anamnesis

For My Brother... January 3, 1943 - June 24 2011

2011-06-24T13:12:00.007-04:00

BARN'S BURNED DOWN~

NOW I CAN SEE THE MOON.

Masahide

My Brother passed away in the night last night, after a very private battle with cancer. He refused conventional treatment for quite some time, and forbade his wife disclosing any of the struggles he was going through. Wednesday, she finally called a family member, as he'd been taken to the hospital by ambulance the previous Friday, but was not doing at all well. The sisters heard of this by Wednesday night. From then until Thursday night, from thousands of miles away, we from our homes, many hundreds of miles from each other, attempted to reach him by phone. Through sleeping eating resting and strong pain meds, it was a desperate tiptoe business to strive for what would turn out to be a final talk with him. I am, among many many other things, grateful for that talk, however brief, with my brother. While we had very little notice, some people have none. Thursday while in Trader Joe's this card jumped out at me... spoke to me. Of my brother. Of his mindset. Of his journey.Of his soul. Of his destiny.

Embrace those you love. Don't be distracted by anything. Strive for Peace, that which comes from God, which originates in the heart and nourishes the soul. Or is it t'other way 'round. No matter... the circle cannot be broken, is the same thing, pervasive, healing and undeniable.

Namaste

Peace, my brother. Peace

I love you.

Happy Easter... a Spring Photo Journal

2011-04-24T12:28:00.009-04:00

A photo journal of discovery, this spring, on my iphone... I hope you enjoy it.

TODAY @ NOON, WORLDWIDE REQUEST!

2011-03-31T11:15:00.002-04:00

TODAY AT NOON, IN YOUR TIMEZONE, DR. MASARU EMOTO OF JAPAN IS REQUESTING PRAYERS FOR THE WATERS OF JAPAN, AND INDEED, THE WATERS OF OUR WORLD...

PLEASE READ HIS REQUEST BELOW.

IF YOU MISS THE NOON TIME FRAME, PLEASE SEND POSITIVE THOUGHTS OF HEALING ANYWAY AT THE TIME YOU BEST CAN....

A letter from Dr Masaru Emoto...

To All People Around the World,

Please send your prayers of love and gratitude to water at the nuclear plants in Fukushima, Japan! ...

By the massive earthquakes of Magnitude 9 and surreal massive tsunamis, more than 10,000 people are still missing… even now… It has been 16 days already since the disaster happened. What makes it worse is that water at the reactors of Fukushima Nuclear Plants started to leak, and it’s contaminating the ocean, air and water molecule of surrounding areas.

Human wisdom has not been able to do much to solve the problem, but we are only trying to cool down the anger of radioactive materials in the reactors by discharging water to them.

Is there really nothing else to do?

I think there is. During over twenty year research of hado measuring and water crystal photographic technology, I have been witnessing that water can turn positive when it receives pure vibration of human prayer no matter how far away it is.

Energy formula of Albert Einstein, E=MC2 really means that Energy = number of people and the square of people’s consciousness.

Now is the time to understand the true meaning. Let us all join the prayer ceremony as fellow citizens of the planet earth. I would like to ask all people, not just in Japan, but all around the world to please help us to find a way out the crisis of this planet!! The prayer procedure is as follows.

Day and Time: March 31st, 2011 (Thursday) 12:00 noon in each time zone

Please say the following phrase: “The water of Fukushima Nuclear Plant, we are sorry to make you suffer. Please forgive us. We thank you, and we love you.”

Please say it aloud or in your mind. Repeat it three times as you put your hands together in a prayer position. Please offer your sincere prayer.

Thank you very much from my heart.

With love and gratitude,

Masaru Emoto

Messenger of Water

THE EMPTY CHAIR THEATRE CO.

2011-02-21T12:24:00.007-05:00

currently in production at The Empty Chair Theatre Co.: Twelfth Night, & Titus Andronicus.

I am encouraged and filled with pride... First by my nephew who directed/recently completed his first professional music video while at VCU (post and vid to follow subsequently) and now...The Empty Chair Theatre Company...

Empty Chair Theater Company was founded in 2007 by Julia Sears and Elizabeth Nearing both high school juniors at the time. The company was formed with the goal to give young artists a creative outlet and the chance to explore deeply layered texts while working with their peers to create innovative theatre.

Elizabeth is my sister's God-daughter... I remember her, spirited and contemplative in Easter dresses and Pre-Raphaelite curls... And more recently, a lovely compassionate self possessed young woman with an easy-going wisdom beyond her years. While now at Carnegie Mellon pursuing a BFA in directing, she continues as Artistic Director of The Empty Chair.

Here is a link to more about her, and co-founder Julia Sears:
http://emptychairtheatre.org/8.html

The Empty Chair was nominated for Best of DC, Washington City Paper. If you are familiar with them and would like to vote them among the best, the link is here:
http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/bestofpoll/nominations/vote/77

We should always encourage the children we know... and so BEAUTIFUL when they in turn become an encouragement to us!

:,D

BRAVA!

BRAVI!
a la Septime Webre!

WHITE

2011-01-26T16:10:00.011-05:00

The day began, at 4:40 this morning. Something awakened me... but what? The anticipation that perhaps there would be a delayed opening of schools, perhaps. The jolt I felt at being awake impelled me to the curtained window: WHITE. Only about an inch, but covering the road, not just the grass. I crept like a mouse downstairs to the television- the easiest way to check for closing information on the schools access channel. Zilch. Still. Now, at 4:45 I was too close to the witching hour to go back to bed right away. At 5:00, that magical time for children all over our County, the schools must post the inclement weather information for the day. And if no delay? Well, I'd have less than an hour to catch those last few elusive "Zzzz's" before becoming the family alarm clock, valet, personal chef, and chauffeur.

4:50. A sound approached. Like the Zamboni of the apocalypse. A snow plow coming nearer. Within moments it was traveling down our street, a cascade of sparks flying in a 2 1/2 foot arc around it and 8 feet behind it, though doing little to bend the ice coating our street to its will. PORTENT.

5:00. Nothing. 5:01 the familiar green banner appears across the screen. SCHOOLS WILL BE CLOSED TODAY.

Now, this afternoon, after little more than some icy rain and wet roadways, the anticipated storm is here. THUNDER CLAP!! And thus begins the hail. LIGHTENING. Dear daughter worries for any risk to her dear fish. Then all tensions abate; the possibility of a gathered snow cone cheer children's spirits, as they each put out their collection receptacle by the back door.

Small icy pills, like medium tapioca pearls, to be covered later by heartier amounts of truer white fluff stuff. Then more THUNDER!! LIGHTENING! THUNDER!!!! Right over our house it seems. And then, the snow that twas deemed to become HEAVY by local meteorologists, which is due to drop 3-10 inches by morning begins to blanket our area. I wish I could successfully snap a pic of it-- so eager, it is coming down in several directions at once!

We shall see, we shall see. Already these pictures seem paltry... we probably have 8-10 inches in just over 5 hours. School is out for another day!

Stay warm dear ones! Safe! And wherever you are, enjoy!

!

xo

Emergency Room Visit leads to a Double Date: MRI table for Two? Monday Night? No problem! We'll need to eat out anyway;KITCHEN CLOSED /FRIDGE in COMA

2011-01-24T12:19:00.005-05:00

While its lovely to have Doctors say over and again,"you're so young" (ha relatively speaking) pertaining to the TIA symptoms I apparently suffered last week, I'd gladly have them call me an "old bat" to be rid of the trouble and anxiety (not to mention possible danger) that said symptoms have brought with them.

My spouse has suffered on a different front, different symptoms, different doctor... but incredible, we who rarely go to doctors, ended up with appointments both on Friday.

Well, after an interesting to say the least end to last week, dear husband and I are booked in for a double MRI session this evening! Hard to say, "HOW LUCKY!" but really, I guess we are. In that I would never have thought to try schedule mine with him to come with me, nor likely he the same. The place just round the corner could fit us both in "back-to-back" so to speak. TONIGHT. !!!! I must say I think neither of us believed we would get in this soon, nor were we prepared as such, emotionally. But, as long as we are precertified by then, off we go.

So now, as there's no time in my day now for contemplative meditation or any of the like, I must find another route to preventative health. I'll take my orange flavored baby aspirin. And I've dug out ENYA to listen to. Which is on the old iPod, but for some reason not on my phone. I need a little ORONOCO FLOW...

While I EMPTY THE FRIDGE AND FREEZER. You see, it seemingly melted down last week. Shortly after I replenished our larder for the week. While all this was happening last week it ceased to function. After a few days with an eerie 'CLICK' or ping sound whose location was indistinguishable, and which was audible, of course, ONLY to me... well now we know where it was coming from. Hopefully NOT the death throws of our very young NOT CHEAP fridge, of course, just out of warranty, but still young by refrigerator standards. I mean the term "runs like a refrigerator" means strong tireless and RELIABLE. Doesn't it?

Still, BETTER IT THAN US!

Mind there you go... healthy happy week, all.

I've laid the table for you and me, my friend...and it's Cezanne's Birthday. How PERFECT!

2011-01-19T13:07:00.004-05:00

As I experience this winter, and feel myself reconnecting a bit. With the world. With my life. With this blog, the blogworld and those in it-- I feel a bit of a pang. I want more. To connect with you, all the more.

When I read what some of you have written, on your blogs, or to me, I am so touched. Blessed. By your words. Your presence. Your creativity. Your hearts.

But my desires can be simple, if not simplistic. I wish I could sit down with each of you. And share a cup of tea. We could talk. Or listen. Or just be. I can't tell you how my heart sings to think of it-- like a boiling kettle!

So when I brewed this pot, in my Hall's Superior teapot, a pretty and also sturdy, pleasing reliable workhorse, I thought of you. The many of you. But also just you. All the things that make you different, but then too all the connections we may share, and I appreciate that.

Even in the cold of winter, we may yet lay the table as if in the summer of our life, with perennial porcelain and tart tea towels sporting fruit and flower. And so it goes in our hearts as well.

So you may take your pick, whatever your preference. Reproduction Blue Calico transferware? Noritake turn of the century Selika porcelain? Fiestaware Harlequin Riviera, in the warmest most scrumptious yellow ever?

If you don't see one you like, I have others. Come on over and visit me. ;)

Warm Winter Wishes... while wishing to be a blessing back.

NAMASTE

Oh-- I forgot to ask! Milk or lemon? Vanilla Rice Milk is what I take in mine. ;)

HAPPIEST OF HAPPY YEARS TO US ALL...

2010-12-31T11:52:00.007-05:00

Some shots of the season, captured on my phone... May your path lead in the direction of your bliss, may your heart grow and soar, may your soul be replete...

HAPPY NEW YEAR

XO

Healing... Hope... Summer... Thunder

2010-08-05T16:40:00.004-04:00

Hoping like anything to be back... really back...feeling more myself many days. Though this is far from over. Hope to share some lovely things from this summer soon.

So very much prefer the actual Thunder in my life to the proverbial thunder... It's beauty is evident, I know how it works, and it passes all the more quickly and predictably!

Love to all

(did you say,) "Lyme Disease? OH no you Di'n't!"

2010-05-24T16:10:00.000-04:00

"Lyme disease is the most rapidly spreading vector-borne disease in the world.

The medical world is divided with one group saying that it is rare, easy to diagnose and easy to treat, and the other saying it is a difficult diagnosis because of the negativity of the ELISA test and the lack of medical education of medical students, family practitioners and specialists.

There is an urgent need for making the public and the medical world aware of this since there is an unexplained Lyme denial problem prevalent in our medical association.
I have seen many suffering from arthritis, mental fog, and severe fatigue and most of these patients have gone undiagnosed to the present day. "

Quote from "The Spread of Lyme Disease" http://www.theconference.ca/index.php?/The-Spread-Of-Lyme-Disease by Dr. Ernie Murakami http://www.theconference.ca/index.php?/Murakami-Dr.-Ernie

Nuff Said?

I can't even go there, to tell the horror I feel. But the blessing is the opportunity for a better than conventional , alternative treatment.

I will speak disjointedly, just and only as a manner to update you all.

Currently being treated for Lyme's Disease. Explains A LOT. But too over being in the horror to explain the mechanics of the thing, or what it's meant for me. Apparently for years now. To quote Joe vs the Volcano of his Brain Cloud: "I KNEW IT!!! I mean, I didn't know it, but .... I KNEW IT!" His Brain Cloud issue was not serious much less real (as many may say of Lyme's) but it's symptoms dogged him for years.

The part I cannot take? My darling boy, my 15 year old with Mono since March apparently has it too.

I am taking the good and the blessings right along with the curse of it. But it's taking everything I have. Not to give in. For very long. With every burst of energy I can muster, however infinitesimal, I jump on that wave, determined to fight this, to drive out the fear and depression that are attacking us both.

My honor roll student hasn't been able to attend a full day of school since mid-March. Is too exhausted to do much, walks, more like shuffles like an old man, and then leans against a wall or sits in chair in order to make it across a room. It will take every bit of strength fortitude and advocacy we can lay claim to for him to finish the year. Good grades optional. But how to convince him? He who is all or nothing, can't do it halfway and live with himself, no matter how we reassure him? We are constantly working on that, too.

So. Not terribly creative during all this. Feel a bit broken, actually. But determined. At least at the moment. So many things have been on the back burner any way, since before any diagnosis. It's hard not to be well, harder still not to be able to hope realistically for a speedy recovery.

But we're still here. Fighting. And I'm missing you all.

I check in every once in a while...

Wishing you all HEALTH!

It's the best wish I can wish for you, along with peace, love, safety, whole hearts, and dear ones near.

HAPPY EARTH DAY! One Body by Ben Strang

2010-04-21T23:09:00.005-04:00

Happy Earth Day, dear ones.

Please view this moving Public Service Announcement, created by a young man near and dear to my heart. It's truth and sincere message, beautifully delivered, cut right to the heart of me.

I believe.

One Body from Ben Strang on Vimeo.

Ben, this Auntie is SO proud of you. :,D

xo

In Resonse to a New Comment on "Virginia Tech... April 16, 2007"

2010-04-16T11:05:00.006-04:00

Dear Carla,

Thank you so much for your kind comments-- I'd been thinking about this for the past several weeks, in the corners of my mind. But, with a child home sick for the past 4 weeks, today has crept up on me.

Today, I can only hope and pray that broken hearts are still beating, healing, however inexplicably, and that the love and prayers generated by these losses, that the memory of those lost and the positive effects of their contributions given and of those that were cut short before they might be given, radiate out into the wide world and surround us. Teach us. Heal us. Protect and guide us. Ever after.

Strangely, the tulips bloomed early this year-- first time ever, since the way they began that day. And they are, even more strangely still, a different color.

Perhaps, just perhaps, change is good.

(Original Post, dated April 20, 2009)

Thunder! & Lightening! & Hail! OH MY!

2010-03-22T17:39:00.007-04:00

Oh fragrant spring... today you delighted the senses with sun and anonymous though lovely scents... of flowers' perfume carried on gossamer breeze.

And now this! The smell of fresh rain on the pavement, then the rumble of distant thunder. A peal and a CRACK! and the newly darkening, greening and blackening skies perfectly set in place to showcase bright flashes!

Then, portentous knocking, as the hail comes... falling with increasing crescendo. And just as I see- notice the stones look like moth balls on the skylight windows, they stop. Perhaps too proud to have their drama upstaged.

The patter and beating is decreasing now... the thunder only rattling. Like the wooden wheels of some caravan, rattling down the road, done pedaling it's mysterious wares.

Is it my imagination, or is the green just a touch greener? The light warmer, the water drops more crystalline reflective?

There is only now, to the ear, an intermittent metallic tap, the drainpipe... the last to stay after the show, clearing up after all the hoopla...

Now birdsong. The storm is really over.

And Spring. It's REALLY HERE!

Forest Lover...Painter Emily Carr...

2010-03-14T01:01:00.000-05:00

...the Majesty of Trees, Totems, Raw Nature... An amazing and inspiring woman whose paintings move me... to a place of mossy verdant misty lifegiving fertile ground...

...did a multitude of things women weren't supposed to do at that time. Traveled alone, unmarried, was an advocate of Nature, advocate of tribal peoples and conservateur of their vanishing art through her art...

While watching the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics in Vancouver that took place this last month, I was moved more than I expected to be as they progressed. Somehow, in thinking of the totem poles as they were represented, my mind went to a favorite book, The Forest Lover, by Susan Vreeland. The story of Emily Carr. Canadian. Woman. Writer. Lover of Trees. Oil Painter. Fearless Traveler. Chronicler of Vanishing Totem Poles.

Then as the amazing stage changed again, as the giant totems began to become trees, even as she was already on my mind, I saw her there, honored. The style of the trees under which the dancers danced was that of Emily Carr. (I can't find a clip or shot of that yet; will add it to this post if/when I do.)

She studied oil painting in France when women of her time were not to venture past water colors, were not to travel alone, were best not to remain unmarried, and certainly were not to traipse about the huge wilderness that is Canada without husband or guardian or female companion. All of these things she did and more.

I urge you to become familiar with her, with her work, if you are not already. http://www.groupofsevenart.com/Emily_Carr/Carr_intro.html

After viewing her work, perhaps this March, as the waters return, and the greening begins, you will see her in the trees, in the greens, and in the invisible intractable movement that is being. ALIVE.

To me, she has been an inspiration. And her work holds a place cached in the stronghold of my most daring and most reverent heart.

Emily Carr; December 13, 1871 - March 2, 1945

http://www.arthistoryarchive.com/arthistory/canadian/Emily-Carr.html

Dropped the Ball... Snow ball that is!

2010-03-10T23:58:00.000-05:00

The title says it all; I really hope to rally and be back with you soon!

Oh, and that 4 day stint of cancelled school-- became 12 consecutive days. I don't know if I have the heart to post any pix at this point. Perhaps a compare and contrast? After all, as far as I'm concerned, Spring is here! (Kiss my grits, calendar!) ;)

xo

BLIZZARD-- 30" with 10-20 More Expected over the Next 2 Days...

2010-02-08T22:37:00.002-05:00

I have Internet, again, thank goodness...

I have photos, but am so over it at this point-- and so exhausted. Will try to upload some tomorrow. Before the next BIG WAVE comes! 2 Days of School missed, with 2more scheduled to be missed! Can you say cabin fever? I feel so fortunate to have power; we only lost power for a few hours on Saturday. There are over 90,000 people without power in my area, and with the next snowstorm due to hit tomorrow am, I fear for our family and others. We have some trees that are damaged, and some 30 foot evergreens that were bowed over to the ground, pinned down, which are still in danger even though we venture out hip deep several times a day to shake and sweep as much snow off them as we can.

Superbowl Party: was cancelled. School: cancelled. Major Roadways: open now after being officially closed for 1-2 days.

We have been shut in, but cozy, with plenty of food and fun. Friday and Saturday we cranked up the heat and I made lots of bread and kept the ovens going a little extra in the event we lost power. It helped when we did. But wouldn't have for long. The temps tonite will be in the teens, I believe.

I hope you and yours all are healthy safe warm and happy!

Hopefully I can fill in the blanks tomorrow and share some pics...

xo

it's... GROUNDHOG DAY!!! Is it any wonder?

2010-02-02T17:59:00.008-05:00

It's Groundhog Day again... I have not kept up with the movings of our Southern Burrowing Counterpart, but is it any small wonder Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow today?

I mean, it's SNOWING AGAIN, here, people!

A perfect night to make a cozy meal, some corn muffins, and curl up with a good movie. There will probably be a delay for schools tomorrow...

I recommend, Groundhog Day with Bill Murray, and Andi McDowell, and lots of warm and RED. I seem to be craving reds, and plums, and cinnamons in all the grays and whites....

Wishing you all Warm & Cozy tonight!

My Lovely January... Until next year...

2010-02-01T12:36:00.005-05:00

JOURNAL OF JANUARY

January rarely disappoints, to my mind. The stereotypical thoughts of this month, are brutal cold, ice, snow-- winter's hammer coming down hard after the warmth and sanguine nature of December has softened us up.

But deep in my memories, like a nut left by the squirrel of my mind, are different thoughts of January.

The days are just becoming noticeably longer. The pineal gland begins the turn towards spring. There are many more cold days to come. But somehow. Somehow. Hope has returned. I see it all round me. The buds are already beginning to swell on some of the leafless trees. The squirrels and birds, reminiscent of beach goers, are seen to be basking in the afternoon sun, as are cats such as the one with whom I share my life. My mother called this "going to Florida"-- when I would search high and low for my dear kitty as a child, I would often find her, just as my mother advised, prone on the wool carpet in the sun pouring in through the largest most south facing window of our house.

And then there are the thaws.

We have already had three snows this year: a moderate one of 8" or so, a big one over 2 feet, and a sugar dusting last week, where everything looked as though it were dusted in powdered sugar, and which was preserved so perfectly by the cold that even days later, even though sparse, the powder would still blow about. With highs of only about 16 many of those days, with wind chills around 9, and even more brutal temps at night, it's no wonder the sun could not bring a melt.

But now. Today.

Yesterday and the day before we reached temperatures over 50 degrees-- nearly 60! (I've been writing this in an ongoing manner-- as Journaling, almost...)And today we are in the 50's as well. The sky is deep warm blue today; clear- but not ice cold crystal that winter brings. A spring sky. Yesterday it was a robin's egg French blue with dusky lilac clouds. An oasis of spring in winter's wilds. A cruel trick perhaps to prevent those who inhabit this area from becoming acclimated to winter and it's temperatures, or lack thereof. And yet. This is what I've always known.

And perhaps this is why I garden in January. The air is relatively warm when warm-- but still refreshing- refreshingly warm and yet cool enough to cause one to not feel the exertion. And I can pretend. So easily pretend that winter has vamoosed, feign my escape for a day or two.

February doesn't afford me such opportunity, nor such inspiration. No matter the weather, it feels like the heart of winter, as though we are lost in it, never to find our way out. Valentine's Dinners, Cozy-Hot Romance, Red Flowers, and CHOCOLATE insert themselves here- is there any wonder why? Even though, really there is just over one month remaining. Before the waters of March return, the Lion and then the Lamb...

My beautiful January is now over, the 60 degree days have already ended. But it was just enough. For now. To have been able to warm my bones, see the light the color that temperature and humidity bring to my ambient life. Before the sun's light as reflected through the crystal clear and steely gray of colder weather are no longer "sparkling" and "moody" but rather lose their novelty somehow becoming "empty" and "dark". Stark. Still there is beauty there. In Winter's wilds. We had one last January snow; last night, we went out with a whoosh!

Thankyou, January, for this transition, this brief respite.

Welcome, February!

I hope you are all well and finding enjoyment in whatever Winter has for you!

WINTER GARDENING CHECKLIST:

http://realestate.msn.com/article.aspx?cp-documentid=13108186

Happy New Year!

2010-01-01T19:43:00.009-05:00

New Year's Day Orchid opening... a good sign...!

The New Year, here, entered gently... with skies not quite completely overcast, in shades of shell blue and tarnished silver... and breaking light softly gilding the tops of everything, enhancing the previously absent greens...

Last night was a "blue moon", and though the cloud cover and icy rain prevented us from viewing it, when at last we made our way to bed, the blanketed sky glowed an odd blue... as if the moon were saying: "Here! I'm up here! Thanks for checking! I celebrate, too!"

We turned down several parties in favor of a family evening in town; the four of us. We got tickets to a show; Young Frankenstein, the Broadway musical production of a family cult favorite film, in the Opera House. The Kennedy Center offered all ticket holders an after party with Champagne, party horns, swing music, and little one's favorite moment of the evening-- a balloon drop.

>

On the way home, all agreed to my suggestion (yay!) to stop at a family owned diner in my old stomping ground, for breakfasts, providing the tiny place's ten booths held a vacancy for us, and that it wasn't too smokey. We scored a table right away, the new proprietors, the original owners' grandchildren, had turned it to a smoke free restaurant, and a very merry time was had by all; western omelettes for Mom and Dad, burgers and fries for the kids, with the patties cooked carefully on foil for us thus ensuring all food allergies for our two were safely avoided.

As I cooked our late breakfast ("second breakfast"- yes, at times we ARE hobbits in a hobbit hole!)at home this morning, or I should say, this afternoon, it struck me that I'd not even contemplated any New Years resolutions at all. But as I serenely puttered away in the kitchen, making everyone their favorites and requests, some came to me sincerely and easily.

They may seem too easy or too vague, and I won't attempt to add shading and detail for you-- not to be evasive. It's just that the details wouldn't mean much.

I resolve in 2010, to look at things in a different way, to try to see the other angle, from a position of peaceful determination, to allow myself to be enlightened, to in this way, hopefully, let go of the other types of determination. The one's that've had me stuck.

I resolve to look at and to SEE my family, my children, my marriage, my husband, my house, my work, my aspirations, my goals, my talents, my SELF-- DIFFERENTLY. It has already begun. And though I know resolutions are made to be broken, I am not holding myself under law, here. Am only deciding to live, even if only a little, differently. Things will happen. Our futures will change. Whether a little or a lot.

The entire month of December, the word EPIPHANY followed me, like an angel trying to ring a bell and get his wings. Now January is here. The bell has rung. There is no unringing it. This New Year. Ringing it in... is done.

Happy New Year, everyone.

xo

Merry Christmas, One and All!!!

2009-12-25T23:16:00.010-05:00

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....

November's Passing

2009-12-01T10:04:00.013-05:00

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.

TWILIGHT TUESDAYS...

2009-11-10T15:40:00.004-05:00

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

2009-11-01T02:05:00.001-05:00

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

2009-10-22T14:00:00.015-04:00

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

2009-10-20T10:20:00.000-04:00

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.

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

2009-10-13T10:21:00.003-04:00

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*)

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

2009-09-20T15:16:00.000-04:00

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

2009-08-27T22:33:00.003-04:00

(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

2009-08-20T11:50:00.003-04:00

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.

Ink Drawing

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

Squashed flatter 'n a Bug

2009-08-05T22:40:00.006-04:00

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

2009-07-28T21:22:00.008-04:00

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

: )

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

2009-07-16T00:18:00.007-04:00

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!!!

2009-07-13T18:37:00.003-04:00

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

2009-07-08T22:16:00.005-04:00

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.

2009-07-07T22:55:00.005-04:00

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.

2009-07-06T22:13:00.006-04:00

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.

:[,

Twilight: Eyes on Fire Last Night...

2009-07-02T17:17:00.006-04:00

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

2009-06-29T23:21:00.002-04:00

"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

2009-06-29T19:41:00.005-04:00

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.

LANDSLIDE

2009-06-11T09:59:00.009-04:00

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

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

THE POWER... of*....the THREE WOLF MOON SHIRT!!!!!!

2009-06-08T21:32:00.005-04:00

You are looking at one of the most highly rated products on Amazon.com, if not THE most highly rated. You've not heard of the Three Wolf Moon Shirt, you say? One need only READ THE REVIEWS to know of the awesome power you shall soon behold...

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000NZW3IY/ref=s9_simz_gw_s0_p193_t1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=14NWPTBNS0XA42J4V642&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=470938631&pf_rd_i=507846

Keep reading is my recommendation...

There are currently 12 customer discussions, apparently ongoing, but the tags make more sense, once you reach the reviews on page 2... or 3...

I cannot deny I am intrigued... I ordered one for each of my immediate family JUST NOW, and eagerly await their arrival. I can scarcely contain myself in anticipation, and look forward to writing my own review of this apparently AWESOME PRODUCT! Please, please check it out; you'll be glad you did!

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

2009-06-05T12:01:00.010-04:00

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

2009-05-28T12:16:00.003-04:00

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

2009-05-19T00:11:00.004-04:00

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

2009-05-16T13:21:00.000-04:00

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

2009-05-12T19:00:00.031-04:00

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... ?

;['

Happy Mother's Day to the Amazing Women in my Life

2009-05-10T19:56:00.003-04:00

What is Motherhood?

We all know the classic, the definition, don't we? But what about all the rest? What is it inherent in us to be, and to have the potential to be Mothers?

Why is it that girlfriends are so different than guy friends... that though our male teachers may mentor us, even care for us, there is not one who can take the place of that oh so favorite teacher, who with her grace and wit and knowing, left us both comforted and somehow desiring to be more than we already are?

One might ask, well then, is the question What is Womanhood? Yes and no... so easily "woman" can be an anatomical description, definition. But I understand this query. What is it?

What makes the power of our caring so universal and so potent? Are we at all times in a process, of becoming? So that the future of HUMANKIND rests so basically and so intricately on WOMANKIND? On Motherhood? On tenderness, strength, energy, peacefulness, perceptiveness, diligence, nurturing, vigilance, loyalty, faithfulness, sacrifice, selflessness? On the ongoing ability for a girl and woman to grow deeper into these qualities, these abilities? As a daughter, a sister, a friend, a wife, and ultimately, in many cases, a Mother?

Yes, ultimately, a Mother.

And yet, before and between and behind it all, I see we are mothering each other. Even now, I see it. And I think of you.

I am grateful for you, my daughter, my sister, my friend, my Mother, my friend's Mother, my Stepmother, my Mother-in-Law, my Aunt, my niece, my cousin, my girlfriend, my teacher. I am awed and grateful, too that one need never be "Motherless", as I have not been, thanks to you.

I wish the amazing and mysterious blessings of your beauty, your care, your spirit, your womanliness, your motherliness that I see and recognize in you, to visit and tend to YOU, on this day and always...

Isn't that what we are here for? And shouldn't it be so?

For my Mother

2009-05-09T18:41:00.007-04:00

For Helen Marie Budros

1922-1984

Paper Moons,

Tear them up Terry,

Helen of Crete,

The face that launched us all,

The Student Prince,

singing both parts,

Down the street, children follow, calling after

"Oh, Lana!" after Lana Turner

The nightclubs where, with hennaed hair

and fox stole, you stole the show, where

the spot light reserved to shine on stars and twould stop the band

stopped when you crossed the room, lit you and and followed you because and even though

you could all on your own

light up the room and

all could marvel at your striking beauty

Too much strength, become weakness

Too tough, yet soft, lovely

Streetwise, elegant

Sharper than most, shining on both sides.

Multifaceted brilliance.

Humor surprising

Joy like beams of light through clouds

A fighter, my advocate. Unafraid

of everything, except being too alone with her sadness and loss.

Wind beneath my wings,

Angels stole my wind

too early

too long since

your lovely smile, and happy twinkling eyes

have been any more than a memory

your broken heart, followed

eventually by your brokenness

until

your were taken from us

too early

so that I nearly

never want to be

early again

Mother of Seven, bereft set adrift loser of one, Great Depression survivor, minor depression sucumber, sister to four, Electrician's Apprentice, Rosie the Riveter, War Widowed by the love of her life, and yet not leaving my Father in Viduity when she left us because, Fool that he was, in one way at least, he'd already left her, all of us, really, artist, writer, crossword puzzler, mathemetician, strong tea with milk- hot or cold, stronger coffee without, wearer of Mitsouko, mover of Mountains, classic beauty, master- with Helen Cook- of the streaming multiple simultaneous conversation, Dubbed- with Helen Cook, "Fountain of Useless Information" by Col. Cook, drinker of warm beer (also with Helen Cook), smoker, broken heart.

For my Mother. Happy Mother's Day, Mumma. I love you. I miss you. I wish you could see them; they're really beautiful, amazing. I know you love them. You're in them. I know they'd love you, too.

Twilight Tuesdays ( vol. 1)

2009-05-05T12:00:00.001-04:00

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

Well, I didn't really think it would happen to me, didn't foresee it, even with all the available evidence. I am reading Twilight again. Well, the series. I've already finished Twilight. Again. I'm now reading New Moon. Again. I've also read Midnight Sun, but only once. (So far) I'm saving it, as for me the first time through, after having finished the four, it was the most delicious. In fact, I attribute my current addiction to having read Midnight Sun (the available chapters on Stephenie Meyer's website) after the fourth book progressed and culminated in a way that left things at a sated stopping point for me. And then. Then I read it. Imagine watching or experiencing your favorite film clip of all time, or music video even, in an isolation chamber in super hd, with that amazing surround sound system you only ever dreampt of ... Sure you loved that film, that clip, that video, that song before. That goes without saying. And could visit it from time to time. But now, you have the opportunity and experience to be INSIDE it, all the things about it that you already loved, cut to the heart of it's essence and mainlined directly to the heart of you. Well, then. You might become somewhat addicted too.

Of course, I am speaking of Edward here. But the concept I suppose applies to the storyline, too. In a more temporal fashion, perhaps.

This little blog series will document my thoughts and musings on these stories, and also some on the film. So far, I have been intrigued by several forums, and blogs dedicated to just this topic. However, even given my initial addiction to the books, I think that writing here is thusfar a more satisfying way for me to continue my experience. I think in particular Twilight Moms is a terrific site, and was tempted to join their forum for all the reasons it exists. I suspect, though, that there will come time all too soon when I will likely put away my Twilight; I wish to chronicle in part this amazing and unexpected experience before I do.

Perhaps I will reach others with similar musings. Welcome to you then! And welcome, too, are your comments.

Among the best of all from discovering these books, are the thoughts and discoveries I would not have likely made if not for the (hopefully temporary) obsession and exploration of Twilight elements. The apple photo, above, and it's photographer Diane Varner are one example. Her gorgeous art came up in a Google search for "Forbidden Fruit". http://www.dianevarner.com/index.php?x=about

The surprising and moving music of Robert Pattinson, who stars as Edward in the film is another example. #83 on the player at the bottom of the blog is Never Think by Rob Pattinson.

As I was playing Never Think, while composing this, in trying to avoid interrupting the song, I clicked the pop out player, but it wasn't already playing, so I clicked it there too. Amazingly the first player (for once) didn't stop playing when I clicked away, and I was able to experience the most amazingly harmonious and haunting version of the song with both of them playing simultaneously, even having begun at different times... Wow. Incredibly beautiful and moving. Such a gift. And I wouldn't have thought that could have been possible; it's a seemingly simplistic song and yet NOT-- pleasantly surprised that it held it's own harmonies and rhythms so beautifully against itself. : ) Bravo, to you, Rob, on your quite old for your young years soulful musicianship. I'm hooked! And finally understanding (sometimes tearfully) the lyrics, now, I am doubly moved. (ahh, *sigh*...mmm....)

Viva Cinco de Mayo!

2009-05-05T11:00:00.003-04:00

ADAMS MORGAN style...

When the kids are older, I shall one day return to me old stomping grounds to celebrate as I once did...

Madam's Organ in Adam's Morgan

Heaven & HELL

On the roof at Perry's...

Ah, El Tamarindo... yum... !

Celebrate Safely!

¡ARRIBA!

Cherry Twist

2009-05-01T14:21:00.034-04:00

Formerly titled: Twisted-- "No more Twist!"

"Everything was finished except just one single cherry-coloured buttonhole, and where that buttonhole was wanting there was pinned a scrap of paper with these words--in little teeny weeny writing--
NO MORE TWIST. "

I Love the Tailor of Gloucester. (by Beatrix Potter)

So much in there; it's chock full. Usually, I get so swept away by the illustrations, and sense of wonder, but recently came across it here: http://www.allthingschristmas.com/stories/TailorOfGloucester.html without illustrations and the words and messages spoke to me all the more.

I post it, however, because I'm working with "No More Twist!" in the sense that I want to make lemonade out of my lemons. I want to embrace the blessing and possibilities of the Cherry Twist and have the original essence of my more difficult twist fall away. Turn something dreaded into something somehow decidedly divine. And I have always loved the synaesthetic aspects of the "Cherry Twist". Delicious to me, even since childhood; I can smell and taste it. I suspect I am a minor synaesthete.

The strains and sadnesses that have recently been twisting me up inside have not gone away.

(One example, pertains to my Dad, and the VERY TWISTED way in which his children are blocked from seeing him or even speaking to him by phone on any sort of reasonable or regular basis, while he is in his final days here with us. The way therefore he is made out to be the one doing the blocking, by reason of his health, frailty or even desire, when in fact he is confused, and bored and frequently questions why we don't visit more often. Can you say "court imposed necessary & required medication for the prevention of the isolation of a dear sweet old man, ordered given to an OCD riddled, frantic, fried, resentful, embittered, germaphobe care giver stepmother constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown"? I'm sure it SOUNDS like I am exaggerating; I'm not. Though, I do UNDERSTAND. I just don't agree that the way to keep him alive is to keep everyone away. Nor do I believe that he is too tired or overwhelmed to talk on the phone for 2-5 minutes; I do believe that she believes she can't handle it in her current state. And by "it" I mean stopping her routine to monitor the phone call which she invariably does, or to think about us, or about how she is keeping us away. How can she possibly respect us after we let her get away with this so much? Yet, any ripple we cause in her emotional state will leave my Dad suffering even more. It is like a hostage crisis but with seemingly more limited negotiations.)

However, I have found rest at times from these cares over which I have no real control... And instead of just hiding out in my own isolation, I have begun to peek out and have found other more healing and happy escapes.

My amazing spring break was one. I shall write about that soon.

Intertwined as an aspect of that time away, and also standing apart, has been the Twilight series. What a gift that it should come along for me at this time when I need something irresistible to pull me from the constant reality I face these days. Needing to be irresistible, because it is admittedly hard for me to justify avoidance of worrying over these unresolved, heart wrenching things, hard to avoid the (self imposed-- no-one said it was rational) guilt, I think. I don't drink much. I don't carouse much. I am not a shopaholic. So I'm grateful, even if a little guilty to sometimes make my getaway-- to temporarily dwell in such places.

I know there is purpose in life, in my life, even in the seemingly trivial things, like which flower blooms on which day, which book I may stumble across to read and when, when the clouds break and the beams of light shine down, however briefly, just before the return to the darkness of cloud cover, or of a building, or of the burden of my own grief.

My burden thusly greatly eased, just as for the Tailor. So many button holes taken care of completely; only the one left for me to sew...

I only need to find just the tiniest bit more...

Cherry Twist!

Twilight Tuesdays... Prologue

2009-04-27T19:46:00.007-04:00

Coming soon...

For as long as it lasts for me, so shall it for you all.

Tuesdays shall be for Twilight.

:['

Confessions of a Twilight Addict, v. II*

2009-04-22T18:52:00.026-04:00

.
.
.
.
.

YOUR BRAIN... on Twilight!

Yes, that would be me.

And to think, if it weren't for the insistence of some friends in my bookclub, the experience may have unwittingly passed me by indefinitely.

I scoffed. Internally, at first, I scoffed. After all, my suggestion/selection of the gorgeous novel, The Historian, was taken, though when it came to it, not widely read or embraced by my group due apparently to the vampire topic matter. (Go figure?) And, as I smirked bemusedly to myself, here they were, insisting that this was a must read. A teen book. About a teenage vampire. Complete with all the teen hype. Hmmm. Sure. I'm game, I thought to myself. You don't scare me.

You couldn't have prepared me. Better that no one tried. Page turner? That's one understated way to describe it. If I could liquefy the essence of a book to drink it through a straw, this book would qualify. (And could I then have finished it any faster? Would I even want to read any of them in less than three days?) Was it award winning prose you ask? Rich language? A tapestry of descriptive textures? Well... I'll try to tell you what it was. Simply. Love. True Love. Enigmatic as it is and that sounds, it's as simple as that, I think. The story is truly compelling. The romance undeniable. The danger and suspense are contenders. The moral underpinnings are fresh and true. The natural ease of the characters, comfortable as your favorite things to wear. But without love... Without love I wouldn't likely be writing this. Oh sure. Okay. It's a love story. Fraught with peril, communication difficulties, sacrifice. But that's not the love I refer to. I am in Love with Edward. Ladies? Is anyone out there with me on this? I mean I know thousands are and have come before me. But I mean, anyone listening? Do you get it too? Are you bitten and infected by this glorious perfecting venom that is Edward? Is he your "favorite brand of heroin"? I know my dear, dear friend, who graciously hosted me for spring break is with me. So much so that even after having finished the entire series of books a few days prior, assertively and enthusiastically insisted that whenever possible during our spring break together she read out loud to me. Yes, yes, female bonding to the max. So what? I know, and yet cannot fathom why none of the men in our lives will read this book (series). Are we that disgusting in our gushing? Is it merely the same reason I scoffed in the beginning-- a teen vampire book? And rumored to have "no sex" in it at that? I mean, is that requisite to you fellows? (Oops is that a spoiler? I don't really think so, and ladies who've read it will likely know what I mean and even disagree wholeheartedly.) Or is it some innate instinct to veer away from the competition, no matter how fantastical, fantastic or fictional?

Yes, I'm in love with Edward. And I don't mean the actor in the film. In fact, I'm hesitant to see it. I don't want to relinquish my perceived version of Edward. Not just yet, anyway. I fear I may not get him back. I may need to see how this addiction goes... I mean, I know he's fictional. It's not like I'm that lady who's in love with the Eiffel Tower (heaven forbid). And I know certainly that I'm not alone. And yet, I am a bit mystified. but that's ok. I like mystified in this case. I don't really feel the need to analyze this, as is my usual tendency. I just feel the need. To feel. I know it won't last forever...

Or will it?

(This may not be my only Twilit post; just warning you! And how interesting that for the whole of my life, twilight has been my favorite time of day, and one of my favorite words...)

For a few Twilight tracks by Robert Pattinson, scroll down to player. #84, & #85. Possibly more in future... *Actually, the track called "The Meadow" may be actually, River Flows in You by Yiruma... and even still, not sure which of the two is performing, but will update when I've solved the mystery!

Happy Earth Day

2009-04-22T10:49:00.003-04:00

To the Green Planet, the Big Blue Marble...

Virginia Tech... April 16, 2007

2009-04-20T11:55:00.023-04:00

When I moved to this house, I planted tulips in two colors, already blooming, for our house warming party; orange, and deep lilac purple. They looked great, though a cheat to plant already blooming bulbs! The next four years, the deer would munch them down to the earth, and it would be as if they were never planted. No blooms. April 16, 2007, I spied one tulip bloom in the spot where I had planted the others; the first ever to come up. Yet this blossom was not pure orange as were the originals, nor was it purple. You can see for yourself; they are orange with a reddish-purple stripe. April 16, 2007 was the day of the Virginia Tech Shootings. I carried the sole bloom to the memorial service, meaning to at some point, but never actually sharing the story of this lone flower with the family whose grief I shared.

The next year, and on the very same day, this plant produced one bi-colored flower, in the colors of Virginia Tech. This year, on the second anniversary of the event, another single flower, which was joined by a second bloom just a few days later.

Note: I'm told Reema means, "little deer".

Last week marked the second anniversary of the tragedy at Virginia Tech. The event that took place shook the world, not just the college community. For us, we are still greatly shaken. My son's dear wonderful teacher of 2 years lost her beautiful light filled daughter in the senseless acts of that day... Reema, we miss you. I still can scarcely bear the sadness the loss of this singular life brings, how to bear the rest? So many others lost family, many of them also from my area. So many people I know have attended or will have their children attend VT. And the Hokies have always been a stand out when it comes to being an extremely close knit school community... I am not a Hokie, however, "We are all Hokies today." My tears preempt any sagacity or eloquence, so I will leave you with the words of convocation, We are Virginia Tech, by poet and Professor of English Literature at Virginia Tech, Nikki Giovanni:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cSuidxE8os

We Are Virginia Tech

by Nikki Giovanni

We are Virginia Tech.
We are sad today, and we will be sad for quite a while. We are not moving on, we are embracing our mourning.
We are Virginia Tech.
We are strong enough to stand tall tearlessly, we are brave enough to bend to cry, and we are sad enough to know that we must laugh again.
We are Virginia Tech.
We do not understand this tragedy. We know we did nothing to deserve it, but neither does a child in Africa dying of AIDS, neither do the invisible children walking the night away to avoid being captured by the rogue army, neither does the baby elephant watching his community being devastated for ivory, neither does the Mexican child looking for fresh water, neither does the Appalachian infant killed in the middle of the night in his crib in the home his father built with his own hands being run over by a boulder because the land was destabilized. No one deserves a tragedy.
We are Virginia Tech.
The Hokie Nation embraces our own and reaches out with open heart and hands to those who offer their hearts and minds. We are strong, and brave, and innocent, and unafraid. We are better than we think we are and not quite what we want to be. We are alive to the imaginations and the possibilities. We will continue to invent the future through our blood and tears and through all our sadness.
We are the Hokies.
We will prevail.We will prevail.We will prevail.
We are Virginia Tech.

For more photos, and information:

http://www.zimbio.com/pictures/IL1HKYdKE2i/Virginia+Tech+Commemorates+One+Year+Anniversary/8EGpEYp8bLc

http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,21600455-5006009,00.html

rainbow over Virginia Tech

Catching Up

2009-04-14T19:44:00.003-04:00

Well, it's good to be back. I guess! ;) I never thought I'd feel so enamored of Texas as I do after this trip. Austin is a great town, truly beautiful, hill country and a real amalgam of East and West coast, with a firm Southwest base. My hostess emailed me before I arrived to say it would be a difficult place to describe, like the blind man feeling the elephant. It's true! Though I would have an enjoyable time trying...

On Easter, after some polite tenacity, even after several attempts at being put off for another day, was able to finesse it, make an "appointment" (which was broken and rescheduled twice)and finally speak to my Dad for the first time since my visit with him. The perfect ending to Easter; he was relaxed, relatively coherent, and in a somewhat conversational mood, which was nice-- a blessing.

I have so very much reading to catch up on, starting from before my trip! You all have been busy! I still keep hoping Amanda will repost her Mary poem; I never got to read it! And Bary is back!

I'm so grateful to have all of you...

I'll write more soon. But first, I must READ.

Happy Easter

2009-04-12T01:53:00.001-04:00

Happy Easter, everyone...

and

Peace Reflection Renewal Joy

Briefest Update...

2009-03-30T16:04:00.006-04:00

Thank you, everyone, for your caring and support.

It has been difficult this week. I was successful in visiting my Dad. And I made it back home unscathed (physically, at least; more on that later, perhaps!) about which I am HUGELY thankful.

I know that your prayers and support have made an big impact... can see a difference in the smoothing of obstacles... feathers... paths...

Sadly, my Dad was not in a good way when I visited... though cheerful, and bright eyed. I am moved more than I can afford to be whenever I think about it. It has left me very subdued, and unable to artificially spark into action, though I wish I could. So many things are being left undone, untouched.

Dental emergencies, a 3 birthday weekend just past, hard working teenager with a bad cold, and preparations for a family trip to the lone star state in 3 days which have scarcely begun mentally, much less logistically, have me wondering how long and deep and tangled my various colored denial can go on!

But it warms my heart to know you are there... I just wish I could be with you more.

I hope to catch up with all of you as soon as I can... and update you in perhaps a more interesting introspective way at some point.

Ever More love and thanks...

Love and Thanks

2009-03-24T00:58:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow, Tuesday, I hope to visit my Dad. Please pray for me. That is all for now... I must keep prayerful... peaceful.

Ms. Kathleen, who's known me for a lifetime, may know part of the story. I will try to fill in the blanks come what may, later.

Love and Thanks

Plate 'o Brian Eno... Gnomes... Cotswolds...

2009-03-23T14:09:00.009-04:00

Things are striving towards stasis here-- I dare not write about any of the subtext. Must keep a positive outlook. So this is my (seemingly frivolous) post.

In light of a movie quote we often use 'round here (movie quotes abound, lots of movie quotes...) which is and derives from the cult classic Repo Man, 1984, which talks about synchronicity in life and the way things, even messages can come to us in the mundane, routine:

"Plate 'o Shrimp"

The character played by actor Tracey Walter (who will remain in my mind as "Frog" from "Best of the West", the short lived television series he co-stared in three years earlier) is explaining to a very young Emilio Estevez, "Say you're thinking about a plate of shrimp. Suddenly someone says plate, or shrimp, or plate of shrimp. Out of the blue, no explanation. No use looking for one either. It's part of the [lattice of coincidence that lays on top of everything.] [cosmic unconsciousness.] " (Quoted slightly differently by two different sources) While at some point later, (in addition to other hinting thematic references throughout) they unknowingly are standing in front of a placard advertising a greasy spoon special "Plate o' Shrimp".

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=plate%20of%20shrimp

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4HQyqc-aVU

Thinking of a Plate of Shrimp...

So.

Oddly, over my way, Brian Eno keeps interlacing himself, along with, separately, garden Gnomes. (And then, in retrospect, there is for me an out of the blue reference to the Cotswolds during my Tag response.) I figured I'd Google for fun, Brian Eno, and Gnomes, having no confidence in or knowledge of any likelihood that anything pertinent would surface. Ha.

Fripp and Eno; The Cotswold Gnomes. 2006

Little did I know!

Guess I should pay attention... ?

We all should, I believe, take notice of the messages we receive. I'm just not sure yet of the significance (if any) of this one! According to my friend Frog, er Miller, no point in looking for any either. Just whether or not to believe him...

;)

In Memorium...

2009-03-18T21:19:00.004-04:00

Natasha Richardson

1963-2009...

Our thoughts and prayers are with her family tonight.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day, 2nd ed.

2009-03-17T10:45:00.011-04:00

Oxalis, Iron Cross...

HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY

HAPPY SPRING...

Yes. But, I suppose I must settle for a Green's amber...

(To paraphrase Colin Farrell's character in In Bruges;)

"One BELGIAN beer, please!" ;)

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig!

Game of Tag...

2009-03-16T00:51:00.001-04:00

Wow, I've never been tagged on blogger before... Spring has sprung me something new! Thanks, my lovely Ciara!

What is your current obsession? What day is it? Probably taking pictures for blogs... Blogging... my new found Blog Friends!

What are you wearing now? Levis, black tooled leather belt, 1" wide striped black and red Norma Kamali hip-length fitted tee, (under or around $20 at Evil World Domination-Mart... I do shop there once in a great while and couldn't resist!) with long fitted sleeves that bell out below the wrists, and go to the fingers, wide, 2" diameter silver hoop earrings (slightly tarnished), my Wedding rings, little black Beatle-esque boots. (with rubber heels for chasing-children comfort...)

Who was the last person you hugged? My teen guy, after his break, right before the throes of homework ensued.

If you were a tree, what tree would you be? A Catalpa; more specifically the Catalpa in front of the the turn of the (20th) century Sears house my Dad had near the Sea for 17 years... *sigh*

This is a fine example of a Catalpa; just click to enlarge...

What's for dinner? Gluten Free (Pepperoni ,Vidalia Onion and Red Bell Pepper) Pizza-- Homemade!

What was the last thing you bought? What, you mean besides groceries? I bought mascara; I figure it's time to try wearing it again... and a little real fur skunk made in the 70's by Real Fur of West Germany, for my sweet little thing who loves sweet little things.

What are you listening to right now? Eva Cassidy, Live at Blues Alley. Also, the wind, and the sounds of the house that seem sweeter now that spring is seeping in...

What is your favorite weather? Real Summer: hot and dry and fine, where an afternoon Thunderstorm is not out of the question, lightning and lightning bug weather, where the trees are dark against the blue sky, the shadows are dark, shade is actually cooling, where you heat up all day, and the coolness comes at night, where you are rejuvenated by the feel of your bare feet being swallowed up by cold grass...

What is on your bedside table? How to open a Financially Successful Bakery, Siddhartha, Frommers Paris 2006, Shadow of the Wind, Special Places to Stay in Ireland, Beautiful Boy, Proust was a Neuroscientist... (the stack got to be too big, and continues beside the bed... do you want those, too?) Also, a little brushed stainless retro gooseneck lamp, and a clear plastic princess phone, where you can see all the parts, and it lights up when it rings (so you know when the phone is ringing when the ringer is off, which it always is).

What is your most challenging goal right now? To move forward with my old GREAT BIG goals, while gathering to me all these oh-so-inspiring, energizing and propelling new goals, and wondering if /how-long I will stay in this way; having more energy, and with it seemingly more time, while time available is really the same or less... and trying to keep up with the everyday, too.

Say something to the person who tagged you: I think you are amazing and I am truly blessed to have found you and to be spending time here with you!

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished, where do you want it to be? Where wouldn't I want it to be? Malibu, Miami, Marblehead- Greystone Beach!, Oregon, Napa, New Mexico- Corrales Village would be nice, Key West, Ireland, Intercoastal Waterway- a charming historic town somewhere, England- London or the Cotswolds, Coastal Maine, France, Italy... any of those ought to do it...

Favorite Vacation Spot? Any of the above. Especially, my family's beach house, circa 1983-1993...

Name the things you cannot live without: my loved ones, music, beauty, nature, aromatics whether in good food, fragrance, nature. Water.

What would you like to have in your hands right now? My favorite perfumes; one discontinued, one seemingly on the way to be... (so here is my question:)

What is your favorite fragrance? Blue Carnation by Roget et Gallet, Dolce Vita by Dior.

What is your favorite/favourite tea flavor/flavour? Once again, I cannot pick! This is me and tea; at 6 am every morning, I drink Red Rose, probably because it's what my mother drank, and it has always come with a free figurine (by Wade) in every box, and growing up, I always collected the tea-bag tags as tiny pretend playing cards for my tiny bears and Liddle Kiddles, and my daughter now collects the cut white board dividers from inside to make bookmarks for everyone!

But also, as "recreational" and comfort tea drinking I very much love: Bigelow Constant Comment, Earl Gray (Twinings is ok), Black Currant, & Cranberry Autumn both from Harney Teas, and Genmai Cha (Brown Rice Green Tea) by Maeda En; the brown rice is toasted and roasted and some of the kernels pop and look like wee popcorn.

Here is a second question I've added; when it's time to brew tea, what do you use? Pot/pan, Kettle, Microwave, Electric Kettle, other...? Kettle, microwave sometimes...

What would you like to get rid of? Clutter, in my house... Prejudice and Selfishness, in the world.

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? To Ireland, but I would take my Dad with me! I'd just steal him away, and I know he'd go with such glee!

If you could have your portrait painted/made by any famous artist from any era, who would you choose? Tough choice! I must say Maxfield Parrish, but would also love Waterhouse or John Singer Sargent.

The Rules:

1. Respond and rework; answer the questions on your blog, replace one question you dislike with a question of your own invention, add one more questions of your own. (I cheated; I left all the questions and added 2, so you may omit 2 if you like, and still add one or more of your own.)

2 . Tag eight other untagged people. (And I say, "Or more. Or less!")

These are the people I'd like to have play, if they'd like to! Amanda, Miss Pine, Puanani, Ms. Kathleen, Lisa, & Tutta Rolf. Also, even though they are less familiar with me, and even though their blogs are not really inclined towards such things, I'd like to tag Noreen, Bea Fleur, and Adriana. It's still a fun way to be introspective... even if you don't publicly play. Still, it'd be grand if you did.

And, as a longshot I'll tag: Barycoise, and two other gents seemingly COMPLETELY out of the blue who's profiles/blogs I find intriguing: Chris and Peter.

You may, but needn't be, as wordy as I have been! ;) Illustrations not required... but I know all of you at least well enough to say, each of you seem quite creative...

Back after a Brief Respite...

2009-03-12T19:15:00.003-04:00

Midnight Snow... after the second, before the third.

2009-03-06T09:09:00.016-05:00

I can't believe this is March... or that it was 6 degrees Fahrenheit overnight 2 nights ago, and that it should be 73 this weekend...
The first snow was 2 inches, and melted after 2 hours... who would have believed it was ever there...? The second snow came a few hours later, but in fits and starts... In the night I got up to peek out the window... No new snow, but this is what I saw in the hazy moonlight. By morning we had 8 more inches, with drifts after 25 mile an hour winds, to one and a half feet. Still, not much for the year, while way too excessive for March! Madder than a March Hare... In like a Lion... I suppose the Lamb is due on Saturday...

(All of these were shot on the same night...)

The Earth can be any shape you want it

Any shape at all

Dark and cold or bright and warm

Long or thin or small

But it's home and all I ever had

And maybe why for me the Earth is flat...

All along you still believed

Believed you were immune

And if love is all you're missing

Look into your heart

Is anybody home ?

Please remember ...The Earth can be any shape you want it

Any in the world

Thomas Dolby, The Flat Earth

Selection #17, Player at the bottom of the Page...(merely mood music, if you like)

Waters of March

2009-03-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

Waters Of March

by Antonio Carlos Jobim. (to hear it, scroll down to end of post page and play it!)

A stick, a stone
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of the stump
It's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass
It is life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms
A fox in the brush
The knot of the wood
The song of the thrush
The wood of the wind
The cliff, a fall
A scratch, a lump
It is nothing at all
It's the wind blowing free
It's the end of a slope
It's a beam, it's a void
It's a hunch, it's a hope

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the end of the strain
It's the joy in your heart

The foot, the ground
The flesh and the bone
The beat of the road
A slingshot stone
A truckload of bricks
In the soft morning light
The shot of the gun
In the dead of the night
A mile, a must
A thrust, a bump
It's a girl, it's a rhyme
It's a cold, it is the mumps
The plan of the house
The body in bed
And the car that got stuck
It's the mud, it's the mud
A float, a drift
A flight, a wing
A cock, a quail
Oh, the promise of spring

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart

A point, a grain
A bee, a bite
A blink, a buzzard
A sudden stroke of night
A pin, a needle
A sting, a pain
A snail, a riddle
A wasp, a stain
A snake, a stick
It is John, it is Joe
A fish, a flash
A silvery glow
The bed of the well
The end of the line
The dismay on the face
It's a loss, it's a find
A spear, a spike
A point, a nail
A drip, a drop
The end of the day

And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the promise of life
In you

Performed by Basia

Composite... Conundrum...

2009-02-26T23:13:00.009-05:00

(Photo from inside my daughter's card board kaleidoscope, taken with my cell phone.)

I've been away, a bit. My head in the clouds, so to speak. (And those of you who are becoming on to me and my sneaky ways may find clue or reason to read into that statement if you like...) And feeling a bit out of sorts...

I've been pondering, passively this blog. Where I would like it to go. Or take me. Or me it.

In the beginning, there were reasons to be anonymous. If I post things, drafts I've written, then there still are strongly those reasons. And certainly, it is a gift to have a safe place away from ordinary public life as a respite and forum for expression...

And yet.

While it feels perfectly logical to be anonymous, especially living in a suburb of one of the most paranoid cities on the planet, I feel a bit of a loss. I really enjoy sharing myself with you. But do I in this current way share more of myself? Or am I sharing less? Certainly, in just the possibility that I may not remain forever anonymous, and in the enjoyment of sincerely getting to know some of you, there are a few posts, written and unwritten which I am now more hesitant to move out of DRAFT form...

So that is where I am right now. Happy but perhaps at a crossroads, a point of synthesizing what I've got and waiting to see what becomes. (And wondering how a tiny sniffle can leave one so flat out exhausted...)

Thank you, all of you!

I do so appreciate you.

Circe

Reprieve... CONNECTION!

2009-02-16T00:03:00.002-05:00

Thank you, all of you, for your sympathy, empathy really.

I feel joyfully foolish, though certainly not foolishly joyful!

I have found the cousins I was seeking. An address now listed as a different town than the one we refer to, listed as one I believed to be miles to the east, a telephone listing and newspaper mentions using a different first name, and with it numerous locations... a map that looks different-- more streets than I remember, than possibly there were when I visited that magical crossroads.

Found found found! And when I called what I thought to be this "other location", to see if there was any current affiliation with the family from "that" town, the young girl said, "Oh I wouldn't know; I'm new and not related to the family here... "And proceeded to refer me to my father's cousin, directly! (TG)

We have spoken, and emailed. My heart is replete. My joy is returned.

I feel silly to have suffered seemingly needlessly, though on further introspection, further assimilation or perhaps in stillness and serenity, I see the need for such experiences; to be called, to be galvanized to do that which we would put off again for another day, which we will certainly not have limitless tomorrows to accomplish. A gift.

Second miracle:

Amazingly enough, my spouse, who has endured my tears and joys and entreaties to go back, had an experience tonight. Away on business, and sharing experiences after a work session, someone told of their 2 trips to Ireland. When asked what part was the ultimate for them, they shared a story of a family pub where they were so very welcomed on their first trip; a warm magical place. When the time came for their second visit, years later, they found themselves traveling 400 miles out of their way to return to this wonderful family and their pub. They couldn't leave without seeing them once more. They named the place, the town, the family I was searching for-- the very ones! I am overwhelmed... this cannot be mere coincidence. Their magic is evident, as is the magic that is spurring me on now, to make this trip!

In all that I have experienced and surrendered these past months, too, I feel the cycle of life is bringing to me the exercise of surrender, so that when the big storms come, I am not brittle, do not break...

For eventually, the bigger storms do come.

Just not today.

;)

ps Noreen, Ciara, and anyone else, please? If you figure it out, please don't give me away! I tell you, the world is getting smaller, as I am becoming more transparent, every day... as is my true nature I suppose... ;)

To my heart's desires, bosom buddies, ethereality of my ethos, in other words, all of you.

2009-02-14T10:33:00.006-05:00

Two Poems by Nikki Giovanni

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

Winter Poem

once a snowflake fell

on my brow and i loved

it so much and i kissed

it and it was happy and called its cousins

and brothers and a web

of snow engulfed me then

i reached to love them all

and i squeezed them and they became

a spring rain and i stood perfectly

still and was a flower

Written by Nikki Giovanni

Kidnap Poem

Ever been kidnapped by a poet

if i were a poet i'd kidnap you

put you in my phrases and meter
You to jones beach or maybe coney island

or maybe just to my house

lyric you in lilacs

dash you in the rain

blend into the beach

to complement my see

Play the lyre for you

ode you with my love song

anything to win you wrap you in the red Black green

show you off to mama

yeah if i were a poet i'd kid

nap you

Written by Nikki Giovanni

Stop the world, please...? And rewind?

2009-02-11T23:34:00.007-05:00

The public house (Pub) operated since 1927 in Ireland by my father's cousin's family, seems to be gone. I can find no trace of the family I lost touch with... I sent email, but it came back returned. As of 1 year ago, the darts match results were still being posted there according to the newspaper... They are still listed in an online tourism guide, but that was last copyrighted in 2003! How can I have let so much time slip by without contacting them? I am just one of many American cousins who have likely visited them over the years with my now ailing Father and otherwise... But they are rare and special to me. So kind and warm and generous... I thought there would be time, that they would remain, be there...

The "Land Owner's House" where we stayed is no longer operating either-- has become a private residence...

I am so completely crushed, flattened, bereft...

Never a more magical time to me than that trip, and nothing so miraculous than the time spent there, on the seaside, stepping briefly, welcomed, into the life of that family, that town...

I am so ashamed of all the times I planned to write, to send a tin of Christmas treats, to return, to visit... and did not.

Too many things to grieve right now, things lost, and things soon to be lost...

How can one heart be so full and yet so empty, sinking and yet floating... soaring above the things I grasp for, to say goodbye, and yet pull them back to me once more.

Clear Horizon

2009-02-10T21:49:00.004-05:00

Look around - it's almost summer

Yet there's winter in her heart

You could never love another

Still, can your fire melt her ice...

Can your fire melt her ice

Seasons change, you cry in silence

For the love you cannot live without

You've done your best, you tried your hardest

The time has come, be strong, give it up

All you need is a clear horizon,A clear horizon

All we wish is everyday,

Hope and pray,

For all of us

A clear and quiet sky

The darkest night is slowly fading

And the sun willl come out to blind your eyes

Could it be a new beginning?

Trust yourself - you're an angel, you can fly

Trust yourself - you're an angel, you can

All we need is a clear horizon...
by Basia

From the Ridiculous to the Sublime... or, SOME OF THE REASONS THIS IS AN ANONYMOUS BLOG

2009-02-10T09:33:00.004-05:00

Firstly, I'd like to thank those of you whom I follow, and who follow me, for your lovely heart touching prose. I am verily nourished by it, and your generosity is a blessing to my days.

I began this blog, perhaps with such thoughts in mind, to plumb the depths of my Self through writing. Certainly no poet, and with no real expectations as to what would occur whence I placed finger tips to silvery keys, I sought a hearts journey of discovery, and means by which to express that which was within, and that which was currently developing within me.

I am apparently at current time better at being "touched" than at touching... I don't seek to compare my writings to yours, and yet thus far find my better self when reading rather than when writing. I don't question my own depth; certainly it has been too much for the common good in past, and perhaps I shrink from divulging it. Or perhaps this is the lot most of us draw, to be witness to the sublime rather than create it. Most likely, I am not trusting myself to surrender those places yet. I thank you all for being here with me! I do not embrace 'VOID' nor tarry with nothingness; your company is cherished. I only hope that if in not yet "moving" you, I should at very least entertain you.

I welcome all your comments, as always.

Many thanks.

Keep writing!

Namaste

Circe

"Fear no more the heat o' the sun, nor the furious winter's rages, thou thy worldly task hast done; home art gone and ta'en thy wages..."

2009-02-08T12:52:00.006-05:00

The time for sadness is over. The river is swollen with tears, and melted snow, and rather than find it beautiful, I look at it with more than a little disdain...

Time to move on, to move forward. What you resist persists. I did not resist, I let it all go. Magic. A new day.

That there is much much more to this than I can ever write about, is irrelevant. I must be for myself what I am so automatically for others: CHEERLEADER. The only problem is, I know the weak areas where my cheers are less than sincere... still. Too damn bad.

I must be at the bottom of the hill, the person I claimed to be when on high, at highest peak:

One who intentionally and consciously embraces:

PEACE JOY LOVE.

sh*t.

;)

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renownéd be thy grave! -- William Shakespeare

ne sutor ultra crepidam

2009-02-06T14:04:00.006-05:00

It has all become over-proofed. Like the dough, too long, the yeast extended to it's greatest, and it's product, co2, has run out of space to expand-- poof... there is nothing else to contain it. Odd that what has been experienced as joy, and potential joy, life changing energy, loosed for the common good, imperceptibly perceived by all, for weeks, even months, should escape as grief...

After all, joy is not happiness. They are not interchangeable. My heart has been inexplicably full, and I have been grateful. It has been evidenced in real (however transitory) changes in my life, my relationships, my perspective.

And yet, here I am, in grief.

My father is slipping away... I need to see him, to talk to him, to be with him, and yet am not able. Obstacles, which I allow, and obstacles outside anyone's control, get in the way. I experience him alone, without him here. Yet, he is not gone. Not yet, but slipping, slipping...

My teenager no longer needs me like once upon a time-- I never imagined how painful that could be. I embrace it in theory, yet my heart... it does not. Not yet. I know the person he needs to become, but transition is difficult; letting go of a connection, even relatively little by little, to a heart that was once so completely bound up in your own, is painful. It tears at me, causes me to behave outside of the love that I feel, and I am ashamed.

My hoped for friend, friendship offered, gently proffered, is not. I can no longer. How strange that I should feel so real a connection to one who claims their heart is closed, that life is trivial, that no real human connection can ever be made. How strange that our conversations awakened in me a recognition of the freeing nature of sublime beauty, of tragedy, of interconnectedness. How strange that their words should be cosmically moving to me, through no intent of their own, nor any recognition. Perhaps it is my own unwitting perception of this human tragedy that made our brief acquaintanceship so poignant. Yet I believe, I know there is more to it than that.

I am an adult, not some teen with grand illusions, nor hoped for allusions... I am not naive. So often cynical in the past, I now strive to intentionally create my own life's reality, with that which is within my power, and yet. And yet.

There are things I am powerless to control. Such a balance to be struck.

Soon, the door will open-- less than 5 minutes. The time for peace, for pure, shoulder shaking grief will rapidly wither, the pile of spent snowman napkins will be thrown away.

And I will go on with the duties in front of me, grateful for this pain-- that it should find an appropriate time, that it should be released. For now. I will go on with my day.

William Shakespeare:
Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.

Carl Jung:
Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.

W T H... Enchanted, but not yet April

2009-02-05T13:55:00.011-05:00

So, I'm wondering-- when did I become all the female characters (all over again, in HD) in the film Enchanted April? I'm the quietly persevering one, who is suddenly sought after, the oh so eccentric, ready for a change, weird insight one, who's spouse finally sees how awesome she is, the overly social one who's pain no-one will likely ever see who JUST NEEDS SOME QUIET TIME ALONE, and the old docent dowager, undergoing transformation: "What is this feeling as though I will suddenly burst OUT!... no no that won't do at all...." I do feel as though I just can't contain this (whatever THIS is) much longer... but what is it?

Opiates, oxytocin (inappropriately and mysteriously engendered!) chakra energy... what the heck?

Each character undergoes a transformation... lovely...

Maybe they each comprise an aspect of everywoman, as Jack Lemon is an everyman, yet it never felt so much so as now for me... Something is different...

If you haven't yet seen
this film YOU MUST!

Warming... PRETENDERS

2009-01-23T19:01:00.015-05:00

Well, the weather here is winter weather today, but California winter, which I LOVE... After highs of 18 F several days last week, and waking at 6 am to a wind chill factor of 6 F... Today's 55 degree high had me HIGH... (Sorry Tutta!) I love snow, but for me, these respites in the weather, severe or not, are lovely punctuation to my days... Driving with the windows down, in a cotton shirt and tank top, my faded Levi's and short boots take on a different connotation... I won't say it's warm, but comfortable, refreshing, enlivening... Blasting The Pretenders, I am taken back, to a different decade, a different coast... My cynical East Coast Cave Dwelling ways have been replaced by my alter ego: California Girl... I'm body and soul walking back from the Oaks, with my oh so individual haircut; shoulder length with bangs, with bright yellow cellophane die job on the side where it is shaved... earphones blasting... could have been The Pretenders... my little lace up boots, brand new, clicking on the sidewalk, my oversized men's blazer getting warm, Wayfarers on, SPECIAL BEAT SERVICE t-shirt, turquoise overdied pencil jeans that day... oh no, I did NOT look like Debbie Gibson, but that is what it sounds like, from way back here, I guess. No head bands for me-- I'm too tough, too chic, too unique... boy, what was I thinking? it's farther than I thought...

Today, it's an SUV, and one handed air guitar while I drive... but that's ok. Because my feet don't hurt, my heart doesn't hurt... very much... and the lyrics all have meaning for me now, though I wish they didn't

MY BABY

I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME
THAT'S ALL I WANT FROM YOU
I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME
ONE DAY

I KNOW I'M A PEASANT
DRESSED AS A PRINCESS
BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE
TO TAKE MY CLOTHES AWAY

IF I COULD SHOW YOU
SOME HAPPINESS
THEN I WOULD FEEL
LIKE A REAL PRINCESS
THAT TO ME WOULD BE SUCCESS
MY BABY

I SEEN YOU DANCIN'
A NATURAL BEAUTY
YOU MAKE THIS DIVE
SEEM SUBLIME

YOU REALLY GET TO THE HEART OF THE MUSIC
YOU'RE THE POETRY OF TIME

IF THERE'S A METHOD
TO WRITING A SONG
HOW COME I'M GETTING IT WRONG
YOU WRITE THE BEAUTIFUL SONGS
BABY

C'MON, C'MON, C'MON BABY
TAKE MY HAND
C'MON, C'MON, C'MON SHOW ME
TO THE LOVE LAND

CAN THIS REALLY HAPPEN
IN THIS DAY AND AGE
SUDDENLY

TO JUST TURN THE PAGE
LIKE WALKING ON STAGE
MY BABY

by The Pretenders

READY,SET, OBAMA!

2009-01-20T13:08:00.007-05:00

FEW WORDS CAN DESCRIBE THIS MOMENT... I AM WHOLLY AND UTTERLY MOVED-- CANNOT SEE ANY WAY OUR NATION IS NOT AT THIS MOMENT IN TIME MORE GALVANIZED THAN EVER BEFORE TO MEET AND CO-CREATE OUR HOPEFUL FUTURE.

"YES WE CAN!"

Grateful to Great Britain for the BLAIR-IZZARD effect...

2009-01-18T10:38:00.015-05:00

Just as we are about to usher in our new President, I feel I must give a shout out to Tony Blair. Without his steadfast, self sacrificing allegiance to our country and to our destructive baboon's behind of a president, our foreign relations would be not only in the toilet; they would be beyond retrieval, long since processed at septic plant. This sepsis would be possibly irreversible, even in light of all the hope resting on our President Elect. So thank you, Tony. You stood by us when few else would, even at sacrifice of your own career (and many lives... but we won't get into that here). I am and have been truly grateful to you. (And so should be my Fellow Americans)

So while I'm giving shouts out to Brits, why leave out Eddie Izzard? He so gently reminds us here in America, by virtue of his softspoken question "You do know, there are other countries???" that we are an insular, self centered, narcissistic nation. All while cheering us with his intelligent, lighthearted comedy, which so often nimbly prances about with a broad reaching history lesson. (World History, thankyouverymuch!) And besides, he makes it alright for me to like guys in makeup again... man I miss the 80's! But wait! That's not all-- Thank you, Mr. Izzard, for your abominable French. I TOTALLY GROOVE ON IT, and love you all the more for spouting it. After all, it's the only occasion where my abominable French is in complete accord; I understand every word.

This American thanks you two gentlemen for meeting us Americans more than half way... Hopefully, this attitude can effect a leg up and inspire Americans to do their part in the future that is unfolding before us.

Cheers to you both!

You've Got Mail; from Me

2009-01-17T00:04:00.000-05:00

"The time at our disposal each day is elastic; the passions we feel dilate it, those that inspire us shrink it, and habit fills it."
Marcel Proust

When I found I would be the only adult in our home for four days last week, I thought: "I'll write and write and write!" But actually, instead, I read and read and read. And caught a cold. (Isn't it always the way?) I found myself reading some moving poetry by Amanda, "I'm Here" which can be read here: http://paperstarlings.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-here.html and I found myself grieving. The number of decades that pass do not dull or nullify the memories or poignant sense of loss that may appear at any time. Their subscription never expires. So, since I have not (I tell myself) watched the film, You've Got Mail for several years now (disputable) and there would be no-one to argue this or add this view to the tally, I indulged myself. I don't know this, but I would not be surprised to learn that I am one of very few who cries without fail when they watch this movie. Nearly an example of reflexivity, I am the film and the film is me. (Was this always the case or did it become so?) A mirror within a mirror. The main character states, "So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?" And, "Confession: I have read Pride and Prejudice about 200 times. I get lost in the language; words like thither... mischance... I'm always in agony over whether Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are really going to get together! Read it, I know you'll love it!" I get lost in the rhythm journey emotion of this film. I have watched it untold times! I have played it in the background as if a record album to keep me company while I do the dreaded dishes. The language and pacing are musical to me. The light and setting a warm and evocative rendering of quotidian life. I can go to it in Filofax fashion and call up whichever identification suits.

This time, it was to grieve my Mother. When Kathleen Kelly confesses, after acknowledging defeat in the losing of her store, her Mother's store, "Soon we'll just be a memory. In fact, someone, some foolish person will probably think it's a tribute to this city, the way it keeps changing on you, the way you can never count on it, or something. I know, because that's the sort of thing I'm always saying. But the truth is, I'm heartbroken. I feel as if part of me has died, and my mother has died all over again, and no one can ever make it right. " She sees before her, a vision, ghostly and luminescent, of herself and her Mother from another time, happy, unsuspecting, secure. This has always brought me to tears, cut right to the quick of me. The funny thing is, the trigger's effect has scarcely changed, and those who know me best can not comprehend in the least why this should be so. I never questioned it, merely accepted it. But now, in looking at the way I perceive memory, and experience nostalgia on the whole, I can see that my perceptions and experiences are likely to be different than those others with whom I share my life, whether or not I understand or comprehend or apprehend them myself.

Happiness is beneficial for the body, but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind.
Marcel Proust

anamnesis

2009-01-15T13:51:00.003-05:00

an⋅am⋅ne⋅sis The recollection or remembrance of the past; reminiscence.

2. Platonism. Recollection of the Ideas, which the soul had known in a previous existence, esp. by means of reasoning.

3. Psychology. A recalling to memory; recollection.

4. Immunology. A prompt immune response to a previously encountered antigen, characterized by more rapid onset and greater effectiveness of antibody and T cell reaction than during the first encounter, as after a booster shot in a previously immunized person.

5. Medicine. The complete medical history recalled and recounted by a patient.

6. (often initial capital letter) A prayer in a Eucharistic service, recalling the Passion, Resurrection and Ascension of Christ. Origin: 1650-60 anámnēsis remembrance, equiv. to ana(mi)mn (skein) to remember (ana ANA- + mimn skein to call to mind) + -sis -SIS

Coffee Philosophy, or "Consider the French Press... and then try Melitta"

2009-01-03T10:46:00.001-05:00

(Hopefully, you can appreciate this analogy, whether or not you enjoy Coffee. Certainly, I would hate to put forth a banalogy.)

Consider, I ask you, the French Press. An extremely effective, conservative of motion method to brew strong, full flavored coffee. One needs merely join the coffee with the hot water within the vessel and let nature take it's course before pressing the coffee to simultaneously extract and filter. Then one need only to pour out to take advantage of this event.

I do not own a French Press, however, though I do enjoy strong full flavored coffee. (And enjoy the end result of the FP Method, enormously. Why don't I own one...?)

I have decided, that I do not identify with my electric coffee maker. Firstly, "I drink alone". It is not efficient for that use. The space it occupies is coveted by me and my other kitchen accoutrements. It makes strange sounds which are very similar to one who is slowly drowning in their own pleura-- no believe me, it's true. That has been me and in my fevered state, just before being moved to ICU, I demanded "Who's making coffee??!" not knowing it was my own rattle I was hearing. It sits there, at the ready, ready to burn the coffee-- adding flavor but not one enjoyed by me. I know there are coffee pots "for one" (too much trouble for one cup!) and new carafes which insulate the coffee (sure, great for group coffee experience, perhaps).

Lately, I have been enjoying my vintage yellow ceramic Melitta drip cone. It has been an exercise in intent, intensity, and introspection. I does require mastery. One can do the obvious--fill the cone, as one would with an FP, and then fill again to get the desired amount. But that is not the method. The method for rich taste, strength that equals effort, requires that the water subside to just under boil. Then, the wetting, or whetting of the ground coffee-- just a few spoonfuls should make their way to the grounds--wait. Allow the coffee to get your meaning. Then pour a little more, flexing muscle as you lift the heavy kettle again. Yes, the Kettle is a Commitment. Next, when that is mostly subsided, pour about halfway full. You don't want to the coffee in it's new steamy state to get the wrong idea (you are not a hot water whore, nor one devoid of restraint, neither one who lacks appreciation of finesse and all that that implies.) Then when (did I mention you need a jumbo cup, or two cups to fully realize the maximum extent of this exercise?) that pour is mostly in submission--yielding to you the majority of what you think it will, lift the Kettle once more; tidy up the grounds left behind and rinse them back down, readying them for your last hot splash.

How do you get your coffee? Is it instant? Do you use a cumbersome machine? A French Press, retro Percolator? Or do you let someone else make it for you? Is it a group event, where volume dictates method? I have no judgement of any of these methods; I only wish to question. How do you get your world view? How do you share it? How do you gain friendships? What is the state of your Spirit?

The late Andy Kaufman once stated that he kept himself grounded by periodically taking work as a dishwasher; dishwashing has often been aligned with spiritual cleansing.

I don't like doing dishes, so for now, I'll make my own Coffee.

New Year Blessings

2008-12-31T18:15:00.000-05:00

Well, the pumpernickel laced with fennel, anise and orange rind is cracked and blistered-- has filled the house with aromatic bliss, and is nearly ready to pull from the oven... The lights have a special twinkly glow, and flicker every so often, as the icy wind is howling up a gale outside... The juxtaposition is clear, my fortune apparent.

May all of you have the warmth and security of hearth and heart this New Year.

Sexa-y

2008-12-29T10:19:00.001-05:00

Why should I care, if in Googling myself, I find I'm erroneously listed as 62 years old? I have a number of people in my life who are that approximate age. I respect them enormously. I enjoy their humor. The look alright, in some cases stunning, for their age. I guess my big gripe is: I am not yet anywhere near 62 years of age! It is ludicrous to worry about such things, I suppose. Anyone can see I am not. Or can they? I have been getting a number of solicitations in the mail to purchase things that only senior citizens could want or qualify to receive. Has my identity been stolen (again)? Or are these solicitations based on this one typographical error which when viewed online, gives no indication that it may be false?

I called the company to blame; a reunion service. They deleted the file. I asked, "Why not just correct the file?" They stated, "too late-- it has already been deleted." Hmm. I see. And yet, upon re-Googling, there it remains. Forever in a Google search: my name, the places I've lived in the past 12 years (don't get me started on that) and my age/rank-- Sexagenarian. While that sounds pretty good... sexy...that brings me to another point.

I know it's narcissistic of me, but I think that aging myself several decades in short matter of time has made me feel I need to fight for my (waning?) sexual viability. This is all just perception, and as far as I know, it is all on my part. (who else of import would Google me, take the word of such a service and apply it in any way truly pertinent to my sense of self? Johnny Depp?) But for some reason, I at my age, have received this error as an accusation and a challenge. Very young women would likely say, "Ewwww... Gross! " and then laugh and laugh and email the link to friends. Men of any age would probably look at it clinically and then forget it. After all, men can wrinkle, go gray, develop a paunch, and even have "midlife crises" where they strive to relive their youth, and only pursue women of grossly inappropriate ages. Women of a "certain age"? What comes to your mind when you hear the words, "62 year old woman". If not careful, I could easily hear "old woman" and see a nondescript crone. It is not an age; it's a label. Women over 35 who enjoy and pursue younger men? Well, those are called Cougars. Men of any age who pursue younger women? They are just called "men". Unless of course they do it with any less grace than Hugh Hefner (talk about gross); those men we sometimes call lecherers.

Even women who are growing older gracefully and look fantastic are the brunt of cynicism and jokes. Even from me. But now I need to bolster them, lest I become them. So, come on Heather Locklear (who recently played the lead in a tv film "Flirting with Forty" where her character is supposedly 39, and dealing with the same things I'm talking about. In actuality, she is 47; why not make it "50 and still flirty?" It's 50 she's flirting with, and she still looks great.) Come on Diane Lane. And to keep the ball rolling, here is a link to gorgeous sexy women we all know and love, aged 40 to 73. You go, girlfriends! http://aww.ninemsn.com.au/slideshow.aspx?sectionid=5573&sectionname=slideshow&subsectionid=79949&subsectionname=womenover40&photo=1

I could wax philosophical here and talk about the real and perceived aspects of time, of the nature of yin and yang, of creation and decay, but really I'd like prepare all of you, myself most of all, for that day, that decade in the distant future when I finally get my sexy sixpack...

Sexa-y