New Year coming

Well, I've almost made it through another holiday without committing suicide. And if you think I am being flip here and making fun of something most serious...I assure you that I am not. It is a constant thought throughout the holidays and I do everything but tie myself down to keep it from happening. There are many people that would be confused about it for years, forever and I can't do that to them. It's also a terribly selfish act and I can't imagine going out that way. I want something natural to happen, it's just not occurring soon enough.

And here's the problem with me...I am a believer. I believe in magic. And I have NOT had a life that is conducive to that notion. If anything, I have had a life that would lead one to believe there's nothing to this world, or energy or existence. Instead, by some unknown benefactor, I got this belief in good, and hope and magic. But, here's the thing...it doesn't ever work out for me. Not ever. And so, as I packed up my Christmas decorations (why am I doing this to be like every other sweet family in the country, while I most certainly am not) I decided to become a non-believer. And at the same time realized that I would not know myself at all that way. But, is that a very bad thing?

I'm tired of being heartbroken. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of not waiting, just working my ass off to make it happen. I'm tired of thinking it will happen if I am enough. I'm never going to be enough.

I suppose that a non-believer lives a pretty flat life. Knowing only that the road is there, but not whether it might rise up to greet you. Knowing the moon is full, but not that some spirit lives there smiling down on us. Seeing that the grass is green, but not listening for its whisper of springtime or passing crowds of ants and bugs. I suppose that a non-believer just doesn't believe and only knows what's right there. And a non-believer doesn't live in her head, but just with what is right there. No possibility, but rather probability to the negative sort.

All this makes me sad of course. I don't know how to live this way. But, I think I am going to find out. YOu might even consider me resolved to it.

It's December!

It's almost Christmas and I just planned a trip to Vegas. January is really the only month that I can travel now that I'll be travelling for work most of the year. It's been a seven day work week and I am bombed...so tired that everything looks muddy. Well, the rain isn't helping. But, we need it...and I'm all for it. But, my mood is bleak.

I decided on the holiday wish. The one I do every year. It's kindof funny how it happens. Each year around October, I plant the seed of Christmas wish. If I have had a difficult, hard, teary-eyed year, then the idea that brings me peace, hope, solace is the one I will choose. However, if I have had a decent year, meaning I worked hard at change and feel like I kicked old habit's butt...then I choose what scares me most. So, October went by and the only nudge of an idea I got was "love". (Not surprising I am sure.) But, I thought that I wished for love three years ago and my dog died, and I found love and acceptance around me. So, I know I have love. What do I really want? So, that narrowed it a bit, and what came next was "romantic love" and that felt like hearts and butterflies...not scary really at all. So, I sat with that for a bit. And what came next made my stomach clench it was so scary.

Intimacy.

And when I shared this with my spiritual group...the men of course went into every sex innuendo they could muster. But, I don't mean that. I mean I do, but I don't. I mean feeling safe with someone knowing me in a lot of ways rather than just the ones that I allow. I don't feel safe with people in general, men in specific. So, usually relationships get one part of me. The physical girl or the mental one. I want all of it. It terrifies me.

It's my Christmas wish.

Let the chips fall where they may. When I choose scary, I usually get it in big heart wrenching ways. I think I can handle it. I hope so.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Well...you know how I am about fortune cookies. And it's the holidays, so I am especially devastated. I know, I know...do something about it. However, my do-something button is out of whack this year. So, I woke up and cried. Then, I cooked. I ate. I washed dishes. I took comfort in the fact that other people were having to wash way more dishes than me. Then, I walked the dog and now I am getting ready to head to the town of Mayberry to watch OO7 with Angela and Brack. I was invited other places, I don't want you to think that I don't have absolutely fabulous people in my life. But, I just want my own person..you know? And I am tired of not having that...and I know I will feel more lonely in the crowd of someone's family stuff than I do being right here. But, I still feel pretty crummy. And thank God Daniel Craig is so gorgeous that he will make me forget everything but his hotness for two hours. Brack may kill us...Angela and I went on our own last year and I think we both gasped at all the same parts.

Anyway...you want to know, don't you? I passed the cabinet and thought that I am just a tiny bit hungry and since there was no pie in this place today...it is my sweet tooth that came calling. So, I opened the cabinet and there sat the bright pink box and I thought, what the hell? I'll see what it has to say. So, I chose the cookie on top, pulled out the little white slip, and this is what it said...

You have so much to be thankful for.

Right here on Thanksgiving day. It's that kinda thing that makes me believe in magic.

Again

I am.

The thing is that what passes for okay really isn't.

So, there are times when I don't know what is happening.

Times when it seems like God is throwing me curve balls...one, two, ten all at the same time.

I feel settled and unsettled.

Yesterday I had a moment. At Walmart. Complete chaos...cars, people, children, tents, buggies, strollers, craziness. And I walked out into it and it all stopped for one moment and it was like a got a push on my left side. NOt a rough push (and there wasn't a push) but a nudge that said "look this way!!" and so I did. And there he was...in a town that isn't our town. And how I saw him in all that, I just don't know.

But, the nudge is what interests me. Where does that come from? I believe it's energy...but is it my energy tuned into him and therefore engaging me? Or is it our energy bumping into each other and saying "wake up!"

I know it all sounds crazy. But, I get settled into an idea and then something like this happens and I get all unsettled again.

It shouldn't, but it does.

Who is he in my stupid life anyway? Here for what reason or duration? I just don't know and I want to know.

Then, again, they say that you can find everything at Walmart.

Pastoral

I found my jive again. Which is to say that I feel better for the time being. Someone said to me today that we all have our afflictions and that mine seemed to be a social compulsion to think that I can never do enough to deserve relationships with people (not necessarily men...any kind of relationship). And I can buy this about myself. And she went on to say that this is incurable. Which of course, being the growth junkie, I find a difficult thing to swallow.

It's humid here...and we walk and are wet. Although it isn't so hot. It's just steamy. Of course, I won't even talk about my hair...it is a moist mad froth. And since I consider it possibly my only redeeming feature, I HATE THIS.

I've been thinking about a lot of things lately. My mind skipping here and there. I heard a word a couple days ago-Surrender. This word could carry shame, but it doesn't for me. It isn't about losing the battle. It is about giving up before you are defeated. It is about keeping your self-respect. It is about letting go of the fight against impossible odds. It is about giving in to grace. And about harmony in knowing you've handed your wrath to a higher power.

But, it still feels frightening to me. It recommends vulnerability. And I stink at that.

I went to see The Women on Friday night with a group of women (who are amazing and work their hearts out for pet rescues in NC) that I don't hang out with a lot. Which is to say that I know not so much about them, but like what they are about and enjoy my time with them when it happens. After the movie, we were all talking and one of them mentioned a scene in the movie where two friends are angry with one another, then funny and finally crying together. And she said, "that pegs us" meaning the female race. And it isn't my experience. I hang with a different crowd. And that type of emotional outburst isn't really seen by me in the women relationships of my life. I think it is amazing that we are all so different and yet the same. I believe that women feel things, sense things and experience things in a way that no other living thing can. I think we are tuned in to a frequency that is life and we pick up on all the infinite possibility.

This can make for confusion. There is too much to choose from sometimes. But, overall, I wouldn't want to be anyone else, anything else. And I am so thankful for all those women who beat the path for me and took the hard hits to do it. I am thankful for the women who go out every day and make a new path. I feel so blessed to be a woman.

The Austen Tales

It's the second Thursday of the month and that means it's the evening for Jane. Austen that is, the book club. Tonight was Pride and Prejudice. There were five of us and then six. We talked about Elizabeth and Jane, DArcy and Bingley, dreadful Collins and sweet practical Charlotte. We sat amongst every kind of book and ate tiny onion tarts and later Chocolate Expresso cheesecake. And to be honest, I dreaded going tonight. Because of this funk that is taking me over...slowly step by step. (I won't let it...don't worry!) It's just hopelessness, which seems to be a common acquaintance of mine in the past few months. It comes and goes. I go through some supportive conversations and then I feel great for a while, only to bottom out again and feel like, well hopeless. Anyway, it actually turned out good to be there. I felt disconnected on some level, but I almost always feel that way. The conversation was good. I love hearing other people's thoughts. I like the openness of the group...no one knows it all. We offer ideas and think them through. As with any conversation I am attracted to...there aren't straight answers. More like tiny test tubes of bubbling hypotheses that never become fact. That bubble always with the possibility of what isn't known.

Why then do I live so frantically in not knowing at times? I mean, I adore it. But right now, I want to know...what happens next for me? Live my way into the answers (it's a magnet on my fridge)...forget about it! Is it age? It doesn't feel that way, but it could be. It feels like "dammit! stop jerking me around!!" That's what it feels like. That would be my God statement. And it might horrify some...but me and God have been pretty close for most of my life. So, I consider God my closest friend, and sometimes we argue.

Was it better when life got arranged for you? When you only had a few options? I doubt it. But the muddy pool I've been dealing with lately makes any kind of certainty look appealing. I won't lie about it...I'm looking for a big fat arrow in the sky. Seems lofty, I reckon but if you're going to ask for answers, you may as well shoot for the moon while you're at it. It feels a little crazy, but that's got some energy to it. I'll take a jolt over apathy any day of the week.

The only man I've ever dreamt of marrying was Mr. Darcy. And he would terrify me in real life.

Carved Out

I love fall. I do. It's the sweet spot in the year for me. I bought the largest pumpkin that I've ever bought yesterday at the market in our tiny town. I paid $4.99, which I love! Last year they were expensive. I never bought one...and looked at them longingly in the fields on my way to and fro. I thought of Linus and sitting out there with them waiting for the Great Pumpkin...because I do believe.

The word of the day has been patience. I have heard it in several sentences. Not always the actual word, but the thought, the idea. For me, patience is equal to and directly related to faith. And I have been "ye of little" for a long time now. I think it happened two years ago, when I finally got up the courage to ask for love in my annual Christmas wish, and two months later lost my dog. I was angry. And I never said it. I just questioned and questioned and questioned. And it began a cycle of questioning that I still live with every day. And I understand the substance of faith is about living without question. Believing in what will be and must happen and can come to pass. But, I felt robbed. And so I set up this pattern of no faith. Or some faith. The truth is that I am lost without it. We all are. But, me, I've lived that way. Through some horrible awful stuff, I marched on because I knew God had a plan for me, and I believed it would be the best plan. Now, I feel forgotten.

I've got some soul-searching to do. And in the meantime, I need to make myself believe just for short instances that we all deserve a little goodness, a bit of reprieve, moments of peace and love...you and me. I'll just have to breathe into it, in out, until it brings some harmony to my chaos.

Tail light

The dirt road smells of fox grapes. There are cows now to one side and the spotted dog wants so badly to give chase. So, we go zig-zagging down the road daily as big black cows watch us and probably chuckle to themselves. It isn't fair how gorgeous the day was considering how much havoc those hurricanes are causing. But, it was beautiful. And I skipped book club. We were going to talk about the favorite book of recent years (for me) Eat, Pray, Love. And I was so excited about that. But, a whole new crowd. And a "socialized" bunch...and I didn't feel like fitting in. I can. But, didn't want to. Less and less do I want to fit in to where I don't feel I fit. YOu know? I am less tolerant of the groups that cause me to work a lot for inclusion. This is a lovely group, I am sure. I just couldn't make myself do it.

I realized on Saturday that I want to run from my life right now. I want to leave everything...this house on the dirt road, my job that I have loved, the people that surround me daily. I want the next evolution of my life so badly that I would consider leaving all this behind. And that is crazy. I mean, really. Or is it?

Splinter

A piece of wood caught me in the heel of my thumb a few days ago. Years ago, when I was a child, my dad would have gotten out his pocket knife and dug the splinter out as I shrieked in fear and uncertainty. Now, I am waiting for my body to push it out. Because it will. Foreign substance...it will get spit out of me at some point. I keep my eye on it...waiting.

Same thing goes for this love bug I caught. I am waiting for my soul to spit it out. It's been such a difficult journey. Yes, there are a good many things to have come from it. But, my efforts have gone unrewarded and that stinks. There's no other way to say it. In time, could my crush come around? Yes, I suppose so. But, it's hurting me and I have to decide when to stop that. When to get the pocket knife and dig that ache out of me.

Like the wood in my thumb, I wait for it to be purged by natural instincts. And maybe that will happen. I know the splinter will leave my thumb, because I have experienced this before. And I know that the infatuation will fade. Patiently, I look for progress in that direction. But, it seems like the more I watch, the more the piece of wood settles in-no longer puckered red, but seeming to be a part of me. Same as the crazy infatuation that travels each day with me. Not boiling over, and yet never steaming away to thin air.

I'm learning to live with both of them in the interim. Or I think I must be. Sometimes it feels like I'm just breathing through it. And maybe that's the best I can hope for at the moment.

Mail Check

I've been chasing the moon tonight. I saw it as I was driving home from TND, and then I went out on foot to find it. But, it was hiding and I never did find it. The stars were good company. I am tempted to drive. Tempted to be Wild. Not yet at the driving stage (which is Wild-Stage Center), I am doing the next best thing...which is techno dance music as loud as I can stand it (or what won't encourage the neighbors to visit me). This is soothing because i love it...love to dance, love the beat, love the non-thinking that it brings about in me.

There was a note in a mailbox SOMEWHERE today, and that's what has me a bit wild. I love mail...I just hope everyone else does. Again, I must protect the innocent (namely me) and keep mum on the details. But, it's the postal system that has me all aflutter today. Do you check your mail daily? I do, when I know it's bill time. But, in between, sometimes I let it go a day or two.

The stamp had a small man carrying a big heart.

Bird on a Wire

I was almost trapped overnight in the mall tonight. And after reading "Cordouroy" (as a child long ago) the story of a stuffed bear left in a department store overnight, I have at times wished to be left overnight to the temptations of a mall. But, at close to age 40, it doesn't hold the charm that it once did. For one, I realize that I would be expected to pay for anything that I used or consumed and I couldn't (have you checked prices in the mall lately?) and for the other, I like getting home to the spotted dog, crazy cats and a nice warm shower. It was a dressing room door that just came apart, in a store that had music blaring and I literally had to scream HELP several times to get anyone's attention. And then, of course, they appeared to think that I might be the lunatic. A knob in the hand though, proves my point and I went on my merry way.

It occurred to me as I stood there contemplating my long night in the mall behind that broken door, that I have been letting myself get stuck a lot lately. Stuck in the old ideas about me. Stuck with the old records of who I am. And I don't believe in them anymore...so why am I listening? I think because it's easier. I think because I know I can have what I want (maybe not when I want it, or who I want it to be, or how I want it to come about) but I do have power, and I am choosing to deny that. Which, frankly, after all the years of work I have done, pisses me off. So, I decided (at the same time I chose to start screaming rather than just wishing to get out) that I will have to do a daily mental sticky note, proclaiming my independence from old verbage that doesn't work for me anymore. Stating the fact that I ain't who I once was, and won't be again. Not because that was bad, but because I've moved past it. And as comforting as that hellish place feels, I'll spend my life stuck in the wrong place if I keep subscribing to it.

Of course, there's a good deal of relief when the door opens setting you free to your new destination, but as all truly sensory people do...I hesitate at the threshold for a bit to feel the sway in either direction.

Good God...

how can one girl be so stupid?

is all I have to say.

this vulnerability thing SUCKS

I've been driving...which is what I do when I am "wild" (the definition of wild here is that place where you cannot be still or you will crash...movement is necessary...I suppose it is flight, but on a measured scale), so I've been driving. And driving. For about an hour.

And I passed over a place in the road where four years ago, I used to walk with my black lab mix Roxy at 5:30am every morning. It was a 1.5 mile stretch...meaning we ended up doing three, usually in the dark. Mylifewassimplerthen. And as I passed over that stretch, I wanted to step back into those wee hours with my dear (now passed) friend and feel what it was like to not hurt over every little thing. The way I am doing right now.

And it's crazy. It's crazy to be so overly sensitive. Crazy. But, I am the owner of crazy at this stage in the game and like it or lump it, it's where I am at. So, tonight, I am sad...because my mad crush passed me on his bike with a girl on back. And my friend argues, it could have been family (which along with a few details I am leaving out, makes good sense). And yes, of course. But, sensitive girl that I am, overly sensitive CRAZY girl that I am...I feel wild about this possibility of it being a "girl" unrelated to him, and so I've had to drive.

Why? Because I really see something there...in him. And I don't know if he'll share it with anyone, least of all me. But, I can't seem to let go of it. And everything hurts. EVERYTHING hurts. And this is so new for me. Because I've always KNOWN that nothing was for me in this world and once you begin to think that something might be for you in this world, you introduce pain into your small universe. And it just nibbles at you from all angles. Not believing, although hopeless, feels numb. I was tired of numb, so now I've gone and got everything. And I feel like some living thing (I know not what to call it, but someone smarter will) that has way too many tentacles on its body and takes in so much information that it cannot possibly digest it, so it stays over-stimulated and a bit raw on its ends.

This too shall pass. I know you are saying it. I know it is true. However, the interim is quite excruciating.

Almost fall

An hour ago I had tomato basil soup. It's been in the plan all day since I picked tomatoes at the weed garden :) but it just came to fruition after two long walks and a trip to Wal-mart for heavy cream. It was wonderful, a chunk of toasted baguette to go along and a couple peaches for the tasty conclusion.

Now the laundry lays on the bed...quietly boasting that I cannot go to sleep until I fold it and put it away.

The apple tree on Squirrel Spur road smells so fabulous. And there was a bit of alfalfa mowing going on today that I passed and felt that fresh sweet grass swirl about me. There was a black and white spotted dog sitting in a parked bright orange truck...and he just looked at us as we passed. Never offering to greet or growl. Patient easy rider. Bentley went pulling crazy as per the norm, but we carried on and got safely past and settled into a comfortable pace.

I was reading my Health magazine last night and I was astounded by the "girl of the week" who walks/runs thirty miles per week. I am always amazed by other people's stuff, always thinking how much better they are than me. And it occurred to me (this nibbling truth in my subconscious) that every week, I walk/run at least 42 miles and sometimes closer to 50. And I had to sit still for a minute. Me? I AM that girl. I AM even more than that girl.

The slow journey to belief in self gets some light here and there. I feel like it's been a tough past few months. Opening new doors, finding out great things and feeling sometimes terrible. I haven't been sharing it, because it feels so fragile. I need to believe in magic and so few of us do. I need the support of true believers and that is difficult to find. So, in my silence I find a bit of quiet magic and try to learn to self-support...until I feel strong enough to look for it in new places.

One incredibly wonderful thing happened in the past week or so...but it's a small part in what I hope is someday a bigger story. I will definitely write it down, once a couple more chapters become clear.

Exhaustion and Embracing thoughts

Everyone is imperfect, right?

Is that what gives us peace?

I have been sick for days.

18 dogs.

3 cats.

Two back to back festivals.

And a neck that hurt so badly.

My friend Tiffany told me today that she asked her sister, who is prayerful and "gets heard", to pray for me and love. How sweet and gentle was that?

And why, when someone chooses you out of a whole universe of people, to treat in such a rare beautiful way...do I just swirl around thinking, "I'm not worthy"?

I miss everyone.

I am just so busy.

Good night, then. I will put a prayer in my basket for love for all of you.

Monday Monday

fa la lalalala.

not really. Yes, Monday. Not falalalala anything about it. We lost our chef yesterday. Which is to say many good things and just a few scary ones. But, that's work and time away from work should be just that.

So, what else? We set off on our after work walk, and got caught in a storm. So, we ran back to Leslie's with HUGE drops falling on us. And I'll be honest, it was kindof delightful in that way that rain can be delightful when you don't care what you look like. When you are done with the day as a social have-to-be and you can just be wet and go home and not worry. That kindof delightful. Plus it was warm, so the rain felt like a cool battering of water and it was nice. REally.

We spent time with Leslie and Lavita at the store. And although I just meant to stop for rain-cover, it actually ended up being somewhat cozy and we talked girl talk and laughed a lot. I enjoyed it. And sat there at one point thinking that I will remember this. My whole life has been that way. There are times when everything inside of me stills and I think how I will remember everything about those moments - what the air was like, what color the books made the light seem, how the spotted dog laid behind us on the floor, how Lavita's eyes crinkle when she laughs, or the way Leslie gets all concerned-serious about Jolly and the truck. It's the oddest times that hold those spots for me. I remember in high school once, walking down the hallway between classes and it hit me...I will always remember this moment. And I do, the stale hallway, the teacher's voices, the kids murmur or laughter, my footsteps down the long hallway, office announcements crossing the intercom. I felt like I was taking a walk through my life. And I knew it. Today, this evening, I felt like I was sitting in my life. And I knew it.

I love it when that happens. I wish it happened more often. I believe it may be called presence, and I long for it always. Because it reeks of harmony. And I believe harmony to be supreme living. Disciplined supreme living. And I'll get there. One of these days.

Quiet Saturday

Yesterday I came home from a HOT day packing grease into the wheel barings of two wagons (with dad of course) and turned the cold water on in the claw foot tub and put myself into it. There is never an ailment that a bath cannot remedy in my book. Yet, I am the worst to take one. A shower girl to the core - the efficiency of it works for me. But, I have bath friends, Angie who loves a bath like no one else I know, and Leslie who always chooses a bath over a shower. LEslie seems like a bath girl though, she is a bit luxurious without being the least bit airy. I never take them, but when I do...I feel so amazing. And the cold bath after a hot, greasy, dusty day was way more than the doctor ordered.

Today I headed to Wytheville to see the dad early. The stepmonster is away, so I said, "I'm coming to see you, dad!" and I did. We picked cherries (I have pictures, but not yet downloaded) and ate cherries until my fingernails and blue jeans were stained purple. We washed my car and cleaned it up all over - dad is the typical car fanatic. Then, we worked a bit in his garden (which I also have photos of...it is gorgeous!) And then, all of a sudden, it was time to leave. He had to take his two step-grandchildren for a golf lesson with my brother at 3pm. It was a great day. I wish there were more of them...without the "SM". She's a real pill...I'm not a'lyin'.

I brought broccoli, potatoes and onions home. So, I made a broccoli soup...which I like and had some of for dinner. Late dinner, so I was going to just walk. But, then decided to run anyhow...and other than a few minor stomach cramps, I enjoyed it. Did the cool down walk with the STones, "Wild Horses" which I really think is the song of all songs. Love that one.

Nothing else...my friend Trinity called from NYC. He's there for work, and I was jealous. NOt because I do not love it here. But, because I also love it there. Not to live, but to visit...very much. I should have told him to bring me some bagels. Dammit, I forgot!

Morning Musing

I made a trip to the sporting goods store for festival coolers yesterday and while I was walking through the mall, I passed a jewelry store. The kind that displays diamonds, diamonds, diamonds. And I thought how I have only once been to that counter - with my best friend's now husband to look at the ring he had picked out for proposal. But, I have never been there to look for my own ring. I've never even considered it. And this could be two-fold. The outside layer would be that I am all about getting a deal, so I shop for clothes at Ross or TJMaxx rather than Belk or Macy's. So, I would probably never shop a jewelry store for a diamond, but then I really don't know where else you'd find them. Unless it was a pawn shop, which might not be as romantic?

The second layer, the core of it, is that I was taught to believe that no one would ever want me. Much less want to marry me. That is so far off my idea of this life that just writing it "marry me" sounds absurd.

And this caused me to wonder if you have to entertain even the broadest dreams to begin to make the smallest advances? I almost stepped up to the counter, but it felt crazy. And I was certain that the staff would come out laughing and asking what I was thinking. So, I will wait for a busier day, and sneak up on the side to just put that on my list of done deeds. I still have a lot of work to do to banish the voice in my head, branded into me very long ago. I realize this at the oddest times, but at least I am becoming more aware.

Wed nes day

I am waiting for the sweat to dry in my hair so I can wash it. I don't know if everyone is like this but if I wash when it is wet the amount of frizz multiplies by 200. And I can't handle more frizz.

The moving still seems to be my mode of healing. Tonight was a walk night, but we ended up running. And it felt good. I haven't been riding the bike as much. I am having a seat problem and probably need to ask dad for help. He is one of those men who knows how to do everything. There are not men like that anymore...have you noticed this? He is also one of those men who watches out for you as a woman, "don't lift that, I'll get it". Now I know this can be frustrating. But, I am around men every day that will let me work myself into the ground and barely do what they are supposed to do themselves, much less lend a hand. So, I enjoy that in my dad. Plus, I am no small potato, so I don't get too many people who think I can't handle a heavy load. I'm built for it, but sometimes I want to feel girl-y. And my dad makes me feel that way. I know a lot of petite women who will go through you if you try to help them, or think them weak. So, I think it's all about where you are coming from. Which is to say that while I enjoy it, many would not...so don't use me for your defense if you get told off.

Today has felt sorta hectic. I think that's mostly work. But, I find myself at 9:30 thinking where did the day go???

It's time for a shower. I know this hasn't been breath-taking, but I'm just trying to get back into the groove.

Dirt Road

I looked up through the tall green trees at the blue evening sky and said tonight, "you do know that I am thankful God, don't you?" Because there are a great many things to be thankful for, and even in my glumness, I do realize that. Below the mush, there is that rationale. I think that sometimes your heart hurts so much that the only way to block it is to keep moving. It's not a work myself to death type moving. It feels more personal than that. It's like movement - in a car, on a bike, in running shoes, on bare feet, over a road or meadow or stream. That's what gives me comfort. And being alone. I crave that time when I can just be with the movement. No thoughts really. No plans. And just moving. Am I running? (For two miles, yes) But, you know what I mean. I think I might be. It feels though, somewhat ambitious rather than flee-ful. Maybe that's just my justification.

Regardless, I can't seem to think in words. I opened a door that had been shut for a long long time. And now I need to close it, without nailing it shut. I need to fasten it, without glueing the hinges. And that causes me mild confusion. On the other hand, I have been paying attention to my actions, and wonder how far the door was open in the first place. Plenty wide for me, but would anyone else notice? I am still the girl who looks down instead of at. And even when given the opportunity to change that, I slide into that old comfortable invisible position.

We walk again after we run - the spotted dog and I. To cool down. To listen to "Landslide" by Stevie Nicks. To turn backwards and see the dirt road curving up the hill behind us. And I know what I love about this place where I am.

For right now, it belongs to me.

Amber

I've been awfully silent, haven't I? One post this week and it's Friday! Good grief, aren't I full of myself??? It was a hard week at work, and I won't go into that. It just was. Tonight, I nearly had my shag bathroom rugs stolen from the laundr-o-mat because I left them alone too long. Thank goodness, a gallant young man came to my defense and saved them from the thief. (For you, Leslie, it was TErry - first time he has spoken to me in YEARS). I've been an exercise fanatic, totaling up to 6 miles per day between walking, biking and running. The dog is even giving out on me. It does make me feel better though. As though I am accomplishing something.

I don't love my job right now. And I should. I am very worried about that fact. It will be ignored because there is no time to think about it, I am at the wire. And this bird can't be sitting. I wish I didn't feel this way and think it is most likely a culmination of "will I ever meet someone here to have a relationship with?", "can I make a good life for myself here if I am alone?" and "the powers that be are REALLY PISSING ME OFF". So, back burner. I am ignoring the complete DREAD that comes from even considering seeing that place on Sunday. And I know some folks live this daily. But, I adore this place and I have ten people a week tell me what a sweet cool job I have. And it's all true. Just some pot holes.

There's no exciting news. I put some plants at the water wheel house. I found some verbena half price at Wal-mart and it looks so pretty. I mowed the lawn. I did laundry. I uploaded new tunes to the IPOD. I got the ingredients for Gazpacho.

I am invited to a goddess fair on Sunday. And I feel so unlike a goddess right now that it is probably the very best place for me to be. My friend Angela, who is by her very nature sweet and angelic like a child has invited me with her and her husband and maybe another girlfriend. I like a quiet Sunday. But, I keep preaching the get out and do new things...so I should make myself do it. It's a free ride and the fair is free. And other wise I will come home and mope.
Because that's what I've been doing lately. Moping. And I hate even the sound of that word, much less the thought of the action. But, there it is. My new favorite pastime. Moping.

I am going to a solstice party tomorrow night. I will look forward to it until tommorrow afternoon when I will become certain that I should not go. My friend Trinity though, will be here to get me, regardless of what charges I make. So, I will be going - possibly JOsh too. The boys of my life.

And I am planning a hike with Bently tomorrow. He deserves a treat from me. I mean, he spends the summer in a crate. So, I think we're heading to sTone Mountain, NC. One of my favorite favorite places. We went once last year. It's a state park, but you can find quiet spots.

Alright, I should finish my Woodchuck Draft Cider. If you haven't tried one, do it. It's so refreshing. And if you've just come back from a 2 mile run and had no dinner, you can get a slight buzz from half a bottle!

Say what you need to say

He's such a sport.

An ancient offer

I'm not feeling very well tonight, so this is going to be brief. I just have to share this twilight zone type story with you...because well, it's ooh ahh strange-ish.

For just a moment, we have to return to the mechanic story for this particular tale of oddity. A few (could it be two or three?) weeks ago, my friend Leslie was telling me that she had a friend who knew the mechanic's mom and the mom's name was "Fran". And this hit a chord with me somewhere, but I ignored it. It's a very different name, that you don't hear often around this place. And since then, it's popped into my head a few times, followed by a question mark. Why? is it popping up? What do I think I know? Where's the connection? But, I just kept on going.

This morning as I was driving to work, pieces fell into place a bit. During the early years that I worked at the winery, I waited tables at a sweet local restaurant near home for extra money and because the owners were fabulous folks. (I won't give it a shout out because it's closed now - well, the restaurant has been closed for over a year.) For a brief period of time, I worked with a lovely woman that we called Frannie, and she desperately tried to fix me up with her single son. I was even shy-er then than now...and so I said if he would come to the restaurant, I could meet him that way. But, didn't want to go with her to meet him because I knew it would make me unspeakably nervous. She said she didn't think he would come there, and to the best of my knowledge he never did. So, today, I call my old employers and ask this woman's last name...and you guessed it...

the mechanic is her son.

I missed the mom-boat. Now I feel like an even bigger loser.

And that's all I have to say. :)

Accessories

I was thinking as I was driving today, or walking this evening, or just sitting...can't remember, but it crossed my mind at some point...the idea of pocketbooks. Purses, bags, wallets, backpacks, what have you. And I was thinking about all my friends who love pocketbooks and how what they carry seems to reflect a bit about who they are. I'll use names because there's not a bit of this that I wouldn't say to them face to face.

Leslie - by far one of the more interesting purse collector's and she loves the designer bags (which she gets cheaply at Ross's or TJ Maxx). I could never tell you (even if you pinned my ears to my head, or to a wall and pulled me south) what designer she particularly fancies right now...but the purses are kinda flashy, metallic colors and lots of bling hanging off - like little silver butterflies, rhinestone pieces, etc. Now, I would never in a zillion years call Leslie "flashy" because she isn't...but what she is, is charming in a less glossy but greatly effective way. The purse, I believe, is making her statement that there's so much more to Leslie that what you might at first see. And I love the boldness of that statement, the confidence and all that it says about my friend.

Kari - I love Kari's purses. I'd love to have them handed down, but I have a feeling that she just keeps collecting. Kari's purses reflect a tiny bit of funkiness. Now, you would never see this about Kari...because she is practical to a fault and I would totally let her handle my finances because getting her to part with money is like wrestling a bull. But, there's a sweetness to Kari underneath that you don't see up front. And although she will probably argue this, there's just a touch of funky catty superchick to Kari that you don't see in her style unless you pay attention to the purse. I like that it tells her secrets, just a tiny bit, and I like more that I know she knows this about it but will never admit to it.

Nora - black, black, black. Stitching if possible. Streamlined. Versatile. Practical. Nora's purses are all about the image Nora wants to put out there. I think they are little about the real Nora. But, I always think that Nora is enough of herself that she doesn't really need the accessory to help tell the story. Her bags match her outfits, match her business-like practical self, but don't give us the inside story.

Connie - She likes the cloth ones, don't know that designer either. She also loves plaid. And Connie's purses always convey to me who she is and who she is trying to be. She is wonderful and kind and we grew up in the cabbage fields together. But, she's also a teacher and she and her husband do the up-and-coming couples thing. So, she carries the purse that is hip in a country hip sort of way. Which is to say that she chooses what would be appropriate for where she lives and who she hangs with. She's keeping up with the JOnes', but I think she truly likes it...so not a rat race deal at all.

I could go on and on and on. Of course, all my friends carry purses. I carry hand-me-downs and I can never get myself to buy a purse, unless it is good will and under $5. How much does a purse define you? Minimally, I would imagine. If I had to say what the purse I'm carrying now defined me as, one word, it would be simple. And although that is something I wish I could master, the art of simplicity, it is impossible to think that I've even ever experienced it for more than a few moments at a time. What would that purse that defined me look like, you ask? Probably a bucket with a big hole in the bottom. We could paint it red just for funsies.

Snail's pace

It surprises me how long an awful emotion can drag on. I woke up this morning, snug as a bug while the mountain breezes blew soft through the window and I thought...I think I am over this. And I wasn't exhilarated, but it was a nice satisfied feeling. Like just enough pie, without going over board. But, as soon as I stood up, I lost all that and hit that wall of hopelessness. It's funny how the action of living can be so much more difficult than the idea of it. Laying in bed, I felt good, felt relieved and okay about the day ahead. Standing up, I felt like stopping. Not permanently. But, I no longer wanted to move forward.

Happiness skips around, gets hit by other occurances and ends quickly. While sadness, or hopelessness invade you and lay inside you like sleepy slugs. And just as you think they've exited through your ear canal, you get up and feel them right there in your stomach all over again.

I have a big work day today, social butterfly girl must prepare for the day...putting on a good face, some cheery clothes and tightening the hatches on Mr. sad slug for about ten hours. If you get to the blue ridge parkway, stop by and have some wine with us!

Day 3

I'm still not happy. And that's okay, because there are so very many emotions to choose from these days, right? I find myself longing to be quiet, not take part and just step back a bit from everyone. I overcome that because work doesn't work that way, and people would be hurt at the country store if I walked in, paid for fuel and just left. So, I talk and I get pedicures. Well, I got A pedicure (the second of my life) and now my toes (so soft with trickles of almond oil) are painted "Cajun Shrimp". Why this appealed to me more than the Rendevous at Midnight or My Chihuahua bites....I"m not quite certain. But, the color is ablaze, and it looks sturdy...which is good, knowing me the way I do.

It is better now, the sad part of me feels like a long rectangular room at the top of my chest. It's a heavy room, but it doesn't overwhelm me with sadness so much. The door seems shut and I just feel the weight of it. It's so hard to put yourself out there. It's so hard to find anyone here to feel like putting yourself out there for. And then my friend made it seem like things were swimming along and either they were and something happened just lately or they never were. And finding the truth from him seems nearly impossible. I believe that he believes what he says, he is sincere. And yet, it doesn't quite make sense.

But people don't always make sense, do they? In fact, they rarely make sense. We're going to hash it out tomorrow night. Sit down face to face and get through it and go on from there.

I miss the hope. The believing. And now life feels like work again...well, it is work like always, but there's nothing to make the day snap. YOu know? And I miss that feeling - that - something may be shifting in the universe - feeling. That- love might come looking for me at last - type feeling.

I'm trying to just be with it. This too shall pass.

My friend at work wants me to try the computer stuff...but I really don't think so. I am such an energy girl...it's what draws me. I think getting to know a potential date/mate through the computer is dangerous because at some point you know them so well that meeting them is completely terrifying. The expectations feel impossible. And while I can be quite communicative in writing, in person I can be terribly shy and quiet and utter four words all night. It's not the answer for me, personally. Although I think it is a great vehicle for some.

I don't know. This just feels awful. I know you know what I mean.

Something about this speaks to me...

"What if you
could wish me away?
What if you
spoke those words today?
I wonder if you will
miss me
when I'm gone?
It's pointless
release me
I'll leave
before the dawn."

j.radin

Well...

I feel like I should let you know how it went. I mean, after all, fashion addict is holding her breath and she seems like such a nice girl, so I should stop the madness.

It didn't go.

And the twists and turns of this whole story make it impossible to explain more fully, without laying blame where it might or might not lie, or hurting people who may or may not be innocent, or just sounding like I don't want it to be me, so let's blame someone else.

The final word, found by Leslie after much frustration and confusion, was that the mechanic is healing from a breakup recent, and will just be going it "alone" for a while.

So, I am sad...I can't help it. It takes so much for me to generate interest in something that causes me so much complete terror. And well, the philosopher in me has taken this far and wide and hurtful. But, I am attempting to get to a place of just moving on. I want to lay quiet on the floor of the pond, like a big fat catfish and just blow bubbles, eat and avoid hooks or funny looking worms. But, I don't have a job that will allow that. And I don't have a life that will allow me not to have a job.

Plus, catfish quite often get chewed up, and that wouldn't be very good at all.

22

For some odd reason, I am letting a 22 year old get the best of me this day after our lengthy conversation. The two regulars in my life are guys who are still figuring things out, and occasionally we will sit down to $5 Little Caesar's pizza and dvd nights that late after turn into discussions at times lengthy and thought provoking.

It was so hot last night, I had just a slice. And then we watched Sweeney Todd, and if you can handle the gruesome GRUESOME elements, it's quite funny and clever and very very good. I watched through my fingers, the way I do and my boy- friends laughed at me, the way they do, and said things like "did you see the blood just spatter against the screen!" like they are ten.

Two movies later, can't remember the first one's name right now, the youngest of the two, Joshua, decided to give me a hard time about the mechanic. Why I was considering "this" guy for my life? What did I hope to get out of it? What was I thinking? And I argued that I want to be challenged. I want that challenge of intimacy. I've been bad at it in the past, and I think I have grown a lot and I think I am ready again. And he said that I made it sound like a science project rather than a relationship with another person. And I stopped short...for a minute, but I countered that of course, I, like 70 billion other humans have a hard time thinking someone could really care for me - with all my failings and so of course I would make it sound like a "project", it's protective. And he said that he didn't understand what I was looking for? Especially in this guy. And I said maybe I just want a boyfriend...it could actually be that simple. But, he said I was stereotyping myself and he thought that was absurd because I'm "not like all the other women" he knows and he would never stereotype me that way. And I said, SO? Why do I have to be different? And he said he thought I was just "bored" and looking for something new and when I got this relationship (there's no relationship up for bid...it's a mild crush sort of thing) I wouldn't want it and then I would use its demise to hurt myself, saying I wasn't good enough for it in the first place.

This was a one hour, very intense conversation. And I left it thinking, could I really be that cold? But, first of all, I don't get bored. There are way too many things to think about for me to ever get bored. It's not a state of being that I would tolerate, let's put it that way. So, I've never said I was bored...well since grade school when it could be cool to be bored and I may have said it then, can't remember. I would never insert a human heart to cure my boredom. And my friend knows this about me. I'm not sure where this was coming from other than that this man-mechanic is very different from me. He is. But, I like men that are smart about how to fix things and are strong about how they do things and he seems this way to me. It's like my dad, who is quite brilliant, but will never entertain the conversations I want to have. I look to friendships for the philosophical and intellectual stimulation that I need. I am drawn to a more practical guy...because frankly, it's opposite of me and seems to fit me well because of it.

Am I ready to be real with someone? Who knows. And I guess that is what's got me goosey about our conversation. I mean, I think I am at a better place to let someone in to my life...but who can say for certain, until you test the water. Right?

It might be time to open another fortune cookie....

Pace

It's funny how sometimes when you fall out of your norm, you get back on track. Not necessarily the track you were on, but maybe something closer to the track you actually want to travel.

It's been an interesting week. I have found out some hard things. I have hoped a little and been devastated a little. I have been self-loathing and then pretty darn bold. And I have found out that not everything is as it seems when it comes to your nearest and dearest sometimes.

The story is wayyyyyyy too long to go into...but let's just say that the match-making of the mechanic didn't go so well. And of course, I thought it was me and it may still be me...but the difference this time was that I reached out for support. Instead of burying my head in the sand like some odd birds I know, I talked about what I was feeling and I got so much support from some greats friends of mine. They said that my match-maker was amiss. And that's such a nice answer huh? to why the mechanic didn't show up for dinner with our little group. I thought on it.

And in the meantime, I opened another fortune cookie (I am down to half a box - they are small boxes) and it said this, "If you think you can, You can." So, I kept this secret to myself - because I don't want my friends having one more piece of ammunition for me to be bold, and I called two of my closest friends. The first one is your typical cutie - blonde, size zero, yoga instructor, could pick up a man at the drop of any hat...but she knows me and loves me and she is my secret holder of all past tales. And she said (what I thought she might say) "do something bold! have fun with it! don't worry so much!" This woman met her now husband when after walking past his workplace and sharing waves with him for 6 months, she decided to put a note on the very window he looked out of that said, "come out and talk to me!" And he did, and they did, and happily ever after. But, my thought was still, I'm not her. So, I called my second friend who is so classy beautiful, clever and generous even in her toughness - but very like me in her insecurity. She would not put a note on a window - and we are both single girls. So, she said, "you need to be bold. Tear your windshield wiper off. Time is nigh. I couldn't do it, but you should!" And so I thought, hmmm, similar answer.

I got to work this morning after realizing I am less than 100 miles from an oil change need, and that my dad is visiting on Tuesday (car questions abound) and I thought...I am calling for an oil change. So, I dialed. Ten different times and hung up, ten different times. And I sat very still. And I said, if no one comes up the stairs in two minutes, then I will call. And someone came, but they quickly left. So, I listened and I said if no one is around the stairs in ten seconds, then I will call. And no one was, in ten seconds, so I called. And it rang a thousand times (because that's what phones do at garages) and finally (of the three live people who could answer the phone) he answered.

And for one second, I couldn't say anything and my finger rested lightly on the hang-up button. But, I persevered (because what did the cookie say???) and said that I was calling to make an appointment for an oil change. And he said when and time and then he said, "who is this?" and I didn't want to say my name. I forced the wind through constricted pipes and said it, and he said...

...

"I thought that was the sound of your voice."

Which was kinda dreamy. Since I've never talked to him on a phone and I've just seen him twice in the past month for car duties. And he doesn't really know me at all.

And I know that it could be nothing. I know this. In fact, I expect this.

And when that happens, I will really try hard just to be proud of how bold I was to march in that garage not having a clue what my matchmaker said, but having a hint that it was almost nothing. He is in a self-absorbed place...I love him, but that's the truth of it. And I won't tell you that whole story, but it's kindof sad.

Anyway, the mechanic. I said yep, it's me and I won't bring the spotted dog this time!

Then, he laughed. And I said thanks. And that was all. Till MOnday.

Are you nervous? Because I definitely am.

It's too hot to write!

Things that cannot survive in this heat:

1. an ice cream cone, no matter how carefully molded

2. the hair on my head, gone frizzy mad

3. the spotted dog who is breathing too heavily

4. the angora rabbit who has a fragile heart

5. the ice cubes in my passionfruit tea

6. a tall, cool one of anything

7. the baby tomato plants in the garden

8. the potted pansies

9. the furry cats

10. my patience.

Dark clouds

It's funny how emotions slow you down. I live so much of every day without them. I mean, maybe I get frustrated, excited, intrigued, or perplexed, but the big guys don't show up. Pain, despair, terror, hope, joy, elation, grief, heartache. They stay where they are supposed to stay to cause the least amount of trouble. And I manage them well, for the most part. I am a good emotional manager. I broke down once at work after my dog died and couldn't stop crying and had to be revealed to those around me. It wasn't a bad lesson though, I work with amazing people.

But yesterday and today have been difficult sad days at home. I've been in self-mutilation mode and it's just a bad place to be in. I don't cry, I wish I would sometimes. I just pick myself apart piece by piece until shreds of me lay all over the carpet, pavement and gravel road. And on breaks from that, I am just quiet. Like some un-thought waits behind my lips, but I cannot think it or say it or feel it. It just sits there. And I can feel the line of my mouth holding back the nothing. And I feel guilty about that, but not enough to break it. Not yet.

Last night, I stood at the window for long minutes and I noticed dark clouds against the dusk sky. They moved quickly, relentlessly, blackly, pointedly across my path of vision. And I thought, they have their purpose. But, the sky is bigger, and they know it as they travel across. The menace of their existence is put into perspective by the sky above, below, behind and in front of them. They were like small fuzzy grey soldiers marching quickly to their destination. And even as I saw them clearly, I was also comforted by what surrounded them...the sky that I know every day and all day long, every night and morning.

I'm trying to see through the dark spots right now. Looking for the sky, and I'm close to finding it. I think.

It seems treacherous to say this, almost as though I'd go through the past so many hours again and I would rather not. But, when I visited Auschwitz (definitely no comparison to where I am now) I almost felt honored by the emotion it caused me. I sobbed there, and I've never sobbed in my life. But, it felt amazing to feel something so completely, so strongly and unfalteringly. When the real emotions hit you, the big guys, you are knocked into submission by them. You can't just walk around like everything is alright for a little while. And however inconvenient that may be in the interim, I have to conclude that it's amazing sometimes to feel anything at all. Even when it hurts real bad.

Old friends

When I lived in Manhattan, I worked on Wall Street in a small firm called American Bond Group. It was a shady affair, as I later learned most broker groups could be. But, like any murky waters, there were some good fish to be found.

One of the most profound lessons I learned while working at that fine establishment was to never mess with Brooklyn girls. They would literally rip your face off for several things, not the least of which was casting an eye in their boyfriend's general direction, or doing anything untowards, disrespectful or uncaring of one of their friends. My office was once tore to pieces, plants in the wall (literally hanging out of the wall) and chairs broken, just because they chased a gal into it and pummeled her before I got to work. I never had any trouble with them, thank God, and even became pretty good friends with a beautiful girl named Patrice, who could knock out every tooth in your head and never crack a nail.

The point of my story is this...today, of all days, I wish I still had my Brooklyn friend. Because she would back my friend, who's been nothing but self-involved for a month now when I needed him to be just a little generous to me, and she would get the truth out of him about what he said or didn't say.

I don't tell my stories, the ones that have ripped and torn at my life. But, it took so very much to get me here and I just needed his help this one situation after months of help on all of his. If Patrice were here, she would pound into him what it took for me to ask for his help and she would find out exactly what happened along the way. And then, she'd probably rip his face off.

I love him. But right now, at this very aching moment, I think I might enjoy seeing that activity.

A note from the twin dragons

Okay...so it's on. Well, possibly on. Maybe on.

The old group of friends including the new mechanic.

So that we can get to know each other.

And I cannot begin to tell you the headache this has been. So, I said to my friend Leslie, watch us hate each other. Watch him hate me.

Anyway, it's maybe tomorrow night. Tuesday night dinner out. Not in. Not at Leslie's. But out on the town. Meeting him.

(I too am fatigued by the short sentences, but it correctly displays the way thoughts bounce around for me about this particular subject.)

He has one more chance to back out...tomorrow. Or two. Just not showing up.

And it's okay. I mean, it could even be a relief.

I'm fine on my own. Fine with the amount of friends that I have already. Fine.

And yet searching.

And so today, I opened up the pink box of fortune cookies (I keep them on hand for special occasions, sporadic fortune tellings or just random sweetness with oranges). I broke the cookie in two, and it said this on the tiny white slip of paper...

Someone is thinking about you.

(and I have to admit, just to you, that it, well...it felt a little magical.)

What I've been doing...

SAturday, the day began at Hall's Nursery in Ararat, Virginia. This is one of my favorite places and I have to go in with a budget, or I go crazy. They have trees with oranges on them for God's sake right there in the nursery in Virginia. I love it so much and look forward to the trip immensley. I meant to take photos there, but got so enthusiastic that I totally forgot my camera. I bought a flat of tomatoes for the garden (planted those today) and a flat of herbs and flowers. And a big bag of soil. So, here we are beginning...Bentley in photo, as spotted dogs do.

Here's my herb box and a couple tomato plants. Parsley, basil, thyme, oregano. I planted more over at the garden, but sometimes you just want to step out the door to herbal fulfillment.

A hanging flower and some potted herbs and watercress. Never tried to have watercress before. One of those spontaneous buys that I do when I see gorgeous healthy plants that intrigue me (budget worthy).

This morning, the winery where I spend about 50-70 hours of my life. Isn't it gorgeous though?? We had our first Sunday Sounds Music on the patio. This patio is brand spanking new...I had my doubts, but it looks pretty spiffy.

To get the brick patio, we gave up a big water garden (too many children playing in it and we were afraid they'd get hurt -there was also a pond that puppy toes kept ripping the liner out of - so now, we just have this baby fountain. And who should plant himself there, but the Black Dog himself, Mr. Lucky. He drew a crowd and eventually sat down in the water and just looked at all of us. We adopted him last year, and he's a true love.

Mirror

I'm aflutter. I don't know how else to say it. Feel like the parts of me are swirling about in the universe and occasionally I can catch a piece, but not keep it. That's to say that comfort visits like brief sporadic spasms of potato soup, golden girls, smell of garlic cooking, great book-chapter six. But, it doesn't stay. And for that reason, I feel really really odd.

I think the truth is this...I'm scared and so parts of me are fleeing. Parts that I have found and claimed are taking flight - no longer feeling good about being me - parts. So, that what's left standing is this shell of me. And what gets proven is that I have nothing to give. I am nothing. And I can only be nothing. Therefore, being something to someone just isn't in the book for me.

I am a flood inside. I feel like my body is full of water, tears, sadness, worry, pre-made grief.

I know what I wrote yesterday. And I am at a different place than I have been. Very. Different. And better, because now I can actually see what is going on. I think.

I just haven't put myself out there in a long time. And I've been safe to build a me, quietly. No intrusions. A controlled atmosphere. Planting seeds and nurturing little thoughts about being.

And then, what do I do? After all these years? I pay attention to what's going on outside of me for about ten seconds and spot a cute mechanic. And well, it's a snail's pace...but something could happen. And frankly, that terrifies me. Someone. in. my. life.

And this should be fun. Right? Just the idea should be fun. Should be playful. Should not be this. This - me in pieces.

I am being a Jackson Pollack painting. I am being the tale-tell heart. Knowing where it comes from is half the battle I suspect. And if I am patient, the answers to a peaceful soul and a bit of frivolity for spirit may come to me. I just hope so.

Carrie, Big, Samantha, Dante, Charlotte, Rose, Miranda, Steve, Manolo closets and more

Well, I saw it. More importantly, I LOVED IT!! And I will see it again. Because it must be done. It's just what this girl needed. The saturation point of girl-y-ness. The dresses, the clothes, the shoes, the tears, the gab, the ganache, the sex, the boys, the truth, the libations, the swash, the buckling and the friendship all called me right out of my hum-drum-hum. And I feel healed! I truly do.

It hits that part of you that's just all about being a girl. That unavoidable piece inside that gets teary at simple moments (no laughing at me, Kari!) and rejoices over champagne, great shoes, love stories and the belief in love stories. Connection with other women. Friendship in that "sometimes I really hate you" way of being close with a friend. And romance in that men are men, women are women gutteral type of way. Success in that "by God, I'm figuring it out" type of way.

I love being a girl.



(Thanks Kari for choosing me over the fabs - it was a great day to share with a true friend like you are to me.)

I hope...

I hope, I hope, I hope, I hope...

that baby herb and vegetable plants are cheap when I go for shopping on the morrow.

that Trinity finishes his project without another day passing.

that the humidity will move on down the road towards Key Largo.

that travel to Europe gets less expensive rather than more expensive.

that the $5 bottle of wine I got on sale isn't corked.

that my yard will grow slowly this week for a change.

that the spotted dog will mellow out soon.

that I have something better to write about soon.

:)

What Dreams may come

Do you remember this movie with Robin Williams and he finds his wife in an altered universe after she has committed suicide over a dead boy? I can't remember the details. I know that the first time I watched it, it was okay. And the second time, better. I also remember that she painted pictures of where she wanted to be, and that is where he found her. So much of the current thought follows the "build it and it will appear" type of theology. The misty parts of me want to buy it, but there are other parts, clear-on that just won't let me.

Ruth Jean said today that some folks have it, while others don't. And God, I hope that's not true. But, she's a wise girl.

We also shared a joke. The difference between involvement and committment can best be displayed by a ham and egg breakfast. The chicken was involved, the pig was committed.

I'm coming off of two straight weeks of work...that no days off for 15 days and I think it is hitting me in the funny bone. As in, life's not being funny. I want to get back to that. I keep throwing the curtains wide and looking for it, but it's not there. And I know that I must be exuding the fragrance of despair because my chiropractor hugged me twice today and my 77 year old friend told me as I was getting out of the car that if anyone was mean to me, tell her and she would open a can of whoop ass on them. I believe her too. But, without my saying a thing about my immediate emotional struggle...both of them knew it.

Sometimes I can't see the forest for the trees. I know this. I get stuck and my sockets dry up staring in one sad direction. There's a nibble in my ear that soon, it's time to move on. I think I am stretching a part of my life, a place of my life that may have already done all it can do. Don't ask me where or when or how or why. I just feel well, like I've overstayed my time on this particular journey. Or maybe I am just traveling all wrong. I'm not sure which it is. So, of course, I will sit still and try to travel differently. But one of the great things about re-location is that it makes reinvention so much more feasible, necessary, easy. I don't think I am a "runner". I have been, but I am more sensible. But, I do tend to grow out of places sometimes.

If you mow in flip flops, you will have green feet. YOU might also slide down the creek bank with the push mower and scare yourself a little.

I saw Indiana last night...and as my friend Michael said, "it made me forget who I am for a couple hours" and anytime a movie can do that, I am thrilled. I love the idea of escape! Tomorrow it is Sex in the City with Kari - no, sillies, not Carrie! K a r i , the other one, still just as sensational. I'll let you know what I think!

Considering other mediums

Do you ever wish there was a sign out sheet for being human? Like the gym when you borrow a towel and sign it out and later sign it back in? I feel like that today. I'd like to sign out of being human and be something else. Now, I know what you're thinking..."look at the other possibilities". I could be a blade of grass waiting for the cool slice of the blade. I could be the fly that you will swat from the office wall at midday. I could be the dolphin that ends up in an un-safe can of tuna. Or the earthworm that gets caught on the asphalt after a rain and left there to parch in the hot afternoon sun. Yes, they've all got negatives. But, sometimes, I just want to step out on being human...and that's absolutely impossible when you look and act human.

If I could step out this evening, I might be a big giant tiger sleeping in a great tree deep in the jungle. Queen of my domain and answering to no one. I'd just sleep and purr and sleep and purr.

I know I"m just tired. But, sometimes being human is such a J O B.

I wanna be loved by you...Boop Boop Be Do

Well, I believe that I am partially arisen from the dead-dog-dead that I have been. I still get up and walk my two miles, but rather slowly adding 10 minutes to my overall time. There are physical tasks still to accomplish that I am avoiding - the yard (like a jungle) the house (like an asylum). I will get to them, I just haven't yet.

So, the movie was a success. We had over 100 people, and tickets sales from 90 people paid for the event, so my profit was just over $20 (of course, there were food and wine sales to add to that). I wanted to keep the ticket price low at $5, so I needed a high number to do that and pay for the flick and the movie guy. I made it, which thrilled me. It was nice to offer something affordable for a change. I believe that most of our events are in the common guy/gal range, but I loved giving a big break. I hope a lot of people who needed it, got a cheap date for the evening, or just a night out doing something fun. It looked beautiful on the restaurant lawn. I took photos, but they are too dark to put on here (I've tried). There were more than a few people who hadn't seen Some Like it HOt ever, or in its entirety. And they were surprised at how clever it is and how riskee. So, that leads me to plan a movie for labor day, and I am considering Hitchcock, or something along those lines...the fall mystery. I love Rear Window. Our assistant winemaker voted for North by Northwest. I like the Birds and Psycho, but I think they're too much with the birds' pecking and the shower scene. Have to keep things pretty clean. Then, we got off into other favorites, my co-worker mentioned Little Shop of Horrors, which I like but not sure folks will follow it well. Rocky HOrror Picture show, which I love...but it's way too campy for us (meaning the winery, not me). I mentioned my favorite all time spook-y flick which is a comedy (because I cannot truly handle horror) Young Frankenstein. And everyone went crazy over that idea. It's such a great movie. What do you think? What would you like to watch as fall approaches outside in the dark with other people? I'd love to hear your ideas.

Winemakers' dinner was phenomenal. I tend to think I was just a bit too tired to really "get" it because I didn't rave about it the way everyone else did (and by that I mean returning customers and winemaking staff). There was a wonderful pimento buerre blanc sauce with a petite beef tenderloin sided by morel mushrooms. Grilled salmon in a red wine reduction. Asparagus with a citrus sabayon and balsamic reduction, pork snitzel with cheese grits and a Calvados brandy sauce. Smoked trout salad. A wonderful bread pudding with a hard cider sauce. I liked our French affair last SEptember much better. Of course, the pairings were a little more edgy and I like that type thing. These pairings seemed a bit more peaceful. We did do a red with the salmon, not a Pinot (which is very good) but rather a blend that we call Liberty. It's a light bodied red like a PInot, but it involves the Cabernet fRanc grape, the Chambourcin grape and a bit of Petit Verdot. Other than that, the pairings were fairly safe. I enjoyed it...a free six course meal should never be scoffed at, especially when our Chef is involved. I just thought it wasn't as exciting as last season's was.

As I get older, I am struggling with how to give breaks to myself. I feel tremendous guilt about the yard and the house and yet, I am unable to do it...just worn completely out. I think after today (day two of healing after long weekend) I should be able to work on one or the other this evening. But, that idea of go go go is becoming a difficult one for me to master. And I think guilt is the most useless emotion. Normally, I won't harbor it at all...but just this time I am having a hard time letting myself rest up/heal and get back to "normal" feeling before I begin to beat myself up for all the things that need doing. I guess we are all this way...so used to going crazily. But, I am less able to do it, so I figure I better find a way to not mutilate mentally while I am at rest physically. Any suggestions there would be appreciated.

I guess I better head in the direction of work. I've got a popcorn machine waiting to be cleaned, wine to return to its rightful location, and so much paperwork to wrestle with. Taking the end of the week off though, so definitely looking forward to that. I have to get over to my garden, it's been growing without me!

You thought I was over him, didn't you???

Not so much. Cause he's still dreamy. So, I'll sleep per-chance to dream.

Zonked!

I'm too tired to tell you the stories of the weekend. There are many. One about the outdoor movie (a success!) and another about Winemakers' dinner this evening (so damn fabulous) and still more about what's circulating in my brain as May closes.

But, I cannot do it tonight. 17 hours of work yesterday, 15.5 today. Mostly physical labor. Age is another thing we should talk about, or try to ignore, or toss into the great blue sea. But, not tonight.

Soon.

Protection

I was reading this morning about the children of the Texas sect being due to return home to families. The state overstepped its boundaries, it appears and got a little slap from the judge. I struggle with all of this, mainly because I am such an independent soul. I couldn't live within any type of community like that...I would be crazy. So, I wish for the children there to have the opportunity to see another way of life. Possibly have the chance to see that what is normal to them (early marriage, etc) may not be the norm elsewhere.

But, the thing is that you pretty much get what you get. And you grow there. And I do believe that if the spirit is in you to believe in something else for your life...you will keep knocking on that door until it opens and lets you out to find it.

My friend Ruth Jean and I talked about how when individuality is squashed early on, it seems to be more pronounced and oft more aggressive later on. There's no parallel here...I am probably thinking more on my own experience. I was squashed in my home, but I just went deep, got quiet and built an internal dialogue that was me. I also got nurtured in school because I was considered smart and therefore got opportunities that other children did not. In terms of my personal growth though, my self evaluation, I wish that there had of been a system to nurture that. I wish that I hadn't been ignored by the few systems I was a part of, and I wish that someone in school had of reached out to check on my heart. Because I lived in a sad scary place, and I grew up to be someone who felt like she deserved it. And it's taken me YEARS to begin to step out of that.

So, I get distracted about this concept of protection. On one hand, I don't want the state involved in anyone's life aggressively. But, on the other, I do want us all paying attention to each other and maybe reaching in sometimes when it's not comfortable to say, "are you okay?"

Anyway, that's just this mornings thoughts. I haven't followed the story close enough to be well versed on it. As it usual, I pick up the parts I am interested in and go from there. I tend to like to do my own thinking rather than spend too much time on someone else's.

On a brighter note, we have liftoff with the mechanic. I'll keep you posted.

Question

I have no words today, so I will give you someone else's. Hopefully the week will get better as it goes along.

Question

Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen

Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt

Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
When Body my good
bright dog is dead

How will it be
to lie in the sky
without roof or door
and wind for an eye

with cloud for a shift
how will I hide?

--May Swenson

Dinner at the Mansion - we, two

If you turned this clockwise 45 degrees (or so) it would be a house. It would be a very big house and it would be the house we had Tuesday night dinner in this evening. Two instead of four, happily and unhappily.

The kitchen to prepare food in...for the "morning after", Trinity's theme this time. I told him that at this rate, we need to just call it all drama and no action.

The dining room where we ate and talked and ate and talked and, well, ate and talked.

Hopefully Josh and Leslie will join us again next week. Otherwise, we are drafting new recruits!

Terrible Tuesday

I am having a wine gulping day. I had a conversation with my friend at Pursuit of Ho-Ho's and she said she didn't like wine and one reason was the whole sipping thing. And I said that we, true winos know that there are wine gulping times and today has been one of them. Last week was mad, to be certain. And so, today, I hoped for better-=ness. I got a call from my beach band that's been under contract with us since March and wanted out of it. There's no one else to book. I was frantically calm. I never let them see me sweat. But, I was ready, ever so ready to say, "you did cash our check." I didn't...I was nice, sweet condensed milk nice...that kind that coats your mouth, throat and tummy nice. And it worked, they decided to stay. For the moment. I however, was quite ill.

The dog continues to be not "pottying" outside, and going in his crate. Today, he didn't go at all until this evening outside. And he feels tremendous guilt. I can tell. So, I don't know what the answer is. But, I know that it is not, continuuous days of my cleaning a crate after a 2 year old very intelligent dog.

The car cost me $30 today, and got me no closer to getting to know the cute mechanic who works with my mechanic. Why? you ask, with such a perfect opportunity...I am there, he is there. He is recovering from surgery so not busy, I am waiting, so available. But, nooooooo, I say a few words and then cower in the corner like a girl who has been a wall-creeper too long. I'll never learn. I'll be single my whole life. Damn....it!

I am out of the wine that my event people decided to pour for their prestigious gig, so now I have to take time tomorrow (when there truly is NO TIME) to run a new bottle for tasting 1.5 hours away. (See above..."Damn...it!")

Now, I am preparing for Tuesday night dinner (oh my! it's time to go right now!!) and hoping that I can borrow a whole bottle of wine for my immediate consumption. Thou shalt not sip, and nor will I.

Cheerio, then!

Morning tales

Two deer greeted us on the way out this morning. I believe that they were watching the cats quarrel on the back porch because they were mesmerized and stood there for long minutes focused on them. I always wonder what wild animals think of domesticated ones? I didn't get a picture, because I never imagined they'd stay long enough once I had opened the old loud door. They did though, stomping and snorting for a few seconds before they leapt just a bit away into the woods and stoood watching from there. We all spy on one another don't we? Wondering how life is different lived by someone else.

It's a cool soft morning and I loved being out in it. This is my favorite time of year before the heat descends and leaves even the blue mountains muggy. The humidity is here of course, and my hair is at full alert daily. I thought I had escaped it in the mountains here, but it's looked me up and we are again feuding. Humidity wins no matter how many hair products I buy, or how tightly I scarf my hair when outdoors for any amount of time whatsoever. Mother Nature in her many moods rules the day of hair for me and until she bestows fall and winter, I can only hope to be mildly hair erratic for the seasons ahead. It won't happen, but I can hope for it.

Refugee Eyes

This small photo compilation and audio from Ruth Gruber is amazing. I visited Auchwitz when I was in Poland and it is an experience that I will never forget or let go of.

Lean on Me

I people watched yesterday. A trip into my favorite small town, and one of America's favorite small towns, Mt. Airy, or more favorably, Mayberry, NC. I love the good will there, where I found two sharp winter skirts and nothing for summer...but that's usually how it goes with hand me downs. I meandered yesterday, which I don't normally do...but other than this weekend, I will have one more full weekend off until about August...so my life is ready to go into overdrive and I felt like meandering, so I did. At the mall, I was sitting outside and watched an elderly couple walk out and up to the curb and as they neared this treacherous passage (from sidewalk to parking lot) they took each other's hand and leaned into one another for support to step down. And they held that pose all the way to their car. At Walmart, I saw two elderly women doing the same thing. And later on Main street, I noticed several elderly folks supporting one another carefully.

I had a conversation last week with my friend/co-worker about my inability to be emotional. The other event coordinator at the winery (she does weddings, I DO NOT - thank GOD!) kinda screwed me last week by booking two weddings on an event weekend and leaving me in a pickle as to where to put my outdoor movie this coming weekend. She so sincerely cried and asked my forgiveness. She went to the president of the company and cried and asked his forgiveness. And of course, none of us could be angry - she is lovely and humble and true. But, had I of made this type of colossal error and booked something when I was told not to, and affected my co-worker in such a big way, I would have probably set myself for going. The responsibility of it would crush me, but I wouldnt' cry or be able to, and I would just set the wheels in motion to find a new job or something. This is not to say that I don't make mistakes, because I do. But, I cannot go to that emotional place and so I plan to flee the premises and make folks not have to deal with my incompetence. This is not what I think my co-worker should have done by the way. My example is not the lead I want to give. I would like another example for me! BUt, as sincere as I might feel in my apology, I couldn't do it, I couldn't cry to my peers or my boss. And this isn't necessarily my point, because I don't believe in expressing tears at work for me. But, I don't express myself this way personally and that is what truly bothers me. I can't go there, I stay in the safe parts of life. My friend/co-worker said that she was the same way as me, she grew up in a place where her family was not expressive. Then, she married an expressive man, so she has to really discipline herself to be expressive with him. But, she is farther than me in that she did get married. That's not everyone's answer, I do realize that.

BUt, looking at all those elderly couples I thought how we spend our lives not being sure of one another for one reason or the next. We question motives and feelings and sincerity. But at the end, we are left with no choice but to lean into another human and take harshness of the world by two. It's funny isn't it? And it makes me wonder why it takes us so long to understand that point. WE have to be crippled by age to get that we need one another, that we should just decide to love one another because the world is so much bigger than any one of us can handle alone.

And I believe this. I saw it with my own eyes yesterday. But, changing, even by baby steps, can be excruciatingly slow. I am impatient, as usual, with my process.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

There were babies
and catfish
and too many different conversations.

There were miles
and tread worn thinner by the asphalt.

Blackberry cobbler,
but there was none of that.
Instead guilty pardon

Not for me.
And however, I am too tired
to express the events or weary of the memory
too lately left.

Good nite then
until tomorrow.

Cha Cha Cha

Sometimes I forget I can be different. It is within my power to be different, and sometimes I forget that. Not even sometimes, but most all the time. I forget I can be different. Not that this is bad and that is better. But that is not what I am doing now and so it might work for me, when this isn't. And I totally forget that.

Today was lousy. Day three of getting bombarded by other people's stuff and never digging into my own. And I got home and I didn't know what to do with myself. I had to mow the lawn, and therefore I mowed. Then, I ate rice and some grilled chicken. And day old rice...not the ticket. Well, not the ticket to anywhere fabulous (can't lose that word this week). I know it feeds a lot of people quite well, and I'm not knocking it because it brought me all the way through college. But, it is what it is and recooked rice is not good food. So, I sat and felt sorry for the pathetic creature that I am. Then, I watched a movie - Atonement. Read the book, quite lovely. Never wanted to keep watching the movie until Vanessa Redgrave did the last 10 minutes or so and then I was mesmerized. This means that I FF'd most of it and only really watched the last ten. One can do this when they have read the novel. Still I felt pathetic. Perhaps more so, since Redgrave in her infinite captivating way showed me what real women can be, ageless and rare and exquisite and mysterious even at the end of their lifetime (not to say she is dying...but older than I am). Then, I came here and no one was writing.

It's what happened next that brings me to the "I can be different" revelation. I looked at my walkman, broken slightly from the woods toss two days ago. And I knew it would never make the trip. Just one more reason not to run. (I had already decided not to bike because it looks stormy...and I go farther when I bike and cannot convince myself to stay close to home). Then, I looked at the spotted dog...wayyyyyyy too energetic. And then, something that felt like pure anger welled up inside of me and I just took the blue leash from the wall, snapped it on Bently's collar and ran out the door and up the road, leaving two cats meowing in the distance. I ran and I ran and I ran to the creek (not even one full mile away..so don't be impressed) and I stopped (because the dog had to pee) and I thought...this is a different me. Regular old me would rather stay in the house, feel bad about myself and build a case of abuse and neglect against my already suffering character. This was different me. And just for that, I put one foot in front of the other and ran all the way back to the church (halfway) until I needed a breather (some uphill here) and the dog needed a potty break. We met cats there and we all ran back to the house together.

Now, I'm not going to say that will happen tomorrow OR the next day. But, it happened today, and that's good enough for me. It's so easy to forget how much power I have over my own life. Because there are so many things I don't have power over. But once in a while, I get the chance to see myself differently. It doesn't make the bad stuff go away, it doesn't change the small realities that are just me. But, it gives me an inkling of my own hutzbah, and I like that.

I needed another picture of Eddie.

Or two....

(I just can't help myself.)