Can't we slow things down a bit. I'm not ready. 2010 is galloping at break neck speed and will simply leave me in the dust if I can't gear up for it. Then it will be 2011 and ...........
Here is where I start to babble, chew the fat, yammer, yak, chatter and yaw.
This is what I want for 2010. 2010 to be my kind of year. I will be happier than I've ever been, laughing harder, standing taller, walking lighter, smiling bigger, hugging more, loving louder, living grander, and enjoying my new found confidence and contentment.
In the past when I put something out there, I mean actually say it out loud, to someone else, then it's a done deal. The saying of it makes it real, rather than just an idle thought. I sure hope blogging counts as saying it, because actually, I am telling more people, practically yelling it from the roof tops. It would be too embarrassing not to follow through!
That isn't exactly a resolution, however, it's more like a statement of intent. A resolution is a vow to do something. Resolutions are more specific.
So lets see, with only one day left in 2009, here are my resolutions. I will, in 2010:
1. Write everyday, not necessarily in my blog, I am working on a book, and other stuff (she says humbly and timidly). I started this blog in January, it has been one whole year. Hard to imagine. But it is December now. It truely feels like the end of the first volume. And I guess I will have to start a NEW blog, Volume two....63 years and living in paradise (or something!)
2. Stop, I repeat, STOP, STop, StoP thinking about divorce and my ex, the sentimental stuff I left behind but shoulda took, the coulda's, shoulda's, what shoulda been's, etc, and then forgive myself for the mistakes I have made along the way to here (It has been easier, you see, to forgive him and let go then to forgive myself for not being braver, stronger, smarter, etc. sooner. It still hurts a bit. Lost love. Lost dreams. Etc. Darn.)
3. Did I say forgive myself? I did, didn't I. You see, although I know that I have always done the best I could, made the best decisions I could, but (and I am now making excuses) in the emotion of the final days of our marriage, I did not make the best decisions, for me, and I am working on forgiving myself and letting that all go. This is a biggy for me. To forgive myself and just let go of the past.
4. Take another BIG trip, on the road or otherwise. Small trips don't count toward this resolution.
5. Move out of here. (That will help me to keep resolution #2)
Perhaps 5 resolutions is enough. For now. Those are pretty big ones. The journey begins...
Now in review of 2009. It was an incredible year for me chock full of love from friends and family. A three month road trip! A new grand baby. A week in Boston with the girlfriends. Wabi Sabi, the Studio and Gallery (well, actually, that didn't go as well as I had hoped, but, hey, still....), a book contract however humble, maintaining a size 4 (who would have thought?), and my first full year as a single person. I have to say, looking back, it was an adventure, but not without a certain amount of retrospection and tears, (the junk in my trunk) that I had to continually overcome so that I could truly appreciate and enjoy the other stuff.
You know, as much as I mean to show you the real me, as much as I want to be totally honest, I am only showing 80% . Here's why, here's another 10% of me......scary, gulp, deep breath........
Resolution #2 eludes: I still have some harrowing moments of despair, now and then a good cry, a really bad day. When the wave of despair comes, as much as I want to surf, I get swamped. I get tossed, battered, and choke. I do not let anyone know for fear of boring them with my groaning and whining and negativity and fear of seeming less capable, deranged or pathetic. Yes I suppose, as much as I don't want to care what people think of me, to a certain extent, I do. Ugh. Anyway. The feeling passes. But oh how awful it feels the night before.
There,it is, still a part of me. Thus my intention for the new year, to be happier and walk lighter. To surf the wave. (I attribute these feelings to the grieving process of lost dreams and hope that are an inevitable part of divorce and I count on time doing it's thing, and a little help from my friends! I just don't know what is a reasonable length of time before I should be really concerned about my sanity.)
Enough of that. And back to the new year. I hope you are already quite happy and content, but if you are not then I wish that for you, and I hope for you also all that you want for yourself. I hope we can count of each other. Help each other along the way. Laugh together. Hold hands and be safe.
I love you. I mean it.
Jan
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
A Christmas Eve Memory
I have a memory. A ghost of Christmas past.
This may not even be a real happening or maybe it is a distortion of a real happening. But it is recorded in my memory banks as if it did happen just this way.
It was Christmas eve. I was very small but big enough to know that Christmas was supposed to be about giving, not about receiving.
On Christmas eve, my family and my mother's sister and brothers' families would all get together and we laughed and played and ate and exchanged gifts in what I determined was a haphazard organized fashion. I adored these extended family gatherings. On Christmas eve, the best event was when the kids handed out gifts tagged to every member of the family from every other family. It was a lot of presents. There was a lot of oh-ing and ahh-ing and crumpled wrapping paper.
But....this particular Christmas eve I noticed that my grandfather wasn't getting any gifts. Not a one. I couldn't believe it. How could all the adults in the family have forgotten "Popper?" I loved Popper. He looked confused and peculiar as he was the one person who received nothing from anyone. My heart ached. I wanted to run and find something to wrap and give to him. In fact, I may have done that, wrapped something inappropriate found somewhere in the house and given it to him and although he said thank you, I knew he knew it was an afterthought gift wrapped quickly to make up for being forgotten. I wanted to sit in his lap and hug him, but actually, Popper wasn't the sort of grandpa you did that to. We loved him, but without the cuddling.
For a few moments I doubted my families' togetherness, thoughtfulness, connection. I wondered how Popper was taking it. My little heart was breaking. It isn't that our gifts were expensive or big, but still they were thoughtful and something someone took the time to get and wrap and give. They were meaningful. They were the special part of Christmas for a little kid.
THEN.
Two uncles walked into a back room and pushed out a new big blue elegant lounge chair and placed it in front of Popper and everyone shouted Merry Christmas. My eyes got big, my heart thumped audibly. Popper had gotten a "special" gift, a BIG gift, that everyone had chipped in to buy for him.
What a family I had! What a wonderful loving thoughtful caring excellent family. Faith restored.
I don't know why this particular incident has stayed with me while the particulars of most of my young Christmas memories have been filed too deep to be readily retrieved. But there it is, front and center in my memory bank. I have no idea why???
Merry Christmas to my wonderful extended family, and Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!
This may not even be a real happening or maybe it is a distortion of a real happening. But it is recorded in my memory banks as if it did happen just this way.
It was Christmas eve. I was very small but big enough to know that Christmas was supposed to be about giving, not about receiving.
On Christmas eve, my family and my mother's sister and brothers' families would all get together and we laughed and played and ate and exchanged gifts in what I determined was a haphazard organized fashion. I adored these extended family gatherings. On Christmas eve, the best event was when the kids handed out gifts tagged to every member of the family from every other family. It was a lot of presents. There was a lot of oh-ing and ahh-ing and crumpled wrapping paper.
But....this particular Christmas eve I noticed that my grandfather wasn't getting any gifts. Not a one. I couldn't believe it. How could all the adults in the family have forgotten "Popper?" I loved Popper. He looked confused and peculiar as he was the one person who received nothing from anyone. My heart ached. I wanted to run and find something to wrap and give to him. In fact, I may have done that, wrapped something inappropriate found somewhere in the house and given it to him and although he said thank you, I knew he knew it was an afterthought gift wrapped quickly to make up for being forgotten. I wanted to sit in his lap and hug him, but actually, Popper wasn't the sort of grandpa you did that to. We loved him, but without the cuddling.
For a few moments I doubted my families' togetherness, thoughtfulness, connection. I wondered how Popper was taking it. My little heart was breaking. It isn't that our gifts were expensive or big, but still they were thoughtful and something someone took the time to get and wrap and give. They were meaningful. They were the special part of Christmas for a little kid.
THEN.
Two uncles walked into a back room and pushed out a new big blue elegant lounge chair and placed it in front of Popper and everyone shouted Merry Christmas. My eyes got big, my heart thumped audibly. Popper had gotten a "special" gift, a BIG gift, that everyone had chipped in to buy for him.
What a family I had! What a wonderful loving thoughtful caring excellent family. Faith restored.
I don't know why this particular incident has stayed with me while the particulars of most of my young Christmas memories have been filed too deep to be readily retrieved. But there it is, front and center in my memory bank. I have no idea why???
Merry Christmas to my wonderful extended family, and Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
2009 Almost a Memory
It is close to the end of the year. Our lives are noted symbolically by the years according to the calendar. Each year for all of us ends at the same time and we begin a new one on January 1, all of us, together. Even though the events of our separate lives might have divided our years differently. And to look at it another way, for example, my 62nd year, started in March.
But going by the calendar, 2008 was my worst year ever. Just awful. 2009, on the other hand, was a combination of reflection and looking ahead, change and new experiences, and.......how do I explain?, reinventing myself, or at least, much of my life.
When I look back, I feel pretty good about the year. My three month road trip was an amazing thing for me to do by myself. I didn't know I could or would. I have improved my thinking, I think! I am mostly satisfied and happy, with only an occasional backslide and a diminutive cry. There is so much to do that I want to do. I am never bored. Tired sometimes, but not bored.
My life, though, is not always as I want it to be. And it isn't exactly the life I had envisioned. Maybe it's better than that. I feel more confident then I used to. More secure. More excited by the possibilities. Occasionally unsure. Sometimes melancholy. Now and then a little sad. But mostly it's really good.
So, in keeping with tradition, I have hereby reflected somewhat on the past year. Now I will think about making a few resolutions and plans for 2009, that I fully intend to keep......of course. However I haven't thought them through yet. I have a few days before the new year, a few days before I need to commit. I want to be a better person, but is it hard to look at ourselves objectively. We know too much, have too many excuses, see "things" through our own narrow perspectives and it is hard to know what we might need to change to be better and still be ourselves.
I used to call a cousin when I was confounded in my marriage and didn't know if I was being reasonable or not. Was it me or was it him or was it just a difference of opinion? Was I making mountains out of molehills? I needed help to see beyond my own perspective. Sometimes I needed direction. Sometimes I just needed a shoulder to cry on. Whether or not I ultimately made good decisions isn't the point. I needed to get beyond myself, and make the best decisions I could. The point here is, I feel better equiped and less emotionally drained then I used to, so that I think I can make somewhat objective decisions regarding what to do from here, the big picture, better habits, less procrastination, adventure, money, romance, happiness. All that.
So I will think about making some New Year's resolutions. If you have suggestions......
But going by the calendar, 2008 was my worst year ever. Just awful. 2009, on the other hand, was a combination of reflection and looking ahead, change and new experiences, and.......how do I explain?, reinventing myself, or at least, much of my life.
When I look back, I feel pretty good about the year. My three month road trip was an amazing thing for me to do by myself. I didn't know I could or would. I have improved my thinking, I think! I am mostly satisfied and happy, with only an occasional backslide and a diminutive cry. There is so much to do that I want to do. I am never bored. Tired sometimes, but not bored.
My life, though, is not always as I want it to be. And it isn't exactly the life I had envisioned. Maybe it's better than that. I feel more confident then I used to. More secure. More excited by the possibilities. Occasionally unsure. Sometimes melancholy. Now and then a little sad. But mostly it's really good.
So, in keeping with tradition, I have hereby reflected somewhat on the past year. Now I will think about making a few resolutions and plans for 2009, that I fully intend to keep......of course. However I haven't thought them through yet. I have a few days before the new year, a few days before I need to commit. I want to be a better person, but is it hard to look at ourselves objectively. We know too much, have too many excuses, see "things" through our own narrow perspectives and it is hard to know what we might need to change to be better and still be ourselves.
I used to call a cousin when I was confounded in my marriage and didn't know if I was being reasonable or not. Was it me or was it him or was it just a difference of opinion? Was I making mountains out of molehills? I needed help to see beyond my own perspective. Sometimes I needed direction. Sometimes I just needed a shoulder to cry on. Whether or not I ultimately made good decisions isn't the point. I needed to get beyond myself, and make the best decisions I could. The point here is, I feel better equiped and less emotionally drained then I used to, so that I think I can make somewhat objective decisions regarding what to do from here, the big picture, better habits, less procrastination, adventure, money, romance, happiness. All that.
So I will think about making some New Year's resolutions. If you have suggestions......
Sunday, November 29, 2009
We are having an adventure here in Seattle. We, meaning, my daughter and her husband , their daughter, and their almost one week old son. There is something about a new baby that is totally awesome. Just think of the adventure he is beginning!
A new member in the family, forever, for always. They named my grandson Jake. His sister is Grace and it was pretty exciting when she joined us, four year ago, one day before Jake, a few days before Thanksgiving. Talk about having something to be thankful for....
As I write this at 6:15 AM, Jake is asleep in his car seat, which is not in the car, but situated on the living room floor beside me. He is asleep as is everyone else at the moment, except me of course. I love this time of the day when I have it all to myself, and I feel good, rested, and like I am getting a head start on everyone else. I know that by 9:00 tonight, I will be tired, and ready to turn over the day to the people of the night, but the morning is all mine!
I wonder about this new life. Where will he go, what will he do, what will he think, and what kind of person will he be? What will become important to him and why will it become so? Who will he love. Where will he travel. Endless possibilities. I have been doing and traveling and loving for 62 years and in my head 62 years seems like such a long time, but in reality, not long at all. I should have gone more places, did more stuff, had bigger dreams, and well, generally, lived with more flair, with more courage, with more laughter and abandon. I am trying to do that now, it ain't over by a long shot. I have time. (Don't get me wrong, however, it has been a pretty good life with a lot of great stuff in it! I am not complaining, it is just that......there is so much more!!!)
When I am ninety two, I hope to say, WOW, what a ride! And if I am lucky, I will be saying this while sipping expensive wine with someone I love at some elegant bistro in some exotic foreign city. Well, maybe when I am eighty two. (I can dream, can't I?)
I have been in Seattle for a little over a week now, and the days have been dreary, drizzly, and chilly, except for one. I do prefer Florida sunshine. I can imagine that after a few months this dreariness could bring a person down. But for now, it is cozy. And we have a new baby!
A new member in the family, forever, for always. They named my grandson Jake. His sister is Grace and it was pretty exciting when she joined us, four year ago, one day before Jake, a few days before Thanksgiving. Talk about having something to be thankful for....
As I write this at 6:15 AM, Jake is asleep in his car seat, which is not in the car, but situated on the living room floor beside me. He is asleep as is everyone else at the moment, except me of course. I love this time of the day when I have it all to myself, and I feel good, rested, and like I am getting a head start on everyone else. I know that by 9:00 tonight, I will be tired, and ready to turn over the day to the people of the night, but the morning is all mine!
I wonder about this new life. Where will he go, what will he do, what will he think, and what kind of person will he be? What will become important to him and why will it become so? Who will he love. Where will he travel. Endless possibilities. I have been doing and traveling and loving for 62 years and in my head 62 years seems like such a long time, but in reality, not long at all. I should have gone more places, did more stuff, had bigger dreams, and well, generally, lived with more flair, with more courage, with more laughter and abandon. I am trying to do that now, it ain't over by a long shot. I have time. (Don't get me wrong, however, it has been a pretty good life with a lot of great stuff in it! I am not complaining, it is just that......there is so much more!!!)
When I am ninety two, I hope to say, WOW, what a ride! And if I am lucky, I will be saying this while sipping expensive wine with someone I love at some elegant bistro in some exotic foreign city. Well, maybe when I am eighty two. (I can dream, can't I?)
I have been in Seattle for a little over a week now, and the days have been dreary, drizzly, and chilly, except for one. I do prefer Florida sunshine. I can imagine that after a few months this dreariness could bring a person down. But for now, it is cozy. And we have a new baby!
Monday, November 16, 2009
It's a Monday evening, 6:26 PM. It's at least three hours until a respectable time to go to bed and sleep and I just don't know what to do with that three hours. I don't like this early darkness that leaves me both tired and restless. Since I don't have television, the option of sitting down and staring at the TV set doesn't exist. I would be pathetically staring at a blank set (Why is it called a set?).
Anyway. Here I am. Blogging because I am too tired to do anything else and it is too early to go to bed. How sad!
It has been almost four months since my three month road trip. I remind myself that it wasn't so long ago that I was on the road. I do this because sometimes I feel like life is not too thrilling and I certainly don't want to waste the time I have been given. For me, traveling is thrilling. It is accomplishment. It makes life worthwhile.
Not that I haven't things to do. I have books. I have paint. I have YouTube. I can exercise (ugg), I can write Christmas cards (groan, not in the mood!), I can meditate (who am I kidding, I've tried, my mind won't stay still for ten seconds!), I can go out and get some ice cream (too lazy), or I can ................................I don't know........................OK, I am stuck for things to do. That's the problem here.
I have found that when I am alone and bored, the boredom is so much more difficult than being bored with someone else around. I don't know why, but it is.
You know that Sinatra song "Regrets, I've had a few, but then again too few to mention." Well I've a few and I am going to actually mention them, just for the heck of it. I regret getting a teaching degree in college instead of studying art, writing or medicine. I regret marrying at 22. I regret not traveling more. I regret not naming my daughter Jillian instead of Jill, although she would probably prefer Jill anyway. I regret following the safe worn path instead of making my own. I regret not going to a therapist before I asked for a divorce and not insisting he go too. I regret not planning my divorce better. And I regret trying to look sexy and sophisticated at my junior prom and instead looked cheesy and nothing like myself. And I regret not having my teeth all straightened and whitened and capped when I was younger.
I have other regrets I am sure, but I can't think of them just right now. I have never understood people who say that they wouldn't change anything about their lives. Come on now! Is any life that perfect? Is it possible to have always made the right decisions? Wasn't for me. Having some regrets seems reasonable. (As long as one does not dwell on them.)
So this is what I do on a dull evening, review my regrets. Sad, huh.
But OK, I am done with that now. I was just mussing anyway. There are things I am terribly happy I did as well. Like, having gone to college at all even if I played it safe with a teaching degree. And it was good to have babies, work some of the neat jobs I did, travel the trips I did, run a camping store, operate a B and B, make and keep the friends I have, and have a lot of people over for holiday dinners, and move to Indian Rocks Beach. All good stuff.
If I were to design my life it would be pretty close to what it is now, only I would be just a little richer, with a full kitchen, a laundry room, a bathtub, and full ownership of this building I live in. So really, I'm pretty close pretty close. I am almost there. Life is good.
The "to move or not to move" decision that I kept putting off not so long ago resolved itself by the potential tenant never getting back to me, so I had no one to rent this place to and so I might as well stay a little longer. And really, I am OK with that. I won't revisit that particular issue until at least next summer. I am soooooo much better at dealing with the concept of you know living next door. It just took some time. Not much of a problem anymore, really. Opps, that brings to mind another regret....my having been so darn generous and thoughtful even in the mist of a divorce. If I had it to do over, I would have taken soooooooo much more when I left, both money and things. I don't know what I was thinking. I hear other ex wives took their ex to the cleaners. Darn, I shouda! It's not like he appreciated the generosity, or even noticed. Big regret!
I am going to Seattle in three days to be there for the birth of my new grand baby. I can't wait. When I leave there, and I think that will be hard to do, and I get home, I am planning on some serious landscaping between me and next door. And finishing writing the history book. (The publisher wants it by February), and gearing up for the busy winter season in my gallery, and having my girlfriends visit in February for a grownup pajama party, and going to a family reunion in July.
And planning another big trip somewhere, and working on my second book ( I do have a plan for it), and eventually rethinking my living arrangement. Isn't that enough to do? Ain't life swell?
This is why I like to write sometimes. It takes me from listing regrets to listing things I want and will be doing. I am about 80% happy most of the time, Not bad when a year ago, I was 80% sad most of the time.
Anyway. Here I am. Blogging because I am too tired to do anything else and it is too early to go to bed. How sad!
It has been almost four months since my three month road trip. I remind myself that it wasn't so long ago that I was on the road. I do this because sometimes I feel like life is not too thrilling and I certainly don't want to waste the time I have been given. For me, traveling is thrilling. It is accomplishment. It makes life worthwhile.
Not that I haven't things to do. I have books. I have paint. I have YouTube. I can exercise (ugg), I can write Christmas cards (groan, not in the mood!), I can meditate (who am I kidding, I've tried, my mind won't stay still for ten seconds!), I can go out and get some ice cream (too lazy), or I can ................................I don't know........................OK, I am stuck for things to do. That's the problem here.
I have found that when I am alone and bored, the boredom is so much more difficult than being bored with someone else around. I don't know why, but it is.
You know that Sinatra song "Regrets, I've had a few, but then again too few to mention." Well I've a few and I am going to actually mention them, just for the heck of it. I regret getting a teaching degree in college instead of studying art, writing or medicine. I regret marrying at 22. I regret not traveling more. I regret not naming my daughter Jillian instead of Jill, although she would probably prefer Jill anyway. I regret following the safe worn path instead of making my own. I regret not going to a therapist before I asked for a divorce and not insisting he go too. I regret not planning my divorce better. And I regret trying to look sexy and sophisticated at my junior prom and instead looked cheesy and nothing like myself. And I regret not having my teeth all straightened and whitened and capped when I was younger.
I have other regrets I am sure, but I can't think of them just right now. I have never understood people who say that they wouldn't change anything about their lives. Come on now! Is any life that perfect? Is it possible to have always made the right decisions? Wasn't for me. Having some regrets seems reasonable. (As long as one does not dwell on them.)
So this is what I do on a dull evening, review my regrets. Sad, huh.
But OK, I am done with that now. I was just mussing anyway. There are things I am terribly happy I did as well. Like, having gone to college at all even if I played it safe with a teaching degree. And it was good to have babies, work some of the neat jobs I did, travel the trips I did, run a camping store, operate a B and B, make and keep the friends I have, and have a lot of people over for holiday dinners, and move to Indian Rocks Beach. All good stuff.
If I were to design my life it would be pretty close to what it is now, only I would be just a little richer, with a full kitchen, a laundry room, a bathtub, and full ownership of this building I live in. So really, I'm pretty close pretty close. I am almost there. Life is good.
The "to move or not to move" decision that I kept putting off not so long ago resolved itself by the potential tenant never getting back to me, so I had no one to rent this place to and so I might as well stay a little longer. And really, I am OK with that. I won't revisit that particular issue until at least next summer. I am soooooo much better at dealing with the concept of you know living next door. It just took some time. Not much of a problem anymore, really. Opps, that brings to mind another regret....my having been so darn generous and thoughtful even in the mist of a divorce. If I had it to do over, I would have taken soooooooo much more when I left, both money and things. I don't know what I was thinking. I hear other ex wives took their ex to the cleaners. Darn, I shouda! It's not like he appreciated the generosity, or even noticed. Big regret!
I am going to Seattle in three days to be there for the birth of my new grand baby. I can't wait. When I leave there, and I think that will be hard to do, and I get home, I am planning on some serious landscaping between me and next door. And finishing writing the history book. (The publisher wants it by February), and gearing up for the busy winter season in my gallery, and having my girlfriends visit in February for a grownup pajama party, and going to a family reunion in July.
And planning another big trip somewhere, and working on my second book ( I do have a plan for it), and eventually rethinking my living arrangement. Isn't that enough to do? Ain't life swell?
This is why I like to write sometimes. It takes me from listing regrets to listing things I want and will be doing. I am about 80% happy most of the time, Not bad when a year ago, I was 80% sad most of the time.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
I held the nose of a dolphin in my hand. I fed the dolphin, named Winter, a couple of fish and patted her on her head. It was special. I did this at the Clearwater Aquarium along with my brothers, sister-in-law, niece, and cousin Paul. That made it even more special. It was a great day!
Regular stuff:
I think that I will remain here on Gulf Blvd for a while. The potential tenant has not shown his face again and I can only assume he has lost interest. That's OK. I kind of like it here at Wabi Sabi. Time has a way of making decisions for us. Not always with good results, but in this case it has worked out so far.
Life is good these days. I have read up and know stuff that helps me understand things past. And it makes life easier. And I feel happy and peaceful. And it's good. Of course, I realize there may be times ahead that don't feel so good, but that's life. As for now, it's good.
It is also really HOT out. With a heat index over 100 degrees it is hard to do outdoor things during the day. But I am looking at a gray sky to the northwest and hoping that the cold front is finally moving our way. We need rain and we need some cool.
I haven't written much in this blog lately because I have been busy. The days go by very fast. And well, there have been other things to do. But I will get back when my mind goes here.
Regular stuff:
I think that I will remain here on Gulf Blvd for a while. The potential tenant has not shown his face again and I can only assume he has lost interest. That's OK. I kind of like it here at Wabi Sabi. Time has a way of making decisions for us. Not always with good results, but in this case it has worked out so far.
Life is good these days. I have read up and know stuff that helps me understand things past. And it makes life easier. And I feel happy and peaceful. And it's good. Of course, I realize there may be times ahead that don't feel so good, but that's life. As for now, it's good.
It is also really HOT out. With a heat index over 100 degrees it is hard to do outdoor things during the day. But I am looking at a gray sky to the northwest and hoping that the cold front is finally moving our way. We need rain and we need some cool.
I haven't written much in this blog lately because I have been busy. The days go by very fast. And well, there have been other things to do. But I will get back when my mind goes here.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Moon Set
This morning I watched the moon set into the Gulf of Mexico. At 6:48 am, while it was still dark out, the moon, full and large and orange, fell into the watery horizon as if it were the sun setting at dusk. How could I not know about this phenomenon before this. Very very cool!
Friday, September 25, 2009
10 days later
Ten days since my last post. Ten ordinary days. Now I don't mean that in a negative way. I probably should have said "ten good ordinary days." Ordinary meaning, nothing really exciting has occurred, no unexpected checks of consequence (or otherwise), no disasters, and no answers to my big questions. On the other hand, there was a couple of nice dinners with friends, some good long walks, wonderful saturating rains and more pink sunsets.
And I feel pretty good. I am hopeful. I am confident. Of what you may ask. I don't really know I respond.
But I get things done and I'm smiling. That's pretty good.
And tonight is Friday and that means getting together with the Friday friends as I have done for thirty years. It's good. Instead of a loving spouse I have loving friends. It's nice to have both, but having even one of those is darn lucky. (Does that sound sad? I don't mean it to.)
The perfect life..........and I am soooooo close...........would be...
A comfortable house with a kitchen and room for company. Company. Enough money to do the things that are important and a few that are not. Travel to other places a couple of times a year(some of which ought to be considered exotic!) and someone to start my heart beating again.
Piece of Cake!
And I feel pretty good. I am hopeful. I am confident. Of what you may ask. I don't really know I respond.
But I get things done and I'm smiling. That's pretty good.
And tonight is Friday and that means getting together with the Friday friends as I have done for thirty years. It's good. Instead of a loving spouse I have loving friends. It's nice to have both, but having even one of those is darn lucky. (Does that sound sad? I don't mean it to.)
The perfect life..........and I am soooooo close...........would be...
A comfortable house with a kitchen and room for company. Company. Enough money to do the things that are important and a few that are not. Travel to other places a couple of times a year(some of which ought to be considered exotic!) and someone to start my heart beating again.
Piece of Cake!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Yellow Reflection
It's a pink cloudy morning with a hint of yellow reflection on everything below the sky.
And, for me, life here on earth is sort of regular these past few days, what with doing regular life and landlord things, and well..........................it kind of gets me down.
I was house and pet sitting for a friend. I got to enjoy their beautiful waterfront home, big screen TV, balcony views and large kitchen. There are nifty things throughout their home, lots of lizard type decorations and that reminded of what I no longer have. Maybe that's what started my feel fall.
Although books and websites assure me this is normal, now and then, I get sad and I start to think negative thoughts. (Ugg) Thoughts about divorce and loss and misunderstandings and limited funds and desires and taxes and expenses and all that crude that no one wants to think about. But there it is, front and center. Again. I really don't know about other people, I suspect most go through some sort of emotional highs and lows, but I find the lows quite frustrating and a bit of a struggle.
Yesterday a pleasant outgoing forty something lady stopped in the studio and we got to talking. It was clear that she was lonely and unsettled. She is married. They have moved many times during their married years and 10 months ago rented a house in Clearwater. The house went into foreclosure and they will need to move again next month. They have a bankruptcy in their recent past, hubby just opened a used car lot, and they can't get a mortgage. She is tired of moving, wants to settle down and decorate and paint and fix up a nest of her own, but they would need a creative purchase to do that. I listened and wondered what I would do in her shoes. I somehow felt luckier, better off, even in light of my wanting to move. She doesn't have friends here and that makes things worse. This was her second visit to Wabi Sabi. Not to buy. Just to talk!
I am a firm believer that attitude is everything and thoughts direct our lives. So when I get to feeling lousy and in a worrying mode, add to the other feelings, a fear of what I am conjuring up for myself.
I have STILL not made any decisions about where to live or what to do. I keep waiting for a sign or something to happen that will offer guidance. But nothing. I checked out some properties but none are what I am looking for and those that come close are pricey. I haven't heard from my potential renter for my studio. Perhaps he is not as interested as he indicated. Perhaps his feelings or his situation has changed. Perhaps that is a sign for me to stay? Perhaps he is waiting for me to call. Then again, seeing my "wasband" (new word for ex-) pass my window holding hands with yet another gal and later seeing him selling the rain barrels I painted sort of bummed me out. An encouraging push to move out of eye sight.
There are folks who live less unsettled, or so it seems. They live in a house they plan to live in till they die, or move into assisted living. They worked the same job all or most of their lives. They stayed married to their first love. They are happy watching TV, reading the paper, and taking a walk. They take a vacation now and then. And that's about it. And they seems to like it that way. Simple. Quiet.
At 62, it sounds nice to me, but it isn't me. I will move again, and that will require starting over with the decorating and household props as if I were 21. I will need a couch, a bed and a refrigerator among other things. I am involved in volunteer activities that are a little like a part-time job, I take care of the rentals, I am writing the history book, I want to travel more and far and long. I want life to be simple, quiet, easy. But instead, it is complicated and busy, with so much to do.
That said, I need to get going now. And it seems that while I have been writing the yellow reflection has turned into something less magical, a regular clear day.
And, for me, life here on earth is sort of regular these past few days, what with doing regular life and landlord things, and well..........................it kind of gets me down.
I was house and pet sitting for a friend. I got to enjoy their beautiful waterfront home, big screen TV, balcony views and large kitchen. There are nifty things throughout their home, lots of lizard type decorations and that reminded of what I no longer have. Maybe that's what started my feel fall.
Although books and websites assure me this is normal, now and then, I get sad and I start to think negative thoughts. (Ugg) Thoughts about divorce and loss and misunderstandings and limited funds and desires and taxes and expenses and all that crude that no one wants to think about. But there it is, front and center. Again. I really don't know about other people, I suspect most go through some sort of emotional highs and lows, but I find the lows quite frustrating and a bit of a struggle.
Yesterday a pleasant outgoing forty something lady stopped in the studio and we got to talking. It was clear that she was lonely and unsettled. She is married. They have moved many times during their married years and 10 months ago rented a house in Clearwater. The house went into foreclosure and they will need to move again next month. They have a bankruptcy in their recent past, hubby just opened a used car lot, and they can't get a mortgage. She is tired of moving, wants to settle down and decorate and paint and fix up a nest of her own, but they would need a creative purchase to do that. I listened and wondered what I would do in her shoes. I somehow felt luckier, better off, even in light of my wanting to move. She doesn't have friends here and that makes things worse. This was her second visit to Wabi Sabi. Not to buy. Just to talk!
I am a firm believer that attitude is everything and thoughts direct our lives. So when I get to feeling lousy and in a worrying mode, add to the other feelings, a fear of what I am conjuring up for myself.
I have STILL not made any decisions about where to live or what to do. I keep waiting for a sign or something to happen that will offer guidance. But nothing. I checked out some properties but none are what I am looking for and those that come close are pricey. I haven't heard from my potential renter for my studio. Perhaps he is not as interested as he indicated. Perhaps his feelings or his situation has changed. Perhaps that is a sign for me to stay? Perhaps he is waiting for me to call. Then again, seeing my "wasband" (new word for ex-) pass my window holding hands with yet another gal and later seeing him selling the rain barrels I painted sort of bummed me out. An encouraging push to move out of eye sight.
There are folks who live less unsettled, or so it seems. They live in a house they plan to live in till they die, or move into assisted living. They worked the same job all or most of their lives. They stayed married to their first love. They are happy watching TV, reading the paper, and taking a walk. They take a vacation now and then. And that's about it. And they seems to like it that way. Simple. Quiet.
At 62, it sounds nice to me, but it isn't me. I will move again, and that will require starting over with the decorating and household props as if I were 21. I will need a couch, a bed and a refrigerator among other things. I am involved in volunteer activities that are a little like a part-time job, I take care of the rentals, I am writing the history book, I want to travel more and far and long. I want life to be simple, quiet, easy. But instead, it is complicated and busy, with so much to do.
That said, I need to get going now. And it seems that while I have been writing the yellow reflection has turned into something less magical, a regular clear day.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Still ???
Life does sometimes come at us fast.
While not making any decision regarding renting the place I am now living in, the renter in my real house wants to buy, although he doesn't really have enough money, but he definitely does not want to move. He asked me to think about it. I tried. Too hard. Too many pros and cons for my muddled brain.
And although I have looked around, I haven't seen my cottage, the one I am wanting to move into. I must move up, not just out!
Being in a quandary about these things makes it hard for me to know what to do. Do I paint a mural on my wall, improve the landscape at the rental house, stay, look, go, sell, buy, rent, stay???
I have started working on the IRB history book and it seems to be harder than I thought it would be. Maybe just a slow start. I better get better at it. I have a deadline and co-authors who are counting on me.
I am however, a bit, planting and watering and rewatering new plants in this hot Florida sun which dries the earth and pots incredibly fast. It usually doesn't cool down until mid October.
The days are getting shorter now that autumn is here. I don't have enough day as it is. How will I ever get everything done?
I am not complaining, mind you, I am just saying...........
Actually, I am grateful. My life has consistently been improving. I live just fine. It is peaceful. Last night I watched the sun set into the Gulf. For just this one evening, it set right between two condos where I could see it go down while I sat on my front porch. My timing was good. Cool! A friend told me that I could watch the moon set into the Gulf, when it is full and low in the sky. I have never seen that. I am going to watch next time.
I am also grateful for air conditioning, bug spray, and refrigeration.
And good food. (Friday, I ate crab and cheese quiche with herbed mashed potatoes at Ken and Suzanne's, Saturday, I had lobster with a tomato, avocado and heart of palm salad at Terry's, Sunday I ate, knockwurst and sauerkraut, German potato salad and corn on the cob at Jim and Ann's. Monday I ate leftovers! Yum, Yum, Yum, and Yum.)
Granted, it isn't all this terrific. There is other stuff. But why dwell on that? Well, there is those decisions to make..........
While not making any decision regarding renting the place I am now living in, the renter in my real house wants to buy, although he doesn't really have enough money, but he definitely does not want to move. He asked me to think about it. I tried. Too hard. Too many pros and cons for my muddled brain.
And although I have looked around, I haven't seen my cottage, the one I am wanting to move into. I must move up, not just out!
Being in a quandary about these things makes it hard for me to know what to do. Do I paint a mural on my wall, improve the landscape at the rental house, stay, look, go, sell, buy, rent, stay???
I have started working on the IRB history book and it seems to be harder than I thought it would be. Maybe just a slow start. I better get better at it. I have a deadline and co-authors who are counting on me.
I am however, a bit, planting and watering and rewatering new plants in this hot Florida sun which dries the earth and pots incredibly fast. It usually doesn't cool down until mid October.
The days are getting shorter now that autumn is here. I don't have enough day as it is. How will I ever get everything done?
I am not complaining, mind you, I am just saying...........
Actually, I am grateful. My life has consistently been improving. I live just fine. It is peaceful. Last night I watched the sun set into the Gulf. For just this one evening, it set right between two condos where I could see it go down while I sat on my front porch. My timing was good. Cool! A friend told me that I could watch the moon set into the Gulf, when it is full and low in the sky. I have never seen that. I am going to watch next time.
I am also grateful for air conditioning, bug spray, and refrigeration.
And good food. (Friday, I ate crab and cheese quiche with herbed mashed potatoes at Ken and Suzanne's, Saturday, I had lobster with a tomato, avocado and heart of palm salad at Terry's, Sunday I ate, knockwurst and sauerkraut, German potato salad and corn on the cob at Jim and Ann's. Monday I ate leftovers! Yum, Yum, Yum, and Yum.)
Granted, it isn't all this terrific. There is other stuff. But why dwell on that? Well, there is those decisions to make..........
Thursday, September 3, 2009
???
I’ve made no decisions yet, about my living arrangements. I've thought about it, a lot. But no inspiration, no sign, no nothing. I’ve looked around for someplace else to inhabit that is at least as nice, but haven’t found the place yet. (Although most other living spaces have, at least, a real kitchen and that’s tempting.) But, I do not want to move to a place I don’t like just to move away….. and cook! The whole point is to be better off, more relaxed, happier......well, and that other thing that really is the main reason anyway.
I realize that making no decision is, in effect, making a decision to stay. So be it.
I do enjoy company, especially those chance encounters with cool people. That’s why I liked running a B and B. Here, at my Wabi Sabi Studio and Gallery, I still get to enjoy that best part, people. They stop in from time to time. Why just the day before yesterday, a gal about my age stopped in and we got to talking. She retired last year, has a husband who doesn’t want to do anything but sit at home and what she really wants to do is………"take a long road trip, pack the car and head out,” she says. Now there is a subject I know something about!
She left feeling better than she did when she came in and so did I.
Here is something I think. Two people need more than twice the space as one. Two costs more than twice one. I think that is because everyone needs a place to get away and be comfortable by themselves. From time to time. A small place is fine for one, but even a little bigger isn’t fine for two. We all need our own space.
I’m looking for my next adventure. Moving is only part of the picture. I have started with Wayne and Nancy, on the history book for Indian Rocks. It will be published by Arcadia Press, assuming we meet the deadline in February. I like undertaking this new project. It’s something!!! I’ll be busy.
But that’s not enough for the long haul. I would still like to find my Tidewater Cottage to live in for the next ten years and meet Charlie (ficticious name!), and get comfortable and excited. Feel young, connected and sexy! (Well....I would!) And travel some more!
Doesn’t seem like too much to ask, does it? And write another book! And come into more money. And travel some more!
And travel some more!
And travel some more!
I realize that making no decision is, in effect, making a decision to stay. So be it.
I do enjoy company, especially those chance encounters with cool people. That’s why I liked running a B and B. Here, at my Wabi Sabi Studio and Gallery, I still get to enjoy that best part, people. They stop in from time to time. Why just the day before yesterday, a gal about my age stopped in and we got to talking. She retired last year, has a husband who doesn’t want to do anything but sit at home and what she really wants to do is………"take a long road trip, pack the car and head out,” she says. Now there is a subject I know something about!
She left feeling better than she did when she came in and so did I.
Here is something I think. Two people need more than twice the space as one. Two costs more than twice one. I think that is because everyone needs a place to get away and be comfortable by themselves. From time to time. A small place is fine for one, but even a little bigger isn’t fine for two. We all need our own space.
I’m looking for my next adventure. Moving is only part of the picture. I have started with Wayne and Nancy, on the history book for Indian Rocks. It will be published by Arcadia Press, assuming we meet the deadline in February. I like undertaking this new project. It’s something!!! I’ll be busy.
But that’s not enough for the long haul. I would still like to find my Tidewater Cottage to live in for the next ten years and meet Charlie (ficticious name!), and get comfortable and excited. Feel young, connected and sexy! (Well....I would!) And travel some more!
Doesn’t seem like too much to ask, does it? And write another book! And come into more money. And travel some more!
And travel some more!
And travel some more!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
CHEERS!
Neither, Norm, Carla, Sam or Cliff were there, but anyway, here's to you! Cheers from Boston!
Monday, August 24, 2009
I'm Back
I'm back home and
I am sitting here at my computer and wanting to write, but what I have done for the last few minutes is just stare.
Delete
That’s what I do when I write something boring or stupid, which happens when I should have kept starring because I don’t know what to say.
I think I’ll just tell you what is going on, bring you up to snuff, and paint the picture of my today.
I flew in from Boston a few days ago. Boston, by the way, is a wonderful city to visit. You'd love it. We, my three highschool girlfriends and I did. (Every year for the past seven, we get together for us.) We walked the freedom trail and soaked in history. Saw Paul Reveres house and then his grave. Took in the Boston commons and public garden. Had beers at Cheers. (see photo) Took the ferry to Salem, witch trials and potions and the House of Seven Gables. We went to Harvard and took the unofficial tour around campus. Back in the big city we shopped and walked and talked. All good.
Now back home for a while, I have reopened my studio and had a few, very few, customers stop in, but that's exactly what I expected, gives me time for gallery improvements. It’s nice.
I have spent time with friends, and really, I love that. A lot.
I am getting used to having the ex next door. (Sort of) There are periodic sightings but no contact. No words. From time to time I go on line for an educational update on relationships and learn stuff that offers new perspective, understanding and insight into me and, well, him, too. It is uncanny how other people can say what is in my head, but I didn't know how to put into words. Hopefully this is reasonable and not obsessive behavior. I am pretty happy most of the time.
Still I am contemplating a move. Just thinking. The consensus is that living next door to your ex is a bad thing. Maybe so. Probably so. Now, I am only talking about a move from this street address, but still staying in the 33785 zip code. This is my community. And it's a good one. I have been around. I know.
I may have an opportunity to rent my studio/home so that brings the moving issue to my desk top for serious consideration. Moving means closing Wabi Sabi Studio and Gallery. Moving means (most likey) no Gulf Blvd front porch sitting. Moving means the drudgery of moving.
On the other hand. Moving means no ex next door. Moving means freedom from the gallery. It means more leisure. It means change. And……moving means moving on!
I can’t decide. The monkey wench in the project is that I really have no place to move to, yet. That’s the challenge.
Anyway. I can’t decide. This is a really big issue for me. Not as big as death or divorce, but still pretty big.
What do you think? I really am stumped. I could go either way.
I am sitting here at my computer and wanting to write, but what I have done for the last few minutes is just stare.
Delete
That’s what I do when I write something boring or stupid, which happens when I should have kept starring because I don’t know what to say.
I think I’ll just tell you what is going on, bring you up to snuff, and paint the picture of my today.
I flew in from Boston a few days ago. Boston, by the way, is a wonderful city to visit. You'd love it. We, my three highschool girlfriends and I did. (Every year for the past seven, we get together for us.) We walked the freedom trail and soaked in history. Saw Paul Reveres house and then his grave. Took in the Boston commons and public garden. Had beers at Cheers. (see photo) Took the ferry to Salem, witch trials and potions and the House of Seven Gables. We went to Harvard and took the unofficial tour around campus. Back in the big city we shopped and walked and talked. All good.
Now back home for a while, I have reopened my studio and had a few, very few, customers stop in, but that's exactly what I expected, gives me time for gallery improvements. It’s nice.
I have spent time with friends, and really, I love that. A lot.
I am getting used to having the ex next door. (Sort of) There are periodic sightings but no contact. No words. From time to time I go on line for an educational update on relationships and learn stuff that offers new perspective, understanding and insight into me and, well, him, too. It is uncanny how other people can say what is in my head, but I didn't know how to put into words. Hopefully this is reasonable and not obsessive behavior. I am pretty happy most of the time.
Still I am contemplating a move. Just thinking. The consensus is that living next door to your ex is a bad thing. Maybe so. Probably so. Now, I am only talking about a move from this street address, but still staying in the 33785 zip code. This is my community. And it's a good one. I have been around. I know.
I may have an opportunity to rent my studio/home so that brings the moving issue to my desk top for serious consideration. Moving means closing Wabi Sabi Studio and Gallery. Moving means (most likey) no Gulf Blvd front porch sitting. Moving means the drudgery of moving.
On the other hand. Moving means no ex next door. Moving means freedom from the gallery. It means more leisure. It means change. And……moving means moving on!
I can’t decide. The monkey wench in the project is that I really have no place to move to, yet. That’s the challenge.
Anyway. I can’t decide. This is a really big issue for me. Not as big as death or divorce, but still pretty big.
What do you think? I really am stumped. I could go either way.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Because you are asking . . .
I will continue to blog, but I am taking a hiatus for a week or two. Life is surprising me and throwing me curves. I have decisions to make, new paths to choose. . . . or I run the risk of doing what is easy just because it is easier than doing something else.
I have a girlfriends getaway to attend this week in Boston. I hope my friends can help me sort through the options. Lord knows, we can talk a subject to death!
I'll get back to you when I get back from Bean Town. I miss you too.
Jan
I have a girlfriends getaway to attend this week in Boston. I hope my friends can help me sort through the options. Lord knows, we can talk a subject to death!
I'll get back to you when I get back from Bean Town. I miss you too.
Jan
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Table for One, Please
I just read a travel magazine where there was an article entitled "How to Travel by Yourself and enjoy It." It said that before you go, try eating or seeing a show alone. Next take a weekend trip to a nearby town. Too bad I didn't read this before. No weekend solo trip for me, oh no. I started to travel by myself by packing my car and setting off for a three month road trip which is kind of like jumping into the deep end of the pool to learn how to swim. Somehow I managed to keep my head above water.
And NOW I read about online resources such as Solotraveler.com which would have allowed me to create a profile and search for like-minded travelers who might be in say, Salt Lake City when I was. Actually, I checked out this web site and found it outdated and ignored by solo travelers, or maybe there just aren't that many. Lord knows I didn't find many wandering about when and where I was stationed. In other words, I didn't notice people who were accessible or looked like they might be interested in conversations with a "strange" woman.
The article went on to warn that if someone asks too many questions or seems suspicious, be vigilant. Don't tell your life story to just anyone. You can always tell them that you are a policewoman on vacation. In my case that wouldn't work. No one in their right mind would believe I was a policewoman. And sadly anyway, no one seemed THAT interested.
I had hoped this trip would offer answers to asked as well as unasked questions. Questions for myself about how to live my life. I had hoped to come home feeling stronger, more confident, with some direction other then those found on the compass. I guess I do feel a little more confident. I mean I did travel for three months, by myself mostly, driving down all sorts of roads, smooth, bumpy, crowded and empty. I found lodging for myself. Took myself out to eat occasionally. And explored whatever spoke to my spirit. If I can do that, I can do all sorts of things.
Now that I am home all the roads have predicable destinations and known vistas. I need to find a new path. I want to be going somewhere I haven't been.
I've learned a few things along the way to where I am now. I learned that when you need help, ask for it. Most people struggle with something or other. When people know how imperfect you are, they are less afraid to let you see how imperfect they are. 99% of people I know are happy to help when they can.
Modern communication can be a blessing and a curse. Being 100% accessible is stressful and unnecessary. Television is highly over-rated. Too much news is vexing to the spirit. But when you need to reach out and touch someone, you easily can.
With certain people, it is simply best to keep your head down and avoid eye contact.
This country is not really that crowded, we all just flock together like seagulls on a beach. We compete for the same breadcrumbs.
A good question to ask yourself is "If money (or time, or a job or whatever) were no object, what would you be doing today, tomorrow, and next month." Then to whatever extent possible, do that."
Eating alone at a restaurant is not as much fun as eating with with someone. Seek company.
And NOW I read about online resources such as Solotraveler.com which would have allowed me to create a profile and search for like-minded travelers who might be in say, Salt Lake City when I was. Actually, I checked out this web site and found it outdated and ignored by solo travelers, or maybe there just aren't that many. Lord knows I didn't find many wandering about when and where I was stationed. In other words, I didn't notice people who were accessible or looked like they might be interested in conversations with a "strange" woman.
The article went on to warn that if someone asks too many questions or seems suspicious, be vigilant. Don't tell your life story to just anyone. You can always tell them that you are a policewoman on vacation. In my case that wouldn't work. No one in their right mind would believe I was a policewoman. And sadly anyway, no one seemed THAT interested.
I had hoped this trip would offer answers to asked as well as unasked questions. Questions for myself about how to live my life. I had hoped to come home feeling stronger, more confident, with some direction other then those found on the compass. I guess I do feel a little more confident. I mean I did travel for three months, by myself mostly, driving down all sorts of roads, smooth, bumpy, crowded and empty. I found lodging for myself. Took myself out to eat occasionally. And explored whatever spoke to my spirit. If I can do that, I can do all sorts of things.
Now that I am home all the roads have predicable destinations and known vistas. I need to find a new path. I want to be going somewhere I haven't been.
I've learned a few things along the way to where I am now. I learned that when you need help, ask for it. Most people struggle with something or other. When people know how imperfect you are, they are less afraid to let you see how imperfect they are. 99% of people I know are happy to help when they can.
Modern communication can be a blessing and a curse. Being 100% accessible is stressful and unnecessary. Television is highly over-rated. Too much news is vexing to the spirit. But when you need to reach out and touch someone, you easily can.
With certain people, it is simply best to keep your head down and avoid eye contact.
This country is not really that crowded, we all just flock together like seagulls on a beach. We compete for the same breadcrumbs.
A good question to ask yourself is "If money (or time, or a job or whatever) were no object, what would you be doing today, tomorrow, and next month." Then to whatever extent possible, do that."
Eating alone at a restaurant is not as much fun as eating with with someone. Seek company.
These things I know for sure.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Still Reading, huh?
Thank-you for your comments and good words, I needed them! But I didn't really know you were there. I hope I didn't say too much and look too foolish? I was sort of thinking out loud.
I think I get why so many people ( millions I have heard) write blogs. It's like having someone to talk to when there is no one to talk to. (At midnight. At 5:00 AM. In the middle of the day?)
My weekend was hot, and I am not talking about the good kind of hot. (I wish!) I am talking about the 97 degree, the AC unit is broken, can't do anything 'cause of sweat dripping in my eyes, hot! I don't know how the Florida pioneers survived all summer, or why they stayed. Two days and I was thisclose to heading back north. (But then maybe that had nothing to do with the heat.) I swam in the Gulf, drank frappachinos at Starbucks, shopped reallllyy slowwww at Walgreens, had a Sunday at MacDonalds, sat outside and did stuff. It was cooler outside than inside. I kept trying to find cool stuff to do! (Aside from the swim, the pioneers were really stuck with the heat.)
Monday was 15 degrees better.......the AC repairman came. Ahhhhhh. I breathe a sigh of cool relief.
Sooooo. Since coming home I have tackled a rat (yuck!), painted and erected a business sign (Wabi Sabi), and fixed a broken AC unit. Now I will tackle the repair/replacement of the fridge, washer and dryer. I am woman. I can do this stuff. (OK, I needed a little help from professional repairmen, but then so did the man in my previous life.)
No wonder the road holds so much attraction. At home we worry about stuff. We get caught up in humdrum and chores and what needs to be done. We watch the clock. We want stuff. We get cranky. We forget that it's the journey that counts, on the road or off. We forget about adventure. We forget to look around. We know what tomorrow will bring. Where's the unexpected?
Someone commented that maybe I should buy a used RV/camper and get back out there. It's a thought. But over the long haul, sounds lonely. This trip afforded lots of visits with especially nice people, and this sort of trip was unique in that way.
But I am thinking. There's more than one way. Will travel for food?
This morning I sat on my little porch watching a parade of people go by, bikers, cars, and people walking two by two to the beach. The wanderers danger may be in sitting too long in one place. I enjoyed the comforts of a home with others in it, a new campground to explore, a new motel room with continential breakfast!
On the other hand...............home...................time to read some, write some, paint some. A solid roof. Sunshine. Aqua clear Gulf waters and soft sandy beach. WiFi everyday.
I think I get why so many people ( millions I have heard) write blogs. It's like having someone to talk to when there is no one to talk to. (At midnight. At 5:00 AM. In the middle of the day?)
My weekend was hot, and I am not talking about the good kind of hot. (I wish!) I am talking about the 97 degree, the AC unit is broken, can't do anything 'cause of sweat dripping in my eyes, hot! I don't know how the Florida pioneers survived all summer, or why they stayed. Two days and I was thisclose to heading back north. (But then maybe that had nothing to do with the heat.) I swam in the Gulf, drank frappachinos at Starbucks, shopped reallllyy slowwww at Walgreens, had a Sunday at MacDonalds, sat outside and did stuff. It was cooler outside than inside. I kept trying to find cool stuff to do! (Aside from the swim, the pioneers were really stuck with the heat.)
Monday was 15 degrees better.......the AC repairman came. Ahhhhhh. I breathe a sigh of cool relief.
Sooooo. Since coming home I have tackled a rat (yuck!), painted and erected a business sign (Wabi Sabi), and fixed a broken AC unit. Now I will tackle the repair/replacement of the fridge, washer and dryer. I am woman. I can do this stuff. (OK, I needed a little help from professional repairmen, but then so did the man in my previous life.)
No wonder the road holds so much attraction. At home we worry about stuff. We get caught up in humdrum and chores and what needs to be done. We watch the clock. We want stuff. We get cranky. We forget that it's the journey that counts, on the road or off. We forget about adventure. We forget to look around. We know what tomorrow will bring. Where's the unexpected?
Someone commented that maybe I should buy a used RV/camper and get back out there. It's a thought. But over the long haul, sounds lonely. This trip afforded lots of visits with especially nice people, and this sort of trip was unique in that way.
But I am thinking. There's more than one way. Will travel for food?
This morning I sat on my little porch watching a parade of people go by, bikers, cars, and people walking two by two to the beach. The wanderers danger may be in sitting too long in one place. I enjoyed the comforts of a home with others in it, a new campground to explore, a new motel room with continential breakfast!
On the other hand...............home...................time to read some, write some, paint some. A solid roof. Sunshine. Aqua clear Gulf waters and soft sandy beach. WiFi everyday.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Home Alone
Hi,
Well, I have been home one week now. Back to the conventional life. Back to the must do this and should do that, trim the bushes, collect the rent, heft that barge and toke that bale! Ugg!
Out on the road, I lived pretty much for the moment. I lived each day for whatever that day had in store for me. And it was all good. There were no chores to do. All that was important was where I would sleep and what I would eat. It was easy for me. Some people think I was brave to go on the trip alone, but for me, it requires more courage to stay home and face the regular daily challenges alone.
Being home means I have to deal with seeing my ex from time to time. He doesn't say hello or talk to me. He hasn't been pleasant since, well, even before the divorce, not for a really really long time. I live next door and it's a sad situation. So there's that.
I have been home just the one week and already a tenant told me the washer AND the dryer don't work. My AC unit is malfunctioning, the refrigerator is making funny noises, and the lawn is mostly weeds and sorry looking.
I have enjoyed seeing my friends, though. They are the best part of here.
The thing is: I cried last night. One of those waves of sadness that caught me off guard. I can't really explain why or where it came from. But with it came all the fear, regret, guilt, hurt, jealousy, and confusion of the past year. The pain of divorce, I read on some website, can take a couple of years (or more) to subside. Then it occurred to me that yesterday, was the first anniversary of my divorce. It's has been a year, and either I would say "already" or "only". It just depends.
I really never felt this bad while on my road trip. As I said, it was easier for me out there.
I know that this bad stuff passes, but oh how it hurts while it's moving on by. I did all the things I know to do to make myself feel better. I talked to myself and told myself that I was fine, life is good. I reminded myself to be thankful and appreciate all I have. Of course it took over an hour for my words to sink in. Longer for my heart to buy in. I finally got past the bad feelings and fell asleep after midnight.
At five this morning, I awoke. The morning is always better.
If I describe my life to someone or even to myself, they always say how lucky I am to be living such a life. I describe how I live on a barrier island, in a loft above my studio and gallery, with rental property for a constant source of income, a lot of friends, trips planned, with time to write, paint, and garden. I guess I am lucky. (Are you listening, dear heart of mine?)
I am not sure anyone reads this blog anymore, now that the road has brought me back home, and that's OK. I can be free to be me. Taking to myself, or writing for myself, is therapeutic for me. It seems the sad anxious feelings that build up inside, eventually flow out with my words and get dispersed, leaving behind the better feelings. That kind of makes me think the bad stuff is floating out there waiting for another human body to seep into. The thoughts don't go away, they just wander about from person to person. We share the same feelings, good and bad. Taking turns.
I guess I find comfort in thinking that way. There is more to everyone than the smile on their face or the hurt in their eyes. We are a complicated bunch. We are a receptacle for temporary feelings that stay awhile and then move on.
Now I'll have another cup of coffee. Thank-you for listening.
Well, I have been home one week now. Back to the conventional life. Back to the must do this and should do that, trim the bushes, collect the rent, heft that barge and toke that bale! Ugg!
Out on the road, I lived pretty much for the moment. I lived each day for whatever that day had in store for me. And it was all good. There were no chores to do. All that was important was where I would sleep and what I would eat. It was easy for me. Some people think I was brave to go on the trip alone, but for me, it requires more courage to stay home and face the regular daily challenges alone.
Being home means I have to deal with seeing my ex from time to time. He doesn't say hello or talk to me. He hasn't been pleasant since, well, even before the divorce, not for a really really long time. I live next door and it's a sad situation. So there's that.
I have been home just the one week and already a tenant told me the washer AND the dryer don't work. My AC unit is malfunctioning, the refrigerator is making funny noises, and the lawn is mostly weeds and sorry looking.
I have enjoyed seeing my friends, though. They are the best part of here.
The thing is: I cried last night. One of those waves of sadness that caught me off guard. I can't really explain why or where it came from. But with it came all the fear, regret, guilt, hurt, jealousy, and confusion of the past year. The pain of divorce, I read on some website, can take a couple of years (or more) to subside. Then it occurred to me that yesterday, was the first anniversary of my divorce. It's has been a year, and either I would say "already" or "only". It just depends.
I really never felt this bad while on my road trip. As I said, it was easier for me out there.
I know that this bad stuff passes, but oh how it hurts while it's moving on by. I did all the things I know to do to make myself feel better. I talked to myself and told myself that I was fine, life is good. I reminded myself to be thankful and appreciate all I have. Of course it took over an hour for my words to sink in. Longer for my heart to buy in. I finally got past the bad feelings and fell asleep after midnight.
At five this morning, I awoke. The morning is always better.
If I describe my life to someone or even to myself, they always say how lucky I am to be living such a life. I describe how I live on a barrier island, in a loft above my studio and gallery, with rental property for a constant source of income, a lot of friends, trips planned, with time to write, paint, and garden. I guess I am lucky. (Are you listening, dear heart of mine?)
I am not sure anyone reads this blog anymore, now that the road has brought me back home, and that's OK. I can be free to be me. Taking to myself, or writing for myself, is therapeutic for me. It seems the sad anxious feelings that build up inside, eventually flow out with my words and get dispersed, leaving behind the better feelings. That kind of makes me think the bad stuff is floating out there waiting for another human body to seep into. The thoughts don't go away, they just wander about from person to person. We share the same feelings, good and bad. Taking turns.
I guess I find comfort in thinking that way. There is more to everyone than the smile on their face or the hurt in their eyes. We are a complicated bunch. We are a receptacle for temporary feelings that stay awhile and then move on.
Now I'll have another cup of coffee. Thank-you for listening.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Finally home
OK, I didn’t go straight home after all. I thought I was ready, but ….
I left Alexandria and headed south on I-95, the most direct route to IRB. Just south of Richmond, I came to a fork in the road. If I went straight, I would stay on 95, but if I veered off to the right, I would be on I-65 heading toward Atlanta. I veered. It was a hasty impulsive decision.
An hour down the road, I called Liz and asked if her cabin in Blue Ridge, Georgia was available for a few nights. It was. I drove my longest drive. Seven O’clock at night I arrived at a terrific modern rustic three story cabin in the woods. From the front porch rocking chair is a perfect view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Liz wasn’t there, (it would have been nicer if she was, but since I had the place to myself I decided to chill out, put my feet up, and stare at the moon. Ahhhhhhh……..)
It took a little doing to get there. After following directions down windy back roads I came to a place where my little rock laden Honda struggled to climb a steep uphill gravel road. But we made it. Now my recently washed car is covered in dust, looking pitiful. But then, sometimes when you want to get somewhere you’re going to get a little dust on the car.
The next morning, I did some front porch sitting and smiling at the mountains. Basically I did “nothing” all day long. I read a couple of magazines that had been with me the entire 9,000 miles that I never found time to read. I picked some blackberries. I love picking blackberries, so this wasn’t actually doing nothing. I went to bed at 8:00.
The next day I went into Blue Ridge for breakfast. There I met a nice lady who has sold her home in Fort Myers, Florida and Blue Ridge, GA, (She and her husband had planned on doing the seasonal living in two places arrangement, but). They were packing their bags to live in Reno, Nevada…..just because. They were having an adventure. Good for them.
I met a lady who bought and has been running a gallery in town since November. I don’t think it was as much fun as she thought it was going to be. It is pretty quiet in the winter, she says, but since they sell other artists works on commission, they have to keep the gallery open all year, six days a week, 10:00 to 6:00. She, coincidentially was from Fort Myers. Blue Ridge is a very friendly town. You would like it.
After three nights in Blue Ridge, I crept down the mountain at the first spark of dawn and coasted down south toward home!
And so now I am really backkkkkkkkkkk. I don’t really wish to be so. But it will be nice to see all my friends and soak in the Gulf of Mexico.
But being home means there is work to do. I am not sure impulsive decisions will are a smart thing to do on a day to day basis, so I have to think more, plan more. And I have to get rid of the mouse who took up residence in my house while I was gone. And bring the grass back to life. And go through the pile of mail. And, and, and.
The trip was easy. Now I have to get to the hard stuff.
I will be thinking about what I have learned and seen while on the road. People ask, "Is there a place you would want to move to, the best place you have been?" I will think about it and let you know. I have much to process. More to say.
I mean...... what now?
I left Alexandria and headed south on I-95, the most direct route to IRB. Just south of Richmond, I came to a fork in the road. If I went straight, I would stay on 95, but if I veered off to the right, I would be on I-65 heading toward Atlanta. I veered. It was a hasty impulsive decision.
An hour down the road, I called Liz and asked if her cabin in Blue Ridge, Georgia was available for a few nights. It was. I drove my longest drive. Seven O’clock at night I arrived at a terrific modern rustic three story cabin in the woods. From the front porch rocking chair is a perfect view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Liz wasn’t there, (it would have been nicer if she was, but since I had the place to myself I decided to chill out, put my feet up, and stare at the moon. Ahhhhhhh……..)
It took a little doing to get there. After following directions down windy back roads I came to a place where my little rock laden Honda struggled to climb a steep uphill gravel road. But we made it. Now my recently washed car is covered in dust, looking pitiful. But then, sometimes when you want to get somewhere you’re going to get a little dust on the car.
The next morning, I did some front porch sitting and smiling at the mountains. Basically I did “nothing” all day long. I read a couple of magazines that had been with me the entire 9,000 miles that I never found time to read. I picked some blackberries. I love picking blackberries, so this wasn’t actually doing nothing. I went to bed at 8:00.
The next day I went into Blue Ridge for breakfast. There I met a nice lady who has sold her home in Fort Myers, Florida and Blue Ridge, GA, (She and her husband had planned on doing the seasonal living in two places arrangement, but). They were packing their bags to live in Reno, Nevada…..just because. They were having an adventure. Good for them.
I met a lady who bought and has been running a gallery in town since November. I don’t think it was as much fun as she thought it was going to be. It is pretty quiet in the winter, she says, but since they sell other artists works on commission, they have to keep the gallery open all year, six days a week, 10:00 to 6:00. She, coincidentially was from Fort Myers. Blue Ridge is a very friendly town. You would like it.
After three nights in Blue Ridge, I crept down the mountain at the first spark of dawn and coasted down south toward home!
And so now I am really backkkkkkkkkkk. I don’t really wish to be so. But it will be nice to see all my friends and soak in the Gulf of Mexico.
But being home means there is work to do. I am not sure impulsive decisions will are a smart thing to do on a day to day basis, so I have to think more, plan more. And I have to get rid of the mouse who took up residence in my house while I was gone. And bring the grass back to life. And go through the pile of mail. And, and, and.
The trip was easy. Now I have to get to the hard stuff.
I will be thinking about what I have learned and seen while on the road. People ask, "Is there a place you would want to move to, the best place you have been?" I will think about it and let you know. I have much to process. More to say.
I mean...... what now?
Monday, July 20, 2009
Following the Interstate Home
I have not really thought through this dialog but I am going to publish it because this may or may not be my last blog posted before I get home. And I leave here in the morning.
So where the heck did the time go?!!! I’ve made a really big circle around our country. Can it be over so soon? I want a do over!
I can feel the pull of mountain streams, winding roads, and smooth red rocks calling me back. Still, I’m resisting the urge and heading south for palm trees and sandy beaches. (It doesn’t sound too bad when I put it that way.)
I cannot leave the places I have been altogether behind me. The amazing sights I have seen and the terrific people I have visited are unwilling to be ignored or forgotten by this brain of mine. This blog has helped me find my voice and I speak with enthusiasm of all I have seen and done.
I have had little time along the way to process or make sense of anything that was or is. I haven’t had the time to sort, delete, format, or edit. Not with any degree of skill, anyway. There has barely been enough time to view, collect data and file. Perhaps at home I can process and plan. And perhaps figure out, “now what?”
I have been pretty upbeat for most of my 6000+ mile road trip. There were, as you know, a few slips of confidence and gloomy moments. And occasionally I exhausted myself being me trying to recover my misplaced state of mind. But in spite of all or, because of all, I have to agree with the T-shirts that say “Life is good!”
Sometimes I believe in fate, that what is supposed to happen happens somehow. But other times, I think that things just happen. I took a few roads less traveled and when I came to a fork, I sometimes decided on a whim which way to go. I responded to cosmic nudges to turn here, stop there, and keep driving. Unfortunately, I haven’t found inspirational direction, or stumbled over a pot of gold, or met my soul mate. Not even a meaningful bond with a stranger. I have been propelled by circumstance toward nothing in particular at all, or so it seems. (Of course, I am not actually home just yet!) (And I haven’t digested the whole of the experience, yet.)
Would it be easier returning home if home were farther away from my ex-husband and my ex-life? Probably. So I will have decisions to make.
On the plus, however, in that same little town, there are other people, my people! My friends, and soon to be my friends. And all those I have spent time with along the way, on the road, and on the Internet. And they have been with me, helping me keep my head above water, helping me find my own road. I may have started this road trip seemingly alone, but I have been lucky enough to find friendship and conversation with special people along the way. When friends respond to my words with understanding and encouragement it is like a finding a warm place in the sun on a cold day. That has been the best part and that is saying a lot because I have been in some incredibly stunning places.
I need to think about those lifestyles I have experienced, the homes I shared, the places I have seen. I have been around enough to know that IRB is a good place to live, but there is more to life than finding a place. Although I don’t quite know what I am talking about here. Rambling again.
The sky has been overcast with gray clouds hanging low. The weather is less happy today. I overshot the sun. Maybe I stayed too long in one place, moved too slowly, or maybe a cloud has been hanging over home (I hear it has been raining a lot there) and as I get closer, there it is.
Anyway, I’ll be home soon.
I will blog until I get where I need to be emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, find a place in my head that feels right. Set my sails for my next thirty years.
The middle of August I will head for Boston to be with some old high school girl friends, all three of who I have visited along the way on this trip. I now know them in their natural habitat and I hope that will add to knowing them out of it too. Maybe they will help me sort, delete, edit and compose. I am so glad I get to go so soon after I arrive. Going home is hard!
Really hard!
So where the heck did the time go?!!! I’ve made a really big circle around our country. Can it be over so soon? I want a do over!
I can feel the pull of mountain streams, winding roads, and smooth red rocks calling me back. Still, I’m resisting the urge and heading south for palm trees and sandy beaches. (It doesn’t sound too bad when I put it that way.)
I cannot leave the places I have been altogether behind me. The amazing sights I have seen and the terrific people I have visited are unwilling to be ignored or forgotten by this brain of mine. This blog has helped me find my voice and I speak with enthusiasm of all I have seen and done.
I have had little time along the way to process or make sense of anything that was or is. I haven’t had the time to sort, delete, format, or edit. Not with any degree of skill, anyway. There has barely been enough time to view, collect data and file. Perhaps at home I can process and plan. And perhaps figure out, “now what?”
I have been pretty upbeat for most of my 6000+ mile road trip. There were, as you know, a few slips of confidence and gloomy moments. And occasionally I exhausted myself being me trying to recover my misplaced state of mind. But in spite of all or, because of all, I have to agree with the T-shirts that say “Life is good!”
Sometimes I believe in fate, that what is supposed to happen happens somehow. But other times, I think that things just happen. I took a few roads less traveled and when I came to a fork, I sometimes decided on a whim which way to go. I responded to cosmic nudges to turn here, stop there, and keep driving. Unfortunately, I haven’t found inspirational direction, or stumbled over a pot of gold, or met my soul mate. Not even a meaningful bond with a stranger. I have been propelled by circumstance toward nothing in particular at all, or so it seems. (Of course, I am not actually home just yet!) (And I haven’t digested the whole of the experience, yet.)
Would it be easier returning home if home were farther away from my ex-husband and my ex-life? Probably. So I will have decisions to make.
On the plus, however, in that same little town, there are other people, my people! My friends, and soon to be my friends. And all those I have spent time with along the way, on the road, and on the Internet. And they have been with me, helping me keep my head above water, helping me find my own road. I may have started this road trip seemingly alone, but I have been lucky enough to find friendship and conversation with special people along the way. When friends respond to my words with understanding and encouragement it is like a finding a warm place in the sun on a cold day. That has been the best part and that is saying a lot because I have been in some incredibly stunning places.
I need to think about those lifestyles I have experienced, the homes I shared, the places I have seen. I have been around enough to know that IRB is a good place to live, but there is more to life than finding a place. Although I don’t quite know what I am talking about here. Rambling again.
The sky has been overcast with gray clouds hanging low. The weather is less happy today. I overshot the sun. Maybe I stayed too long in one place, moved too slowly, or maybe a cloud has been hanging over home (I hear it has been raining a lot there) and as I get closer, there it is.
Anyway, I’ll be home soon.
I will blog until I get where I need to be emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, find a place in my head that feels right. Set my sails for my next thirty years.
The middle of August I will head for Boston to be with some old high school girl friends, all three of who I have visited along the way on this trip. I now know them in their natural habitat and I hope that will add to knowing them out of it too. Maybe they will help me sort, delete, edit and compose. I am so glad I get to go so soon after I arrive. Going home is hard!
Really hard!
Confluence
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I spent the weekend in Confluence, Pennsylvania. Erin, Jerry and I drove out to the mountains with two kayaks on the roof of the car. We met up with a family reunion of good friends. We camped out in the backyard of their B and B, and came in for food and conversation. It was wonderful except for the trains which passed by every hour on tracks that were 20 feet from the front door. In the wee hours of the morning, you could hear the train coming, a tiny muffled growl that grew with incredible intensity until you held your breath thinking that the engine was about to blast through the tent. And if that didn’t get you sitting bolt upright, the horn blowing as it approached the intersection would. It was a loud and memorable part of the experience.
There were nineteen people in the reunion, we added three more. We ate like kings and lived like vagabonds. Some people kayaked and some played and some went to see Frank’s Lloyd Wright’s Falling Waters, which is probably the architect’s most memorable work, a 1930s modern looking h
ouse that was build right over a waterfall. Surely you’ve seen pictures?
Confluence is a town situated where three rivers collide. It has a few stores, a couple of restaurants, beautiful scenery and one well traveled railroad!
I took a little walk one morning while everyone else was still sleeping. The mountains were amazing in the morning mist. In some places all I could see were dark shadowy bushes and trees growing out of a cloud high above. The day lilies were still closed tight and it was sooooo quiet.
It was hard to leave that and go back to the traffic and noise of metropolitan Washington DC. But for the rest of my party, Monday is a workday. So here I am, back in their town house.
I took part of today to see DC and check out our nation’s capital. Finding my way to Pentagon City and then on the metro to the the Smithsonians was a challenge in itself, with the little experience I've had on my own in such situations. Picture me trying not too look too confused and vulnerable while trying to navigate the system, the cost of a metro ticket, and the blue, orange, yellow and green metro lines, getting off at one stop, seeing a few memorials and finding my way back to another metro stop and eventually finding my car and the correct interstate to the correct exit and back home. Whew! Made it.
There were nineteen people in the reunion, we added three more. We ate like kings and lived like vagabonds. Some people kayaked and some played and some went to see Frank’s Lloyd Wright’s Falling Waters, which is probably the architect’s most memorable work, a 1930s modern looking h
ouse that was build right over a waterfall. Surely you’ve seen pictures?Confluence is a town situated where three rivers collide. It has a few stores, a couple of restaurants, beautiful scenery and one well traveled railroad!
I took a little walk one morning while everyone else was still sleeping. The mountains were amazing in the morning mist. In some places all I could see were dark shadowy bushes and trees growing out of a cloud high above. The day lilies were still closed tight and it was sooooo quiet.
It was hard to leave that and go back to the traffic and noise of metropolitan Washington DC. But for the rest of my party, Monday is a workday. So here I am, back in their town house.
I took part of today to see DC and check out our nation’s capital. Finding my way to Pentagon City and then on the metro to the the Smithsonians was a challenge in itself, with the little experience I've had on my own in such situations. Picture me trying not too look too confused and vulnerable while trying to navigate the system, the cost of a metro ticket, and the blue, orange, yellow and green metro lines, getting off at one stop, seeing a few memorials and finding my way back to another metro stop and eventually finding my car and the correct interstate to the correct exit and back home. Whew! Made it.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Writer's Block
(This photo is of "The Thinker" which stands in front of the Cleveland Art Museum. I have always liked the statue. I feel like I understand it.)
For some mysterious reason, I’ve found it hard to write this past week. I could attribute it to being closer to home and the pull that I feel on each arm in opposing directions, one toward home, and one in the opposite direction. I haven’t been able to bring my hands down to where the computer keys are.
Yeah, that must be it, ‘cause even thinking about the end of this road trip, sends a chill up my spine and not in a good way. I’m not ready to get back to the conventional life, the real world, regular everyday stuff. I want to keep going, be irresponsible, and continue my wandering ways, talk to wise old streams and eat peanut butter by a campfire. But………heck…….I think I will be coasting down the Smokey Mountains next week, slowly, toward Florida, toward my island. (Although, I really do think that if I have to live in one place, IRB is one of the best places to do it.)
For the time being, though, I’m spending a few days in Alexandria, Virginia, just outside of Washington, DC. I’m staying at my daughter’s town home. Yesterday, while Erin and Jerry were at work, I took the opportunity to organize (again), wash clothes, check emails, and generally try to clean up the mess in my car. It took all day and I still didn’t get done. And I worked hard at it, too. And I tried to blog, but the words wouldn’t come. It has been almost a week since my last post and I feel negligent!
However, I wasn’t able to blog at my last stop, anyway. Cousin Stan in Chesterland, Ohio doesn’t have a computer and thus no internet access. A rare bird in this age of electronic communication. I can’t even imagine living without a computer anymore! But he and Pat manage just fine. They like it that way, and I am thinking they may be onto something. Sometimes less information is good. Sometimes not being so readily available is less stressful. Being a little less connected can be peaceful, even more so if you live on a gravel road surrounded by trees.
Ohio was a familiar place for me and I visited my old haunts. I stopped to walk down the sidewalk I’d walked every school day from the start of kindergarten up to fourth grade. We lived in an apartment house owned by my grandmother and grandfather (Mommer and Popper). It was one block from the elementary School. Things haven't changed much from what I remember, although when I lived there the area was almost totally white Anglo types and now it is mostly an African American community. There were very few other changes, except for little stuff like my doctor’s office now being a pizza shop and the old movie house gone altogether. I used to be able to buy candy in the Big Little Store for a penny, candy bars for a nickel and ice cream cones for a dime. At today’s prices, I can’t afford them.
The apartment house looked much the same although in need of sprucing up. I tried to remember my younger self, catching fireflies, riding my big three wheeler around the parking lot, playing with Karen who lived next door, coming home for lunch and racing back to school when the first bell rang. T’was all a really long time ago, another lifetime so it seems. Our old apartment had a for rent sign in the window!
My Ohio childhood is a life far removed from my Florida life. I left Ohio a married woman at the age of twenty-two, a graduate of Kent State University, and settled in a warmer climate for the rest of my life.
Following is what I did while in Chesterland, Ohio. On a day threatening rain I went to a flea market in a park where I bought nothing, sat with Stan and Pat sharing a bottle of wine and a cheese plate in a local winery, toured the wonderful Cleveland Museum of Art, and watched Mamma Mia on the TV. Also, I enjoyed the company of their son and his family, ate terrific homemade dinners, went to a backyard birthday party for a one year old, and enthusiastically discussed politics with my cousins as the television news commentators brought up one disturbing issue after another. And I think our distinctly different views were disturbing, too! Well….maybe stimulating is a better word.
I stayed overnight just outside of Uniontown, PA in the Historic Summit Inn, once considered a grand porch hotel on the top of the world. I crossed paths with Thomas Edison and Henry Ford again. (Toured their ground in Ohio, too) Others who have come before me include Warren Harding, Harvey Firestone and Jonny Weissmuller!
It has been cool for July and I am having a hard time comtemplating August heat in Florida. The weather report for 33785 says it has been raining and in the eighties. I guess my grass won’t die nor the candles melt while I have been gone. Hope not, anyway.
Before heading home though, I will be heading to Confluence, Pennslyvania for the weekend where I and Erin and Jerry will be meeting up with friends and hopefully doing a little kayaking and camping.
So, in case you were wondering if I had been captured by pirates or swept off my feet by a poor but shockingly handsome and charming gigolo, or simply got lost on the back roads of the Appalachian Mountains, I thought I would let you know, all is as it ought to be, I am well.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Macedonia, Ohio
I am staying with a cousin and her husband in Macedonia, Ohio for a few days.
I was born in a nearby town, but from the age of 10 until I went off to college I lived in the very same subdivision , in a similiar red brick house, that my cousin now lives in, here in Macedonia. I am, I'd say, back in my hometown. An interesting place to be at this point in my road trip.
It has changed quite a lot. It was pretty rural back in the days when I road my bike down the streets and played in the woods. Back then a kid could be outside all day, out of site, and no one worried about their safety. And we didn't even have cell phones to check in with! Me and my cousins knew the woods well. We knew where to find the pussy willows growing beside a pond, where to pick berries, and where the rocky ledges were where we could shimmy up a narrow crevice to the top. We knew where the hole in the fence was to allow us to get through the barrier and where the trees fell just right to facilitate hut building.
Now there is a Walmart, Target, and strip centers where the Turkey farm used to be. Open meadows have become subdivisions. Our swimming hole is no longer swimable. Just yesterday construction crews removed the railroad overpass that was a landmark in the middle of Macedonia. My old junior high school is completely gone! Lots of things are gone. I barely recognize the place.
However, nearby, the beautiful connected system of parks that make up the Emerald Necklace around Cleveland is still here. My family used to go on Sunday drives in the parks on roads that followed the Cuyahoga River Valley or the Erie canal. That was back when gas was $ .33 a gallon. The fountain in the park bordering Tinkers Creek where us little kids used to play still spouts and there are still little kids playing in it, even though a sign that says no wading or swimming still stands next to it.
My family spent a lot of time in the parks. We would cook breakfast on a camp stove, hike the trails, climb cliffs, and walk down the creek in our old tennis shoes.
I road down roads I must have ridden down a hundred times before, but I was not hit with nostalgia. Too many changes. The house I lived in has been neglected and looks kind of sad. The woods I used to play in that started where our backyard ended is gone, replaced by big homes with fancy patios. In general, everything looks smaller than in my memory. The distances between towns shorter. The winter ski slopes that I feared descending look barely high enough for a good ride.
We, Bobbie, Ken and I, traveled south a little, past Canton, and spent yesterday in Amish country. We sampled cheese at the cheese factory, and taste tested bakery at the bakery. We walked through a dozen shops selling lawn decorations and country knick knacks. We admired the farms. We saw black buggies pulled by horses and driven by women and men in traditional conservative dress. We speculated on and had questions about the lifestyle of the Amish. We stopped for a family style dinner at Der Dutchman, and ate a bountiful county dinner of salad, whole wheat rolls, baked chicken, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, dressing and gravy with a big slice of pie for dessert. (Banana cream, coconut cream, and oatmeal pie were our choices but the list of berry and cream pies was ridiculously long.) Afterwards we walked our over-stuffed selves back to the car for the ride home. We observed fields being plowed the old fashioned way with horse and plow. We admired the large farms and mosaic hillsides with fields of corn and wheat and beans and whatever. It was sunny, the sky blue with scattered puffy while clouds. It looked like a folk art painting complete with red barns and white silos.
As night approached we sat in their backyard and toasted marshmallows over a fire. A big strawberry moon provided enough light for us to sit leisurely until we were done.
Being in my hometown does not make me feel like I am home, but I enjoyed the respite and the memories and a taste of the good old days. Home is now 1500 miles away in Florida and I will be back there at the end of the month.
For now, I plan to stay another night, and then travel only a few miles to visit my country cousin in Chesterland, Ohio.
I was born in a nearby town, but from the age of 10 until I went off to college I lived in the very same subdivision , in a similiar red brick house, that my cousin now lives in, here in Macedonia. I am, I'd say, back in my hometown. An interesting place to be at this point in my road trip.
It has changed quite a lot. It was pretty rural back in the days when I road my bike down the streets and played in the woods. Back then a kid could be outside all day, out of site, and no one worried about their safety. And we didn't even have cell phones to check in with! Me and my cousins knew the woods well. We knew where to find the pussy willows growing beside a pond, where to pick berries, and where the rocky ledges were where we could shimmy up a narrow crevice to the top. We knew where the hole in the fence was to allow us to get through the barrier and where the trees fell just right to facilitate hut building.
Now there is a Walmart, Target, and strip centers where the Turkey farm used to be. Open meadows have become subdivisions. Our swimming hole is no longer swimable. Just yesterday construction crews removed the railroad overpass that was a landmark in the middle of Macedonia. My old junior high school is completely gone! Lots of things are gone. I barely recognize the place.
However, nearby, the beautiful connected system of parks that make up the Emerald Necklace around Cleveland is still here. My family used to go on Sunday drives in the parks on roads that followed the Cuyahoga River Valley or the Erie canal. That was back when gas was $ .33 a gallon. The fountain in the park bordering Tinkers Creek where us little kids used to play still spouts and there are still little kids playing in it, even though a sign that says no wading or swimming still stands next to it.
My family spent a lot of time in the parks. We would cook breakfast on a camp stove, hike the trails, climb cliffs, and walk down the creek in our old tennis shoes.
I road down roads I must have ridden down a hundred times before, but I was not hit with nostalgia. Too many changes. The house I lived in has been neglected and looks kind of sad. The woods I used to play in that started where our backyard ended is gone, replaced by big homes with fancy patios. In general, everything looks smaller than in my memory. The distances between towns shorter. The winter ski slopes that I feared descending look barely high enough for a good ride.
We, Bobbie, Ken and I, traveled south a little, past Canton, and spent yesterday in Amish country. We sampled cheese at the cheese factory, and taste tested bakery at the bakery. We walked through a dozen shops selling lawn decorations and country knick knacks. We admired the farms. We saw black buggies pulled by horses and driven by women and men in traditional conservative dress. We speculated on and had questions about the lifestyle of the Amish. We stopped for a family style dinner at Der Dutchman, and ate a bountiful county dinner of salad, whole wheat rolls, baked chicken, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, dressing and gravy with a big slice of pie for dessert. (Banana cream, coconut cream, and oatmeal pie were our choices but the list of berry and cream pies was ridiculously long.) Afterwards we walked our over-stuffed selves back to the car for the ride home. We observed fields being plowed the old fashioned way with horse and plow. We admired the large farms and mosaic hillsides with fields of corn and wheat and beans and whatever. It was sunny, the sky blue with scattered puffy while clouds. It looked like a folk art painting complete with red barns and white silos.
As night approached we sat in their backyard and toasted marshmallows over a fire. A big strawberry moon provided enough light for us to sit leisurely until we were done.
Being in my hometown does not make me feel like I am home, but I enjoyed the respite and the memories and a taste of the good old days. Home is now 1500 miles away in Florida and I will be back there at the end of the month.
For now, I plan to stay another night, and then travel only a few miles to visit my country cousin in Chesterland, Ohio.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
Cool Fun!
That's me on the Zamboni! The one waving. That's Tom driving.
Whoo Hoo!
I've got my fleece on.
We were scraping the ice.
Cooool!!!
Real cooolllll!
Monday, June 29, 2009
Chelsea, MI
The days go by so very fast. That's why, just in case you were wondering, I sometimes don't find the time to write. There is so much to do. Sometimes, no news is good news. If I were to be writing a lot, take pity, because it would seem, I have nothing better to do.
I'm in Chelsea, Michigan. I am staying with Cousin Tom and his wife Deb, in their 1929 home with a homemade pond and creek, tall grasses, lily pads, frogs, birds and goldfish. Very nice! While I am here I hope to visit with other cousins I haven't seen in quite a while.
It's a little chilly and gloomy out. They keep telling me this is not the usual Michigan weather for July, but I am not convinced. We have not had the opportunity to have dinner on the back deck. Too cold. I had put my blue jeans and long sleeves away, not expecting to need them any more on this trip, not since leaving the mountains, but I do and so had to dig them out of the back-up suitcase. After Cincy's excessive sun and heat however, this is not altogether unpleasant weather.
My last days in Cincinnati were filled with leisure sightseeing, shopping, and tasting the city's unique cuisine from Coney dogs to ribs. I was shown the city at night, from the other side of the Ohio. From Kentucky. The lights were worth the trip. The bridges and tall buildings glowed and twinkled from behind the dark outline of an old riverboat. Back at the hotel, we sat up late listening to more stories and speculation on TV regarding the recent death of Michael Jackson. The mornings in Cincy were slow and wonderfully comfortable and unhurried. The visit was over too soon.
It took me about five hours of interstate driving to get to Chelsea. I got to thinking old familiar thoughts that I have thought about too many times already, obsessive thoughts, unhappy thoughts about my divorce. A rehash of what happened. Trying to figure out what didn't make sense. Trying to figure out was said, what was done, what. what, what? Damn! I allowed myself the time to dwell once more. But I am OK with that. The bad feelings would be short lived I knew, and sometimes I just need to let my mind do it's thing.
(Ok, It has been almost a year since the divorce, and yes, it still unfortunately, sadly crosses my mind from time to time)
This time, though, a new perspective. A new approach. A missing puzzle piece. A thought I hadn't thought before. Wondering. Making sense. I will think about it again when I have time. It was enough for now. I reached my destination. The goodbye feeling was replaced by hello as I knocked on Tom and Deb"s door.
Greetings and chit chat. One of my favorite things!
Each morning Deb, her friend Cathy, and I walked all over Chelsea. I enjoyed yet another small town's appealing old homes and gardens. One afternoon, we walked main street, stopping in most of the small shops and went to see the Chelsea Teddy Bear Factory. At 7:30 PM we went to the ice rink and watched Tom play hockey. Hockey is a big thing in Chelsea. and the ice complex is impressive. As for me, it was surely a unique way to spend a few hours. I had a good time in the second floor restaurant sipping hot chocolate and Kahlua and watching the skaters.
I'm in Chelsea, Michigan. I am staying with Cousin Tom and his wife Deb, in their 1929 home with a homemade pond and creek, tall grasses, lily pads, frogs, birds and goldfish. Very nice! While I am here I hope to visit with other cousins I haven't seen in quite a while.
It's a little chilly and gloomy out. They keep telling me this is not the usual Michigan weather for July, but I am not convinced. We have not had the opportunity to have dinner on the back deck. Too cold. I had put my blue jeans and long sleeves away, not expecting to need them any more on this trip, not since leaving the mountains, but I do and so had to dig them out of the back-up suitcase. After Cincy's excessive sun and heat however, this is not altogether unpleasant weather.
My last days in Cincinnati were filled with leisure sightseeing, shopping, and tasting the city's unique cuisine from Coney dogs to ribs. I was shown the city at night, from the other side of the Ohio. From Kentucky. The lights were worth the trip. The bridges and tall buildings glowed and twinkled from behind the dark outline of an old riverboat. Back at the hotel, we sat up late listening to more stories and speculation on TV regarding the recent death of Michael Jackson. The mornings in Cincy were slow and wonderfully comfortable and unhurried. The visit was over too soon.
It took me about five hours of interstate driving to get to Chelsea. I got to thinking old familiar thoughts that I have thought about too many times already, obsessive thoughts, unhappy thoughts about my divorce. A rehash of what happened. Trying to figure out what didn't make sense. Trying to figure out was said, what was done, what. what, what? Damn! I allowed myself the time to dwell once more. But I am OK with that. The bad feelings would be short lived I knew, and sometimes I just need to let my mind do it's thing.
(Ok, It has been almost a year since the divorce, and yes, it still unfortunately, sadly crosses my mind from time to time)
This time, though, a new perspective. A new approach. A missing puzzle piece. A thought I hadn't thought before. Wondering. Making sense. I will think about it again when I have time. It was enough for now. I reached my destination. The goodbye feeling was replaced by hello as I knocked on Tom and Deb"s door.
Greetings and chit chat. One of my favorite things!
Each morning Deb, her friend Cathy, and I walked all over Chelsea. I enjoyed yet another small town's appealing old homes and gardens. One afternoon, we walked main street, stopping in most of the small shops and went to see the Chelsea Teddy Bear Factory. At 7:30 PM we went to the ice rink and watched Tom play hockey. Hockey is a big thing in Chelsea. and the ice complex is impressive. As for me, it was surely a unique way to spend a few hours. I had a good time in the second floor restaurant sipping hot chocolate and Kahlua and watching the skaters.
On Wednesday, we went to Greenfield Village. Greenfield Village is an extensive re-creation of an old time town complete with pottery, glass, tin, candy and blacksmith shops, newspaper press, homes, plantation, railroad roundhouse, farm buildings, etc. The highlights are Thomas Edison's laboratories and the information about his inventions and life. He is responsible for over 1400 inventions some of major consequences to our every day lives. What an amazing man! I also enjoyed the Model T Fords driving down the streets, a rest stop that included popcorn and root beer, and a ride on a big frog on an old carousel. You wouldn't be disappointed if you went out of your way to put Greenfield Village on your itinerary.
After dinner at the Mongolian Grill we were back home, tired but happy, while rain and gloom brought on the evening. but never mind the weather, all in all, it was another good day on the road.
Chelsea is home of Jiffy. This is the factory where they make those little boxes of muffin and cornbread mix that you buy in the grocery store. I wanted a tour, but they closed for the holiday. Rats!
While I live in a small town, our beach town in Florida is a very different animal from the Midwest small towns I have been spending time in. For one thing there is no real downtown in IRB, but rather a mile and a half main drag edged by seasonal accommodations, condos, a couple of small strip centers, scattered restaurants and private homes. We have only a couple of nice shops, but even more vacant lots in need of landscaping. We do have a wonderful beach but that’s not on the main boulevard.
Yesterday evening, Tom, Deb and I walked across the backyard through where the fence used to be. We picked a few blackberries from scattered bushes and headed up to Main Street to join the rest of the town folks who were wandering around listening to a variety of musicians. There was a loud rock and roll band on the corner of Main and 1st, an Irish duo with a guitar and a dulcimer on the lawn in front of the library (America’s best #1 small library!), a suit and tie clad jazz combo on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant, a “hillbilly” trio playing “Chug-a-Lug, Chug-a-lug” in the alley beside an art gallery, three boys playing plastic bucket drums by the bookstore, a solo folk singer on the factory commons, a brass trio in a parking lot and a small band with a Latin singer who sounded like Elvis doing their thing in a sunken cement entry to another restaurant.
Chelsea is a town of about 2000. And I think most of them were out and about Thursday night wandering around town. Main Street isn’t even a half mile long, but it was filled with the sound of music. The shops were open for business. There was a hot dog vendor, a couple of guys twisting balloons into animals and a man balancing a stool on his chin. Adults and little children sat on the grass, folding chairs or curbs to enjoy the sounds. This went on for two hours. And it happens every Thursday for most of the summer! It was wonderful and filled my soul with a good feeling.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Lovin' wherever I am
I think I get to liking wherever I am. Nancy has been showing me Cincinnati, the colorful neighborhoods, the fantastic views, cute boutiques and coffee shops, the downtown and the Palm Court at the Netherlands Hilton where we had some sort of blackberry and blueberry drink concoctions that were tall and cool on a really hot day. And it has been really hot, even for these Florida girls.
I particularly love the variety of downtown architecture and the old narrow Victorian style homes brightly painted in many colors and the up and down brick streets running through each residential community with little restaurants and shops for locals.
We went to the Pendleton Art Center Final Friday open house event last night. The center is housed in some sort of old factory building. There were seven floors of individual art studios to peruse. Wonderful art. Unique art. Mostly original stuff. We wore out before we made it to all seven floors and went to a nearby pub mostly to sit and rest.
It is nothing like IRB here. It is a totally different lifestyle. You see men in suits and ties here. Everything is on a hill. There are really big buildings and Wabi Sabi sort of really old loved homes. And some not so loved sadly needy homes. A big river. I have been impressed. Lots to do. Places to go. Ohio. Not my cup of tea, but yet.......I can see why people could like it.
It has been nice to stop for a moment on this road trip of mine and wake up slow in the morning and snuggle in a soft many pillowed bed. Taking the time to get to know a place is good. I have been pretty much on the move, although I did slow down long enough to get a feel for California, Seattle, Denver and Arkansas City. When seeing a place through the eyes of someone else, a place takes on a little of their individual personality. It is not just me doing what I always do. It is me doing what someone else always does. Seeing with their perspective, seeing what they love and how they choose to spend their time is really fine.
And here in Cincy I even have Wifi and time to blog. And that's before breakfast!
I particularly love the variety of downtown architecture and the old narrow Victorian style homes brightly painted in many colors and the up and down brick streets running through each residential community with little restaurants and shops for locals.
We went to the Pendleton Art Center Final Friday open house event last night. The center is housed in some sort of old factory building. There were seven floors of individual art studios to peruse. Wonderful art. Unique art. Mostly original stuff. We wore out before we made it to all seven floors and went to a nearby pub mostly to sit and rest.
It is nothing like IRB here. It is a totally different lifestyle. You see men in suits and ties here. Everything is on a hill. There are really big buildings and Wabi Sabi sort of really old loved homes. And some not so loved sadly needy homes. A big river. I have been impressed. Lots to do. Places to go. Ohio. Not my cup of tea, but yet.......I can see why people could like it.
It has been nice to stop for a moment on this road trip of mine and wake up slow in the morning and snuggle in a soft many pillowed bed. Taking the time to get to know a place is good. I have been pretty much on the move, although I did slow down long enough to get a feel for California, Seattle, Denver and Arkansas City. When seeing a place through the eyes of someone else, a place takes on a little of their individual personality. It is not just me doing what I always do. It is me doing what someone else always does. Seeing with their perspective, seeing what they love and how they choose to spend their time is really fine.
And here in Cincy I even have Wifi and time to blog. And that's before breakfast!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Cincy
Sittin' in a room at the Crowne Plaza in Cincy. Bloggin' and chatting with Nancy, a friend from back home in IRB. I just wanted to create the picture in your mind of me in Cincinnati, crossed legged on the bed, computer in front of me, typing away, occasionally being interrupted with conversation (both ways) on topics of just about anything.
I lost an hour getting here, to the banks of the Ohio river, but I am now back in my own time zone. Ohio is where I was born and raised, but even so, home never felt like home. My then husband and I moved south as soon as we both graduated from college. But it feels strange to be back in Ohio, spending a little time. I have never been crazy about the Midwest. Don't know why.
I would like to say that I looked forward to every mile on this trip, but I didn't looking forward to the drive through the Midwest. I just wanted to move on through. Add the oppressive heat and the long drive without a lot of interesting diversion and it this is not the good stuff of the trip.
My odometer now reads over 12,000. I think I started around 4,000.
I am finally able to appreciate down time more, time when I don’t write, or think. Less of a restless wandered, less wide-eyed. Possibly this has to do with geography.
As I left the Ozarks, the terrain became more and more familiar. The hills, the vegetation and the trees were the sort of woods I use to play in when I was little. There was an old familiar feeling that came over me. As a kid, back when it was safe to go into the woods alone, I spent many hours "playing" outside, picking wild flowers, and meeting up with my cousins from the other side of the woods to build huts. We knew where we could squeeze under the fence, where to find the big rocks and where to pick blackberries and pussy willows. You know, the good ole days.
Back then, I had no idea where life would lead me. So now I am seeing a montage of time passed, a glimpse of me as a little kid, a college student at Kent State, getting married, leaving Ohio, having kids, teaching school, other jobs, different homes, divorce and right up to here, 62 and on the road. Who knew? Heck, back then, no cells phones, no computers, no blogging!
Anyway, here I am.
Here I go!
Gonna explore Cincy.
Love ya more today than yesterday. Take care my friends. Catch ya later.
I lost an hour getting here, to the banks of the Ohio river, but I am now back in my own time zone. Ohio is where I was born and raised, but even so, home never felt like home. My then husband and I moved south as soon as we both graduated from college. But it feels strange to be back in Ohio, spending a little time. I have never been crazy about the Midwest. Don't know why.
I would like to say that I looked forward to every mile on this trip, but I didn't looking forward to the drive through the Midwest. I just wanted to move on through. Add the oppressive heat and the long drive without a lot of interesting diversion and it this is not the good stuff of the trip.
My odometer now reads over 12,000. I think I started around 4,000.
I am finally able to appreciate down time more, time when I don’t write, or think. Less of a restless wandered, less wide-eyed. Possibly this has to do with geography.
As I left the Ozarks, the terrain became more and more familiar. The hills, the vegetation and the trees were the sort of woods I use to play in when I was little. There was an old familiar feeling that came over me. As a kid, back when it was safe to go into the woods alone, I spent many hours "playing" outside, picking wild flowers, and meeting up with my cousins from the other side of the woods to build huts. We knew where we could squeeze under the fence, where to find the big rocks and where to pick blackberries and pussy willows. You know, the good ole days.
Back then, I had no idea where life would lead me. So now I am seeing a montage of time passed, a glimpse of me as a little kid, a college student at Kent State, getting married, leaving Ohio, having kids, teaching school, other jobs, different homes, divorce and right up to here, 62 and on the road. Who knew? Heck, back then, no cells phones, no computers, no blogging!
Anyway, here I am.
Here I go!
Gonna explore Cincy.
Love ya more today than yesterday. Take care my friends. Catch ya later.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Past St. Louis and Heading East....Slowly
I've spent the last week in Kansas. Yes folks, a WEEK in KANSAS!
And I loved it! The life style is easy and manageable. Everything you really need is close by and you can get there driving down roads with very little traffic. Home is comfortable. Southeastern Kansas has hills and rivers running through it. The towns are vibrant and clean and not crowded. There are small universities and colleges, city parks, and community events. People know each other. It feels safe. It’s nice.
The towns are either holding their own or growing. Beautification projects are underway. New businesses are opening. They don’t seem to be sinking with the economic woes that most other places are agonizing over. Although, of course, they have changed over the years, and unemployment exists, they seem to roll with the punches and move on. People retire in these towns. They entertain themselves. The livin' is easy!
But it’s not ideal. They get the worse of winter and the worse of summer weather. Right now, 96 degrees and almost 100% humidity. It's feels much worse than Indian Rocks Beach, Florida. Their winters are really cold. And there is no ocean, no beach, or mountain in sight and one must travel a long way to find those natural attractions. And let us not forget the threat of tornadoes.
I have always thought of Kansas as being in the middle of nowhere. And while that thought still persists, I really liked Kansas and I can see the appeal for those who live there. I would consider it.
Another of my high school girlfriends lives in Kansas and we spent most of our time sitting on the front porch doing what we do best. We talked. We sipped wine and we talked about our feelings, the kind of conversation that most men would prefer to avoid. We laughed and we cried a little.
Connie showed me some of the sights in Arkansas City, the cute boutiques and antique shops, the Land Rush Museum and the Flint Hills. We had lunch in a five table country restaurant in a five building town where a delicious chicken salad costs $4.50! We had dinner at a restaurant by the golf course where her husband spent much of his time. While sitting outside in one of the city parks one evening, we watched an improv show put on by college students.
From Arkansas City I drove three hours to Pittsburg, Kansas and enjoyed another evening with a friend, which involved another tour though a another nice little town. There was more porch sitting and intimate conversation. There was more wine too. I got to spend another night in another comfortable home in Kansas.
All in all, my experience with Kansas was excellent. Well, except for the flat hot lonely western part and that one other issue. I kept getting lost in Kansas. Without mountains or a large body of water for reference, I couldn’t seem to get my direction. Signage is poor. If I missed the ONE sign telling me to turn, I was in trouble. I saw many parts of Kansas twice. Not that I wanted to. But to get where I wanted to go, I must of turned around more than a dozen times, retracing my steps, looking for the road I should be on. I pulled over often to consult my maps, got lost even before leaving town, and should have had a compass. But I didn’t. And yes, I know what you are thinking. “What happened to the GPS?” I shoulda hooked it up, figured it out, turned it on. I didn’t. I haven’t.
Yesterday I drove through the Ozarks which was quite lovely. This part of the Ozarks had a landscape that was bigger than hills, but smaller than real mountains. It had character and lakes and wineries. It was green with real woods like the ones I remember playing in in northern Ohio.
I did an up close with the St. Louis Arch. I spent the night in a regular motel and am about to go get some of their continental breakfast and coffee. Then back on the road. I am heading to Cincinnati and will be spending time with a friend from back "home." We plan to have fun in Cincy. I heard they are celebrating Final Friday or something like that.
The road trip is going well. I am on the third leg. Days go by very fast. I am not lonely on my long drives. Responsibilities are few. I am NOT ready to go home.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Wheat fields, Cornfields, and Brick Roads
When I was leaving Indian Rocks Beach, Florida, the quip that went with my departure was that I was “getting out of Dodge.” Well currently that doesn't apply, because I am, quite literally, in Dodge. My room at the Bed and Breakfast looks right down on Boot Hill. Really! Last night, I heard a gunfight. Again, really. Well, a pretend gunfight, anyway, staged to entertain the tourist. I heard it while I was sitting on my porch sipping wine!
I can’t help thinking of Matt Dillon and Kitty Russell.
Dodge City, Kansas prospered because of the railroads that came through town and because of the buffalo that roamed in great number on the plains. Hunters and business men shot thousands and thousands of buffalo primarily for their hides and sent the hides east on the rail cars. When the buffalo were decimated by greed, cattle ranches were established to provide much desired beef for eastern buyers. Beef is still the major product of the area. And outside the inn it smells a little like cattle, if you know what I mean.
It is a lovely Inn, the Boot Hill Bed and Breakfast. I met Janie and Susan and while we had breakfast we chatted. They have both experienced divorce and our conversation was good, filled with understanding and admiration and knowing and interest. It was good for me.
Now ......
I will, literally, get out of Dodge. But before I do, I will share some thinking.
Someone asked me if I have had any inspired ideas while on this journey across the USA. Has there been an epithany? Future intention? Understanding? Or has a life plan developed? Have I found direction? Well, until yesterday, I had to admit there had been nothing of that sort. Not yet! But truthfully, that‘s because I haven’t had time to really think. I have been so caught up with the scenery and otherwise visiting with such wonderful family and friends that I have not really stopped to ponder about life back in “Dodge.”
But yesterday, while traveling across the plains which do not excite my senses, I figured it was a good time to get serious, think about post road trip life, and create a vision and a strategy. There wasn’t much to distract me. For most of the day, driving through south eastern Colorado and western Kansas, all I saw was fields of stuff jusy beginning to grow and cattle roaming. For hours upon hours, fields and cattle. The flat terrain was occasionally interrupted by a grassy swell. Rather dull topography, although being able to see for miles ahead had a certain appeal. Anyway, it was a fine day for conversation with me, myself and I.
At first, a cloud of gloom managed to hang over the car, keeping pace, flashing hazy pictures of divorce and my ex as well as my ex B and B and the stuff I forgot to take with me. Throw in a few wisps of financial concern, things not said, things said, and what coulda shoulda been and I felt a little bummed for a while. But serious thinking needed to start there. Then, my thinking shifted gears even if my car didn't. I thought about how lucky I am to have so many terrific friends. I thought about my town, my community and my cool little unusual home (talk about creative use of office space!) although I would still like to have a real kitchen to cook in. I'll have to get one one way or another. I thought about this road trip and living a dream and about how far I have come both geographically and figuratively. I pictured a "perfect" life. But what I have, for the most part, has been really good. I am a mom and an artist. A traveler and a writer. I am woman , hear me roar!!!
A change in attitude with a change in latitude. A change in attitude changes ones reality! Think good thoughts as much as possible. Forgive, forget, and enjoy life. All that.....
I thought about how I would like to find a little romance (yeah, why not?), and about doing more traveling and painting and reading. (Gosh, I need time to read, I can barely find time to read a brochure let alone a book.) The cloud of gloom lifted and disappeared and there I was thinking, “Life is pretty darn good.” I would not give up the life I am making for myself for the relationship that was.
My epithany wasn’t really something new, and I haven’t firmed up any plans, but it reminded me that I’m OK. I don’t need to make any life altering decisions while I am on the road. I think they can wait until I get home and have time to sit and contemplate my next direction and my next nest. I am OK as is. And I still have a ways to go.
Maybe another day in the tall grass and I will come up with more.
The plains are, well plain. I loved the desert and the coast and the mountains, but I do not love the plains. I cannot imagine living here, so far from everything else. It would take all day to go to see something other than what is right under your nose. I left the mountains a day behind and don’t expect to see an ocean for more days than that. It is as hot as Florida and, in the winter, I suspect, as cold as Minnesota. This is no place for me.
So when I get back home, I think I shall take the time to go other places because I can. Saint Augustine, Disney World, the Everglades, or Dade City! Tuscany, Iceland, Machu Pichu!
Then again, as Dorothy surmized, “There’s no place like home.” She figured that out after being in a tornado and wandering around OZ with mythical characters!
Last night, just to let you know, I camped by a reservoir in Pueblo, Colorado. The warm wind was strong and I found a place to set up my tent under a gnarly juniper tree. The earth was clay and sand and studded with cacti and rocks. The stars were plentiful. I slept well.
On the drive here I got lost twice, which isn’t easy to do, given that there isn't much to distract me and the scarcity of roads, but somehow, twice, I missed a turn. One road looks much like another here in Kansas, I don’t know what made me think I was going the wrong way. There were no signs of any kind to let me know what road I was on or even what direction I was going. At noon it's hard to tell these things. Although I turned around to go back after driving ten miles out of the way, I wasn’t altogether sure I was even heading the wrong way in the first place, but turns out I was. Good thing I choose to go back and check or I would have been traveling south instead of east. I could of been in New Mexico tonight!
I can’t help thinking of Matt Dillon and Kitty Russell.
Dodge City, Kansas prospered because of the railroads that came through town and because of the buffalo that roamed in great number on the plains. Hunters and business men shot thousands and thousands of buffalo primarily for their hides and sent the hides east on the rail cars. When the buffalo were decimated by greed, cattle ranches were established to provide much desired beef for eastern buyers. Beef is still the major product of the area. And outside the inn it smells a little like cattle, if you know what I mean.
It is a lovely Inn, the Boot Hill Bed and Breakfast. I met Janie and Susan and while we had breakfast we chatted. They have both experienced divorce and our conversation was good, filled with understanding and admiration and knowing and interest. It was good for me.
Now ......
I will, literally, get out of Dodge. But before I do, I will share some thinking.
Someone asked me if I have had any inspired ideas while on this journey across the USA. Has there been an epithany? Future intention? Understanding? Or has a life plan developed? Have I found direction? Well, until yesterday, I had to admit there had been nothing of that sort. Not yet! But truthfully, that‘s because I haven’t had time to really think. I have been so caught up with the scenery and otherwise visiting with such wonderful family and friends that I have not really stopped to ponder about life back in “Dodge.”
But yesterday, while traveling across the plains which do not excite my senses, I figured it was a good time to get serious, think about post road trip life, and create a vision and a strategy. There wasn’t much to distract me. For most of the day, driving through south eastern Colorado and western Kansas, all I saw was fields of stuff jusy beginning to grow and cattle roaming. For hours upon hours, fields and cattle. The flat terrain was occasionally interrupted by a grassy swell. Rather dull topography, although being able to see for miles ahead had a certain appeal. Anyway, it was a fine day for conversation with me, myself and I.
At first, a cloud of gloom managed to hang over the car, keeping pace, flashing hazy pictures of divorce and my ex as well as my ex B and B and the stuff I forgot to take with me. Throw in a few wisps of financial concern, things not said, things said, and what coulda shoulda been and I felt a little bummed for a while. But serious thinking needed to start there. Then, my thinking shifted gears even if my car didn't. I thought about how lucky I am to have so many terrific friends. I thought about my town, my community and my cool little unusual home (talk about creative use of office space!) although I would still like to have a real kitchen to cook in. I'll have to get one one way or another. I thought about this road trip and living a dream and about how far I have come both geographically and figuratively. I pictured a "perfect" life. But what I have, for the most part, has been really good. I am a mom and an artist. A traveler and a writer. I am woman , hear me roar!!!
A change in attitude with a change in latitude. A change in attitude changes ones reality! Think good thoughts as much as possible. Forgive, forget, and enjoy life. All that.....
I thought about how I would like to find a little romance (yeah, why not?), and about doing more traveling and painting and reading. (Gosh, I need time to read, I can barely find time to read a brochure let alone a book.) The cloud of gloom lifted and disappeared and there I was thinking, “Life is pretty darn good.” I would not give up the life I am making for myself for the relationship that was.
My epithany wasn’t really something new, and I haven’t firmed up any plans, but it reminded me that I’m OK. I don’t need to make any life altering decisions while I am on the road. I think they can wait until I get home and have time to sit and contemplate my next direction and my next nest. I am OK as is. And I still have a ways to go.
Maybe another day in the tall grass and I will come up with more.
The plains are, well plain. I loved the desert and the coast and the mountains, but I do not love the plains. I cannot imagine living here, so far from everything else. It would take all day to go to see something other than what is right under your nose. I left the mountains a day behind and don’t expect to see an ocean for more days than that. It is as hot as Florida and, in the winter, I suspect, as cold as Minnesota. This is no place for me.
So when I get back home, I think I shall take the time to go other places because I can. Saint Augustine, Disney World, the Everglades, or Dade City! Tuscany, Iceland, Machu Pichu!
Then again, as Dorothy surmized, “There’s no place like home.” She figured that out after being in a tornado and wandering around OZ with mythical characters!
Last night, just to let you know, I camped by a reservoir in Pueblo, Colorado. The warm wind was strong and I found a place to set up my tent under a gnarly juniper tree. The earth was clay and sand and studded with cacti and rocks. The stars were plentiful. I slept well.
On the drive here I got lost twice, which isn’t easy to do, given that there isn't much to distract me and the scarcity of roads, but somehow, twice, I missed a turn. One road looks much like another here in Kansas, I don’t know what made me think I was going the wrong way. There were no signs of any kind to let me know what road I was on or even what direction I was going. At noon it's hard to tell these things. Although I turned around to go back after driving ten miles out of the way, I wasn’t altogether sure I was even heading the wrong way in the first place, but turns out I was. Good thing I choose to go back and check or I would have been traveling south instead of east. I could of been in New Mexico tonight!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Denver
Rain, pretty much every day for the last five days. But it doesn’t fall till late afternoon so it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.
The drive down the mountains, although chilly and wet, was smooth on Interstate 40. I stopped in Georgetown, a small historic mining turned tourist town. It was another charming little place in the mountains, where if it weren’t for winter, would be a lovely place to live. I bought some amaretto fudge at a candy shop, and a couple bottles of wine at a little grocery. This would be my last stop in the mountains. After Georgetown, I coasted to Denver.
I am staying with friends. Susan and I have been best of friends since fourth grade in Northfield, Ohio. And we sure can talk. So that is what we spend a lot of time doing. I can share just about any thoughts with Susan knowing that she will listen with a good heart, know what I mean even if I don’t say it right, be supportive and loving. The best part is we laugh a lot. Together, we get it!
Friday, along with Susan’s sister, we went downtown see a 1960’s poster display at the DAM (Denver Art Museum). The Hippie, Haight Ashbury, flower child, Grateful Dead, LSD, Psychedelic, make love not war, era. Our era. Apparently we missed a lot of the stuff that went on at the Fillmore Theatre in San Francisco. Too busy being conventional back in the midwest. We briefly explored the rest of the museum, not quite knowing what to make of the modern art collection. For example: There was this gigantic yellow canvas with a red foot painted on it that had us curious about the reason it was even hanging in the museum? Who would choose that piece? Why? What does it mean? We didn’t get it.
I took the opportunity the next day (Susan was at work.) to get the dirty dusty car and my clothes organized and washed. It had to be done. And write blog words. And then I relaxed a little, watched reruns of “Married with Kids,” and chatted with Susan’s husband, Ron.
Next day, a nice breakfast out, the botanical gardens and a drive on the narrow steep roads of Red Rock Canyon while navigating through the torrential afternoon rain. Then home for a much needed glass of wine and a delicious steak dinner.
A good night sleep tonight and then back on the road. Next destination is in Kansas. This post is short because, as I said, Susan and I sure can talk, and I would rather do that. Bye.
The drive down the mountains, although chilly and wet, was smooth on Interstate 40. I stopped in Georgetown, a small historic mining turned tourist town. It was another charming little place in the mountains, where if it weren’t for winter, would be a lovely place to live. I bought some amaretto fudge at a candy shop, and a couple bottles of wine at a little grocery. This would be my last stop in the mountains. After Georgetown, I coasted to Denver.
I am staying with friends. Susan and I have been best of friends since fourth grade in Northfield, Ohio. And we sure can talk. So that is what we spend a lot of time doing. I can share just about any thoughts with Susan knowing that she will listen with a good heart, know what I mean even if I don’t say it right, be supportive and loving. The best part is we laugh a lot. Together, we get it!
Friday, along with Susan’s sister, we went downtown see a 1960’s poster display at the DAM (Denver Art Museum). The Hippie, Haight Ashbury, flower child, Grateful Dead, LSD, Psychedelic, make love not war, era. Our era. Apparently we missed a lot of the stuff that went on at the Fillmore Theatre in San Francisco. Too busy being conventional back in the midwest. We briefly explored the rest of the museum, not quite knowing what to make of the modern art collection. For example: There was this gigantic yellow canvas with a red foot painted on it that had us curious about the reason it was even hanging in the museum? Who would choose that piece? Why? What does it mean? We didn’t get it.
I took the opportunity the next day (Susan was at work.) to get the dirty dusty car and my clothes organized and washed. It had to be done. And write blog words. And then I relaxed a little, watched reruns of “Married with Kids,” and chatted with Susan’s husband, Ron.
Next day, a nice breakfast out, the botanical gardens and a drive on the narrow steep roads of Red Rock Canyon while navigating through the torrential afternoon rain. Then home for a much needed glass of wine and a delicious steak dinner.
A good night sleep tonight and then back on the road. Next destination is in Kansas. This post is short because, as I said, Susan and I sure can talk, and I would rather do that. Bye.
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