CHEERS!

Neither, Norm, Carla, Sam or Cliff were there, but anyway, here's to you! Cheers from Boston!

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.

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

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.

These things I know for sure.

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.

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.