best and the deli's are divine, and in Detroit ,where widemouth bass is served on a charred cedar plank. But I have to tell you, for sheer diversity and delectiblity, Delmarva is winning my Salvitating Award, tongue down.
Maybe it has to do with the ocean breezes and the freshest of seafood? The fresh vegetables from the local farms? The cosmopolitan influence from our visitors from New York, Baltimore, and DC? I don't know, I don't really care, all I know is that if Chefs have a heaven, it's here.
But don't take my word for it. I asked a local Bed and Breakfast owner where she suggests her guests go eat...She looked up and to the left, as if the sky held the answer to my question, then, hand in chin, replied " hmmmn...that's a hard question to answer.. I love to suggest The Atlantic Hotel, for it's ambiance, charm, and sophisticated cuisine. The Globe Theater always has great sandwiches and now features evening specials, with great artwork and collectibles for sale., and Goober's is a favorite breakfast spot for locals.All three restaurants are located in Berlin.
Personally, I love the crabcake sandwich at Captain's Gallery,on the water at West Ocean City's Harbor.Crispy outside, sweet and succulent inside, all served in a fresh roll..YUM! This past summer, family came in from Long Island, NY, and we had a steamed crab feast to die for, courtesy of Crabs to Go, on the corner of Routes 50 & 589.It was the traditional eastern shore feast, and we served the spicy crabs piled on a newspaper tablecloth,family style, with plenty of beer and wooden mallets to crack through the shell to the tender crab inside. I love the roast beef at Bull on the Beach, at 94th St.& Boardwalk, sliced thin, flavorful, and piled high.It's great when you are oystered, clammed, and shrimped out, and just want some solid beef under your belt. Fager's Island, 60th St On the Bay, is a romantic, extravagant restaurant, which I found pricey, but worth it. The black pepper crusted blue cheese steak is to die for, and I confess I spent a full 10 minutes in the ladies room, just sitting on the plush sofa, and admiring the lavish fixtures. (it's the little things in life that count.)
There have to be a MILLION restaurants to choose from. But, what if you are sun and sea tired, and just want a shower and movie at the condo? I can't wait until Avalon opens, a upperscale gourmet market and takeout located near the White Marlin Mall in Ocean City. The owner has a vision of the freshest of vegetables, delectable salads and entrees, and citified expresso and coffees, packaged and ready to enjoy at home, at the beach, or for special social functions. Won't be bad for hard working mom's and dad's, too tired to cook, either. They plan their grand opening for early May, 2005. I love the sandwiches and bologna hotdogs at Coin's restaurant,( a little cholesterol is good for the soul, sometimes) located at 28th St, downtown Ocean City. You've got to have a pizza place, and I like Mione's, at the White Marlin Mall in Ocean City. The large pizza was tasty, with real mozzarella cheese, not that fake stuff, and big enough to satisfy even a lusty eater like me.
So who have I left out? I bet a LOT of great restaurants, alot of places that locals and vacationers alike hold tight, as the closely guarded secrets they are. Come on, share..! We all love to eat, we all want to know the "hot spots" to go..I have given you a few of mine., what's your's??? Let me know via the Bayside Gazette, or my web-address, listed below.
See you next week!
Monday, March 28, 2005
Social Column 3 Well, here goes week 3 of my column.....
I like a town that blocks itself off to party.,,and that is exactly what the town of Berlin did at their 9th annual Spring Fling party last Saturday. I lived in the Detroit metropolitan area for the past 8 years,and I admit my initial draw was the grand finale of the festival, the Pig Races. I just couldn't fathom pigs being raced on a downtown street. Was it the American version of the bull run of Pamplona? Was it a slick imitation of rural Mayberryism for the tourists?
Curious, I just had to go and see for myself.
I found the answer, and a whole lot more. The weather was sweater cold and gray, but that didn't stop the press of people downtown. My first stop was The Waterline Gallery. I knew they were having an exhibit honoring 4th grade artists, so I wandered inside. Aside from some truly stunning art, I realized genuine community spirit at work. A huge paper canvas covered one wall of the gallery, and black-smocked youngsters painted away with abandon. Perhaps the experience nudged a budding Patrick Henry or Van Gogh to uncover their talent? At the very least, the look on their faces proved that art is fun,and that children will create, given the opportunity.
I walked on, enchanted by a trio of little girls in their Easter bonnets, getting their pictures snapped on the steps of the Atlantic hotel.I watched as kids rock-climbed a cliff wall sponsored by Extreme Entertainment. Arts and crafts vendors were set up on both sides of the street, and the smell of french fries and grilling sausages filled the air.
My eye caught a delicious display of pies, and turkeys, and cakes. Wow! Someone must have been cooking for weeks to offer such an array of goodies! Then I read their sign, "Fake Sale." The artist, Dallas Hewitt, had crafted everything from materials bought at Home Depot.He got his start 12 years ago, just to keep busy after retirement. His wife, Joan, rang up purchases, while Dallas cracked, "Made for the eyes, not for the thighs."
At the other end of the spectrum, I met young local entrepreneurs Megan Fulton and Matt Center, whose booth," Lots of Knots" featured delicately woven hanging bottles and hemp jewelry. Megan explained that her artistry started with "just keeping my hands busy". The result is a thriving business, proving the old adage, do what you love, and success will follow.
Past the petting zoo, with little ones snuggling bunnies and petting lambs. I followed the haybale fence to the mobile truck pen holding...you guessed it, the PIGS! Cute little critters, all under a year old and weighing about 25 lbs, with racing numbers painted on their backs. If pigs can look bewildered, these did. I imagined their conversation went something like this, "what are we DOING here? What's it say on my back?" And the reply, "I dunno,just as long as it's not a BBQ."
Strains of music filtered in from the north side of town, where the band "Country Grass" played down home music. The crowd went wild when a tiny cowboy, 2 year old Devon Pursel of Berlin, walked in front of the stage in his boots and black cowboy hat. He was a drama unto himself,dancing and clapping to the beat.Others joined him, and soon people were literally dancing in the street. People talked to one another, people knew each other's names. You sure didn't get this in Detroit.
The pig-calling contest was next. Two categories, children and adult. The winners were chosen by the crowd, with Justin of Berlin, screaming "PIG, I SAID, COME PIG",in first place for the children's division, and Skeets Z. of Libertytown, claiming the adult title, with his longwinded, almost operatic call.
The air turned colder, but I wouldn't have missed the pig races for the world.The crowd lined the street in anticipation. Two by two, the squealing pigs were led out of their pen, to the starting line 20 feet away. It was no mean feat, and I was amazed to see the local president of the Chamber of Commerce, Earl Conley, shooing and herding and even PICKING UP the protesting porkers. You don't see that in Detroit, either. Representatives from local businesses and private sponsors were positioned next to their contestants, with instructions of "no pushing, no touching, just hollering and foot stomping" their pigs to the finish line. The winner? Truthfully, I walked my numbed feet and frozen nose home as the last three pigs were about to race.
I had come to see what I wanted to see. Gone was my smirking perception of a "hokey" small town festival. What I found was a cherished gem of American culture and values, where a closeknit community came together for the common enjoyment and education of all.
Is this an endangered way of life? Next week I will introduce a guest writer, Dr. Robert Poli, who has some very thought provoking ideas on the subject.
See you next week!
I like a town that blocks itself off to party.,,and that is exactly what the town of Berlin did at their 9th annual Spring Fling party last Saturday. I lived in the Detroit metropolitan area for the past 8 years,and I admit my initial draw was the grand finale of the festival, the Pig Races. I just couldn't fathom pigs being raced on a downtown street. Was it the American version of the bull run of Pamplona? Was it a slick imitation of rural Mayberryism for the tourists?
Curious, I just had to go and see for myself.
I found the answer, and a whole lot more. The weather was sweater cold and gray, but that didn't stop the press of people downtown. My first stop was The Waterline Gallery. I knew they were having an exhibit honoring 4th grade artists, so I wandered inside. Aside from some truly stunning art, I realized genuine community spirit at work. A huge paper canvas covered one wall of the gallery, and black-smocked youngsters painted away with abandon. Perhaps the experience nudged a budding Patrick Henry or Van Gogh to uncover their talent? At the very least, the look on their faces proved that art is fun,and that children will create, given the opportunity.
I walked on, enchanted by a trio of little girls in their Easter bonnets, getting their pictures snapped on the steps of the Atlantic hotel.I watched as kids rock-climbed a cliff wall sponsored by Extreme Entertainment. Arts and crafts vendors were set up on both sides of the street, and the smell of french fries and grilling sausages filled the air.
My eye caught a delicious display of pies, and turkeys, and cakes. Wow! Someone must have been cooking for weeks to offer such an array of goodies! Then I read their sign, "Fake Sale." The artist, Dallas Hewitt, had crafted everything from materials bought at Home Depot.He got his start 12 years ago, just to keep busy after retirement. His wife, Joan, rang up purchases, while Dallas cracked, "Made for the eyes, not for the thighs."
At the other end of the spectrum, I met young local entrepreneurs Megan Fulton and Matt Center, whose booth," Lots of Knots" featured delicately woven hanging bottles and hemp jewelry. Megan explained that her artistry started with "just keeping my hands busy". The result is a thriving business, proving the old adage, do what you love, and success will follow.
Past the petting zoo, with little ones snuggling bunnies and petting lambs. I followed the haybale fence to the mobile truck pen holding...you guessed it, the PIGS! Cute little critters, all under a year old and weighing about 25 lbs, with racing numbers painted on their backs. If pigs can look bewildered, these did. I imagined their conversation went something like this, "what are we DOING here? What's it say on my back?" And the reply, "I dunno,just as long as it's not a BBQ."
Strains of music filtered in from the north side of town, where the band "Country Grass" played down home music. The crowd went wild when a tiny cowboy, 2 year old Devon Pursel of Berlin, walked in front of the stage in his boots and black cowboy hat. He was a drama unto himself,dancing and clapping to the beat.Others joined him, and soon people were literally dancing in the street. People talked to one another, people knew each other's names. You sure didn't get this in Detroit.
The pig-calling contest was next. Two categories, children and adult. The winners were chosen by the crowd, with Justin of Berlin, screaming "PIG, I SAID, COME PIG",in first place for the children's division, and Skeets Z. of Libertytown, claiming the adult title, with his longwinded, almost operatic call.
The air turned colder, but I wouldn't have missed the pig races for the world.The crowd lined the street in anticipation. Two by two, the squealing pigs were led out of their pen, to the starting line 20 feet away. It was no mean feat, and I was amazed to see the local president of the Chamber of Commerce, Earl Conley, shooing and herding and even PICKING UP the protesting porkers. You don't see that in Detroit, either. Representatives from local businesses and private sponsors were positioned next to their contestants, with instructions of "no pushing, no touching, just hollering and foot stomping" their pigs to the finish line. The winner? Truthfully, I walked my numbed feet and frozen nose home as the last three pigs were about to race.
I had come to see what I wanted to see. Gone was my smirking perception of a "hokey" small town festival. What I found was a cherished gem of American culture and values, where a closeknit community came together for the common enjoyment and education of all.
Is this an endangered way of life? Next week I will introduce a guest writer, Dr. Robert Poli, who has some very thought provoking ideas on the subject.
See you next week!
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Wednesday Night~~
If you read yesterday's blog, you know i published my second column, due out tomorrow in the Gazette.
It just tells half of the story. In truth, each word was like walking with a piece of glass in my foot...painful, but necessary to get where i was going.
For i was the "assistant" to Shelby. I was the other half of the team, i was the one that laughed, and nurtured, and loved the seniors.
I made the choice to quit, because my insane boss at the mattress store was unwilling to let me work both jobs. I was willing; I didn't care how many hours i worked, and never have cared, as long as i could do something that i loved, and still take care of my family.
Once again, the scenario unfolded...did i do what i loved, or take care of who i loved? I gave up the kitchen concession in Florida because it was the job, or the kids survival. I gave up the gourmet cooking job in Michigan, for the same reason. I couldn't do both;both jobs would have made great money eventually, but, eventually isn't quick enough when you have to pay rent, and doctors bills, and buy healthy groceries for growing kids.
Me, i wouldnt mind living on the 4 basics...Coffee, tunafish, peanutbutter, and wine. Not the recommended diet for growing boys, though.
Me, i wouldn't mind a one room flat, with a hotplate and and plant in the window.Not exactly the white picket fence and the stability kids need.
And then the third strike;..did i stay at the senior center, where i felt fulfilled, needed, and doing God's work, or cut and run to pay my Maryland responsibilities, my Mich. responsibilites, car payments, ect? Not to mention taking on J., and his "challenges". So, i left the center.
By God, nothing is going to stop my writing now. Enough is enough. I won't let this chance to feel my soul sing pass me by. Money or no money. Kids or no kids.
This one's for me.
Later.
If you read yesterday's blog, you know i published my second column, due out tomorrow in the Gazette.
It just tells half of the story. In truth, each word was like walking with a piece of glass in my foot...painful, but necessary to get where i was going.
For i was the "assistant" to Shelby. I was the other half of the team, i was the one that laughed, and nurtured, and loved the seniors.
I made the choice to quit, because my insane boss at the mattress store was unwilling to let me work both jobs. I was willing; I didn't care how many hours i worked, and never have cared, as long as i could do something that i loved, and still take care of my family.
Once again, the scenario unfolded...did i do what i loved, or take care of who i loved? I gave up the kitchen concession in Florida because it was the job, or the kids survival. I gave up the gourmet cooking job in Michigan, for the same reason. I couldn't do both;both jobs would have made great money eventually, but, eventually isn't quick enough when you have to pay rent, and doctors bills, and buy healthy groceries for growing kids.
Me, i wouldnt mind living on the 4 basics...Coffee, tunafish, peanutbutter, and wine. Not the recommended diet for growing boys, though.
Me, i wouldn't mind a one room flat, with a hotplate and and plant in the window.Not exactly the white picket fence and the stability kids need.
And then the third strike;..did i stay at the senior center, where i felt fulfilled, needed, and doing God's work, or cut and run to pay my Maryland responsibilities, my Mich. responsibilites, car payments, ect? Not to mention taking on J., and his "challenges". So, i left the center.
By God, nothing is going to stop my writing now. Enough is enough. I won't let this chance to feel my soul sing pass me by. Money or no money. Kids or no kids.
This one's for me.
Later.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Tuesday Morning~~
Well, my second column is sent off to the editor.., and here it is...
Seniors. We are all going to be one, if we are lucky. But what is there for us, if our children are long gone, and we are retired from our careers? Where to go? What to do?
The Berlin Senior Center has provided the answer for many of our area seniors. I volunteer there, and I would love to tell you more about this vital community service. The Director, Shelby Bacon, is a 5'2, blue-eyed dynamo that never stops. Her heels click rapidly on the worn linoleum floor, as she dashes from her office to the kitchen to the long tables where the seniors congregate. It's not a job for the faint hearted, nor for someone who is looking to get rich. But, in Shelby's words, " I have always felt that I get so much more back from them then I could possibly give to them."
I know how she feels. It's not just a place to watch TV or play bingo. It's a unique family unto itself, made up of people like Tommy, who, at age 95, will croon "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" with a little encouragement. It's Margaret, who helps her fellow seniors that aren't as mobile as she, and helps staff serve lunch. It's Liz, flirty at 86, always ready to liven up the day with a smile or a song. It's Jackie, who leads chair exercise daily, and "Miss" Vivian, who runs the thrift shop located in the center. (and is rumored to make the best bread pudding in Berlin). And I can't not mention Frank, age 100, cracking jokes and winking at the ladies and extolling the virtues of green tea. I could go on and on, for each of my friends there are unique.
But what do they DO there? The day starts for Shelby and her assistant, Sylvia Dixon, at 7:30 am. That's when the phones start ringing, with who is coming and who is not, because there is a bus service to and from the center each day. Clarence drives the Ocean Pines route, and Jim the local Berlin route. Seniors themselves, they aren't just employees. They watch over their clients, helping them with steps, walkers, and packages. Each day they drive the Meals on Wheels lunch route, too, a service for those in the community that are homebound. The Kiwanis Club of Ocean Pines/Greater Ocean City provides volunteers to help Jim and Clarence with delivery, so a great big thank you to them, too.
In the kitchen, Jim and Virgie get the coffee going, and put out morning snacks. Hot lunches are provided at a minimal cost, prepared by the staff at Stephan Decatur High School, and brought in by the Kiwanis team.
Some days it's just chat and lunch, a place for companionship. The real fun comes from the warmth and nurturing by Shelby and Sylvia, and the wonderful people who take the time to enrich the lives of the senior communityby volunteering. Teddy comes with her guitar, and starts a sing-a-long. Debbie and her husband Les hold weekly Bible study. Nadine and Betty guide crafts. Gloria comes in and does nails. Father Michael and Rev. Baer deliver spiritual messages.
Miracles happen here, too. Funded on a shoestring by Federal, State, the County and private donations, money for extras is always tight. When the ancient copy machine refused to crank another memo, Shelby called a newspaper ad selling a used machine. The seller decided the center needed it more than he needed the money, and donated it instead.
There is a "wish list" of items needed...the center would love a bumper pool table and an exercise bike. Gently used clothing, books, musical CD's and tapes, and VCR movies would also be put to good use.
If you love to sing, or have a special talent, or even just a small dog to bring for pet therapy, they would love your visit. The Senior Center is open Monday through Thursday, from 8:30 am to 1:30 pm. The phone number is (410)641-0515, and it's located at 107 Williams Street, Berlin. (directly across the street from the Burbage Funeral Home).
Stop by and meet the family. They will welcome you with open arms, like they did me.
See you next week!
Well, my second column is sent off to the editor.., and here it is...
Seniors. We are all going to be one, if we are lucky. But what is there for us, if our children are long gone, and we are retired from our careers? Where to go? What to do?
The Berlin Senior Center has provided the answer for many of our area seniors. I volunteer there, and I would love to tell you more about this vital community service. The Director, Shelby Bacon, is a 5'2, blue-eyed dynamo that never stops. Her heels click rapidly on the worn linoleum floor, as she dashes from her office to the kitchen to the long tables where the seniors congregate. It's not a job for the faint hearted, nor for someone who is looking to get rich. But, in Shelby's words, " I have always felt that I get so much more back from them then I could possibly give to them."
I know how she feels. It's not just a place to watch TV or play bingo. It's a unique family unto itself, made up of people like Tommy, who, at age 95, will croon "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" with a little encouragement. It's Margaret, who helps her fellow seniors that aren't as mobile as she, and helps staff serve lunch. It's Liz, flirty at 86, always ready to liven up the day with a smile or a song. It's Jackie, who leads chair exercise daily, and "Miss" Vivian, who runs the thrift shop located in the center. (and is rumored to make the best bread pudding in Berlin). And I can't not mention Frank, age 100, cracking jokes and winking at the ladies and extolling the virtues of green tea. I could go on and on, for each of my friends there are unique.
But what do they DO there? The day starts for Shelby and her assistant, Sylvia Dixon, at 7:30 am. That's when the phones start ringing, with who is coming and who is not, because there is a bus service to and from the center each day. Clarence drives the Ocean Pines route, and Jim the local Berlin route. Seniors themselves, they aren't just employees. They watch over their clients, helping them with steps, walkers, and packages. Each day they drive the Meals on Wheels lunch route, too, a service for those in the community that are homebound. The Kiwanis Club of Ocean Pines/Greater Ocean City provides volunteers to help Jim and Clarence with delivery, so a great big thank you to them, too.
In the kitchen, Jim and Virgie get the coffee going, and put out morning snacks. Hot lunches are provided at a minimal cost, prepared by the staff at Stephan Decatur High School, and brought in by the Kiwanis team.
Some days it's just chat and lunch, a place for companionship. The real fun comes from the warmth and nurturing by Shelby and Sylvia, and the wonderful people who take the time to enrich the lives of the senior communityby volunteering. Teddy comes with her guitar, and starts a sing-a-long. Debbie and her husband Les hold weekly Bible study. Nadine and Betty guide crafts. Gloria comes in and does nails. Father Michael and Rev. Baer deliver spiritual messages.
Miracles happen here, too. Funded on a shoestring by Federal, State, the County and private donations, money for extras is always tight. When the ancient copy machine refused to crank another memo, Shelby called a newspaper ad selling a used machine. The seller decided the center needed it more than he needed the money, and donated it instead.
There is a "wish list" of items needed...the center would love a bumper pool table and an exercise bike. Gently used clothing, books, musical CD's and tapes, and VCR movies would also be put to good use.
If you love to sing, or have a special talent, or even just a small dog to bring for pet therapy, they would love your visit. The Senior Center is open Monday through Thursday, from 8:30 am to 1:30 pm. The phone number is (410)641-0515, and it's located at 107 Williams Street, Berlin. (directly across the street from the Burbage Funeral Home).
Stop by and meet the family. They will welcome you with open arms, like they did me.
See you next week!
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Saturday Morning~~
I am dressed and perfumed and gel-ed and ready for work, fueled up on some high octane coffee. I don't want to go sell mattresses, I don't want to be persuasive or look for buying signals, ect, ect, ect.
I want to work outside in the yard, go to beach, write. My sister had a dream about me last night, that i learned to play golf. Golf? There has got to be some significance to that...But what? Swinging a club? Entering a male dominated sport? Whatever it is, she said i was having a ball doing it...
Writing this morning is like walking through molasses. Possible, but, sticky and not very smooth. SO, I will reluctantly take my mermaid self off to work, and catch you, Later.
I am dressed and perfumed and gel-ed and ready for work, fueled up on some high octane coffee. I don't want to go sell mattresses, I don't want to be persuasive or look for buying signals, ect, ect, ect.
I want to work outside in the yard, go to beach, write. My sister had a dream about me last night, that i learned to play golf. Golf? There has got to be some significance to that...But what? Swinging a club? Entering a male dominated sport? Whatever it is, she said i was having a ball doing it...
Writing this morning is like walking through molasses. Possible, but, sticky and not very smooth. SO, I will reluctantly take my mermaid self off to work, and catch you, Later.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
March 17th
I don't know how i did it, but it is exactly within the week of my first blog, a year ago, that i am now a published author. I write a column now, in a local newspaper called the Bayside Gazette. All day i squirmed and dreamed at work(another mattress store...UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH), as i waited to get off work and see if it was real...
I went to the grocery store, one of the places they distribute the local papers. Nonchalantly i picked up the paper, and walked inside...Hmnn, seedless white grapes, on sale for 1.79...in the cart they went. A smile just started to smirk across my face,...but, i resisted the urge to look...was i REALLY there, in print?
Beans on sale., garbanzos to make my garlic roasted red pepper hummus, and black beans to make chicken and rice, with cumin...Pepsi, (okay, not good for me, but what a nice sugur rush), and cat food, and sweet smelling hair conditioner...
I couldn't resist anymore literary foreplay...I urgently opened the paper..and there i was, staring out at me with a wry smile...all curly haired and bespeckled with my hand on my chin..I whipped my head to the right, to the left...I almost felt like i had been caught masterbating in public, or, at the very least, naked...
Then a slow, delightful, all encompassing warmth filled me...I DID it! Through all life's twists and turns, through all my self doubt and self circuits, i DID it...
Now there is no stopping me. .Because the floodgates are opened, because all is possible, because I am so happy...Later.
I don't know how i did it, but it is exactly within the week of my first blog, a year ago, that i am now a published author. I write a column now, in a local newspaper called the Bayside Gazette. All day i squirmed and dreamed at work(another mattress store...UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH), as i waited to get off work and see if it was real...
I went to the grocery store, one of the places they distribute the local papers. Nonchalantly i picked up the paper, and walked inside...Hmnn, seedless white grapes, on sale for 1.79...in the cart they went. A smile just started to smirk across my face,...but, i resisted the urge to look...was i REALLY there, in print?
Beans on sale., garbanzos to make my garlic roasted red pepper hummus, and black beans to make chicken and rice, with cumin...Pepsi, (okay, not good for me, but what a nice sugur rush), and cat food, and sweet smelling hair conditioner...
I couldn't resist anymore literary foreplay...I urgently opened the paper..and there i was, staring out at me with a wry smile...all curly haired and bespeckled with my hand on my chin..I whipped my head to the right, to the left...I almost felt like i had been caught masterbating in public, or, at the very least, naked...
Then a slow, delightful, all encompassing warmth filled me...I DID it! Through all life's twists and turns, through all my self doubt and self circuits, i DID it...
Now there is no stopping me. .Because the floodgates are opened, because all is possible, because I am so happy...Later.
Friday, March 11, 2005
March 11th..
What a wonderful, wonderful day. Twentythree years ago i gave birth...to my beautiful son Todd...it was the start of the most joyous, delicious journey...and today, again, i give birth....the previous post is a copy of my submission to a local newspaper to write a social column....Within three hours of emailing the publisher., she responded, telling me she loved it...I am now a writer whose going to be published!It's another anniversary, too...because a year ago i started this blog....
So don't ever give up on your dreams....if you follow your heart,, it just may come true....Later.
What a wonderful, wonderful day. Twentythree years ago i gave birth...to my beautiful son Todd...it was the start of the most joyous, delicious journey...and today, again, i give birth....the previous post is a copy of my submission to a local newspaper to write a social column....Within three hours of emailing the publisher., she responded, telling me she loved it...I am now a writer whose going to be published!It's another anniversary, too...because a year ago i started this blog....
So don't ever give up on your dreams....if you follow your heart,, it just may come true....Later.
Social Column(Fox Hunt?)
When I was approached to write a social column for the Bayside Gazette, my first reaction was sheer joy.
Me! I have always loved to write, and my head buzzed with a million stories I could tell. I accepted the assignment.
My second reaction was.."What the heck is a social column, anyway?" Writing about black tie affairs? Rubbing shoulders with first families and the diamond draped? Uh-oh. My favorite attire is faded jeans with the knees ripped out. Yet...I am a very social creature, known to accost perfect strangers on the street with a smile and conversation. Perhaps a social column is about art gallery openings, music festivals, interesting seminars and doings about town? Hmnn...That sounded better, but still not quite right.
In desperation I turned to the dictionary. I found 2 entries for the word SOCIAL that seemed to fit. "living together or enjoying life in communities" and "marked by friendly companionship with others." EUREKA! That's what I would write about..enjoying life, enjoying people here in our community.
I am a newcomer to the eastern shore, so new, in fact, that last fall I was still puzzled about where the town of " Delmarva" was. ( I now realize, blushingly, that "Delmarva" is the eastern shore nickname for Delaware, Maryland and Virginia beach areas.) My initial contacts with people here took on an almost scary tint; somewhat like Mayberry meets the Stepford wives. I discovered people come in three distinct flavors here, those born to the area, those vacationing here, and the relocated "outsiders" like me. It seems to be a much bigger distinction here then in the midwestern city that I hail from. I was shocked by the lower pay scales, and the high prices at the grocery store. Though I haven't experienced it yet, I have been thoroughly frightened by stories of horrible traffic jams in the summer.And the soaring prices of real estate deserves it's OWN column.
Still, there is a beauty and gentle pace here that is hard to resist. I am still awed by the wild ponies at Assateaque, and the play of light across the water crossing the Route 90 bridge. The coolness I felt at my initial reception has begun to thaw.
I am volunteering at a local senior center, and have met some fascinating, caring people there. They have regaled me with stories of Ocean City's early years, when there was only a two-lane road and one bridge in and out. I have made friends with the manager of a local art gallery, and met several celebrated local artists. I've sat and talked to a spicy, 91 year old grande dame of one of the founding families here. I've shaken hands with Mayor Tom Cardinale, when he came to my house for last years Historic Christmas house tour. I've eaten raw oysters at BJ's on the Water, and the roast beef platter at Bull on the Beach. I have been to the circus down in Salisbury, and the oldies concert at the Ocean City convention center. I can't wait for Spring Fest, and the Pig Auction in Berlin. Pig auction?
It's a crazy mix here of cornfields and cocktails, of raucous boardwalk and serene seashore, cultural pursuits and downright party fever.
I think I just convinced myself that it's going to be fun to be here.
I now understand what this column is all about....PEOPLE, people and their activities that I find interesting. So be careful, because you never know where I will be, or if YOU will be the one I write about next...Later.
When I was approached to write a social column for the Bayside Gazette, my first reaction was sheer joy.
Me! I have always loved to write, and my head buzzed with a million stories I could tell. I accepted the assignment.
My second reaction was.."What the heck is a social column, anyway?" Writing about black tie affairs? Rubbing shoulders with first families and the diamond draped? Uh-oh. My favorite attire is faded jeans with the knees ripped out. Yet...I am a very social creature, known to accost perfect strangers on the street with a smile and conversation. Perhaps a social column is about art gallery openings, music festivals, interesting seminars and doings about town? Hmnn...That sounded better, but still not quite right.
In desperation I turned to the dictionary. I found 2 entries for the word SOCIAL that seemed to fit. "living together or enjoying life in communities" and "marked by friendly companionship with others." EUREKA! That's what I would write about..enjoying life, enjoying people here in our community.
I am a newcomer to the eastern shore, so new, in fact, that last fall I was still puzzled about where the town of " Delmarva" was. ( I now realize, blushingly, that "Delmarva" is the eastern shore nickname for Delaware, Maryland and Virginia beach areas.) My initial contacts with people here took on an almost scary tint; somewhat like Mayberry meets the Stepford wives. I discovered people come in three distinct flavors here, those born to the area, those vacationing here, and the relocated "outsiders" like me. It seems to be a much bigger distinction here then in the midwestern city that I hail from. I was shocked by the lower pay scales, and the high prices at the grocery store. Though I haven't experienced it yet, I have been thoroughly frightened by stories of horrible traffic jams in the summer.And the soaring prices of real estate deserves it's OWN column.
Still, there is a beauty and gentle pace here that is hard to resist. I am still awed by the wild ponies at Assateaque, and the play of light across the water crossing the Route 90 bridge. The coolness I felt at my initial reception has begun to thaw.
I am volunteering at a local senior center, and have met some fascinating, caring people there. They have regaled me with stories of Ocean City's early years, when there was only a two-lane road and one bridge in and out. I have made friends with the manager of a local art gallery, and met several celebrated local artists. I've sat and talked to a spicy, 91 year old grande dame of one of the founding families here. I've shaken hands with Mayor Tom Cardinale, when he came to my house for last years Historic Christmas house tour. I've eaten raw oysters at BJ's on the Water, and the roast beef platter at Bull on the Beach. I have been to the circus down in Salisbury, and the oldies concert at the Ocean City convention center. I can't wait for Spring Fest, and the Pig Auction in Berlin. Pig auction?
It's a crazy mix here of cornfields and cocktails, of raucous boardwalk and serene seashore, cultural pursuits and downright party fever.
I think I just convinced myself that it's going to be fun to be here.
I now understand what this column is all about....PEOPLE, people and their activities that I find interesting. So be careful, because you never know where I will be, or if YOU will be the one I write about next...Later.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Saturday, March 5th~~
Well, it's been a long time, i know. I have been writing privately, these last few months, poetry too steamy to post. Those poems come from a different place then my usual ramblings..they, too, write themselves, but have a particular urgency that comes on me suddenly, a gust of wind out of nowhere, and then is gone.
I have had the most exciting thing happen...An opportunity to write a column for one of the local newspapers here. Me! I am exhilerated, frightened to my toes, and ready for it.
Only problem is...it's a social column. I am certainly not part of high society, nor a social climber by any means. But, i am not one to sit home with a can of beer and watch "Friends" reruns, either. So what to write about? WHO to write about?
I started by going to an art opening last night with my friend P., who is the manager of a local art gallery. She sailed with ease through the bluebloods and artists alike, while i found myself nervously adjusting my glasses on my nose, and just observing. She is a Leo, and I don't know if it is my curse or salvation, because i seem to always find myself in the company of strong-willed Aries and Leo's , determined to pull me out of my Cancerian shell.
She introduced me smoothly...as a local newspaper writer! I had no choice but to pull out my everpresent notebook and camera..At first all i could do was scribble about the food, desperately faking it...(olive tapenade, pasty gray hummas, crackers, lots of crackers) then i relaxed, and met the artists themselves, and found myself pulled into their stories...The brownhaired pixie with the shy eyes, whose sculpture showed a voluptous passion deep inside..The white haired professor whose paintings spoke of seeing the infinite patterned in everyday objects..The artist who lived in Italy, who painted cats with color and zest sweeping, operatic brushstrokes.
How do i put this in a social column? I don't know, yet. I have a week to turn it in to the editor...I think i am about to swim in some new currents, indeed. P.S. I guess i better learn how to spell, too., lol.
Well, it's been a long time, i know. I have been writing privately, these last few months, poetry too steamy to post. Those poems come from a different place then my usual ramblings..they, too, write themselves, but have a particular urgency that comes on me suddenly, a gust of wind out of nowhere, and then is gone.
I have had the most exciting thing happen...An opportunity to write a column for one of the local newspapers here. Me! I am exhilerated, frightened to my toes, and ready for it.
Only problem is...it's a social column. I am certainly not part of high society, nor a social climber by any means. But, i am not one to sit home with a can of beer and watch "Friends" reruns, either. So what to write about? WHO to write about?
I started by going to an art opening last night with my friend P., who is the manager of a local art gallery. She sailed with ease through the bluebloods and artists alike, while i found myself nervously adjusting my glasses on my nose, and just observing. She is a Leo, and I don't know if it is my curse or salvation, because i seem to always find myself in the company of strong-willed Aries and Leo's , determined to pull me out of my Cancerian shell.
She introduced me smoothly...as a local newspaper writer! I had no choice but to pull out my everpresent notebook and camera..At first all i could do was scribble about the food, desperately faking it...(olive tapenade, pasty gray hummas, crackers, lots of crackers) then i relaxed, and met the artists themselves, and found myself pulled into their stories...The brownhaired pixie with the shy eyes, whose sculpture showed a voluptous passion deep inside..The white haired professor whose paintings spoke of seeing the infinite patterned in everyday objects..The artist who lived in Italy, who painted cats with color and zest sweeping, operatic brushstrokes.
How do i put this in a social column? I don't know, yet. I have a week to turn it in to the editor...I think i am about to swim in some new currents, indeed. P.S. I guess i better learn how to spell, too., lol.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Monday Morning~~
As i write this, snow is falling like a cape over the peninsula. It is Michigan cold, truly a marvel to me, because just a few days ago i spotted a golden dandelion in the grass. How could this be? this melding of the seasons? Perhaps mother nature gets as confused as i, sometimes.
There are birds on the feeder on the backporch railing, pretty brown ones, that look like high-fashion sparrows with exotic white stripes. A year or so ago, i was infatuated by primary colors and stars, and Rikk painted the plain, dollar store feeder in a very patriotic red,white and blue. I can remember watching him as he painted. His hands are beautiful,with long, tapered fingers and a sturdy, square palm. Where am i going with this thought? Nowhere, i suppose...just missing his hand in mine.
I can't remember the last time i had a day off where i wasn't committed to be somewhere, or do something. Today is my day; today i will harbor my heart, nourish my soul. (thank you for the advise, twin). Today is for writing and painting my toenails pink, today is for making a big pot of soup and some homemade bread,today is for snuggling under my quilt in a little ball and daydreaming, as i watch the snow fall. Later.
As i write this, snow is falling like a cape over the peninsula. It is Michigan cold, truly a marvel to me, because just a few days ago i spotted a golden dandelion in the grass. How could this be? this melding of the seasons? Perhaps mother nature gets as confused as i, sometimes.
There are birds on the feeder on the backporch railing, pretty brown ones, that look like high-fashion sparrows with exotic white stripes. A year or so ago, i was infatuated by primary colors and stars, and Rikk painted the plain, dollar store feeder in a very patriotic red,white and blue. I can remember watching him as he painted. His hands are beautiful,with long, tapered fingers and a sturdy, square palm. Where am i going with this thought? Nowhere, i suppose...just missing his hand in mine.
I can't remember the last time i had a day off where i wasn't committed to be somewhere, or do something. Today is my day; today i will harbor my heart, nourish my soul. (thank you for the advise, twin). Today is for writing and painting my toenails pink, today is for making a big pot of soup and some homemade bread,today is for snuggling under my quilt in a little ball and daydreaming, as i watch the snow fall. Later.
Friday, January 14, 2005
Friday Night~~
The house is silent..no, not silent; there is the hum of the overhead fan, the whirr of the computer encased in it's tower, the the faint melody of the seahorse chime on the front porch. I am a fashion nightmare, combining blue socks with my thriftshop men's plaid cotton pajama bottoms, and my favorite stars and moon flannel pj top. I love the snaps on men's pajamas, they are fun to unsnap, and i love the softness of the flannel top. Besides, i couldn't find the match to either.
I went to the circus tonight. My boss invited me, and with a gallic shrug, i thought, "why not?" My life right now IS a circus, so, i went.
I was struck by the americana of it all, half ashamed at the glitter and hype, yet awed by the daring stunts and dedication of the performers. Nostaglia painted it all in soft-edged colors, sitting on my father's lap at 5, frightened of the clowns and loving the trapeze artists( i thought they were angels practicing on earth), going as a young bride of 22 and wickedly licking the cotton candy, taking my boys at 2 and 6, holding them on MY lap, a tradition continued.
I let go, and let the child in me win. I forgot my boss, my kids, my ex, and my dad. I was just 5, still frightened of the clowns, but happy to ohhh and ahhhh and wiggle in my seat and clap and watch, openmouthed.
It all brings me back to a spiritual truth that has been attaching itself to me like velcro lately. Don't wait to live. Enjoy the feast of today, because tomorrow will just not be the same, ever. Later.
The house is silent..no, not silent; there is the hum of the overhead fan, the whirr of the computer encased in it's tower, the the faint melody of the seahorse chime on the front porch. I am a fashion nightmare, combining blue socks with my thriftshop men's plaid cotton pajama bottoms, and my favorite stars and moon flannel pj top. I love the snaps on men's pajamas, they are fun to unsnap, and i love the softness of the flannel top. Besides, i couldn't find the match to either.
I went to the circus tonight. My boss invited me, and with a gallic shrug, i thought, "why not?" My life right now IS a circus, so, i went.
I was struck by the americana of it all, half ashamed at the glitter and hype, yet awed by the daring stunts and dedication of the performers. Nostaglia painted it all in soft-edged colors, sitting on my father's lap at 5, frightened of the clowns and loving the trapeze artists( i thought they were angels practicing on earth), going as a young bride of 22 and wickedly licking the cotton candy, taking my boys at 2 and 6, holding them on MY lap, a tradition continued.
I let go, and let the child in me win. I forgot my boss, my kids, my ex, and my dad. I was just 5, still frightened of the clowns, but happy to ohhh and ahhhh and wiggle in my seat and clap and watch, openmouthed.
It all brings me back to a spiritual truth that has been attaching itself to me like velcro lately. Don't wait to live. Enjoy the feast of today, because tomorrow will just not be the same, ever. Later.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Thursday Morning~~
One month without writing here...can it be that long? It was my joy and routine to sit in my chair, every morning with my coffee and write, when i was back home in Michigan. I was a baby blogger then, absorbed in the sheer joy of expression.
As time went on and i made the move to maryland, i realized that people i know read my entries to capture my pulsepoint, and my joy was contaminated. But a writer must write; a painter must paint; and i have learned much these last months about survival, relationships, and choices.
I stopped a minute ago and stepped outside to see the bloom of pink in the morning sky. I am wearing my christmas gift from my youngest son, a wooly , limesherbert green robe, and i am barefoot in january. Barefoot in january, that in itself is a blessing. So is this blog.....later
One month without writing here...can it be that long? It was my joy and routine to sit in my chair, every morning with my coffee and write, when i was back home in Michigan. I was a baby blogger then, absorbed in the sheer joy of expression.
As time went on and i made the move to maryland, i realized that people i know read my entries to capture my pulsepoint, and my joy was contaminated. But a writer must write; a painter must paint; and i have learned much these last months about survival, relationships, and choices.
I stopped a minute ago and stepped outside to see the bloom of pink in the morning sky. I am wearing my christmas gift from my youngest son, a wooly , limesherbert green robe, and i am barefoot in january. Barefoot in january, that in itself is a blessing. So is this blog.....later
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Sunday Morning~~
You can always dance...It doesn't matter what challenges you face, just dance, anyway. Let go of your body sense, feel the rhythmn, and just dance. It is the same as stopping for a minute, and tilting your face towards the sun to savour it's warmth. It is the kiss that you taste, instead of a quick acknowledgement of ownership..
Light the candle, don't save it for a special occasion.Wear silk under your jeans. Smile at strangers that look sad or disgruntled. And remember, you can always dance. Off to work, later..
You can always dance...It doesn't matter what challenges you face, just dance, anyway. Let go of your body sense, feel the rhythmn, and just dance. It is the same as stopping for a minute, and tilting your face towards the sun to savour it's warmth. It is the kiss that you taste, instead of a quick acknowledgement of ownership..
Light the candle, don't save it for a special occasion.Wear silk under your jeans. Smile at strangers that look sad or disgruntled. And remember, you can always dance. Off to work, later..
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Wednesday Night~~
10 days...swimming deep out to sea..I have been asked, "what is a mermaid?" A mermaid is a sensual being..intimately intuned to the swirl of a sunlight wave, the feel of a warm current against her belly, the gentle push of sand and depth against the strength of her undulating tail.
Journeying, that's where i have been. Mermaids don't have mothers, and their fathers are long gone. They travel far, and sing sweetly, and sometimes find themselves in unfamiliar territory,thrown upon wet, salty rocks. They call to others, their own kind for replenishment and mutual acts of kindness, then move on to strangers, to practice their craft of bewitchment, exploration,education, and love. They always leave...wheither they want to or not. They leave behind bewilderment, and fierce lust for life, and longing, and, though it is not their intention, tears... How melodramatic, how sentimental...but, in this world of the practical, the material, how hypnotic a Mermaid is....
What does a mermaid look like? The glamour is always different., be she blonde or fiery red or burnished brown...What sets her apart is her innocent eyes, tempered by a wicked smile. Have no doubt, she will draw you in. Have no doubt, you will love her. And the one that finally keeps her, well, that's the one that got away. Later.
10 days...swimming deep out to sea..I have been asked, "what is a mermaid?" A mermaid is a sensual being..intimately intuned to the swirl of a sunlight wave, the feel of a warm current against her belly, the gentle push of sand and depth against the strength of her undulating tail.
Journeying, that's where i have been. Mermaids don't have mothers, and their fathers are long gone. They travel far, and sing sweetly, and sometimes find themselves in unfamiliar territory,thrown upon wet, salty rocks. They call to others, their own kind for replenishment and mutual acts of kindness, then move on to strangers, to practice their craft of bewitchment, exploration,education, and love. They always leave...wheither they want to or not. They leave behind bewilderment, and fierce lust for life, and longing, and, though it is not their intention, tears... How melodramatic, how sentimental...but, in this world of the practical, the material, how hypnotic a Mermaid is....
What does a mermaid look like? The glamour is always different., be she blonde or fiery red or burnished brown...What sets her apart is her innocent eyes, tempered by a wicked smile. Have no doubt, she will draw you in. Have no doubt, you will love her. And the one that finally keeps her, well, that's the one that got away. Later.
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