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.