Merry Christmas, One and All!!!

Merry Christmas! No more morose me... A Very Merry Christmas has been had by one and all, with an even bigger turn-out expected (with sleepover guests) tomorrow!

MERRY CHRISTMOUSE....

;D

XO

November's Passing

We awoke the day after Halloween, to dark skies and rain, chilling us to the bone. After so many glorious fall days, it seemed only fitting that this transition time, the time between autumn's harvest and winter's solstice, this November should be ushered in in such a fashion. November and I have never been great friends; it has always been my least favorite month. And with acknowledging that really I should have celebrated allsouls, for my Father... Well. Why pick just one day, one month for that? And yet, it is another case where November has seen me fall. What else for it but to make a big pot of steaming soup... And that's where my strong certain singular memories of this November stop. Right where they started. New found struggles with my children in their health and schoolwork. And. So many days filled with worry over family members struggling 3000 miles away, one, my brother, with cancer, another, my brother-in-law, with threatened bankruptcy of a 40 year family business, and, my dear eldest sister, a wife mother grandmother rock of her family there and of our family of siblings (it is only us and our families left now in our childhood circle) with the collapse of her health and seeming sanity-- crushed by months long insomnia, weight loss, and near constant constantly increasing anxiety, depression, fear & exhaustion.

My brother sought to treat his cancer himself. Will not discuss it with any of us and though his wife promises that now, 10 months later, he will soon be seeking professional medical treatment, we have not heard, nor will our questions be answered. Only silly emails and cards, brief evasive phone conversations come our way.

My brother-in-law faces the loss of his business, and with it all their financial security, it would seem. But rather than be able to focus his full energy to save it, he is focused on saving something much more precious to him, to all of us.

My Sister. No doctor, after months of seeking, will with confidence advocate for her, treat her comprehensively or immediately. It is long and complicated and I don't understand how this can happen, but it has. She is crumbling before us. Each day we take turns trying to call, to offer love and support, to trade any news or hope. I know it is getting to be more than she can bear, and though originally sought to buck up for brief talks with us, and that in those stolid moments was able to rip herself away from terror and terrible thoughts and fears that plague her; now she is worn bare, will say again and again in a tearstrained reedy voice how she's not sure she can take any more. If she could just get more than 2 hours of sleep in a day, if she could tolerate the prescribed medications without nightmarish side effects that she is too fragile and fearful to tolerate, if she could find a way to brave it through, or if somehow someone could with certainty hold her securely through treatment, fearlessly though compassionately disallowing her refusal to follow certain hopeful though difficult treatment attempts, the hopes we have had could be fulfilled... please pray, if you are so inclined. Please.

And now, in this November, I have been stunned-- deeply saddened to learn, someone I know, that I care about,I would like to call a friend, who lives 4500 miles in the opposite direction, has lost their other half, their children have lost a parent, in a senseless act that (oh wishful heart) that cannot be undone. My heart reaches out to them, to their family, to their dear friends. It will continue to do so... across the miles and across time.

So my heart grieves. But it grieves not for November's passing. In November, my heart played only two songs: silence and pangs of a painful discord that come of helpless empathy.

Welcome, December. I have a lot resting on hopes that you will deliver us out of the miasma your older sibling left us in...

I pray that we should all be mended in due time. Time is due. We have only so much.

Heart's hoping for a benevolent December for us all.

xo

TWILIGHT TUESDAYS...

So, last night, my very considerate converted* sister emailed me to let me know that on Twilightsaga.com you could post questions to Stephenie Meyer until noon today... but for some reason I guess 1200 and Twilight equal midnight to me... not noon. I somehow assumed I had until MIDNIGHT, the turning of a new day, as my Deadline to ask questions about NEW MOON. Duh. I really need to wake up....



in a patch of ferns, in a wet forest, in the rain, after many hours... catatonic, in a fetal position





AAAAAhhh!!!! Can I really put myself through THAT again? I'm so ready, in hurts. (though not in some Wide Awake way!)



Counting down to New Moon:



http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/

http://www.thetwilightsaga.com/ I guess we can still log on to see her answers... Also, she will be on Oprah this Friday, apparently.



*Twilight Convert

Wind in the Pine

I recently had a dream, involving, amoung other things, a Blue Footed Booby. And a Loon. In consulting an online dream interpretation resource, I found little to speak to the Booby, and some interesting comments on the Loon (predominantly pertaining to deep introspection and transformation-- cool! and a little pertaining to a crazy unpredictable person in one's life. Eh, well... what's new with that?). Well, I thought, in my Google prowess state of mind, fully expecting that expectancy could equal success, why not search for them together? The Booby and the Loon? Lucky me. I found Lew Sarrett. (not to be confused with Lew Sarett) This poem speaks to my heart of hearts to my integrated body spirit and mind. *refreshed sigh*

WIND IN THE PINE



Oh, I can hear you,

God, above the cry

Of the tossing trees

Rolling your windy tides across the sky,

And splashing your silver seas

Over the pine

To the water-line

Of the moon.

Oh, I can hear you, God,

Above the wail of the lonely loon

When the pine-tops pitch and nod

Chanting your melodies

Of ghostly waterfalls and avalanches,

Swashing your wind among the branches

To make them pure and white.

Wash over me, God, with your pincy breeze,

And your moon's wet-silver pool ;

Wash over me, God, with your wind and night,

And leave me clean and cool.



by Lew Sarrett*

The Winds are Changing...Oddly, No longer Haunted

I'm here, and yet not. I mean, I am present, and yet not entirely showing you myself. When I first ventured here, I was spurred on by mysterious uncanny events, only eluded to, and only addressed in one post, which quickly returned to draft form.

I am not longer haunted by those events. And yet I am a bit haunted I realize, in terms of this blog. A bit of a see-through version of myself. And that's "flimsy", not "transparent", mind you. I have been finding my way here. I am glad. But my anonymity, blamed on the mysterious and not so mysterious, and on trying to claim a bit of place for my own little self, I realize now has been part of a process of becoming. I am becoming, am moving forward, am different.Like the characters in Enchanted April, in coming here, I removed myself from "friends and family affection" only to find that in the restorative afterglow of so magical a place, "I must share!" So it has been good. And this is a good place still, for sharing the thoughts I've come to enjoy expressing!

But now I feel I am ready to own the synthesis of self which has occurred and which is occurring, which I wasn't looking for, but which began nonetheless. My other parts shall not be anonymous...

I couldn't have done it without all of you! Without your presence, interaction, (dare I say friendship?) and certainly INSPIRATION.

I'd like to take a moment and highlight just a few special examples, very cool bloggers who've warmed my heart in the blogosphere...

Ms. Kathleen: Co-author of the WHAT DID YOU HAAAAAAVE FOR BREAKFAST Show, who inspired me to begin my own blog, and my oldest dearest friend in the world. Thank you, my sister. I need to be a better friend to you my dear one. Need to bridge the distance. Life is too short! (Congratulations to her on her new Photography Business, too!) xo

Amanda: Whose poetry is both literally and figuratively haunting, and whose newfound friendship is a miracle of the Internet.

Ciara: Whose blogging is transformative of place and inspiring of spirit. Her multifaceted talented & artistic heartfelt approach is one I greatly admire & certainly aspire towards.

Lisa: Whose artistry in great food posts, film spoofs and more are food for the soul . Besides I want her "Ladybird". Which is not in any way related to a Unicorn. (I don't think.)

Noreen: Whose approachable, open, heartfelt dedication to healing is inspiring on it's own. Her posts so often seem to be just what I need, so I count her as a miracle.

Puanani: Whose poetic views into life and into her garden are restorative, and whose approach to peace is an inspiring example.

Pamela: Whose posts in my opinion should really be gathered in a lovely hand bound book, rather than on any computer screen. Edward would deliver the updates just before dawn, or in early afternoon during tea or coffee.

Peter: Who as far as I know, has never visited here! But who has always been more than solicitous of my visits to his place, and whose humor and whose beautiful photographic chronicling of his England & perhaps attempts to halt time passing are a real draw for me. Thanks, Mr. A.

As to the Where, you are all welcome. Where I'm going if you like. If you want to know my identity, new "location", feel free to ask.

I will likely visit you from either place, whether you do or not. In that case, in some instances, some of you may or may not know me, know that it's me then. That's okay.

Circe will stay here. And though I will go on, newly blogging as myself, I will still "inhabit" her here. How could I give up this magical place with you all still in it? You who have as much as I, made this place and experience what it is for me? No longer haunted... but definitely ENCHANTED.

Thank you ALL! Thank you Amanda, Ciara, Lisa, MS. K! Thank you Pamela, Tutta, Miss Pine, Peter! Thank you, Bary, Ashliegh, MAGDELENA! It's in part because of all of you that I feel free to move onwards fullstop.

Sheesh...
I'll be around! Still Haunting you could say...

I just wanted to say Thank You.

The ORACLE has spoken!! ;)



:)


XOXO


Above image: Circe by John William Waterhouse

On my Plate... Up Stethoscope

The light, the air, balm to my soul and spirit. To dare to speak of a seemingly trite subject: We have had remarkable weather. All summer and into fall. Low humidity, sun filled days, beautiful changing skies, insane changing clouds. I feel blessed. Protected. Watched over.

And so it aids me as a worrier and a Mom with all that has gone on this year, and is going on currently at home here. Not to worry. To find a moment of pause. To try to be grounded. To have faith and peace. Even when confronted with things that normally would have sent me over. Into stress and freaked me out. Those catalysts are with me. But I am more at peace, more able to watch and wait. To be still and try to know that God is God.

My handsome teenager, with the lightening fast paparazzi palm, always blocking my attempts to capture his image, whose frequently requested Heath Ledger/Joker impression is eerie and uncanny, whose fine face the other night after removing as much of the test Joker/Halloween makeup as possible and who in the residue of white face, red stained lips, black ringed eyes and tousled too long hair looked startlingly like Mr. Pattinson as Mr. Cullen....

My asthmatic anaphylactic son has had pneumonia. Again. Back out after years relegated to the upper shelf are the stethoscope. The nebulizer. The illness that gave me gray hair, the illness that was not my own, but which left me gasping for breath in empathy is with us again. Am I more mature. Am I more able to cope with life. I'm not sure. Could be. Is he stronger? Probably. Am I needing to, already, on a nearly daily basis, step into a place of peace, to find quiet, to find spirit, to breathe, to wait, to pray. Yes. And does this prepare me more for what would have completely shaken me years ago? Perhaps. It was surprising to me to find that people were/are praying. While I was trying to maintain here, while I wasn't really able to reach out, to let people know what was happening, people from all over were praying. I am grateful. Thankful.

I still have my moments. I still freak out. But I'm revelling in the positive. He is on the mend now. We can all breathe easier now. For now. I am silently more vigilant than before. Whether or not that does any good. We all need to be this season. This year in particular.

Blessings and Health to you all.

xo

Twilight* Tuesdays & BONO: Toi aussi? U2.... 360 THE EDGE ROCKS IT ! MUSE opens at TWILIGHT!

Above: The Edge, inspiration embodied, author of U2's unique guitar sound, and in my opinion, underapplauded. If you have the chance, see the documentary film, "It Might Get Loud". Funny: It really isn't that loud! But very very good.

An amazing night, the clearest evening we've had, desert arid autumn as though Arizona or maybe New Mexico, somehow reminding me of an illfated day in September 8 years ago, too perfect, unnerving electricity in the air. But luckily this buzz and crackle was due to an entire community anticipating what was proclaimed THE concert event of the season. U2. Every news cast and traffic report made reference and seemed to include and circumvent the coming event.

We had tickets. A gift. In a private box in an outdoor stadium. Catered beautifully and freely. An intimate event. I feel so lucky. Grateful.

We planted ourselves in the front row of the box, where the wall size plate glass windows had been raised. As the sun faded from the sky, leaving a smouldering glow, a delicious chill quickly came into the uncharacteristically crisp air.

The others hung back, avoiding the cool, and not appreciating the unknown to them opening act.

The opening act, frequently credited by Stephenie Meyer as her inspiration for and while writing, and featured on the Twilight Soundtrack, who's Supermassive Black Hole has been played by me COUNTLESS times VERY loud... (play it!#86 on Player @ bottom of page)
>

*MUSE? I said. Are you SERIOUS? Excellent! Stunned gazes that I should somehow know this band, with a smattering of appreciating nods-- "Good, maybe they DON'T suck", perhaps, possibly on their minds. Then later enjoying the shared joke that the drummer from MUSE really was channelling Dana Carvey. Party on, Garth! Party on, Wayne.

The evening was magical, beginning with the trek over the new bridge, somehow avoiding every iota of snarled traffic warned of for hours prior on the radio, by going against our better instincts, taking the route which normally has the WORST traffic (thanks, iPhone!). Clear night, clear sailing, clear inspired musical genius. Am I making my self crystal clear? Ringingly so, you say? I wish it were true. Wish I could capture the essence and deliver it to you.

And what was amazing to me was that while I shouldn't have been surprised, I was. Joyfully so. The music if anything, after all these years, only gets better, they perform without a hitch, without a dull moment, with precision, and while remaining true to what we love about the songs, not morphing them into something new and unrecognizable in an attempt to keep their attention or ours, nor playing merely by wrote, bored but placating as they so easily could. Their passion is in every song, and it crackles and zaps and reaches out to you anew in ways you never anticipated, though you already love the songs fullheartedly. This is not the advent of crowd hysteria, fan worship crackling through. This is unmitigated U2. Fresh. Alive. Heartfelt.United.Distilled. Delivered. Their take on the songs, not yours. Their hearts and souls. Evolving imperceptibly there in front of you, asking you to join their consciousness, to hold hands for this one night.

And in this sense they are unique and unsurpassed: they do all this, Bono does all this, as a platform for world change. It is not hidden nor does he hit you with it. It is done with such hope energy and joy that it is edifying of spirit. Even if heart wrenching. Inspiring. While sending you on a reality trip. And you don't mind a bit. They are the spoonful that makes the medicine go down. The spoonful like no other, while they are the medicine themselves. Wellness. For one. For all. For ONE.

REALITY CHECK. While making the experience so brilliantly real you don't want it to end.

For example, they dedicated a song to Aung San Suu Kyi. Of Burma. I refuse to call it Myanmar.
I don't know how many of the 80,000 in attendance knew who she was. I did. But what I didn't know, hadn't considered in years, was that she is STILL UNDER HOUSE ARREST. It has been nearly 20 years. I was so sad, yet so glad to see her remembered, hoped for, and I'm sure, prayed for.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aung_San_Suu_Kyi

Another way Bono breaks to mold is to call it like it is. One example. Who today in America would boldly proudly publicly thank (amoung others) GEORGE W. BUSH for ANYTHING? Very few. Not I. And yet Bono did. For the alleviation debt slavery in Africa, for the saving of millions lives through aids antiviral medications. "God bless George W. Bush." he said. And whether you wanted to or not, you sort of agreed. "God bless America." And you wanted to cry, and to thank Bono for that. If you can't understand why that should be, just know, it is hard to be an American these days, hard to be one with an expanded Worldview, knowing what the world thinks of us, has thought of us. Especially these days. It's good to feel proud of our essence as a Nation once more and to have someone honestly and outside our system be the one reminding us, instilling and okaying it.

Mega Music Mojo & More

What more could one want?

(contented *sigh*)

;D

http://www.joinred.com/Home.aspx

I want the kicks: http://www.joinred.com/Shop/shop_converse.aspx?prod=3 these are designed by The Edge, but there's something for every ONE.

Prodigal Summer

The other night, whilst we looked at the stars, and felt a rare cooling breeze, and experienced the purple black velvet of night, and also the Edison yellow of the porchlight, and listened to the mellow and lively strings of John's guitar, a luminescent Luna Moth flew over our heads, with a definite determined lean to his flight, and seemingly on purpose, catching the light just right.

I cannot find out who designed the gorgeous endpapers to the wonderful book Prodigal Summer, by Barbara Kingsolver. The Moths remind me of my childhood, and all the varieties seen and hoped to be seen, from a little book of butterflies and moths, beautifully hand illustrated that sat on the coffee table of our livingroom growing up. What a rare treat to see some of these. So thrilled and privileged I feel when I hear a rustle and a tap on the window at night, to find some rare ephemeral beauty looking in at me... often oddly and startling large, their visits unique brief and singular, thus sometimes defying identification, fluttering for a few moments, and then away to other adventures.

I am okay with Fall's arrival. For once, I can hope and embrace it without loss for Summer. Perhaps because I know now, in my bones, though fewer will be granted me than before, that Summer will indeed come again. It is seemingly eternal, if not everlasting.

So I wave goodbye, to Summer, as if on the platform, knowing the timetables and that it's return will come even quicker than it did this year.

private concert

(somehow, the post lost this lovely image- a painting by artist Paul Keysar, so I have reposted. Please do check out his work. Link below.)

lights... stars... flashes, fireflies

fountains of applause

single guitar, but full soul, beauty, love

one man band

for me

led zepplin merged with ocean blue

andre segovia

every instrument represented

within one.

cool metal chair easing the muscle cares of the day

cool blue notes easing the cares of my heart and mind

fingers flying, like one constant everchanging caress

flashes

someone else's lightning lighting the north night sky

like paparazzi bulbs

from some lost Hollywood

before the mid century

insects playing their Samba whistle,

their bossa nova

stars twinkling before their super nova

western sky a redline, along the treeline

some Hollywood skyline

remembered

the stars the lights

but the music

fills my soul and my embodiment

played near to me, near to my heart, just for me.

my true love

mellow

mellowing

intensifying

crystallizing

in beauty

purity

unity

Image above:

Cloudy Night by Paul Keysar

available at http://paulkeysar.blogspot.com/

absent-blog-minded

No, I've not fallen off the face of the Earth just YET...

Just been in the storm before the storm before the culmination of so much...

Hope to be back before fall, after the burial service next week.

xo

Ink Drawing

image found at: rachelcreative.wordpress.com/page/7/

Squashed flatter 'n a Bug

That's me. And no reanimation in sight. And yet, here I am, dead on my feet and scurrying around anyhow, as there's no way around it.

I took an all day class today; 8.5 hours at once. It was silly, but I didn't somehow realize until a day ago or so that I needed to read the entire textbook (and learn it) before I attended. And did I have time, even when I did realize? Not even a smidge. So I started late last night. And finished a bit before 3. AM. Boy did it bring back memories of cramming. I used to be the queen of cramming, when I only had myself to worry about the next day, and didn't realize that sleep deprivation is equivalent to being intoxicated. I didn't sleep well... keep dreaming that I was in the class, and woke about every 10-20 minutes... which is fine because it let me get up before the alarm at 620, and so my hubby could slumber undisturbed.

Why is it that as a wife and mother, even when I'm doing something "for myself", I cannot completely detach from duty? It was unnecessary for me to do laundry, housework and make breakfast for sleeping family before I left for the day. I mean, what do they really care? I would be better served to actually style my hair for once, to iron my shirt instead of splashing it with water or spraying it with wrinkle releaser. And yet...

And yet there is so much to do that will not get done, though it must. Tomorrow, I hope to catch up. Somehow. And Friday is an eighth birthday for my sweet little one, and a day spent with some friends, evening with family, (don't forget the not yet incarnate gluten free birthday cake)and somehow we should be ready to leave for the beach for 8 days the following morning. Not so bad. I guess. Except... except... I am the one readying everything. And everyone. Including the cat. The house. The garden. The special foods to transport for food allergic and gluten avoiding us. Why not do all this tomorrow too? Because.... because... more laundry, housework, so many emails, phone calls, contractors, repairmen, family who need help and information that pertains to their travel here in a few short weeks, and are waiting for my response, arrangements which will not be able to be done for a week, but cannot wait until we get back.

When we get back, finally, after an embarrassing number of years (hem) the bathroom will be tackled. The shower will work. The plywood backing which was NEVER code will be replaced with water appropriate board. The cracked floor will be replaced. The tub will no longer leak. The toilet will not sit in the middle of everything, but have it's own little 3/4 wall. We will have a master bathroom. Will will no longer need to run past the upstairs picture window to shower or de-shower to and from the kid's tiny bathroom. I'm sure the neighbors will either be delighted or disappointed. I hope they don't let me know. ;)

Then, with much much much much much more readying, the family will come. Every closet needs attention. Every room. Every weed. *sigh* Some will stay here with us. There will be big family gatherings, here, and in Annapolis, in Arlington. With the hope of honoring Dad.

Having a burial so long after the funeral, aside from obvious logistical and other difficulties one likely would choose not to think about, presents other challenges. It keeps things in a sort of hard real unyielding limbo state. I'm not complaining. It's just a different kind of hard. I feel Dad is around, is around me at times. I feel so lucky. I never felt that with my Mom. I always wish I had.

I really hope to post some things I've written. EVERYTHING feels incomplete; even the posts I write and have written. I have a poem of sorts, but no illustration, I have pictures (which I cannot access). It's okay, though. I also have enough. Of everything. Everything I need. And lots of stuff I probably don't! It's all good. I just hope I feel this same okayway tomorrow... when I'm hopefully no longer "intoxicated", when sleep has come and gone, and maybe, just maybe by the end of tomorrow, all my boxes will have (the correct) checkmarks in them.

:)

Image above actually a cute bookmark:

http://www.7gadgets.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/deadmark_06.jpg

Twilight Tuesdays: TWILIGHT, NEW MOON, Sunspots...Parrish Blue

Well, I have certainly been experiencing technical difficulties at Circe's Palace!


Computer overheating, and no longer recognizing my phone, where I take most of my pictures, so no personal downloads of any kind, digital camera experiencing some sort of disc error, missing dongle... is it sunspots? Or is it me? Talk about blog frustration...


Anyway, here is a tidbit for Twilight Tuesdays, which is not what one might expect. Long before I loved Edward, I loved Maxfield...


The one who introduced me to the twilight I have experienced to the core of my soul ever since... in every evening sky...

In the fading light, of nearly each newly ending day...

The final, velvet, best and glowing moments of...

Parrish blue. Twilight, by Maxfield Parrish &

New Moon, by Maxfield Parrish

: )

xo

STUNNING: Repost of Video. Kayla & Kupono... dance ADDICTION

Danced to Gravity, by Sara Bareilles.

I wanted to share this last piece from SYTYCD by Kayla and Kupono. I just think they are a perfect pairing. We probably won't see them dance together again. What a treat that they ended up together for all that time and that two astoundingly beautiful and moving dance pieces came out of it.

This one is choreographed by Mia Michaels and is about Addiction. Chilling. I cried. Without fail. Goosebumps? Sure. Those, too. To see and hear Kupono's perspective going into it... and to witness Kayla portraying the fulfledged beauty of our humanity... *SIGH*

Kupono plays the role of "Addiction" though not entirely willingly. It makes the performance all the more poignant. First Youtube video I posted was removed. Try and see this while you can.

Note: the first 11 seconds don't play for some reason. What you miss is Kupono saying that addiction almost destroyed his family, almost destroyed the best friend he has... He has been directed to "smile" because he knows she's coming back no matter what. Ahh! Just watch it.

ANGST GODDESS!!!

WHAT THE FRIGGETTY PROFANITY LOVING MOTHER!!!!???

NO CHAPTER 50????!!!!

LISA? CIARA?

Something about this readus interruptus has me looking up Latin quotes.

"cetera desunt" -(the rest is missing!)

"Da mihi castitatem et continentiam, sed noli modo!" - (Make me chaste and pure, but not yet!)

"Bis dat qui cito dat" - (He gives twice who quickly gives. )

HUGH *SIGH*....

(insert fiendish grinning wink here.)

Cleaning Up My Act

Yes, I know, so obvious. But I feel I must make a break away from, well. Hmm. Reading.

Here is a post seemingly out of the blue, but dedicated to two products I love, and which require special effort on my part to acquire. No-one nearby sells them, and they are marvelous for me and my kids. Especially now that summer is in full swing!

Thursday Plantation French Milled Tea Tree Soap.

(They make another bar, but this is the one I prefer.) Usually I must special order this. It does smell typically of Tea Tree, but is a wonder for both the wintertime dryness and seasonal itchiness that come of running free through the grass in spring summer and fall. It cleanses gently and soothes and heals. Anyone who's kids have eczema or dry skin may want to try this. I believe it contains lanolin, however even my lanolin sensitive child benefits from it!

Mode de Vie Sea Mud Soap

I must travel a distance to buy this, or order online. A great exfoliator, pore cleanser, with some skin firming qualities. Smells like a touch of old fashioned men's cologne, but scent is not strong or obtrusive or lasting. Lather up after beginning a hot shower (face too!) let sit a tiny bit. Lather up hot wash cloth with it also, and scrub away. Great on T-zone and hips and thighs alike! Apparently gentle enough for teens even with sensitive, combination skin. LOVE THIS SOAP.

Enjoy and Happy Summer!

Twilight Tuesdays... Got it bad, real bad.

gingerbread zombies*

WIDE AWAKE

Okay. So it's Tuesday, the tail end. And I know there is still a lot I could discuss for Twilight Tuesdays. But in all honesty, I'm far too occupied at the moment. Doing something I didn't think I'd do.

Of course, that is the sum total of my experience when it comes to Twilight. Scoff. Underestimate. Get sucked in and blown away. Miss a lot of sleep. Become quickly obsessed.

*sigh*

Addictions don't just go away, do they?

Alright. So here's the thing.

I'M READING FAN FICTION!!! OKAY?

There. I said it. Now I really must go!

Love to all

x0

*borrowed image. will try to replace with own. later. Hey, I didn't have time to find my picture of my gingerbread zombies! I need to read!

Lovely Lurkers... a message to you.

LURKER definition:

1. one who sits in an internet chat room, message base or newsgroup, (or BLOG) but does not participate.
2. to go furtively; slink; steal.
3. to exist unperceived or unsuspected

Of course, these are not the actual lurkers to whom I am speaking! But they will likely know I mean them when they see these... I think? I know 2 of the 3 don't currently Blog. This may just be a shot in the dark. But like Dark Edward, maybe I'm ready to take it as it comes! Or is that Cuddly Edward? In any event, I'd love to share him with them...

Tuesday is almost upon us already; I can't believe it. So many things I've wanted to post aside from Twilit items, and yet, here I am.

I once struggled with the fact that I intentionally omitted certain aspects of my real life here, due to the impetus that spurred me on to start this blog, now extinct. (the impetus, not the blog!) For example, I rarely talk about my children, the fact
that I am a fanatical foodie, aspects among many others. But now, rather than opening up to more topic matter, I seem to be narrowing down! Rest assured, this is not a Twilight Blog!! Is it???

Hopefully coming soon in no particular order, Texas, The Fourth, and any and all things non-Twilight. But since I've not yet arrived at "soon" (when shall I know if and when I do?) I'd like to send a message to a few welcome possible "lurkers". They are specific and near and dear to my heart, and if they are listening, are very likely pretending for my benefit that they've not figured out that this blog is "me". Or maybe it's for their benefit. Or maybe it hasn't occurred to them, which is fine. I want you to know, my lovelies, that though I give you credit for your possible crafty ways, I would never have forwarded certain links to you by email if I weren't okay with you (three) figuring me out. I've always walked a fine line here with this anonymity thing. Strongly ambivalent is how I feel and where I stand. So, like I said, it's okay. I think I might know that you know. And then again, maybe I'm giving away all, just by posting this! Slim chance, but possible, I suppose.

So, to 1 gorgeous blond (kc-sunshine I'll call you) and 2 raven haired beauties (oh, 16, I still think of you as raven haired! It's only since last summer that you've "gone platinum"!) ... *sigh* let me know if you know? I mean, the number of my profile views seems to go up in spurts, and several of the times I really seem to think-- sense it may be due to you. Especially my ravens, who are likely in cahoots, even though I started all this Twilit stuff and more with you two myself. Especially you, VLM! I'd love to share some stuff with you I think you'll love! But you too, sunshine! After all, you are the one who started all this with me! ;)


Love and hugs, darlings. If you can hear me, that is! And, of course, even if you can't.


:[,

xo

Twilight: Eyes on Fire Last Night...

Last night So You Think You Can Dance (U.S.) featured Kayla and Kupono choreographed by Sonya Tayeh to Eyes on Fire from the Twilight Soundtrack. They don't hide the fact that there is a vampire-sque inspiration to the story; Sonya must be a Twilight fan! Of their motivation, he says she is struggling to accept dieing and he has come to terms with it. She says, he is meant to be pulling her toward death and she is pulling away from it. Definitely sets us up for opposition already!

Eyes on Fire
Blue Foundation

Stunning...

Twilight Tuesdays

"For now, Tuesdays shall be for Twilight... as long as it lasts for me, so shall it for you."





Twilight Book Club Menu






If it seems you should read into the descriptions, then well you should.





Table sporting Red and White tulips, candles.


Thematic wines: Vampire, Black Mountain, Red Truck, Old Moon, Velvet Moon...


Virgin and Juniper Bloody Marys (each with whole celery "stalk"... to BITE,)


Smoked Salmon with spice and capers


Venison Sausage


Wild Mushroom Ravioli pillows (homemade) stuffed with Black Forest Ham and Three Cheeses, "Pine" Sauteed Baby Bella Mushrooms, deglazed pan sauce of Vermouth, Shallot and Heavy cream. Shaved Black Peppercorn Romano. (Never Think should be playing in the background)


Fry Bread or Kneel Down Bread

with

Oregon Berry Jams




In a glass bowl: Frozen berries, with Ice cream Kisses.









Many specialty grocers, as well as online purveyors sell elk and venison products. Fry bread is a Native American specialty. Oregon is in the Pacific Northwest just as is Washington, though Oregon is known for it's berries and Washington it's apples. Juniper Bloody Marys are all I drink; use your favorite gin in place of vodka, in this case, Hendricks.
Wish you could have been there. Mmm was it good!

Turning Point

I am behind on nearly everything, including my reading here... I must feel confoundedly stunted by my own bummed-out-edness. That includes the way I feel when looking at my own blog! It doesn't matter that I swing wildly between laughing freely and all it's opposite alternatives.

Though I've been in the midst of my own personal grief, here we all are this week struck by the loss of so many: Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, and most of all Michael Jackson. While I do believe that the world has changed this week, that these losses speak to us all, that reflection is certainly in order, I am also left feeling something else. It's hard to pinpoint, but I know that life is here for us all, here for as long as we are able to embrace it. I feel a little levity is in order. I know I need it. I'm not sure how much should be prescribed to offset the heft of my heaviness. Fizzy Lifting Drinks would not be turned down. I'll sanitize the ceiling. I'm good at that. ;) Hey, gotta love that stainless steel!

Announcing the return of

TWILIGHT TUESDAYS

Be well, all.

Love. Peace. Life.

xo

LANDSLIDE

by Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac. This song has had growing significance for me lately.

The image above is of El Capitan, in Yosemite National Park. Dad, an accomplished oil painter, painted this formation in stunning majesty, where it hangs in his home.

(on player at bottom of post page, #86)

note the dedication in this live recording:

"This is for you, Daddy..."

I took my love, and I took it down

I Climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills

Till the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Mmm, mmm, I don't know

Mmm, mmm

Mmm, mmm

Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've

built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Children get older and I'm getting older too

So...

I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've,

I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

and I'm getting older too

Oh, I'm getting older too

So, take this love, and you take it down

Oh, if you climb a mountain and you turn around

And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well, the landslide'll bring it down, down

And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well, maybe

the landslide bring me down

Well, well the landslide'll bring it down

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A Must Read. (Twilighters: a must have!)

*hilarity, consumerism, urban myth, AND...

(more info on the company that produces the shirt, here: http://www.shoppingblog.com/tags/three-wolf-moon )

Hello

my friends, Hello. It's good to need you so...

(Yes, Neil Diamond...)

Well. Now here I am. I hope you all will not find me callous or anything else of that nature. I just can't write about Dad now. There is so much. If I could plug into my brain and download, you would see amazing things. But to pull them out, to write them out... not possible now. I have discussed similarly with a sister of mine, the idea of having been changed. And also, how in that change, how my energies are not necessarily ones that even my own chakra centers can recognize. Like a short circuiting of sorts, with an override of emergency systems...

Though, even now, I find a cheerful distraction in you all. So I hope to join in a bit. To be relatively cheerful (I certainly don't wish to drive you all away with an out-of-balance, akin to a big blue battered and badly weighted washing machine, heavy morose account of life here) and also to be cheered. (I am!)

Sequitur...

Hello.

Goodbye, Daddy

So many crushing things, so many amazing things. To write about. Later.

Thank you, all, for being there.

My Dad May 1921- May 2009

I love you, Dad.

HOSPICE

Hospice Care

Definition: A model of care that focuses on relieving symptoms and supporting patients with a life expectancy of six months or less. Hospice involves an interdisciplinary approach to provide medical care, pain management and emotional and spiritual support. The emphasis is on comfort, not curing. It can be provided in the patients home as well as freestanding hospice facilities, hospitals, nursing homes and other long-term care facilities.

I got the call early Sunday morning. To come. Come when we could. The end is very near. Hospice has been called, Dad goes home tomorrow. It was his wish to be at home. I only wish somehow that he knew what was happening. I don't even know if that is the right thing to wish. The one perpetually in control, directing all things (my Dad, not God) is now in the most opposite of positions. Things are changing so quickly inside him. So many struggles, risks, battles lost, losing battles. Failing systems... failing understanding.

We drove 5 hours, spent 3. Dad slept for over 2, then our visit. Through his difficult speech he expressed frustration that he hadn't been awake for the first part of our visit. He hadn't slept in over 2 days. I was glad to let him rest, to just be with him. But like him, when he woke and his bright blue eyes found me there, when his face lit like a light bulb, I did have regret. I have it now.

I did not say "goodbye". I could not; not because I couldn't bring myself to due to my own pain. I don't want to cause him pain. I don't think he is now able to understand, though I'm told it's been explained to him, what is happening to him. That his mind and body are both failing. That he has had another stroke. That the pneumonia is not clearing. That his throat function is nonfunctioning, and that the months of struggling to eat, spending 4 hours to find a way to chew and swallow a tiny meal, is a cake walk compared to now. That his stroke risk and aspiration risk and choking risk and pneumonia and heart risk coincide with the, I'm told, inevitable shutting down of his systems, with his daily increasing dementia, which in conjunction daily decreases his ability to speak, or to swallow saliva, or ice chips. That his throat is nearly closed due to collagen break down from his leukemia treatment 20 years ago.
He is the strongest person I know, in so many ways. A less strong person would not have survived the amazing life he's had, would not have survived the past year, the past week. The doctors have said that the only reason he is able to speak, to form sentences, to converse and relate to us at all is due the fact that his brain is so developed, so many neural connections strong, so very brilliant for so very very many years.


I am certainly walking a fine line at every moment, in denial most times-- I must be, and living in the moment the rest of the time. Is it a sign of maturity, or a free and clear blessing that I am able to exist this way? That I am not superimposing past losses, fears, fear of loss at this time-- am able to think somewhat clearly, and yet still not feel a desperate need to over analyze and find a way out of this, to control it? I feel blessed. I don't feel mature. I do feel old. I am suddenly very tired. I break down more and more. I find myself looking for distractions, a few minutes here, a few there.

Thank you. Thank you. For being there. A few minutes here. A few there.

Dear Little One

Dear Little One

My dear little one, home, ill.

My beautiful little Vermeer, or Carl Larsson,

in the light that surrounds you

Waterhouse or Cicely Mary Barker, in your face, the light, the spark that you contribute

from within

My flower fairy, flaxen haired, skin of white gold,

eyes of varying green, bluegreen, gray,

A widows peak, forming, I've only just noticed,

where her silken flax meets her silken skin

Cherubic, become fae

Quiet, soft, on the mend.

Cherished moments,

the world slowed

Sun dapples the green and gray shade on the floor

of her fairy bower

through the windows of spring

green all round, quiet growing

like my sweet one

so rare in stillness

her hand in mine

a book between us

our eyes on the ceiling

both able to

share this moment

sweet like gossamer candy floss

and spun as delicate ephemeral


hearts united


my sweet love.

Twilight Zone

Twilight Tuesdays

* spoiler alert * spoiler alert *

I know... every woman or girl that reads Twilight reserves the right to be "Bella". (And Edward is the reason you would wish to.) This post is not trying to say that this is any more or less true for myself than anyone else. However, some weird things have occurred to me. As briefly as I can, I'll outline what are to me, at least, some bizarre coincidences between my teen self and Bella. Some are pretty understandable, some strangely specific. Most bizarre, debatably, is the fact that not a single one of these things occurred to me while I was actually reading the books! A testament to the universal appeal and the ability of the books to stand on their own? Or plain old denial/repression? You decide...

Child of Divorce-- I am. Easy enough.

Junior Year Move-- In my Junior year, I moved from living with my Mother in the East, to the West were my Father had lived most of my life, and where I'd summered/visited him. The move was my choice and was initiated by me.

Climate change-- I actually went from Wet to Dry instead of Dry to Wet. Green Primordial Kudzu and Honeysuckle draped forests and fields, streams and rivers, to Hot Dry Sunny Coastal California. (can't complain there!)Although, it now occurs to me, that for my first 30 or 40 days of school there, it rained. Poured, usually. All day. Every day. We all needed to take off our shoes during class-time so our feet would have a chance of somewhat drying off before we set off for the next class. (outdoor paved hallways with overhangs between and long the school buildings.)

Attention shift-- I received a HUGE amount of positive attention in my new school, as compared with my old school.

Girlfriends-- the first person to befriend me in my new school was named Jessica. Really. And though not as snarky (as far as I know; maybe Edward would know differently) she definitely didn't like my attention shift when I started seeing my -- what do I call him here? boyfriend? guy? first love? all descriptions seem inept and inappropriate given my feelings at the time. Our friendship didn't survive my romance, and after tracking her down years later, remembering her as dear to me and wanting to possibly rekindle our friendship if possible, I was left with nothing but the nagging feeling that she had either "dated" him after I moved away, or had wanted to!

HE--At school, I found myself Watching him from a distance, nothing unusual there. But then there were all the ways he was watching me too, how he would orchestrate things in order to pass by me in a crowd, how he found out my schedule and the seating chart and would leave hidden messages for me at my seat. He would literally drop out of the sky a foot from me when I would be quietly quizzing people about him, from the overhangs that covered our outdoor hallways. We had not yet spoken, save for him saying, nearly breathing "hello" into my ear as we passed, squeezed by each other in a crowd, also orchestrated by him. (my heart is beating just remembering it!)

His name has Edward in it.

Charlie-- the name Charlie figures prominently in my story, too.

Watching me sleep-- Once we were together, in the night, he would run several miles from his house to mine, and through my window, watch me sleep, sometimes suspending a letter or a single fragrant rose stolen from a neighbor's garden, by a thread from the eaves outside my window for me to find when I awoke.

WE-- had a meadow, and hills, and rain, and wildflowers and sun. I would hug my knees, watching him, while he would lie, smiling in the grass, seemingly comfortable anywhere.

He--Old fashioned, yet very hip.

He-- tall, handsome, graceful, well dressed.

He-- would eat things on a dare.(Bugs usually. Pizza he liked!)

He--Music snob, eclectic taste.

I-- my love for him was like a physical entity, and became like the air to me. I don't know how my heart contained it all.

I-- was intimidated by his greatness, his intellect, his accomplishments. Didn't know why he was with me. But I think, unlike Bella, I was able to believe that he truly loved me. He convinced me of it on an hourly basis. Perhaps that was unwise.

He-- was very fiercely protective of me, put me on a pedestal.

We-- worried our parents. "Too intense, too intertwined..."

All encompassing... for two years... Enough passion to sustain three truly passionate relationships... though He, like Edward, was the conscience, the one saying "no".

We-- talked of getting married-- He explored ways around the age of consent for marriage in California... discussed eloping...

He left-- Like Bella, I was destroyed. Like Bella, I had (have) a bit of a temper, and also was in many ways fiercely independent. He strove to have me lean on him solely, which I resisted for over a year. When I began to trust that I could trust fully, it was too much for him. He left. He did come back, but obviously, unlike Edward, his return didn't last. I was destroyed. Only the death of my Mother (5 months later) can compare with the utter devastation and grief. In many ways, it was more painful. Catatonic? Yes, and more. I can still find tears, even decades later, if I think about it.

Angela Weber-- my Angela Weber came along after he was gone (though not her name). Sweet, lovely, gentle, softspoken, intuitive, caring. I can't say she was there to pick up the pieces; there were none, just smithereens and dust. A balm to my spirit were the times spent with her. She is still hugely dear to me today. (Although, as I've said, she deserves to reserve the right to be Bella in her own story, too! As do we all. Like Bella, she had special qualities in her which have become truly powerful wonderful attributes.) She did marry her love after high school (though not right after) and moved to Arizona, of all places, where she lives him and her children to this day.

Motorcycles banned, ban ignored- I was forbidden from riding motorcycles, though, after we were no longer seeing each other, which meant he was no longer picking me up for school in the morning in his classic sports car, which he built with his dad, a warm kind guy friend would often stop and pick me up as I walked, late, to school and give me a ride the rest of the way on his motorcycle.

Mike said he would have asked me to prom if he had known that my former "he" were no longer in the picture. Really, his name was Mike.

MISSED PROM --and really do feel like I missed out. Edward was right about that.

Weird? Or not at all?

Maybe I'm being silly; maybe we all have these types of universal coincidences...

(And you may wonder, after having read this: Do I in any way want him back? No. Not at all. Now, if Edward were to somehow come into my life, that would be difficult...)

Whew.

Stephenie, are you really that good... ?

;['