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.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
It is a fabulous late fall day here at the beach, and i am ALONE!! Such a sweet word, today..even though last night was a little spooky..J. is up north with my sister and brotherinlaw, working with her business. The house is as i left it last night, no footsteps but my own...this must be what life is like without kids..Last night i did the female version of "Risky Business" that movie with tom cruise, when he dances alone in his white socks and underwear. Felt silly, and wonderful!
I am off for a walk on the beach, bundled up and smiling..All problems, concerns and responsibilities can wait....later
I am off for a walk on the beach, bundled up and smiling..All problems, concerns and responsibilities can wait....later
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Tuesday Night~~
Mermaids are intense. Mermaids are mysterious. Mermaids, when wounded, go deep, deep, into the darkest caverns, the coldest depths, until they can gasp a breath, can curl their tails around a sunken stone, and speak.
How did i know, when i started to write, that i was a mermaid? I didn't know my properties, didn't know the lore, but, as i write, as i become, i know in my heart that i was one all along.
People visit the sea. They hear the siren call, but, chose not to visit, to taste, to dream. I know i have friends like that, those that chose to taste, not swallow.
And then there are those that taste the mermaid menu, that swallow, slowly, thoughtfully, those that i give the spice, the scent, the desire for the unusual, the intriguing, those that want the sunrise, the sunset, and damn the mundane inbetween.
Did you see the movie "Splash"? When she was left loveless, without her land-locked lover, she became pale, and her scales flaked, and her lips were white.
I am that mermaid....yet, through parched lips, and lifeless tail, I survive. I have the audacity to survive, and flurish, nonetheless.
The veins that drawn and take my blood, i unerringly map to those that need it, as i need them. I am a survivor. That is my swansong, that is my apology, that is my debut.
I am prepping Thanksgiving dinner tonight, listening to Jill Scott, thinking about the Golden Gate Bridge, thinking about pink tulips, seeing Rikk's mouth, remembering all those i love, have loved, and focusing it on the meal i will take to jersey for thanksgiving. I have come back up from the deep. I am a mermaid, swimming, swimmming, blowing bubbles, laughing, weeping, salty tears, into the deep. Later.
Mermaids are intense. Mermaids are mysterious. Mermaids, when wounded, go deep, deep, into the darkest caverns, the coldest depths, until they can gasp a breath, can curl their tails around a sunken stone, and speak.
How did i know, when i started to write, that i was a mermaid? I didn't know my properties, didn't know the lore, but, as i write, as i become, i know in my heart that i was one all along.
People visit the sea. They hear the siren call, but, chose not to visit, to taste, to dream. I know i have friends like that, those that chose to taste, not swallow.
And then there are those that taste the mermaid menu, that swallow, slowly, thoughtfully, those that i give the spice, the scent, the desire for the unusual, the intriguing, those that want the sunrise, the sunset, and damn the mundane inbetween.
Did you see the movie "Splash"? When she was left loveless, without her land-locked lover, she became pale, and her scales flaked, and her lips were white.
I am that mermaid....yet, through parched lips, and lifeless tail, I survive. I have the audacity to survive, and flurish, nonetheless.
The veins that drawn and take my blood, i unerringly map to those that need it, as i need them. I am a survivor. That is my swansong, that is my apology, that is my debut.
I am prepping Thanksgiving dinner tonight, listening to Jill Scott, thinking about the Golden Gate Bridge, thinking about pink tulips, seeing Rikk's mouth, remembering all those i love, have loved, and focusing it on the meal i will take to jersey for thanksgiving. I have come back up from the deep. I am a mermaid, swimming, swimmming, blowing bubbles, laughing, weeping, salty tears, into the deep. Later.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Tuesday, Early Evening~~
I haven't blogged in so long i feel shy; like i am at my own party but i don't belong. I am quiet when things are wrong: I hold my fear closely to my chest. Things have been wrong...many things...indeed, they still are. However, I am resilient, i am a coping machine., i am a survivor.
Tonight i want to write about a part of my personality i don't like very much...It is my seeming inability to connect with those i love in a daily, civilized manner. Oh, i am great in a catastrophe, I am the true stormy weather friend, because not only will i give you my blood, i will deliver it personally. But, the art of friendship, in a loving, day to day basis...that is something i have a problem with. I might forget your birthday, i might not return your phone call or email. Why? i ask myself why? And, it always seems that "stuff" gets in the way... I run out of time.
Lately, it's because i have been feeling very sick... I don't want to elaborate, because i have the feeling that to say something, to write something, makes it concrete, makes it real, and if i can just deal with it, fight it, block it, it doesn't exist.
I have had anxiety attacks before in my life...I know myself well enough to know that my mind is SO strong, my focus SO intense, that, my body gets mightily pissed off at me ignoring it's subtle warning signs., and then ...BOOM!!! I am down...down with pains that frighten me...bold, red warning signs that tell me.."lady, you better find a way to decrease stress, because if you don't..well, THIS will be your life....
So, let's just say i have noted the warning signs,bells and whistles. I am trying very hard to be calm, to take baths, to meditate, to not worry. It seems to be working.
One of the people i hurt when i am going thru this is my brother. (Sorry, George!)Another is my dear friend Bob(Sorry, Bob!).
My brother George..ah, such a sweetiepie. I am 4 years older then him, and i can remember my first solid memory of him like it was yesterday... I was 6 years old, he was 2...it was my birthday, and he was in his black, hulking, baby stroller.(Imprisoned, is a better word..as the party flowed around him). July, and hot, and we lived in maryland. One of the kids invited to my party took cake, and smeared it in his mouth.He was delighted, but, as more cake then breath filled his mouth, he started to choke. I was outraged, frightened. didn't the kid know my beautiful baby brother couldn't breathe?.. I snatched the kid's hand away, and slapped it. (There is a picture in an old album, of me, roaring with anger, my hand in the baby carriage) I wiped Georgie's mouth, and got him his "baba". He looked at me with his stunning brown eyes, fringed with the thickest, blackest lashes, and i fell in love. I love him to this day, as intensely, though, i am sure it doesn't show. I would walk thru fire for him, my little brother, the comedian, the spoiled, the tender, the stubborn, brother of mine...Later
I haven't blogged in so long i feel shy; like i am at my own party but i don't belong. I am quiet when things are wrong: I hold my fear closely to my chest. Things have been wrong...many things...indeed, they still are. However, I am resilient, i am a coping machine., i am a survivor.
Tonight i want to write about a part of my personality i don't like very much...It is my seeming inability to connect with those i love in a daily, civilized manner. Oh, i am great in a catastrophe, I am the true stormy weather friend, because not only will i give you my blood, i will deliver it personally. But, the art of friendship, in a loving, day to day basis...that is something i have a problem with. I might forget your birthday, i might not return your phone call or email. Why? i ask myself why? And, it always seems that "stuff" gets in the way... I run out of time.
Lately, it's because i have been feeling very sick... I don't want to elaborate, because i have the feeling that to say something, to write something, makes it concrete, makes it real, and if i can just deal with it, fight it, block it, it doesn't exist.
I have had anxiety attacks before in my life...I know myself well enough to know that my mind is SO strong, my focus SO intense, that, my body gets mightily pissed off at me ignoring it's subtle warning signs., and then ...BOOM!!! I am down...down with pains that frighten me...bold, red warning signs that tell me.."lady, you better find a way to decrease stress, because if you don't..well, THIS will be your life....
So, let's just say i have noted the warning signs,bells and whistles. I am trying very hard to be calm, to take baths, to meditate, to not worry. It seems to be working.
One of the people i hurt when i am going thru this is my brother. (Sorry, George!)Another is my dear friend Bob(Sorry, Bob!).
My brother George..ah, such a sweetiepie. I am 4 years older then him, and i can remember my first solid memory of him like it was yesterday... I was 6 years old, he was 2...it was my birthday, and he was in his black, hulking, baby stroller.(Imprisoned, is a better word..as the party flowed around him). July, and hot, and we lived in maryland. One of the kids invited to my party took cake, and smeared it in his mouth.He was delighted, but, as more cake then breath filled his mouth, he started to choke. I was outraged, frightened. didn't the kid know my beautiful baby brother couldn't breathe?.. I snatched the kid's hand away, and slapped it. (There is a picture in an old album, of me, roaring with anger, my hand in the baby carriage) I wiped Georgie's mouth, and got him his "baba". He looked at me with his stunning brown eyes, fringed with the thickest, blackest lashes, and i fell in love. I love him to this day, as intensely, though, i am sure it doesn't show. I would walk thru fire for him, my little brother, the comedian, the spoiled, the tender, the stubborn, brother of mine...Later
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Wednesday Morning,
I haven't given up on being a mermaid, i am just being a silent swimmer...I have alot to digest, lately, and i am going through a period of withdrawal..To some that is a bad thing, to me, a necessity. It is a time of winter heart, when all seems lifeless, but, in reality, the bloom of spring is not far away. Later...
I haven't given up on being a mermaid, i am just being a silent swimmer...I have alot to digest, lately, and i am going through a period of withdrawal..To some that is a bad thing, to me, a necessity. It is a time of winter heart, when all seems lifeless, but, in reality, the bloom of spring is not far away. Later...
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Wednesday Night~~
I am sitting here in my second set of work clothes, and i smell like pepperoni pizza.There is alot of insanity at the second job, amazing, jawdropping dramas. I am sure there is a book in there, somewhere.
Total ecilpse of the moon tonight, and here, the sky is ink, and stars stud the sky, and the moon is an eerie tangerine. I feel like howling; I feel like lying in the wet grass and just rolling.
I have hooked j. up with a local fisherman...today he was up and working, cleaning his boat. He gets paid for the days work tomorrow, but, tonight, he called me at the restaurant and asked me how to cook lobster. LOBSTER!!! Not a bad fringe benefit....He said it was the best meal he ever had...cooked it himself, and cleaned the house up, too.I am praying it is the beginning of a job for him.
Too tired to write more, up and at it at 5am...the old director and outreach coordinator's last day is tomorrow, and i am making swedish meatballs for the going away party. ..I wish I had time to work on my book...but, it will come when i get a little further down the road with the two new jobs.
I miss all my Mermaid friends, i miss you alot. I think of each of you so often, with love....Later.
I am sitting here in my second set of work clothes, and i smell like pepperoni pizza.There is alot of insanity at the second job, amazing, jawdropping dramas. I am sure there is a book in there, somewhere.
Total ecilpse of the moon tonight, and here, the sky is ink, and stars stud the sky, and the moon is an eerie tangerine. I feel like howling; I feel like lying in the wet grass and just rolling.
I have hooked j. up with a local fisherman...today he was up and working, cleaning his boat. He gets paid for the days work tomorrow, but, tonight, he called me at the restaurant and asked me how to cook lobster. LOBSTER!!! Not a bad fringe benefit....He said it was the best meal he ever had...cooked it himself, and cleaned the house up, too.I am praying it is the beginning of a job for him.
Too tired to write more, up and at it at 5am...the old director and outreach coordinator's last day is tomorrow, and i am making swedish meatballs for the going away party. ..I wish I had time to work on my book...but, it will come when i get a little further down the road with the two new jobs.
I miss all my Mermaid friends, i miss you alot. I think of each of you so often, with love....Later.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Tuesday Night~~
I am so thankful i am female. In the words of a wise man that i respect and admire"men are 95%dog." I am sorry that i have had to experience the major aspect of that equation.....but, i have, with a resounding WOOF! WOOF!
I see women all around me, that are smart, savvy, and certainly capable of better decisions, that turn to fluff when their man starts ruffling his cock-feathers.
Why do they do this? Is is because if they upset their man they lose the key to their financial golden goose? Yup, sometimes. Is it because they don't want to deal with discord? Yup, absoleutely. Is it because they just know the waters, sharks and all., and don't feel like chumming elsewhere? You got it.
Forgive me for my ascerbic rendition of men. If women had penis's , i would be a lesbian. I find women much more compassionate, multitasked, and communicative then men.
To my male friends, please don't think i don't love you...i DO!! But can't you train you litter-mates in better behavior?
I.E>
don't slobber over us. It grosses us out
don't lie to us about your relationship status.( I love you, Genie and i are just WORK buddies...we just stopped over for a cocktail) We will smell you out for the dirty dog you are, and crucify you, somehow.
don't think foreplay is a one time thing, and once you sleep with us, you've done your job. Foreplay, to us, is lovemaking...your penetration is just the exclamation mark.
Let us cry. When we cry, we release all are gentleness, our aggression, without taking down the nation. It is much more intelligent to let us cry, and pat our backs, then let us get a knife in the middle of the night, in our Elvis t-shirts, and our bunny slippers.
What am i trying to say? Oh, Lord, guys....Just hold us...Just listen to us. It makes us melt, it makes us okay, and your safe for another day. Later
I am so thankful i am female. In the words of a wise man that i respect and admire"men are 95%dog." I am sorry that i have had to experience the major aspect of that equation.....but, i have, with a resounding WOOF! WOOF!
I see women all around me, that are smart, savvy, and certainly capable of better decisions, that turn to fluff when their man starts ruffling his cock-feathers.
Why do they do this? Is is because if they upset their man they lose the key to their financial golden goose? Yup, sometimes. Is it because they don't want to deal with discord? Yup, absoleutely. Is it because they just know the waters, sharks and all., and don't feel like chumming elsewhere? You got it.
Forgive me for my ascerbic rendition of men. If women had penis's , i would be a lesbian. I find women much more compassionate, multitasked, and communicative then men.
To my male friends, please don't think i don't love you...i DO!! But can't you train you litter-mates in better behavior?
I.E>
don't slobber over us. It grosses us out
don't lie to us about your relationship status.( I love you, Genie and i are just WORK buddies...we just stopped over for a cocktail) We will smell you out for the dirty dog you are, and crucify you, somehow.
don't think foreplay is a one time thing, and once you sleep with us, you've done your job. Foreplay, to us, is lovemaking...your penetration is just the exclamation mark.
Let us cry. When we cry, we release all are gentleness, our aggression, without taking down the nation. It is much more intelligent to let us cry, and pat our backs, then let us get a knife in the middle of the night, in our Elvis t-shirts, and our bunny slippers.
What am i trying to say? Oh, Lord, guys....Just hold us...Just listen to us. It makes us melt, it makes us okay, and your safe for another day. Later
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Saturday Afternoon~~
Such a busy mermaid!! I am not gliding thru the currents right now, I am joyously stroking the water powerfully, doing underwater somersaults and blowing bubbles, because i am WORKING again. I have alot of money problems, that's still true, but, I am WORKING, and it will only be a matter of time before i catch up.
I love working at the pizza place...I love my seniors....things are finally falling into place. I am meeting so many people i am getting dizzy from it all...I see them all as potential characters in my book (s), and in my mind's eye i hear them dialoging, i am describing them, i am making them come alive. I do this mostly when i cook, or clean, when i am in movement, because when my body is busy with other tasking, my mind seems to be at it's most potent.
I am making my way here in this new place. Once more, all i can say is thank you, God....for taking me out of the dark uncertainty of why i came, and helping me find purpose once again. Later.
Such a busy mermaid!! I am not gliding thru the currents right now, I am joyously stroking the water powerfully, doing underwater somersaults and blowing bubbles, because i am WORKING again. I have alot of money problems, that's still true, but, I am WORKING, and it will only be a matter of time before i catch up.
I love working at the pizza place...I love my seniors....things are finally falling into place. I am meeting so many people i am getting dizzy from it all...I see them all as potential characters in my book (s), and in my mind's eye i hear them dialoging, i am describing them, i am making them come alive. I do this mostly when i cook, or clean, when i am in movement, because when my body is busy with other tasking, my mind seems to be at it's most potent.
I am making my way here in this new place. Once more, all i can say is thank you, God....for taking me out of the dark uncertainty of why i came, and helping me find purpose once again. Later.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Thursday Night~~
How does she do it? I walked thru the kitchen a moment ago, and smelled my mother's perfume....Lily of the Valley, a distinct and old fashioned scent...Not one to be confused with today's more sophisticated perfumes.
What was she telling me? Why did she leave me? I will never know, i will never fathom, why my mother is no longer my heart-pulsing, always fortifiying, best friend.
This is one of the cornerstones of my being, of my writing. My relationship with my mother. I didn't mean to write about her; she intruded on my consciousness with her scent. Will i ever be able to put her to rest? Will i ever be able to bring a flower to her grave, mumble platitudes, and go on?
I think not. My mother is an extension of my being. She is the blueprint of life for an unskilled laborer, learning from a master. I miss her. I have said this before, i have wept uncountable tears, i have come to grips and flown off the handle with the perfect storm of her leaving.
So, once again, Mommy, i pay you homage. I miss you. I was so lucky to be your daughter; I was in the chosen circle of your love. Were you a being brought to Earth just to teach love? I know those that didn't know you think i am just reveling in gently smudged matriachcal nostalgia...but, truly, that isn't it.
You loved everybody. Black, white, old, young, you were a camelian with a warm velvet coat. You were so sensitive, so exquistite in your heart. I think i am following you, as close as i can, except i am fearless in my fear.
You gave up. You refused to go thru tunnels and crawl thru mountains. I, on the other hand, as your daughter, wiggle thru tunnels, climb mountains, and write about the journey.
I guess I can do it because you made the Redbird sing in my heart. Love is the essence;you taught me. God will never give you a cross you can't carry;You taught me... And to those that are teachers, the hardest lessons are learned...you instilled in me.
The worst thing you taught me, the best thing you taught me, was:Love is of the essence...all else falls into place.....Later
Ps..i am pubishing this before i lose courage...I am naked without a towel....later.
How does she do it? I walked thru the kitchen a moment ago, and smelled my mother's perfume....Lily of the Valley, a distinct and old fashioned scent...Not one to be confused with today's more sophisticated perfumes.
What was she telling me? Why did she leave me? I will never know, i will never fathom, why my mother is no longer my heart-pulsing, always fortifiying, best friend.
This is one of the cornerstones of my being, of my writing. My relationship with my mother. I didn't mean to write about her; she intruded on my consciousness with her scent. Will i ever be able to put her to rest? Will i ever be able to bring a flower to her grave, mumble platitudes, and go on?
I think not. My mother is an extension of my being. She is the blueprint of life for an unskilled laborer, learning from a master. I miss her. I have said this before, i have wept uncountable tears, i have come to grips and flown off the handle with the perfect storm of her leaving.
So, once again, Mommy, i pay you homage. I miss you. I was so lucky to be your daughter; I was in the chosen circle of your love. Were you a being brought to Earth just to teach love? I know those that didn't know you think i am just reveling in gently smudged matriachcal nostalgia...but, truly, that isn't it.
You loved everybody. Black, white, old, young, you were a camelian with a warm velvet coat. You were so sensitive, so exquistite in your heart. I think i am following you, as close as i can, except i am fearless in my fear.
You gave up. You refused to go thru tunnels and crawl thru mountains. I, on the other hand, as your daughter, wiggle thru tunnels, climb mountains, and write about the journey.
I guess I can do it because you made the Redbird sing in my heart. Love is the essence;you taught me. God will never give you a cross you can't carry;You taught me... And to those that are teachers, the hardest lessons are learned...you instilled in me.
The worst thing you taught me, the best thing you taught me, was:Love is of the essence...all else falls into place.....Later
Ps..i am pubishing this before i lose courage...I am naked without a towel....later.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Wednesday night~~
I am tired, so body tired...But my heart is singing, and i am happy. I loved being with my old folks today, learning all the admin and being there for them. I get so many hugs, so many kisses, i make them laugh and i watch over them. THen i went home, had a quick coffee, and into my redhotchilipepper chef pants(knew not to get rid of them) with my clunky black rockports and a tshirt...The chef is great, and threw me into the pot ...pointing to things on the menu and saying.."cook it"..So i did, and though my feet were screaming, i was creating, apron on, knife flying, flying myself by the seat of my pants.
Sleep, ah, to crawl into my lovely cloud bed, clothes flung to the floor, hugging my extra pillow...and do it all again tomorrow. I think with the two jobs i will be able to make it, and they are both jobs i love. Later....
I am tired, so body tired...But my heart is singing, and i am happy. I loved being with my old folks today, learning all the admin and being there for them. I get so many hugs, so many kisses, i make them laugh and i watch over them. THen i went home, had a quick coffee, and into my redhotchilipepper chef pants(knew not to get rid of them) with my clunky black rockports and a tshirt...The chef is great, and threw me into the pot ...pointing to things on the menu and saying.."cook it"..So i did, and though my feet were screaming, i was creating, apron on, knife flying, flying myself by the seat of my pants.
Sleep, ah, to crawl into my lovely cloud bed, clothes flung to the floor, hugging my extra pillow...and do it all again tomorrow. I think with the two jobs i will be able to make it, and they are both jobs i love. Later....
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Tuesday Night~~
I have written over 50,000 words on this blog...Happy Writing to Me!.This has been such an eventful 6 days...Truly, i am too tired to explain it all. Quickly, i have driven over 1,600 miles. I am no longer afraid of driving through mountains. I have started my job with the seniors, and tomorrow i start my second job as a cook in a little italian restaurant. Life is a huge challenge right now, and i have so many things to fix, consider, change and explore that i just want to crawl into my bed, pull up the covers, and hide.
Ain't going to happen. I will try to keep muddling thru, try to keep going forward, and, maybe, just maybe, all will be a bit clearer each passing day.
Ah, tomorrow, i so love tomorrows. They hold the promise of wounds healed, of battles won, of kisses taken, of whispers given...AND...my fourth poem is published on the internet writing site...It is so racy, it makes ME blush...yet, when i wrote it, it was written in singleminded devotion to physical communion....Later...this sleepy mermaid is doing the backstroke to the nearest warm reef, curling her tail around a sturdy buoy, and resting for the night...Later
I have written over 50,000 words on this blog...Happy Writing to Me!.This has been such an eventful 6 days...Truly, i am too tired to explain it all. Quickly, i have driven over 1,600 miles. I am no longer afraid of driving through mountains. I have started my job with the seniors, and tomorrow i start my second job as a cook in a little italian restaurant. Life is a huge challenge right now, and i have so many things to fix, consider, change and explore that i just want to crawl into my bed, pull up the covers, and hide.
Ain't going to happen. I will try to keep muddling thru, try to keep going forward, and, maybe, just maybe, all will be a bit clearer each passing day.
Ah, tomorrow, i so love tomorrows. They hold the promise of wounds healed, of battles won, of kisses taken, of whispers given...AND...my fourth poem is published on the internet writing site...It is so racy, it makes ME blush...yet, when i wrote it, it was written in singleminded devotion to physical communion....Later...this sleepy mermaid is doing the backstroke to the nearest warm reef, curling her tail around a sturdy buoy, and resting for the night...Later
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Thursday afternoon~~
Have you ever had those times in your life where you knew God shined on you? I have..Holding my children in my arms, their skin like spring petals, their fingers curled around mine. Perfect hugs, where the essence and breath was of love..Rainbows and the scent of fresh cut grass and the glory of a spider web, irridesent in the dawn.
I am now employed..official title."Outreach Coordinator", at the Senior Center. I suppose it would help if i could spell my title, but, that's not what matters. It was a God-shining moment, as i ignored the Big Kahuna after he said congradulations, and turned to the big glass window where the seniors watched our every move. I smiled so big i thought i would burst, and my eyes were happyshining with tears. Two thumbs up!, I gave them, and they started clapping their hands in applause. I love them, and i can't wait to start on monday....Later..
Have you ever had those times in your life where you knew God shined on you? I have..Holding my children in my arms, their skin like spring petals, their fingers curled around mine. Perfect hugs, where the essence and breath was of love..Rainbows and the scent of fresh cut grass and the glory of a spider web, irridesent in the dawn.
I am now employed..official title."Outreach Coordinator", at the Senior Center. I suppose it would help if i could spell my title, but, that's not what matters. It was a God-shining moment, as i ignored the Big Kahuna after he said congradulations, and turned to the big glass window where the seniors watched our every move. I smiled so big i thought i would burst, and my eyes were happyshining with tears. Two thumbs up!, I gave them, and they started clapping their hands in applause. I love them, and i can't wait to start on monday....Later..
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Wednesday Night~~
Last night before i slept, i decided that if i didn't hear about working at the Senior Citizen Center, that i would take a job, any job, today. I was calm about my decision, but sorrowful..wanting so much to combine work with pleasure..for that is what it is for me each time i am there. I decided that i would still volunteer, any time i could, so it wouldn't be a total loss.
Yes, the darkest hour of night has passed..I am meeting the Big Kahuna from the Commission on Aging tomorrow at 10:15am. The present Director called me an hour or two after the phone call from the Big Guy, and said that i was going to be offered the secondary position. She said she had been on pins and needles, because there was a waiting list for the job, from people in the field, and he had chosen me over 20 some applicants. It's not for sure yet, i refuse to count those chickens before i see them hatched...buuuuttttt...it sure is looking good. Thanks, God. Later.
Last night before i slept, i decided that if i didn't hear about working at the Senior Citizen Center, that i would take a job, any job, today. I was calm about my decision, but sorrowful..wanting so much to combine work with pleasure..for that is what it is for me each time i am there. I decided that i would still volunteer, any time i could, so it wouldn't be a total loss.
Yes, the darkest hour of night has passed..I am meeting the Big Kahuna from the Commission on Aging tomorrow at 10:15am. The present Director called me an hour or two after the phone call from the Big Guy, and said that i was going to be offered the secondary position. She said she had been on pins and needles, because there was a waiting list for the job, from people in the field, and he had chosen me over 20 some applicants. It's not for sure yet, i refuse to count those chickens before i see them hatched...buuuuttttt...it sure is looking good. Thanks, God. Later.
Wednesday Morning~~
I was going to write about the past weekend, probably will, because there were so many writing snapshots that long to be written about, but an experience yesterday won't leave me....Some things leave a writing itch that won't rest til it's scratched....
After a discouraging day of job hunting, i went to, of course you guessed it..the beach. Intuition guided me, and i found myself in a glorious place of high dunes,sea and sky. I wore my bulky sweater, and my mother's chiffon scarf in my hair, enjoying it's color and flutter in the chill wind as i walked. I walked til the few people about were mere dots, and settled on a high spot in the sand. The sea seemed to curl and break into frothy waves just for me, and i sat, half lotus position, and opened my heart to God. I felt my molecules dance and stir, i felt the rhythmn of the sea as my breath. I got up and started back along the beach, intending to go home and start dinner. Intuition demanded i take the dunes rather then the shore, and i found myself at an opening in the fence. Weathered planks formed what looked like a boardwalk to nowhere. Curious, i took the path. A lone tent greeted me, and the strains of violin and guitar. I was 20 feet away from them, as they sat on a picnic table and played. I sat down quietly, brushing the sand from my barefeet and putting on my boots. They played Celtic lovesongs and battlecries;flirty toetappers and tearful goodbyes. I looked to my right, at the pencil line of fence along the dunes,brilliantly foiled against the blue of the sky. Seven crows perched there,motionless,as they enjoyed the concert with me. I looked to my left, back at the gypsyking and his consort on guitar. I nodded my appreciation, with my hand on my heart...such beauty, such a gift. Then i walked on.
I was going to write about the past weekend, probably will, because there were so many writing snapshots that long to be written about, but an experience yesterday won't leave me....Some things leave a writing itch that won't rest til it's scratched....
After a discouraging day of job hunting, i went to, of course you guessed it..the beach. Intuition guided me, and i found myself in a glorious place of high dunes,sea and sky. I wore my bulky sweater, and my mother's chiffon scarf in my hair, enjoying it's color and flutter in the chill wind as i walked. I walked til the few people about were mere dots, and settled on a high spot in the sand. The sea seemed to curl and break into frothy waves just for me, and i sat, half lotus position, and opened my heart to God. I felt my molecules dance and stir, i felt the rhythmn of the sea as my breath. I got up and started back along the beach, intending to go home and start dinner. Intuition demanded i take the dunes rather then the shore, and i found myself at an opening in the fence. Weathered planks formed what looked like a boardwalk to nowhere. Curious, i took the path. A lone tent greeted me, and the strains of violin and guitar. I was 20 feet away from them, as they sat on a picnic table and played. I sat down quietly, brushing the sand from my barefeet and putting on my boots. They played Celtic lovesongs and battlecries;flirty toetappers and tearful goodbyes. I looked to my right, at the pencil line of fence along the dunes,brilliantly foiled against the blue of the sky. Seven crows perched there,motionless,as they enjoyed the concert with me. I looked to my left, back at the gypsyking and his consort on guitar. I nodded my appreciation, with my hand on my heart...such beauty, such a gift. Then i walked on.
Monday, October 11, 2004
Monday Night~~
I am back...I left friday for North Jersey...just outside of Manhattan, where i lived as a child, and my brother and sister still live today.It was three days full of, FULL of, experiences...but, i am just to darn tired to write...i will see u all tomorrow...time for some well earned beautysleep...zzzzzzzzzzz Later
I am back...I left friday for North Jersey...just outside of Manhattan, where i lived as a child, and my brother and sister still live today.It was three days full of, FULL of, experiences...but, i am just to darn tired to write...i will see u all tomorrow...time for some well earned beautysleep...zzzzzzzzzzz Later
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Thursday Night~~
Flora said it..."Love is All". She knows, because she has been a love vigilante..always ready to love, always ready to feel, no matter what has come before, no matter what is, no matter what will be. I follow her path curiously, because, i know, that with her singleminded determination, her heart, someone is going to mesh with her in such a complete, glorious way, that she will be an inspiration to that which i hold so dear: complete, satisfied, almost smug, yet gloriously ingenuous, love.
As for me? I am writing my book. I happened to give Rikk's portfolio to the wife of an artist's agent today...I never miss an opportunity to promote him. He seems far away, yet, i still hold him close...perhaps i am a fool, or perhaps, like he says, i just need alot of external attention, to prove love.
Posh! , i say. I just want so much to snuggle deep, that's all.
I have been cooking all day, and i am redolent with a peculiar perfume....garlic, and balsamic vinegar; asiago cheese and parmesan and tomatoes, cooked all day in a simmering sauce.
Food makes me crazy..perhaps that's why people like what i cook...I caress the vegetables before i slice them, i scrutinse them for color, and shape, and form...I taste, and stir, and fan the fragrant steam...and all the while, i whisper"God Bless You, Eat Well", adding the secret ingredient to my dishes..
I am not classicly trained, nor do i call myself a chef. I am so.....not marketable in this world. I should have been born in the fifties...wearing a frilly apron, cleaning the house, tending children, and kissing my husband dutifully on the cheek, as he came home from work.
Yah, all of today's women will hate that remark. But, between pot roast and homework, vaccumning and laundry, i could write, and garden, and not worry about the mortgage payment, or the utility bills. Trade off? sure. I bet Harriet Beecher Stowe ironed her husbands shirts, while she plotted the Underground Railroad. Later.
Flora said it..."Love is All". She knows, because she has been a love vigilante..always ready to love, always ready to feel, no matter what has come before, no matter what is, no matter what will be. I follow her path curiously, because, i know, that with her singleminded determination, her heart, someone is going to mesh with her in such a complete, glorious way, that she will be an inspiration to that which i hold so dear: complete, satisfied, almost smug, yet gloriously ingenuous, love.
As for me? I am writing my book. I happened to give Rikk's portfolio to the wife of an artist's agent today...I never miss an opportunity to promote him. He seems far away, yet, i still hold him close...perhaps i am a fool, or perhaps, like he says, i just need alot of external attention, to prove love.
Posh! , i say. I just want so much to snuggle deep, that's all.
I have been cooking all day, and i am redolent with a peculiar perfume....garlic, and balsamic vinegar; asiago cheese and parmesan and tomatoes, cooked all day in a simmering sauce.
Food makes me crazy..perhaps that's why people like what i cook...I caress the vegetables before i slice them, i scrutinse them for color, and shape, and form...I taste, and stir, and fan the fragrant steam...and all the while, i whisper"God Bless You, Eat Well", adding the secret ingredient to my dishes..
I am not classicly trained, nor do i call myself a chef. I am so.....not marketable in this world. I should have been born in the fifties...wearing a frilly apron, cleaning the house, tending children, and kissing my husband dutifully on the cheek, as he came home from work.
Yah, all of today's women will hate that remark. But, between pot roast and homework, vaccumning and laundry, i could write, and garden, and not worry about the mortgage payment, or the utility bills. Trade off? sure. I bet Harriet Beecher Stowe ironed her husbands shirts, while she plotted the Underground Railroad. Later.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Wednesday Night~~
I am back...In the words of my tantric twin,it takes as long for me to heal, as the hurt i feel. I hide when i hurt...my family, and my lovers, know this. Lover...that is such an archaic word..but, truly, i have had lovers. "tantric twin"..i asked his permission, months ago, to write about him...I asked because he is no longer my physical lover, not the recipient any longer of notes, and whispers, and touch. But, my lover? always will be.
I say this knowing that it is going to make some people uncomfortable, but, how can u deny love? Love present, love past, love?
I planted angelique tulips for him. I stared into his great, green eyes, and life swirled around us. I lay in a tub, belly cramped, rendevous diverted, with cinnamon candles lighting my pain, searing my commitment, while he sat near me, and his voice gentled me. How can u ever forget such a passage? I can't.
He is a great man, though, he doesn't think so. He helps people with addictions, he is elegant, educated, lustful, and a prolific writer. I let him go, because i wasn't ready to be his consort. I had too many battles to fight, and i didn't want to splash him with the blood of my personal war. Lover, friend, tantric twin? All those..and my metaphysical counterpart.
At least, at the very least, i took him over the Golden Gate Bridge, hair flying, one hand on his thigh, as Barry White seranaded us, and his hand held mine. Later.
I am back...In the words of my tantric twin,it takes as long for me to heal, as the hurt i feel. I hide when i hurt...my family, and my lovers, know this. Lover...that is such an archaic word..but, truly, i have had lovers. "tantric twin"..i asked his permission, months ago, to write about him...I asked because he is no longer my physical lover, not the recipient any longer of notes, and whispers, and touch. But, my lover? always will be.
I say this knowing that it is going to make some people uncomfortable, but, how can u deny love? Love present, love past, love?
I planted angelique tulips for him. I stared into his great, green eyes, and life swirled around us. I lay in a tub, belly cramped, rendevous diverted, with cinnamon candles lighting my pain, searing my commitment, while he sat near me, and his voice gentled me. How can u ever forget such a passage? I can't.
He is a great man, though, he doesn't think so. He helps people with addictions, he is elegant, educated, lustful, and a prolific writer. I let him go, because i wasn't ready to be his consort. I had too many battles to fight, and i didn't want to splash him with the blood of my personal war. Lover, friend, tantric twin? All those..and my metaphysical counterpart.
At least, at the very least, i took him over the Golden Gate Bridge, hair flying, one hand on his thigh, as Barry White seranaded us, and his hand held mine. Later.
Saturday, October 02, 2004
Saturday Night~~
I never hide my thoughts in my blog...as a matter of fact, i pride myself on my openness. Sometimes i think that by sharing my sorrows, as well as my joys, my failings, as well as my successes, that i might be able to connect with those in the same boat..to either show them how to get thru a difficult time, or how NOT to do something..
But, tonight, i am profoundly hurting, and this one is not one to share. So, if i don't write for awhile, please forgive me...
I'll be back....Later.
I never hide my thoughts in my blog...as a matter of fact, i pride myself on my openness. Sometimes i think that by sharing my sorrows, as well as my joys, my failings, as well as my successes, that i might be able to connect with those in the same boat..to either show them how to get thru a difficult time, or how NOT to do something..
But, tonight, i am profoundly hurting, and this one is not one to share. So, if i don't write for awhile, please forgive me...
I'll be back....Later.
Friday, October 01, 2004
Friday Morning~~
It was a beautiful sunrise this morning..I sat on the backdeck in my blue batik robe and white socks, with my legs curled under me and my coffee in hand. The sky lightened under a filmy white mist, turning the tops of the trees pink, then golden.
I know i am still feeling lost, lonely, and frightened..but, i have to be thankful, anyway. I am luckier then most; i have my eyes and legs and hands..I had a warm bed last night and plenty to eat; if God takes care of the sparrows, then He will take care of me.
I will be back out there today, job hunting...I can't sit by the phone like a teenager waiting for it to ring.. I will finish cleaning the house, and making welcoming foods for J and R..and keep writing..
I started my book yesterday. I have a friend who is a writer, and she is going to critique and edit for me..Perhaps out of the heightened emotions i feel will come something good..This move was a bold one, high stakes for me, and i am not ready yet to throw down my cards...Later.
It was a beautiful sunrise this morning..I sat on the backdeck in my blue batik robe and white socks, with my legs curled under me and my coffee in hand. The sky lightened under a filmy white mist, turning the tops of the trees pink, then golden.
I know i am still feeling lost, lonely, and frightened..but, i have to be thankful, anyway. I am luckier then most; i have my eyes and legs and hands..I had a warm bed last night and plenty to eat; if God takes care of the sparrows, then He will take care of me.
I will be back out there today, job hunting...I can't sit by the phone like a teenager waiting for it to ring.. I will finish cleaning the house, and making welcoming foods for J and R..and keep writing..
I started my book yesterday. I have a friend who is a writer, and she is going to critique and edit for me..Perhaps out of the heightened emotions i feel will come something good..This move was a bold one, high stakes for me, and i am not ready yet to throw down my cards...Later.
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Thursday Night~~
I have not heard from the Great Kahuna, the bestower of jobs...Somehow i am translating this silence as a edictment of my life...No one loves me, no one appreciates me, no one will be there for me, in the middle of the night.
I know that isn't true.. i know i am loved. But am i loved exclusively,? I think not. I am sad, to sleep alone. I am sad, to go to the grocery store, alone. I am saving myself for R...but...am i deluding myself? I am so low, i wonder, what on earth am i doing? Does he send me sweet notes, or whisper in my ear? Nope. He isn't romantic, i know that....but...if you love a woman, isn't there a way to let her know?
Maybe he just doesn't care. Maybe all any man has ever wanted from me was my...well, let's call it my "lust for life"...
So be it. I will just grow my hair down to my bum, and, once again, for the record, "screw them all". I don't need a mate, i just long for one. I don't need a partner, i just long for one. As my family has always told me..."Lisa, you do much better on your own". Great. just great.
I will be a long haired old lady, cranky, with cats, and a red hat. At least, i will be able to say "screw it!" with authority and regularity. Later.
PS. hard to publish this one...wet eyes, like lazers, cutting thru the maybe's.
I have not heard from the Great Kahuna, the bestower of jobs...Somehow i am translating this silence as a edictment of my life...No one loves me, no one appreciates me, no one will be there for me, in the middle of the night.
I know that isn't true.. i know i am loved. But am i loved exclusively,? I think not. I am sad, to sleep alone. I am sad, to go to the grocery store, alone. I am saving myself for R...but...am i deluding myself? I am so low, i wonder, what on earth am i doing? Does he send me sweet notes, or whisper in my ear? Nope. He isn't romantic, i know that....but...if you love a woman, isn't there a way to let her know?
Maybe he just doesn't care. Maybe all any man has ever wanted from me was my...well, let's call it my "lust for life"...
So be it. I will just grow my hair down to my bum, and, once again, for the record, "screw them all". I don't need a mate, i just long for one. I don't need a partner, i just long for one. As my family has always told me..."Lisa, you do much better on your own". Great. just great.
I will be a long haired old lady, cranky, with cats, and a red hat. At least, i will be able to say "screw it!" with authority and regularity. Later.
PS. hard to publish this one...wet eyes, like lazers, cutting thru the maybe's.
Thursday Morning~~
Has it been three days without writing? That's scary..I must be drifting along,or is it floundering along??Where is my promise to write everyday? It must have something to do with the people in my life who have asked me not to write about my locale(afraid the masses will descend on this bit of paradise)and those that are afraid of what intimacies i might reveal. Well, screw it. This is my blog, and i'll write if i want to. (hummed to the tune of "this is my party, and i'll cry if i want to").
ANYWAY....this blog entry is dedicated to my faithful PJ.......
What HAS been going on these last three days??I have been volunteering at the local Senior Citizen Center. I have always had a fascination with the elderly...Beating the odds in surviving at all, wondering what knowledge they hold by sheer experience alone, wondering if age does indeed bring wisdom...Other that that, i just plain find them beautiful. Gnarled hands become graceful in my eyes, wrinkles become exclamation points in facial expressions. I pretend they are my parents, and i honor them.
What do i do there? I listen, and hold hands, and give hugs. I talk like the racy young thing i am, and get lots of laughs and winks in return. I walk them to the bathroom, and lean against the sink, chatting, to cover the embarrassment they feel at being led there, like a child. I can FEEL their emotions, because they don't always speak. I find that a wonderous thing, to FEEL them, and know what to do, and what to say. I wish my parents were alive, so i could care for them, and cherish them, and so, i do the next best thing...i get myself adopted, by the parents at the Center.
And now for the best part...Kismet,karma, coincidence? Sunday afternoon my aunt P.and i were going to the market for milk, and saw a garage sale. STOP!!she said, and stop i did...Somehow, the lady and i started talking, and she mentioned she was the director of the Senior Citizen center.. I asked if they could use volunteers, as i was new in town, and didn't have a job yet. You guessed it....She took me under her wing, explaining that she was moving out of state, and had been praying for a compassionate replacement for her position. To get PAID to take care of the elderly?YIPPIE!!!!!!!!
I dropped off my application to the big Kahuna in a nearby town yesterday, with a special endorsement by the director.(amazing what can happen, eh?).I don't know if i will get it, but i do know that i WANT it. I am nervous, but...not too nervous. Like most of the important happenings in my life, I realize it's in God's hands, not mine, and just let go....Later...
Has it been three days without writing? That's scary..I must be drifting along,or is it floundering along??Where is my promise to write everyday? It must have something to do with the people in my life who have asked me not to write about my locale(afraid the masses will descend on this bit of paradise)and those that are afraid of what intimacies i might reveal. Well, screw it. This is my blog, and i'll write if i want to. (hummed to the tune of "this is my party, and i'll cry if i want to").
ANYWAY....this blog entry is dedicated to my faithful PJ.......
What HAS been going on these last three days??I have been volunteering at the local Senior Citizen Center. I have always had a fascination with the elderly...Beating the odds in surviving at all, wondering what knowledge they hold by sheer experience alone, wondering if age does indeed bring wisdom...Other that that, i just plain find them beautiful. Gnarled hands become graceful in my eyes, wrinkles become exclamation points in facial expressions. I pretend they are my parents, and i honor them.
What do i do there? I listen, and hold hands, and give hugs. I talk like the racy young thing i am, and get lots of laughs and winks in return. I walk them to the bathroom, and lean against the sink, chatting, to cover the embarrassment they feel at being led there, like a child. I can FEEL their emotions, because they don't always speak. I find that a wonderous thing, to FEEL them, and know what to do, and what to say. I wish my parents were alive, so i could care for them, and cherish them, and so, i do the next best thing...i get myself adopted, by the parents at the Center.
And now for the best part...Kismet,karma, coincidence? Sunday afternoon my aunt P.and i were going to the market for milk, and saw a garage sale. STOP!!she said, and stop i did...Somehow, the lady and i started talking, and she mentioned she was the director of the Senior Citizen center.. I asked if they could use volunteers, as i was new in town, and didn't have a job yet. You guessed it....She took me under her wing, explaining that she was moving out of state, and had been praying for a compassionate replacement for her position. To get PAID to take care of the elderly?YIPPIE!!!!!!!!
I dropped off my application to the big Kahuna in a nearby town yesterday, with a special endorsement by the director.(amazing what can happen, eh?).I don't know if i will get it, but i do know that i WANT it. I am nervous, but...not too nervous. Like most of the important happenings in my life, I realize it's in God's hands, not mine, and just let go....Later...
Sunday, September 26, 2004
Sunday Night~~
The house is zen quiet, again. The toys are stored away, the kitchen floor swept and mopped. What a wonderful weekend!! Where to begin? I will begin with the crabfeast on Saturday night...My cousin K went to the Crabs-to-Go takeout (No,i am not kidding)..She and my sister came back lugging a bushel basket FILLED with hot, steamed, spicy crabs...I made corn on the cob...To do a proper maryland crabfeast, first you put newspaper on the table, give everyone a wooden hammer, picks, and beer, (I drank Lemonaid, with a kick)..and then eat your way into exctasy....
Cousin K showed us her method, as a veteran crabaholic, to get to the white, sweet lumpmeat,but, it soon became apparent that everyone develops their own style...
I was in a world of my own, trying not to moan, because to eat a crab was damn near orgasmic for me...Each leg, sucked to taste the spice they cook it in...the little phallic tail you lift up to open the crab; the play of fingers and tongue to ferret out each sweet bite......mnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn...I kept my eyes down most of the time, so noone would notice the gleam in my mermaid eye....
And today....making cookies with the girls, giving each of them my favorite angels, one a music snowball, one a fairy angel, to take home....the looks on their faces, as they held out their hands with closed eyes...
Pouring coffee for R, to take home to jersey, our sunday night tradition, with homemade cookies...Planting with J, making our home prettier and prettier...
Sitting on the porchswing, legs tucked, smiling to myself about the joys of family, and food, and love...ahhhhh....sometimes life is so good, sometimes problems can take a backseat, and joy is yours....Later.
The house is zen quiet, again. The toys are stored away, the kitchen floor swept and mopped. What a wonderful weekend!! Where to begin? I will begin with the crabfeast on Saturday night...My cousin K went to the Crabs-to-Go takeout (No,i am not kidding)..She and my sister came back lugging a bushel basket FILLED with hot, steamed, spicy crabs...I made corn on the cob...To do a proper maryland crabfeast, first you put newspaper on the table, give everyone a wooden hammer, picks, and beer, (I drank Lemonaid, with a kick)..and then eat your way into exctasy....
Cousin K showed us her method, as a veteran crabaholic, to get to the white, sweet lumpmeat,but, it soon became apparent that everyone develops their own style...
I was in a world of my own, trying not to moan, because to eat a crab was damn near orgasmic for me...Each leg, sucked to taste the spice they cook it in...the little phallic tail you lift up to open the crab; the play of fingers and tongue to ferret out each sweet bite......mnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn...I kept my eyes down most of the time, so noone would notice the gleam in my mermaid eye....
And today....making cookies with the girls, giving each of them my favorite angels, one a music snowball, one a fairy angel, to take home....the looks on their faces, as they held out their hands with closed eyes...
Pouring coffee for R, to take home to jersey, our sunday night tradition, with homemade cookies...Planting with J, making our home prettier and prettier...
Sitting on the porchswing, legs tucked, smiling to myself about the joys of family, and food, and love...ahhhhh....sometimes life is so good, sometimes problems can take a backseat, and joy is yours....Later.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Saturday Morning~~
We danced in the kitchen, we kissed for no reason...and that is my family in a nutshell. Confusion, chaos, hugs and kisses...The first bottle of wine opened, the food laid out, just for a quick nibble..Sweet Sarah and Abby, and baby Jack..The house bearing mega decibels of sound, as the kids ran and laughed and played..My flute was discovered; i became a magical genie as i made it sing ( and i can't even play yet)My room became the pink princess room, with it's high white bed and embroidered coverlet, and, the COMPUTER..which every kid is savvy on these days. We walked downtown, where there was a Fiddler's Convention, and i tried Sarahs cool scooter, and held hands with Aunt Patti, and ate crabcakes from a fastfood truck,while listening to bluegrass. (Going back for more music tonight). Pam at the art gallery in town invited me in for a glass of wine, and it felt good to actually KNOW someone...
Back to the house, and J and R were home from upnorth....More hugs, more chaos, more kisses, more FOOD...And then the serious dancing in the kitchen, the winestems circled with little charms to keep track of whose was whose...(mine was a seahorse).
Candles lit, and...fresh mozzarella with sliced tomatos from the local farm, marinated button mushrooms and orzo salad, Sliced meats and cheeses from the speciality shop in long island..My eggplant capanata and chicken liver and fish dip;sesame topped italian bread from NY, MyGodinHeaven, did we eat..........Getting another cup of coffee...because there's more....Later
We danced in the kitchen, we kissed for no reason...and that is my family in a nutshell. Confusion, chaos, hugs and kisses...The first bottle of wine opened, the food laid out, just for a quick nibble..Sweet Sarah and Abby, and baby Jack..The house bearing mega decibels of sound, as the kids ran and laughed and played..My flute was discovered; i became a magical genie as i made it sing ( and i can't even play yet)My room became the pink princess room, with it's high white bed and embroidered coverlet, and, the COMPUTER..which every kid is savvy on these days. We walked downtown, where there was a Fiddler's Convention, and i tried Sarahs cool scooter, and held hands with Aunt Patti, and ate crabcakes from a fastfood truck,while listening to bluegrass. (Going back for more music tonight). Pam at the art gallery in town invited me in for a glass of wine, and it felt good to actually KNOW someone...
Back to the house, and J and R were home from upnorth....More hugs, more chaos, more kisses, more FOOD...And then the serious dancing in the kitchen, the winestems circled with little charms to keep track of whose was whose...(mine was a seahorse).
Candles lit, and...fresh mozzarella with sliced tomatos from the local farm, marinated button mushrooms and orzo salad, Sliced meats and cheeses from the speciality shop in long island..My eggplant capanata and chicken liver and fish dip;sesame topped italian bread from NY, MyGodinHeaven, did we eat..........Getting another cup of coffee...because there's more....Later
Friday, September 24, 2004
Friday Morning~~
Okay, last night's Drama Queen theatrics are over..I never did swim well in the pity pool. It only took three restarts on the computer this morning, instead of hours of trying,and i have already had my coffee out on the back deck, looking up at the inky black sky, full of stars.
The big pot of sauce is made, with lots of meatballs. The fish is grilled, and ready to flake into a fishdip. Jewish chopped liver ready to slather on crackers, and
now it's time to make the cookies and pies and cake. The family is coming today!!!
At 7:30 I am walking down to the B&B, the owners have asked me to help out for a few hours...then home for the last minute preparations.
Still not sleeping very well, and needing less sleep, too. I know that they come around and wash the streets here at 4am, and if there is a fire they blow a piercing siren that rattles the walls and makes you want to run for your life.
But i can't deny that i was called here, that there is a reason for everything, and, as has happened so many times before, someday i will look back at this time in my life and say "AHHHH!! so THAT's why that happened".
I am back to my optimistic self, and ready for a new day. Time for a warm, sudsy mermaid shower, and i might even sing alittle while i'm in there....Later.....
Okay, last night's Drama Queen theatrics are over..I never did swim well in the pity pool. It only took three restarts on the computer this morning, instead of hours of trying,and i have already had my coffee out on the back deck, looking up at the inky black sky, full of stars.
The big pot of sauce is made, with lots of meatballs. The fish is grilled, and ready to flake into a fishdip. Jewish chopped liver ready to slather on crackers, and
now it's time to make the cookies and pies and cake. The family is coming today!!!
At 7:30 I am walking down to the B&B, the owners have asked me to help out for a few hours...then home for the last minute preparations.
Still not sleeping very well, and needing less sleep, too. I know that they come around and wash the streets here at 4am, and if there is a fire they blow a piercing siren that rattles the walls and makes you want to run for your life.
But i can't deny that i was called here, that there is a reason for everything, and, as has happened so many times before, someday i will look back at this time in my life and say "AHHHH!! so THAT's why that happened".
I am back to my optimistic self, and ready for a new day. Time for a warm, sudsy mermaid shower, and i might even sing alittle while i'm in there....Later.....
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Thursday Night~~
In my next life, i want to come back as one of my children. Why doesn't J. SEE? I am cooking, he says he wants to learn....so, where IS he? My God, I would like in this lifetime to have someone take care of me...It gets pretty damn tiring, holding the wolves at bay, always on alert. I see women, ugly women, stupid women, mean women, and they have rocks on their fingers and eat bon-bons all day...Where on EARTH did i go wrong??? I know where....3 wealthy men have asked me to be their wife...and i declined each invitation...why? Because i didn't love them....As if that is the criteria for a good life....
JeezeApete..i am bitter tonight....I miss my lover, i miss the taste of his mouth, the curve of his legs, wrapped around me in the middle of the night. I miss my home, with the 100 year old maples in the front yard, and, by now, the hydrangea tree is blossoming wildly in peach. I miss T., and K, and the babies...and the long slope of my street, before i see the picket fence..
I don't have a home anymore. I don't belong anywhere. If it wasn't for J, i think i would just calmly pack my things, and stick out my thumb.
This isn't my world; it's a world of sucessful yuppies and dottering retirees. I am neither. I am just a girlin Walden's Pond, half drowning, determined not to perish...at least not today....Later
In my next life, i want to come back as one of my children. Why doesn't J. SEE? I am cooking, he says he wants to learn....so, where IS he? My God, I would like in this lifetime to have someone take care of me...It gets pretty damn tiring, holding the wolves at bay, always on alert. I see women, ugly women, stupid women, mean women, and they have rocks on their fingers and eat bon-bons all day...Where on EARTH did i go wrong??? I know where....3 wealthy men have asked me to be their wife...and i declined each invitation...why? Because i didn't love them....As if that is the criteria for a good life....
JeezeApete..i am bitter tonight....I miss my lover, i miss the taste of his mouth, the curve of his legs, wrapped around me in the middle of the night. I miss my home, with the 100 year old maples in the front yard, and, by now, the hydrangea tree is blossoming wildly in peach. I miss T., and K, and the babies...and the long slope of my street, before i see the picket fence..
I don't have a home anymore. I don't belong anywhere. If it wasn't for J, i think i would just calmly pack my things, and stick out my thumb.
This isn't my world; it's a world of sucessful yuppies and dottering retirees. I am neither. I am just a girlin Walden's Pond, half drowning, determined not to perish...at least not today....Later
Thursday afternoon~~
Typing fast here, on the cuff, because my computer seems to have the same malady i have....never sure wheither it is coming or going. It took me 4 hours of trying today, and the internet provider, though supremely willing to help me, was as confounded as i. The only way i can connect is to pray, and keep shutting it down until it finally magically works..Amadeus, my computer wizard, wish you were here!
All excited about aunt patti, kelly, and the kids coming. I am cleaning the house like mad, even though it's not dirty. I am going to the store, and doing my best to have welcoming foods. I love them, plain and simple. My family has a heart, so big, so glorious, that i cannot even find the words to explain what they mean to me. They are a pink velvet ribbon on a little girl's throat...they are the wicked waves of a storm tossed sea, they are as luscious as a garden tomato, ripe in the sun, and the vastness of the sky. Overwritten, hopelessly in love with my family? Hopelessly romantic? Yes...i am all of those things. And i can only repay them with cookies and meatballs........
The interview went fine...wonderful, as a matter of fact. The district manager looked like a skinny Ronald Reagan, so, as we chatted, i pretended i was talking to Patrick Swayze in a ronald reagan mask...what was that movie????I was glad i had on a long skirt, because i caught myself crossing and uncrossing my legs,not such a good thing to do in a job interview, but, great for flirting with Patrick Swayze(sorry, George)...Ha!! You thought i forgot i embarass you from time to time, my darling brother?
The only opening is an hour and a half away, in virginia...I am so torn....if i take it, then i start work monday...if not...the only opening is two to three weeks away., i don't know if i can hold out that long....Any advise????
Back to my work, and hopefully i will be able to be online later.
Blogging is like a love affair; I cannot help but anticipate, rushing to see if my lover has responded....and, i always want more.
Later...........
Typing fast here, on the cuff, because my computer seems to have the same malady i have....never sure wheither it is coming or going. It took me 4 hours of trying today, and the internet provider, though supremely willing to help me, was as confounded as i. The only way i can connect is to pray, and keep shutting it down until it finally magically works..Amadeus, my computer wizard, wish you were here!
All excited about aunt patti, kelly, and the kids coming. I am cleaning the house like mad, even though it's not dirty. I am going to the store, and doing my best to have welcoming foods. I love them, plain and simple. My family has a heart, so big, so glorious, that i cannot even find the words to explain what they mean to me. They are a pink velvet ribbon on a little girl's throat...they are the wicked waves of a storm tossed sea, they are as luscious as a garden tomato, ripe in the sun, and the vastness of the sky. Overwritten, hopelessly in love with my family? Hopelessly romantic? Yes...i am all of those things. And i can only repay them with cookies and meatballs........
The interview went fine...wonderful, as a matter of fact. The district manager looked like a skinny Ronald Reagan, so, as we chatted, i pretended i was talking to Patrick Swayze in a ronald reagan mask...what was that movie????I was glad i had on a long skirt, because i caught myself crossing and uncrossing my legs,not such a good thing to do in a job interview, but, great for flirting with Patrick Swayze(sorry, George)...Ha!! You thought i forgot i embarass you from time to time, my darling brother?
The only opening is an hour and a half away, in virginia...I am so torn....if i take it, then i start work monday...if not...the only opening is two to three weeks away., i don't know if i can hold out that long....Any advise????
Back to my work, and hopefully i will be able to be online later.
Blogging is like a love affair; I cannot help but anticipate, rushing to see if my lover has responded....and, i always want more.
Later...........
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Wednesday Morning
Doing all the girlie stuff that has to be done to polish up my image....I don't know how women do it, spend hours plucking their brows, and polishing their nails, slathering creams and all that other mysterious feminine stuff. It's fun every once in awhile, sort of a body meditation...but, as a way of life to stay attractive? No, thanks. I'd rather read a book, or bake cookies, or write, or, or, or...well, just about ANYTHING else.
It's going to be weird slipping into pantyhose, sliding into heels...My navy suit is pressed, and ready, my soft blue blouse crispy pressed. I have so many sides to me,it makes me giggle inside.(makes ALL of us/me giggle inside).
Only thing left to do is make sure i have my references in order, and find the place. Mapquest says only 30 minutes away, i figure if i leave 1-1/2 hours ahead of time, i should be safe.
Do i like the thought of the long hours, the just ok pay, the corp rules again? Nope, not on your life. But, since i don't have a fairy godmother to help me launch a creative business, or support me while i write my book, I will take the job, if offered it, with bells on and a smile....off i go, Later
Doing all the girlie stuff that has to be done to polish up my image....I don't know how women do it, spend hours plucking their brows, and polishing their nails, slathering creams and all that other mysterious feminine stuff. It's fun every once in awhile, sort of a body meditation...but, as a way of life to stay attractive? No, thanks. I'd rather read a book, or bake cookies, or write, or, or, or...well, just about ANYTHING else.
It's going to be weird slipping into pantyhose, sliding into heels...My navy suit is pressed, and ready, my soft blue blouse crispy pressed. I have so many sides to me,it makes me giggle inside.(makes ALL of us/me giggle inside).
Only thing left to do is make sure i have my references in order, and find the place. Mapquest says only 30 minutes away, i figure if i leave 1-1/2 hours ahead of time, i should be safe.
Do i like the thought of the long hours, the just ok pay, the corp rules again? Nope, not on your life. But, since i don't have a fairy godmother to help me launch a creative business, or support me while i write my book, I will take the job, if offered it, with bells on and a smile....off i go, Later
Wednesday Morning
Doing all the girlie stuff that has to be done to polish up my image....I don't know how women do it, spend hours plucking their brows, and polishing their nails, slathering creams and all that other mysterious feminine stuff. It's fun every once in awhile, sort of a body meditation...but, as a way of life to stay attractive? No, thanks. I'd rather read a book, or bake cookies, or write, or, or, or...well, just about ANYTHING else.
It's going to be weird slipping into pantyhose, sliding into heels...My navy suit is pressed, and ready, my soft blue blouse crispy pressed. I have so many sides to me,it makes me giggle inside.(makes ALL of us/me giggle inside).
Only thing left to do is make sure i have my references in order, and find the place. Mapquest says only 30 minutes away, i figure if i leave 1-1/2 hours ahead of time, i should be safe.
Do i like the thought of the long hours, the just ok pay, the corp rules again? Nope, not on your life. But, since i don't have a fairy godmother to help me launch a creative business, or support me while i write my book, I will take the job, if offered it, with bells on and a smile....off i go, Later
Doing all the girlie stuff that has to be done to polish up my image....I don't know how women do it, spend hours plucking their brows, and polishing their nails, slathering creams and all that other mysterious feminine stuff. It's fun every once in awhile, sort of a body meditation...but, as a way of life to stay attractive? No, thanks. I'd rather read a book, or bake cookies, or write, or, or, or...well, just about ANYTHING else.
It's going to be weird slipping into pantyhose, sliding into heels...My navy suit is pressed, and ready, my soft blue blouse crispy pressed. I have so many sides to me,it makes me giggle inside.(makes ALL of us/me giggle inside).
Only thing left to do is make sure i have my references in order, and find the place. Mapquest says only 30 minutes away, i figure if i leave 1-1/2 hours ahead of time, i should be safe.
Do i like the thought of the long hours, the just ok pay, the corp rules again? Nope, not on your life. But, since i don't have a fairy godmother to help me launch a creative business, or support me while i write my book, I will take the job, if offered it, with bells on and a smile....off i go, Later
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Tuesday Evening~~
How easy it is not to write, not to express yourself, but, rather, to hide away, keeping your secrets, keeping up fences of self-defense.
To blog this past week has been too painful..for my thoughts have not been light, or funny, or even beautiful. I am well aware that my family reads my blogs, using them as a pulse, to see how i am doing in my new home.
I am learning to do fine; i am meeting people, i am enjoying the intrinsic beauty of Delmarva Pennisula. Justin is still hard, very hard at times. As i have been trying to write, for example, he has interrupted me five times already..my concentration is broken.
My computer server is different, and though it's fast, it isn't reliable..I have a new morning routine, and i feel very thrown off....
But, tomorrow, thank God for tomorrows...it's a new day...
P.S....Have a job interview tomorrow in the afternoon with the district mgr of the drug store....wish me luck and send me prayers! Later......
How easy it is not to write, not to express yourself, but, rather, to hide away, keeping your secrets, keeping up fences of self-defense.
To blog this past week has been too painful..for my thoughts have not been light, or funny, or even beautiful. I am well aware that my family reads my blogs, using them as a pulse, to see how i am doing in my new home.
I am learning to do fine; i am meeting people, i am enjoying the intrinsic beauty of Delmarva Pennisula. Justin is still hard, very hard at times. As i have been trying to write, for example, he has interrupted me five times already..my concentration is broken.
My computer server is different, and though it's fast, it isn't reliable..I have a new morning routine, and i feel very thrown off....
But, tomorrow, thank God for tomorrows...it's a new day...
P.S....Have a job interview tomorrow in the afternoon with the district mgr of the drug store....wish me luck and send me prayers! Later......
Saturday, September 18, 2004
Saturday, Early afternoon~~
It's still gray and listless out, but, that's okay. Things are up and down with Justin, but, that's okay, too. I feel a deep sense of anticapation, like christmas is almost here. Why? I don't know. I found a course on fiction writing at the local community college, and i am going to take it. It starts this tuesday night.
I haven't heard from the drugstore yet, but, i think i am going to get it, anyway, with my background and just, well, because i think i am.
I am waking up again in the middle of the night, wide awake, staring into the darkness. I am not afraid, i am not lonely, merely....wide awake...I pull the curtains aside, and look out into the darkness of the backyard. Nothing stirs, nothing beacons, but, i still get the feeling i am being watched, and measured, and soon, the last piece of the puzzle will fall into place.
Our first official non-family house guest is here. His name is George, and he is very affable. He brought my sister and robert a bottle of Mumm's champagne for a houseworking gift. He's a vegetarian, so, i guess he won't be eating any of the bacon i cooked for brunch.(oops!)
Jan is off, doing her social butterfly thing, and i have set a beautiful brunch table with the Dutch blue china, and a yellow and blue tablecloth.
I nibbled on bagels she brought down from Manhattan, and faded away to write here in Mermaids....Today i think we are going to virginia, to chincoteague island, the virginia counterpart to assateaque island. Another adventure......later.
It's still gray and listless out, but, that's okay. Things are up and down with Justin, but, that's okay, too. I feel a deep sense of anticapation, like christmas is almost here. Why? I don't know. I found a course on fiction writing at the local community college, and i am going to take it. It starts this tuesday night.
I haven't heard from the drugstore yet, but, i think i am going to get it, anyway, with my background and just, well, because i think i am.
I am waking up again in the middle of the night, wide awake, staring into the darkness. I am not afraid, i am not lonely, merely....wide awake...I pull the curtains aside, and look out into the darkness of the backyard. Nothing stirs, nothing beacons, but, i still get the feeling i am being watched, and measured, and soon, the last piece of the puzzle will fall into place.
Our first official non-family house guest is here. His name is George, and he is very affable. He brought my sister and robert a bottle of Mumm's champagne for a houseworking gift. He's a vegetarian, so, i guess he won't be eating any of the bacon i cooked for brunch.(oops!)
Jan is off, doing her social butterfly thing, and i have set a beautiful brunch table with the Dutch blue china, and a yellow and blue tablecloth.
I nibbled on bagels she brought down from Manhattan, and faded away to write here in Mermaids....Today i think we are going to virginia, to chincoteague island, the virginia counterpart to assateaque island. Another adventure......later.
Friday, September 17, 2004
Good Morning, World!!
Are you all ready????I saw the redbird!!!! Not once, but twice. Early this morning, i sat sipping my coffee on the back deck. Behind the wrought iron fence i saw him....walk-hopping, brightest of bright, against the blackness of the iron. A great, wide smile broke out on my face, and i raised my coffee cup in salute.
I knew it was coming, because i heard Hope call my name last night on the beach. It is a miraculous place, empty of all man has to offer...no hotels, no lights, no signs....just mile after mile of sand, and sea, and sky. As i walked, with the salt in the air perfuming my nose, my only companions were baby crabs, skittering sideways into mysterious little holes, pelicans in flight, and seagulls standing sentinel along the dunes.
The sky embraced me, rolling clouds giving way to a deep red and purple window of light, as the sun slipped away.
I asked "Which way do i go, God?" "Which way?" And my answer, as i looked up, was clear...a jet left a wide white plume in the sky...directly in front of me. The answer, of course, was easy. Just keep going straight ahead....and that's what i am going to do.
The redbird? I laughed that i didn't see him in graceful flight, but, rather, hop-walking along. Just like me, right now.
As i got up to go inside, i had one more treat...He flew..not away, but directly towards me, and landed on the maple tree not 15 feet away. He regarded me steadily, tilted his head to the side...(can birds smile? because this one did) and he was gone. Later.........
Are you all ready????I saw the redbird!!!! Not once, but twice. Early this morning, i sat sipping my coffee on the back deck. Behind the wrought iron fence i saw him....walk-hopping, brightest of bright, against the blackness of the iron. A great, wide smile broke out on my face, and i raised my coffee cup in salute.
I knew it was coming, because i heard Hope call my name last night on the beach. It is a miraculous place, empty of all man has to offer...no hotels, no lights, no signs....just mile after mile of sand, and sea, and sky. As i walked, with the salt in the air perfuming my nose, my only companions were baby crabs, skittering sideways into mysterious little holes, pelicans in flight, and seagulls standing sentinel along the dunes.
The sky embraced me, rolling clouds giving way to a deep red and purple window of light, as the sun slipped away.
I asked "Which way do i go, God?" "Which way?" And my answer, as i looked up, was clear...a jet left a wide white plume in the sky...directly in front of me. The answer, of course, was easy. Just keep going straight ahead....and that's what i am going to do.
The redbird? I laughed that i didn't see him in graceful flight, but, rather, hop-walking along. Just like me, right now.
As i got up to go inside, i had one more treat...He flew..not away, but directly towards me, and landed on the maple tree not 15 feet away. He regarded me steadily, tilted his head to the side...(can birds smile? because this one did) and he was gone. Later.........
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Thursday Morning,
I awoke before six, and went outside to watch to sky turn pink in the east. I wondered if the ponies ran the beach at that hour, noses up, waiting for the day.
I didn't go look...but, rather, snuggled back in my cloud of a bed, content.
I am back. Truly back. I have changed my screensaver to a picture of Todd and K.,sitting in my front porch swing, wide, sassy grins on their dear faces. I have my nephew, C, coming tonight, with his fiancee.., and a new dryer my sister bought being delivered this morning.
I rearranged the guest room upstairs, and hung lace curtains at the windows, and it's ready for the first overnight guest that i don't know this saturday...a friend of my brother-in-law.
I am calling Rite-Aid today, and I have a crazy hunch of a job elsewhere that i am going to explore.
I am going to enjoy this respite from work, instead of squirming in anxiety about money. For, the truth is, it's not something i can change at this given moment, so, i might as well use the time happily.
Off i go, to a brandnew day...Later.
I awoke before six, and went outside to watch to sky turn pink in the east. I wondered if the ponies ran the beach at that hour, noses up, waiting for the day.
I didn't go look...but, rather, snuggled back in my cloud of a bed, content.
I am back. Truly back. I have changed my screensaver to a picture of Todd and K.,sitting in my front porch swing, wide, sassy grins on their dear faces. I have my nephew, C, coming tonight, with his fiancee.., and a new dryer my sister bought being delivered this morning.
I rearranged the guest room upstairs, and hung lace curtains at the windows, and it's ready for the first overnight guest that i don't know this saturday...a friend of my brother-in-law.
I am calling Rite-Aid today, and I have a crazy hunch of a job elsewhere that i am going to explore.
I am going to enjoy this respite from work, instead of squirming in anxiety about money. For, the truth is, it's not something i can change at this given moment, so, i might as well use the time happily.
Off i go, to a brandnew day...Later.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Wednesday Night~~
First, thank you, amadeus...you are such a loving friend. Your reply today was what i was thinking, you just put it to words for me.
Justin should know in a few days about his job...the owners are out of town. I had to push him out of the car, with prayers and a swift kick, but, i watched him in the rear view mirror, (even though i DID tell him "pull up your pants!" and, he walked tall. Such a serious, intelligent young man, such a mere infant, sigh.
Me? well, i cleaned and put away my books, and left a message for the DM of the drugstore. I have a horrible feeling that i transposed the numbers in my new phone number, something i do when i am nervous.
We rented a video downtown. The local toughgirl, about 200 bucks soaking wet, shook my hand and almost crushed it. I forgot to wear makeup, and my hair was at it's best..yanked up in a clip, with a frizzy poodle-doo in the front.
The lady behind the counter greeted me..."you must be the new woman in town" I was startled...how did she KNOW? She asked me how i liked the town...and i said, "well, i enjoy all the cornfields, and the sea is wonderful". Dead silence.
"where u-all from?" she queried. "uhmmm, Detroit". Her eyes widened, and i think she did a quick visual, looking for weapons.
"what da u-all do?" I wanted to say i was a missionary, or, librarian, or, i inherited my moohlah, but, instead, i blurted out..."I am a Writer!"
Shit. the book isn't written yet. I can't believe i said that.
I have to blame my sweetest friend, Flora. She started me blogging. She told me i could write. Once i started writing, last March, it was all over for me.
First, came the practice. Then, came the kernel of thought....could i, would i? write a book? Then came the idea,,,what to write about? Then came the book premise...Then, finally, the title...which is....
Redbird. (of course)
Broke, scared, and finally happy,
later.
First, thank you, amadeus...you are such a loving friend. Your reply today was what i was thinking, you just put it to words for me.
Justin should know in a few days about his job...the owners are out of town. I had to push him out of the car, with prayers and a swift kick, but, i watched him in the rear view mirror, (even though i DID tell him "pull up your pants!" and, he walked tall. Such a serious, intelligent young man, such a mere infant, sigh.
Me? well, i cleaned and put away my books, and left a message for the DM of the drugstore. I have a horrible feeling that i transposed the numbers in my new phone number, something i do when i am nervous.
We rented a video downtown. The local toughgirl, about 200 bucks soaking wet, shook my hand and almost crushed it. I forgot to wear makeup, and my hair was at it's best..yanked up in a clip, with a frizzy poodle-doo in the front.
The lady behind the counter greeted me..."you must be the new woman in town" I was startled...how did she KNOW? She asked me how i liked the town...and i said, "well, i enjoy all the cornfields, and the sea is wonderful". Dead silence.
"where u-all from?" she queried. "uhmmm, Detroit". Her eyes widened, and i think she did a quick visual, looking for weapons.
"what da u-all do?" I wanted to say i was a missionary, or, librarian, or, i inherited my moohlah, but, instead, i blurted out..."I am a Writer!"
Shit. the book isn't written yet. I can't believe i said that.
I have to blame my sweetest friend, Flora. She started me blogging. She told me i could write. Once i started writing, last March, it was all over for me.
First, came the practice. Then, came the kernel of thought....could i, would i? write a book? Then came the idea,,,what to write about? Then came the book premise...Then, finally, the title...which is....
Redbird. (of course)
Broke, scared, and finally happy,
later.
Wednesday Morning~~
Before i opened my eyes this morning, i heard the redbird sing. The wind ruffled through the sheer white curtains in my bedroom, and i sat up, looking for my first glimpse of my totem bird since i have been in maryland. I heard her clearly, but couldnt see her.
Not yet. I haven't seen her yet. This concerns me, because i inhabit a world of secret signs and omens, that somehow overlap and fit into my everyday practicality.
I am fighting a war right now. It is a singular war, against depression and low self-esteem. It keeps me from writing, because i see my words as a whining, woe-is-me victim, instead of the poet-warrior i am meant to be.
So, today as i heard the redbird, and didn't see her, i DO take it as a sign..A sign that all will be well, even if i don't see it. I just have to work with what i have, keep exploring the area until it becomes familiar, find solace in the sea, and put on a happy face.
Today J. has a job interview at 12 noon, working for a Doggie-hotel. Can you believe it? A bed and breakfast for dogs. Last night we got out the papers for the Home Schooling program, and we will call on that today..or rather, HE will call, i will just be standing by.
I am faxing my resume to a local newspaper, looking for a classified salesperson...sounds interesting, so, why not? I am also going to get in touch with the District Mgr. of one the national drugstores i used to work at, it's decent, all year round employment, with good benefits. What does it matter, as long as i write my book in the meantime?
Off i go, to fight my war, to find beauty where i can, to keep active, to keep a smile on my face, and hope in my heart. Later.
Before i opened my eyes this morning, i heard the redbird sing. The wind ruffled through the sheer white curtains in my bedroom, and i sat up, looking for my first glimpse of my totem bird since i have been in maryland. I heard her clearly, but couldnt see her.
Not yet. I haven't seen her yet. This concerns me, because i inhabit a world of secret signs and omens, that somehow overlap and fit into my everyday practicality.
I am fighting a war right now. It is a singular war, against depression and low self-esteem. It keeps me from writing, because i see my words as a whining, woe-is-me victim, instead of the poet-warrior i am meant to be.
So, today as i heard the redbird, and didn't see her, i DO take it as a sign..A sign that all will be well, even if i don't see it. I just have to work with what i have, keep exploring the area until it becomes familiar, find solace in the sea, and put on a happy face.
Today J. has a job interview at 12 noon, working for a Doggie-hotel. Can you believe it? A bed and breakfast for dogs. Last night we got out the papers for the Home Schooling program, and we will call on that today..or rather, HE will call, i will just be standing by.
I am faxing my resume to a local newspaper, looking for a classified salesperson...sounds interesting, so, why not? I am also going to get in touch with the District Mgr. of one the national drugstores i used to work at, it's decent, all year round employment, with good benefits. What does it matter, as long as i write my book in the meantime?
Off i go, to fight my war, to find beauty where i can, to keep active, to keep a smile on my face, and hope in my heart. Later.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
tuesday night~~
I just wanted to say thank you for all your support...those of you that i know personally, and those of you who have come to know me from my writings..
I am trying to write everyday, but, i confess, my heart just isn't in it right now.....early to bed tonight, and looking towards a new day...later.
I just wanted to say thank you for all your support...those of you that i know personally, and those of you who have come to know me from my writings..
I am trying to write everyday, but, i confess, my heart just isn't in it right now.....early to bed tonight, and looking towards a new day...later.
Monday, September 13, 2004
Monday Morning~~
They say there is such as phenomenon as the "dark night of the soul". I don't think this is an isolated happening, in any life...But, rather, a series of chapters of growth, where we are all alone in the dark, afraid, longing for comfort, longing for the light..
Some of us call to our mommies, some of us whistle, some of us numb ourselves with drug, or drink. Most of us pray, pray as we whistle, pray as we drink, pray as we drug...All of us, i think, move thru the darkness with the bogeyman over our shoulder, all of us grow in wisdom, in experience, as we walk that dark corridor that we hope we never see again.
Do i think that suffering is necessary for growth? With a heavy heart, wishing i could say elsewise, i say, unequivocally, YES.
Maybe the saints were right, all along. Personally, the many avenues of pain i have suffered, have not killed me, just made me stronger.
I am not discounting the bird in flight, the beauty of the blossom, the scent of lavender. I am not discounting the delicacy of a hand held, or the tears of joy in the throes of intimacy.
I am only saying, have the courage to walk thru the darkest of nights...the darkness that flows from the physical world we inhabit, the even darker state of our minds, as we leave familiarity, leave relationships, leave the known.
I want to meet Christopher Columbus in heaven. He sailed the ocean, deep and vast and magnificent, with only his instincts and dreams leading him to a horizon others said was flat.
Go for it. Christopher was right. You don't drop off the horizon. The world is round, not flat.
I am back, the mermaid beached on the shore, gasping for breath. I have walked my dark night, weeping over my separation from my front porch swing, my son, my love, Todd, my proximity to all that is known and dear.
I am back, growling at the lack of money, the unpaid bills. I am strengthening my backbone, as Justin, the child i wanted to save from pain, runs back to it, to Michigan.
I walked 5 miles on the beach this morning, my companions my aching feet, sandpipers, and bits of broken shell.
The wild ponies raced along the water, and i heard, impossibly, a redbird cry my beloved"pretty, pretty, pretty". I walked slow, the flowered backpack i thought i should discard filled with water, a pen, paper, and my keys.
I asked God...why did i do this crazy thing? Why am i here?
All i heard was the rhythm of the water. All i saw was the sleek line of sky and sea.I asked for a sign...i prayed for work....
I wanted something spectacular...dolphins arcing in play..a perfect conch shell.
Instead.....
I got a walking stick..Driftwood, with a gnarled edge, a rounded shape..yet, perfectly fitted to my height and hand.
So...thanks, God. For being there thru my "darkest night"..Not miraculous transporting me out of my pain, but giving me a walking stick. later.
They say there is such as phenomenon as the "dark night of the soul". I don't think this is an isolated happening, in any life...But, rather, a series of chapters of growth, where we are all alone in the dark, afraid, longing for comfort, longing for the light..
Some of us call to our mommies, some of us whistle, some of us numb ourselves with drug, or drink. Most of us pray, pray as we whistle, pray as we drink, pray as we drug...All of us, i think, move thru the darkness with the bogeyman over our shoulder, all of us grow in wisdom, in experience, as we walk that dark corridor that we hope we never see again.
Do i think that suffering is necessary for growth? With a heavy heart, wishing i could say elsewise, i say, unequivocally, YES.
Maybe the saints were right, all along. Personally, the many avenues of pain i have suffered, have not killed me, just made me stronger.
I am not discounting the bird in flight, the beauty of the blossom, the scent of lavender. I am not discounting the delicacy of a hand held, or the tears of joy in the throes of intimacy.
I am only saying, have the courage to walk thru the darkest of nights...the darkness that flows from the physical world we inhabit, the even darker state of our minds, as we leave familiarity, leave relationships, leave the known.
I want to meet Christopher Columbus in heaven. He sailed the ocean, deep and vast and magnificent, with only his instincts and dreams leading him to a horizon others said was flat.
Go for it. Christopher was right. You don't drop off the horizon. The world is round, not flat.
I am back, the mermaid beached on the shore, gasping for breath. I have walked my dark night, weeping over my separation from my front porch swing, my son, my love, Todd, my proximity to all that is known and dear.
I am back, growling at the lack of money, the unpaid bills. I am strengthening my backbone, as Justin, the child i wanted to save from pain, runs back to it, to Michigan.
I walked 5 miles on the beach this morning, my companions my aching feet, sandpipers, and bits of broken shell.
The wild ponies raced along the water, and i heard, impossibly, a redbird cry my beloved"pretty, pretty, pretty". I walked slow, the flowered backpack i thought i should discard filled with water, a pen, paper, and my keys.
I asked God...why did i do this crazy thing? Why am i here?
All i heard was the rhythm of the water. All i saw was the sleek line of sky and sea.I asked for a sign...i prayed for work....
I wanted something spectacular...dolphins arcing in play..a perfect conch shell.
Instead.....
I got a walking stick..Driftwood, with a gnarled edge, a rounded shape..yet, perfectly fitted to my height and hand.
So...thanks, God. For being there thru my "darkest night"..Not miraculous transporting me out of my pain, but giving me a walking stick. later.
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Saturday Morning~~
I guess i never expected to be so homesick. I keep reminding myself that i need to give myself time....time to settle in, time to make this my home. My sister has tried so hard to make me welcome...the strangeness will wear off, right?
I am going to the beach in a few minutes, and walk. I hear a redbird every morning, but i haven't seen him yet....My fingers feel depressed on the keyboard..., how funny!! never heard of depressed fingers before...must be a writer's block type of ailment.,lol...
So, i am taking the advise i have so often given to others...cheer up, get moving, and it will be okay....later.
I guess i never expected to be so homesick. I keep reminding myself that i need to give myself time....time to settle in, time to make this my home. My sister has tried so hard to make me welcome...the strangeness will wear off, right?
I am going to the beach in a few minutes, and walk. I hear a redbird every morning, but i haven't seen him yet....My fingers feel depressed on the keyboard..., how funny!! never heard of depressed fingers before...must be a writer's block type of ailment.,lol...
So, i am taking the advise i have so often given to others...cheer up, get moving, and it will be okay....later.
Friday, September 10, 2004
Thursday Night~~
Home is where the heart is...God Bless whoever wrote that..because, today, i know it is true. I am now living in a beautiful house...so beautiful, i would not dare to eat an icecream sandwich on the couch. The sea is so close, and the sky...well, the stars reach down and kiss you...
And me? i miss my little cottage. I am waking up each night in dead sweats, I miss my son. I miss the stupid mattress store. I miss the winding road, to my house. I miss .....well, i miss everything. I am just a coward. I don't know why i moved. I miss Justin's girlfriend, with her serious eyes, and her tiny little waist, and i miss my grandbabies(even though i can't really claim them yet.) I miss my red tomatoes, and my swing, and i miss my flowers.
Why in God's name did i do this?????This house makes funny noises in the middle of the night, and, i am locking the doors, scared. Later
Home is where the heart is...God Bless whoever wrote that..because, today, i know it is true. I am now living in a beautiful house...so beautiful, i would not dare to eat an icecream sandwich on the couch. The sea is so close, and the sky...well, the stars reach down and kiss you...
And me? i miss my little cottage. I am waking up each night in dead sweats, I miss my son. I miss the stupid mattress store. I miss the winding road, to my house. I miss .....well, i miss everything. I am just a coward. I don't know why i moved. I miss Justin's girlfriend, with her serious eyes, and her tiny little waist, and i miss my grandbabies(even though i can't really claim them yet.) I miss my red tomatoes, and my swing, and i miss my flowers.
Why in God's name did i do this?????This house makes funny noises in the middle of the night, and, i am locking the doors, scared. Later
Friday, September 03, 2004
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Thursday Night~~The witches of waterford..
I wanted so much to make homemade salsa from the garden, and light candles, and wear a flowing skirt, with bright red, painted lips. Instead, i wore jeans, and no bra, and my naked face peered out from my glasses. My curls were corraled, in a big, wicked clip, and i drank alot of wine.
And the people that loved me? They are the ones that don't really have alot, if you talk about material things, but, they are so rich, so real, that i know that i have sat with them before, in heaven, and just leaned back and laughed..and probably shared a meal or two, or ten thousand.
Ginny packed the clean clothes, fresh from the laundry mat. Mary organized my camping gear. Andrea made the boys pick up, and Lindsey, God love her, sick as a dog, and delicately excusing herself to be sick, ferried things from box to box.
My Todd bought pizza, and was the perfect host(chip off the old block) And, in his do-rag, six foot two, and watchful, made it all happen.
J..well, he gave me his last hurrah in michigan...tried to fight with me...and i just was exausted by his bullshit. He picked up a plate, went to throw it...and i said.."go for it...if that's the best you can do...because, i am going to pop you a good one if you really piss me off..i don't have time for your crap tonight." Then i walked out the door...went back to my friends, and the love i felt as i gave things away, and the wine didn't hurt, either.
Amazing...i didn't hear a crash...guess it wasn't the same with no audience...
They all toasted me..and i felt so, so loved...My gift to them was to go around the circle, and do a phychic reading...I don't do it often, it is very draining...but, i wanted so badly to give back....I think i gave them some insight, and hopefully some foresight...
Now, it's time for bed...I haven't even told you about my visit with my friend Pat...but, that's another story...later.
I wanted so much to make homemade salsa from the garden, and light candles, and wear a flowing skirt, with bright red, painted lips. Instead, i wore jeans, and no bra, and my naked face peered out from my glasses. My curls were corraled, in a big, wicked clip, and i drank alot of wine.
And the people that loved me? They are the ones that don't really have alot, if you talk about material things, but, they are so rich, so real, that i know that i have sat with them before, in heaven, and just leaned back and laughed..and probably shared a meal or two, or ten thousand.
Ginny packed the clean clothes, fresh from the laundry mat. Mary organized my camping gear. Andrea made the boys pick up, and Lindsey, God love her, sick as a dog, and delicately excusing herself to be sick, ferried things from box to box.
My Todd bought pizza, and was the perfect host(chip off the old block) And, in his do-rag, six foot two, and watchful, made it all happen.
J..well, he gave me his last hurrah in michigan...tried to fight with me...and i just was exausted by his bullshit. He picked up a plate, went to throw it...and i said.."go for it...if that's the best you can do...because, i am going to pop you a good one if you really piss me off..i don't have time for your crap tonight." Then i walked out the door...went back to my friends, and the love i felt as i gave things away, and the wine didn't hurt, either.
Amazing...i didn't hear a crash...guess it wasn't the same with no audience...
They all toasted me..and i felt so, so loved...My gift to them was to go around the circle, and do a phychic reading...I don't do it often, it is very draining...but, i wanted so badly to give back....I think i gave them some insight, and hopefully some foresight...
Now, it's time for bed...I haven't even told you about my visit with my friend Pat...but, that's another story...later.
Thursday Morning~
I have spent the last three days in prayer. Not white-gloved, kneel in church prayer, just a running dialog with God. I have gone to the source with all my dreams and hopes and fears, asking for guidance and a miracle. What i was looking for was a financial miracle,because moving day is tomorrow, and there just isn't much money left. Don't let anyone tell you miracles don't exist...they do. Mine have come when i wrestle my ego to it's knees, and just let go...and, let God.
I still haven't seen that green miracle, but, my faith is strong. I guess He had a more important miracle to take care of first.
Last night, 12am, i tossed and turned, eyes wide open in the dark, thinking about J., and his decision...This is unusual for me, because i am one of those lucky people that fall asleep as soon as i hit the pillow. "Momma? are you asleep?" It was J. at my door. "Can we talk?"
Out we went to the front porch swing, to sit in the dark,with the moon gleaming through the tall maples, and a cup of tea. Maybe staying with his friend wasn't such a good idea, he began. How was he going to make it on his own, without a job, a car, an education? Maybe he wasn't ready. I let him talk, and didn't interrupt, all the while silently thanking God, for THIS was the miracle He had in store for me.
There is a selfish part of me that said "Oh No!", because once i got used to the fact that i was going to maryland alone, i started to fantasize about it all...the sheer, glorious freedom..the first time in my entire life i would live alone, and not take care of anybody but myself.
Not going to happen, yet. J decided to come to maryland, after all.He doesn't realize it yet, but, he has made a decision that will change his life in so many wonderful ways.. And so, the journey continues, and i stay mentor, on active Momma Battle Duty, for a while more...Later
I have spent the last three days in prayer. Not white-gloved, kneel in church prayer, just a running dialog with God. I have gone to the source with all my dreams and hopes and fears, asking for guidance and a miracle. What i was looking for was a financial miracle,because moving day is tomorrow, and there just isn't much money left. Don't let anyone tell you miracles don't exist...they do. Mine have come when i wrestle my ego to it's knees, and just let go...and, let God.
I still haven't seen that green miracle, but, my faith is strong. I guess He had a more important miracle to take care of first.
Last night, 12am, i tossed and turned, eyes wide open in the dark, thinking about J., and his decision...This is unusual for me, because i am one of those lucky people that fall asleep as soon as i hit the pillow. "Momma? are you asleep?" It was J. at my door. "Can we talk?"
Out we went to the front porch swing, to sit in the dark,with the moon gleaming through the tall maples, and a cup of tea. Maybe staying with his friend wasn't such a good idea, he began. How was he going to make it on his own, without a job, a car, an education? Maybe he wasn't ready. I let him talk, and didn't interrupt, all the while silently thanking God, for THIS was the miracle He had in store for me.
There is a selfish part of me that said "Oh No!", because once i got used to the fact that i was going to maryland alone, i started to fantasize about it all...the sheer, glorious freedom..the first time in my entire life i would live alone, and not take care of anybody but myself.
Not going to happen, yet. J decided to come to maryland, after all.He doesn't realize it yet, but, he has made a decision that will change his life in so many wonderful ways.. And so, the journey continues, and i stay mentor, on active Momma Battle Duty, for a while more...Later
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Thursday Morning~ Zen of Moving..
When we die, we are supposedly given the video version of our life. We sit with God, hopefully on His lap, like a child, and watch our lives unfold. We get to see, unvarnished, each poignant deed of good and evil, eyes wide open, with the clarity of hindsight.
Moving is like that. It is not just throwing things in boxes, to accomplish the practical placement from here to there. It is a review of our life, for each bowl packed has a story of meals prepared..Stories of that halloween where they held candy for goblins, and you laughed and laughed as they summoned the courage to take it from the green-faced witch...
Photos, so many photos, that make you ache with love, and sorrow, and remembrance of the people who touch, and touched you..
Bills, paid and unpaid, that speak of hard times, and glorious times of abundance..
Old movie stubs, with a heart drawn around them, and concerts that speak of soft, gauzy skirts on a hill, watching the sunset while B.B. King played his final Detroit tour...
Blue Bunny, lovingly wrapped in tissue, minus one ear...And going thru a cookbook, and finding that ear with a scribbled note attached, "SEW BACK ON FOR TODD, today!"
(he is 22 now).
I see now where my riches lie. It is not in the things themself...things can be replaced..a pot is a pot is a pot.
The gold is the essence of lives touched, hearts given, in laughter, in tears, in friendship, in enimity. The gold is in the love of life, and to get there, just love.
Back to packing....later.
When we die, we are supposedly given the video version of our life. We sit with God, hopefully on His lap, like a child, and watch our lives unfold. We get to see, unvarnished, each poignant deed of good and evil, eyes wide open, with the clarity of hindsight.
Moving is like that. It is not just throwing things in boxes, to accomplish the practical placement from here to there. It is a review of our life, for each bowl packed has a story of meals prepared..Stories of that halloween where they held candy for goblins, and you laughed and laughed as they summoned the courage to take it from the green-faced witch...
Photos, so many photos, that make you ache with love, and sorrow, and remembrance of the people who touch, and touched you..
Bills, paid and unpaid, that speak of hard times, and glorious times of abundance..
Old movie stubs, with a heart drawn around them, and concerts that speak of soft, gauzy skirts on a hill, watching the sunset while B.B. King played his final Detroit tour...
Blue Bunny, lovingly wrapped in tissue, minus one ear...And going thru a cookbook, and finding that ear with a scribbled note attached, "SEW BACK ON FOR TODD, today!"
(he is 22 now).
I see now where my riches lie. It is not in the things themself...things can be replaced..a pot is a pot is a pot.
The gold is the essence of lives touched, hearts given, in laughter, in tears, in friendship, in enimity. The gold is in the love of life, and to get there, just love.
Back to packing....later.
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