I really am...

The agony of Christmas is almost past. But that's another thought. Time for the New Year and its resolutions. I was cleaning my house (well, a small corner of it) and thought of the new year.
This year, 2010, I really am going to....
1) Have that Garage sale and get rid of all the knickknacks I dont ever take out.
2) Write a chapter or two of those books spinning in my head
3) Plan that trip to France and Italy Im going to take someday
4) Read all the books in my stack
5) And increase my exercise ( this will be easy as going from zero to one minute worth counts!)
6)Finish some of the sewing/quilting projects that are piling up!
7) Plan the Orchard
8) Talk Wanda in to letting me take paino lessons on her new piano!!
9) Send out those notes to poeple I think of all the time but never quite dial up
10) Visit the beach at least twice

And you????

Sad Santa

Sorry folks its been awhile. Not that I didnt want to "talk" to you but sometimes sorting it all out just takes too much energy. Anyway, today's topic is Santa.
I personally witnessed a fairly sad Santa the other day. It was hilarious.We watched as  the 299th kid was plugged onto Santa's lap, by the Elf. The Elf who dangled candy canes in front of the kids nose then ripped it away and stuck the kid on Santa's lap.
They all screamed!!The kids that is. I think Santa wanted to scream too. He wasn't smiling. He wasnt Ho Ho ing. Nada. Nothing. A grim line where his smile should be, right above where the itchy white fake polyester looking beard was perched.
Our grand nephew did really well in line, dangling his legs over his Dad's shoulders and running his candy cane gooped fingers in Dad's hair. He was calm. Composed. Didn't look a bit worried like all the kids in front of him in line. Even the 8 year old looking kids were looking dubious. The one little girl, she outright howled. I admit it. I laughed like a hyena. It was funny. All those parents paid 10 bucks to have their lovely and sweet children photographed with  the man of Christmas, bringer of secret stuff, man of wrapped goodies and to whom they have written their most secretest desires and mailed to the North pole for his eyes only. But in person.... The Masked Red man just didnt fit the billing. He was fat, and fake, and furry. Ick.And some lady dressed in an Elf costume kept taking candy away. Geez!

2012

Lots of hype out there with Dan Brown's new book coming out. How the Mayans supposedly think 2012 is the end, etc. and all the other speculators. So, I thought to myself..what if? I suppose with a humongy asteroid or some crazy person with a nuclear weapon its possible life could change radically very fast. I figure if that happened we wouldnt live through it anyway. Or if we did, it wouldnt be for long what with the air and water contamination. So, what do I do if this is it??? Enjoy every day. Try harder to enjoy the people we are with, send love to those we cant be next to but love. Share hope and kindness.Seek to improve the human condition?? Expand the mind to reach out and send good vibrations...hmmmm. Sit back with a glass of wine and ...enjoy the sunset.

End of Summer

Summer days are shortening. Evening light slips into the backyard much earlier. The sun sets noticeably farther south than a few weeks ago. It all seems sudden despite the constant subtle changes. The leaves are getting brittle and rustling but havent begun to fall. It makes me ponder the loveliness of an evening on the back deck, overlooking the field, perusing the softening crest of the nearby mountains.Blues and greys steal down the upper slopes and darken to emerald carpets and golden pastures. It's too far to see details of deer but close enough to see clumps of trees and fissures.
These gentle hours remind me of another favorite place. My friends back yard. They live on an acre or 2 of land bought many years ago from an aging couple who gardened. Its no longer a manicured area but a wild and delightful estate.My friend has tucked bulbs and woodland flowers into more traditional settings. We see  ferns or a trillium peeking out between azaleas and rhododendrens, ducks and brilliant blue jays streaking through the cherry tree, squirrels chittering over the pond...a paradise found. And lazing on a chair , chatting with her, in this place, is one of my favorite things.
So sitting in my own chair of a an early fall evening overlooking natures artistry, brings to mind soft reminders of many delightful times spent looking out at dusty pink coneflowers and discussing girl things....good times.

Fresh Air

We are about to embark upon another of our short camping trips. We take the new trailer, named "Puppy" and head for various lakes and camping sites. We stuff the down comforter and a bunch of food in and go. It must be leaving all the chores and cleaning at home thats adds that special flavor. The Fresh air tops the list. Star gazing. Bird spotting. The lap of water on the lakeshore. Reading. (Napping says Rod). AAaahhh!

Fresh Plums

Early fall is sliding under our skin. The air has a hint of chill in the early mornings. The first of the days sun turns the hilltops rust instead of summer's sere brown or sage.The garden has that musty, dusty smell. Leaves are beginning to tinge orange and yellow. Apples dangle  from low hanging branches.The cats laze a little longer in the dappled light on the back deck. Best of all, the plums are ripe. I've watched and checked each day, patiently for me, to examine the last bit of green fading to a deep purple. And yesterday, I bit into the soft aubergine flesh. My reward was a swell of soft textured sweet fruit that melted even better than M&Ms.
So, Rod will soon be having fresh plums; plum cobbler, plums with pork....well, you get the idea.Plum jam, plum syrup...and my favorite dried plums.
 Last year I dried some plums on my handy food dryer that my beloved friend gave me a few years ago. Nothing like the old PRUNES famous as a dietary staple of crones. Dried plums keep that hint of fresh fall fruit all winter long. Popping a few dried plums with a cup of tea on a long winters night is a luxury and comfort not to be passed by. And for todays modern nutritionists and dieters, a healthy and calorie smart snack.
So today I will scamper up the ladder and pluck plums.

Summer Progress

How's retirement? Darn right wonderful! Sorry all you work types. I'm the luckiest person on the planet.
I learned to cook a new recipe or 2 this week. I admit to feeling pleased they were both edible. Zuchinni-Tomato casserole ( for all of those with gardens) and Dahl, and Indian lentil dish. The Dahl turned out really well. I'm trying to go for interesting, healthy, low-fat reciped with less red meat on the plate.
I learned to think about food planning from my Grandmother. She was interested in her ladies group that was focused on Home education. Ive forgotten what they were called. It was where she learned about the 4 food groups, canning, and home hints.
Somewhere along the line homemaker became a dirty word. Maybe it was the women's movement issue. For some woman, never having a choice to move beyond the kitchen would have been a crushing obstacle. And I'm thankful many women continue to push for eqaul chances in the world for women.
I love doing home stuff. I admit I'm not in Martha and Julia's league, but it can be fun and satisfying. Mind you, I have no children underfoot (Rod doesn't count). Iv'e been cross- stitching, weaving, reading, gardening,canning and planning next years watering system.
Im starting to clean out cupboards, plana garage sale, and selling the car and the motorcycle.
I have a lot to do and Im grateful I have the time.

Retirement

Tomorrow morning I drop off my work phone, my name tag, my nurse bag,and my key. I'm done. No more work. Im retired (again). No more nurse. I have a more profound sense of what it means to be a nurse. It has defined me and given me purpose. This career gave me self worth and value. It made me a far better person, at least at work, than I thought possible.Its scary to give up this inner confidence and value.
On the other hand, I now don't have any excuse for not exploring all the other fun things life has to offer. I get quiet time, and Yoga and exercise time, coffee time, and volunteer time. Maybe...I'll even see if I can compose a grammatical and interesting paragraph or two. I can write real letters to the grandkids and think about family birthdays before (gasp!) they occur. I can learn to cook healthy meals and clean the floors. I can relax. I can read. I can research interesting information...and learn to sew. Really sew not just a wobbly line. And I can find time to discover my man again. I think he might like that. Or not!

Blogging

I spent a few minutes in instant touch with some cousins time zones and thousands of miles away last evening. It wasn't much. A few words. But so important in the ol keep in touch instant world. We are spoiled these days with instant news, instant Internet searches and auto appliances. I LOVE it at the same time bemoaning the good ol days I never knew and in reality dont really want to descend in to.
I'm comforted by the communications, like a nurses fingers on the pulse. On the other hand we loose the thrill of the mailbox delivery and the thoughtful time to write well thought out missives to our loved ones.
I see some interesting letters to the editor written in our local paper. It is only 3 days a week now, likely as Internet news has taken strong hold. But there is nothing like the written word to inflame and motivate. Its concrete! It must be true and accurate. Hmmm.
Where are we going? What path? Whose dropping the crumbs????

What a journey

I'm contemplatin again! What a wondrous journey this life makes. It seems we strive and strive to get somewhere else and we are never quite happy with here. If only I could get the weeds pulled, or...if only so&so would do this or I could buy that.
I heard from someone dear of late with a big pile of burdens. Her child is gravely and chronically ill. We talked about going on and just getting to tomorrow. I could visualize her path as being a treacherous edge slicked cliff track. There may be some high peaks but most of the time will be scrabbling up the hills.And someone else talked about wanting to spend time looking upon and smelling the flowers.
We endure, we breathe in, we gaze, we enjoy and suffer. We have the privilege of absorbing every sensation and choosing our path. What a journey...what a tale we can tell.

Thanksgiving

Its Thanksgiving Day for me. I gave a lot of thanks the last few days. My friends survived their resepective motorcycle crashes with minor damage. And I am beyond grateful.
There are people in our lives that floats through, barely causing a ripple...and then there are those who just snatch your heart right from your chest . And for those split seconds when you think they might be over a cliff or in a river or irreparably damaged...your heart stops and life changes forever. You dont get to take their prescence on earth for granted ever again. And I dont. I love every silly conversation and hug I will get. I just hope when I spy their sparkling eyes I dont break any ribs hugging too tight.

Rain

Water of life and all that. Nice for the garden but this unusual amount of rain for our area is making me feel like building an arc!!! Haven't been able to mow so I'm now growing giant weeds and grasses. Haven't been able to treat the morning glory in the lawn. The radishes are huge. I finally pulled most of them because I don't even eat the darn things but I always think I have a green thumb when they come up so quickly and grow well!!! The Onions seem to be enjoying themselves. Carrots are finally coming on. I lost one of the pumpkins but wait, where I left an old pumpkin to rot in the flowerbed last fall and planted daisies this spring...Lo! Pumpkins are growing!
I haven't been able to eat enough spinach and lettuce to keep the garden from bolting those greens. It sure is tasty. Not enough warm weather for the watermelon experiment. They look pathetic with one tiny leaf. The zuchini is starting to swell. Basil is good. Must make more sauce!
The tomatoes are waiting for some warmth also. Cauliflower is really beginning to grow but I havent seen any globe like structures yet. Looks like we may have a ton of rasberries this year. I'm looking forward to jam time!!! The front yard landscaping is going slowly. I have a spot that needs "Art". Haven't found the right object so far. Paulette suggested an old ladder and trellis up a rose. Hmmm, maybe. Well, that's the state of things for now. Off to the Hot Springs next week. Looking forward to a good soak.

Scarlett said....

Tomorrow will be a better day! Or something close to that. And it is. And somebody else said "this to will pass". (?too). Anyhow, how could anyone not feel better with the sun shining, the garden growing, fresh spinach on their sandwich, and a camping trip to plan!?
I guess some times you just need a day off to contemplate the bad, burnt and bummers. So you can move on. And appreciate every glorious other gift life gives us. Like good friends. And nieces. And gardens. And kitty cats that climb trees.

Title Unknown

I enter a bookstore and am transported into the possibility of other worlds. I like books for this reason. I can be happily lost there. And for some time now, lost is where I have been. And not so happily.
Life, as we know it here, is a great and wonderful gift. And to relish its greatness we occasionally must know grief.
Grief is a burden, a tonnage that we each know in our own ways. No one else can lift that burden and drag it along for us. I usually choose to leave grief on its own deep shelf. But occasionally, like Pandora's box , it explodes and out it comes. It leaps before the words on the pages I'm reading, it sits on my chest when I gaze at awe inspiring views, it leaks around my eyes when I sit beside loving friends.
And like my books, I know there is an end. But getting through those heavy chapters....I'd just as soon skip that part.
Grief dissected dissolves into rage, and depression, and loneliness and rejection...all negative. I'd rather linger over the chapters that describe beauty and solace and peace.

We would like to be shown the happy title of our life story. Instead we can only create one chapter at a time. And occasionally we must examine the bleak to get to the end of the paragraph. And its like the un edited manuscript. There is no eraser so if you make a mistake...choose the wrong word...you can't take it back. For us in the here and now, the title is unknown .

What is all this? An outpouring of grief. An attempt to stuff bad ways back into the box. Why must you always have happy face on? Some days you just can't; some days the world just weighs a lot.

What happens when you realize you're not an athlete and you're not smart enough to be a genius? I was reading a list of memoirs and biographies with all sorts of catchy titles and hints of glorious doings. It struck me that I wasn't an athlete, wasn't ever going to be an athlete...and usually that means turning to an intellectual pursuit. But I haven't any higher ambitions there either. No NASA career appeared, certainly no one would want me calculating their rocket fuel to the moon. Math being slow and ponderous for me. I CAN do it but gee I wouldn't choose it as a regular gig!
How do we get OK with mediocrity? Is it ever OK to just....be? It's fine to advise friends. You are great the way you are. And you mean it. But to allow yourself to be average, fine, OK...just a quiet citizen in town. The idea is preposterous. What about goals, and sainthood? Fame!
Well, no I don't want to be a movie star. I like observing. I like to hope Ive been in the right place at the right time sometime in my career to help someone through a day, or an illness. But they dont write great memoirs about us everyday folks. The happy ones who say good morning, like to make brownies and have friends to dinner to discuss nothing more important than the weather. To whom petting the cat is a vital and important job every day.
What would the one paragraph book say? Im happy and there you go!
I guess I like the idea better that just because you are a small nut in the tool box doesnt mean you are unneccessary. You are in the parts manual and just becasue its dry reading doesnt mean someone wont need that part sometime..

Catching A Cold

Being ill is a nasty experience. But it has its useful qualities. You loose your appetite! Too bad that part cant last! You learn what is really a priority in life...and its not laundry and dishes. People do send you a little extra TLC. Nice! If you are lucky, people you dont like stay away!! Its a great excuse to get nothing done or lay in bed all day and read. But overall, not recommended.

Choosing a path

What happens to us when we deal with adversity? The basic response hearkens back to fight or flight. Get mad or run. So what happens when you get over the mad and you don't run? Some persons advocate perseverance. Endurance.
Sounds unappetizing, kind of like striving for Sainthood. I ain't that Saintlike. My failing. I want a different path. But the question remains, how to find the road.
And what about giving up? That sounds way to silly and easy to me.
It seems like dieting. Its going to be hard for some, easier for others. Some can do it by deprivation, others can do it with strength of will. But most of us have to slog along , peering at street signs til we find a good road and turn.
Making good paths requires a little preparation I'm discovering. Examine the route and direction. Check for potholes. Line the bottom with some leveling if you can and put gravel down. Pack well the foundation. Don't forget a few forms for good edges. Need a few bulbs for color along the way. Then put your nose to the path and travel.
I wonder if I can go on roller skates??

Italy

I awoke suddenly this morning, leaping up to turn off the alarm, with a huge smile on my face and immediately tried to fall back into the soft mattress and recapture my dream.
In the dream, I was at an airport waiting area, with friends and we were all spontaneously getting on this plane to Italy so they could get married. I didn't even have my passport but "It would be OK because Italy doesn't require one". And I was just so happy! I was going to have to call work and say " Sorry, going to Italy, see ya in a week. I was just giddy!!
I have no idea what that means, other than the thought of hopping on a plane to Italy sounds delicious!!
What does Italy represent? Cheese, artisan breads, flavors, olive oil, deeply warming sun,rocky coasts, dining outside overlooking the water,light flowing skirts, sipping wine....unhurried pace. I sense the food theme!!
I wonder where I'll get to wake up tomorrow?

Quotes

I read a quote today attributed to Gandhi:" An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind".It instantly made me think of politics and policies and world concerns. And relationships.And families.
When we are hurt or confused by an act or a word or action, we close the door to that space, metaphorically speaking.
Our instinct is to protect ourselves, our concerns, our beliefs. Perhaps the instinct was good back in the caveman days .
What would happen if we were able to keep the door wedged open? I visualize a large,rough, moss cratered, muddy rock holding open the door. Not easy to move to the opening. Begrudgingly rolled to that place. But the door is open. The spill of enlightenment could eek through.
I'm not to happy to bring out my treasures of forgiveness, of understanding; of a smile. I'd rather be mad, or put upon, or right! But I think I'll sit upon my chair, with my cup of tea, near the light...and see what comes through.

Molly Gloss

I attended an writing class/discussion from Molly Gloss last night. Its phenomenal to walk away from a class inspired. Also intimidated. In a good way.Here is an author who knows about describing things. She even can describe a characters emotions without saying so by changing word choices in the surrounding scene. Hard to convey what this means without reading her examples. A completely different style than some of the recent reads Ive completed. What I find awe striking, is the absolute beauty in knowing that language can have depth and meaning. We can communicate. And that some writers do care about craft and subtlety.

Memory

A famous author ( Reading Lolita in Tehran) notes she became obsessed with her parents photographs shortly after they died. She even studied them with a magnifying glass. I have also just finished reading an interesting biography. It made me think about the letters, diaries and papers we leave behind. Some in my extended family keep journals, perhaps for their descendants and maybe for self therapy. Ive never been able to keep one going for more than a few days. Maybe I loose interest in what I have to say. But in thinking about what I might end up leaving behind, I speculate, what would anyone want to know about me? I have no direct descendants. I have a lovely step daughter who will likely be much more occupied with her own children. I have extended family who will also be much more interested in their inner family works.And yet, in my family tree I have researched a woman who had no children of her own but took care of several nieces and nephews and her mother. She seems like the matriarch of her family. She left behind no known letters. I do wonder what she cared about. What she longed for. What she thought regarding her political times. She lived very near the Morman site of Navoo. Her neighborhood was the site for some atrocities. The Civil War swept through her state. Did she have time to read. Did she hate beets? Another woman's story I recently read about (Bold Spirit) survived not because of what she left behind (her children burned her memoir out of misguided anger)but because her later descendants were trying to remember her and find out about her.
I find it a touch sad too that we think we know one another. And maybe we do. Our foibles are so exposed in close contact. Bad habits , we can be kinder about with the distance of time and lost immediacy.
So, for future great grand neices et al: I hate beets, because they are purple and slimy. I love sweets because they are buttery. I like books because I can go somewhere else and gain insight. I like historical things for the same reason. I like old furniture because the wood echoes some sentiment from the tree where it once grew and the persons who might have occupied it some rainy afternoon. I dont like mechanical things as they seem so cold, although I value their function and the ease they bring to my life. Im interested in politics because of people and ideas not so much for the need to bend peoples will. I find it irritating that people cant debate earnestly without resorting to rhetoric that they really havent explored. I see great sadness in the waste of life to pursue material things, though we all like them. I toss about the idea frequently that we all are off the track, when we arent using whatever talents we may have toward the benefit of all....thought I cant figure out how we must turn to that and leave our self (ego) aside. I like mashed potatoes. I like sunflowers. I like rivers and walking on the beach. I like thinking about all my relatives growing up and becoming "someone". I like cats.

Words

I apologize to any who might try to follow my thoughts in this forum. The problem lies in that I have no message. I think things in an endless stream. I contemplate and reject a zillion ideas. I find great interest in many of the happenings in the world. When I start to write coherent thoughts go out the window like a grain of sand in a sandstorm.
I now understand my ancestors who didn't leave behind a diary as they "had nothing to say". I dont believe that I have nothing to say but I question its importance, particularly in the cyber world.
Im reading a wonderful book, the biography of EB White. He wrote Charlottes Web and a few other famous childrens books, but for many years he wrote for the The New Yorker magazine. The point is he wrote in this wonderful concise language. Its the first time in a long while that Ive admired a style, the use of language in a writers message. Being under educated in the mechanics of writing, and admittedly not too interested in the technical details of proper grammer, it is this I lack. The way of the word.There are words in his biography I've never heard of. Things I have to look up. How exciting to find words with depth. Words to explore. Im also reading the biographical account of the life of Roget of Roget's Thesauras. Who knew. Personally,I think he must have had OCD. But who am I to question the outcome.
So, poor bored reader...I search for a way to bring you a coherent and interesting message.I havent found it yet.

Writing in your sleep

Does anyone else dream in novels? After I'm done fretting about everything else in my day I set about going to sleep by imagining a plot for a book. But I always forget most of it when I wake up. I just dont wake up enough to keep one of those bedside notepads. And sometimes as Im writing in my sleep, I think sort of loudly...man that was great... they might even publish this....if only I could remember it when I wake!
I know my heroine's name last night was Bryn Allison. And the chapter starts like this....
Bryn Allsion was average. Average brown hair. Average funny. Average job. Until she stepped out the door of the coffee house on her way to work and got hit by a plane. Not your average bus. An airplane. Now that wasnt average.
Ok. So plot one the pilot has actually made this skilled and careful emergency landing avoiding everyone but Bryn. Of course he's handsome and etc etc...romance et al.
Or as she awakens on an alien planet. Turns out humans who die arent in heaven they get transported....sci fi plot.
I didnt say they were good novels! Sheez! Sometimes they are fantastic. But those usually involve murder and blood and get way to complicated and I wake myself up all scared and have to think of milkshakes or something to get back to sleep.
I keep going back to the premise you are supposed to write about what you know. Which is a whole lot a nuttin. Medical novels are passe'. Killing off your patients isnt very good PR either. And working out your family issues in public never appealed to me. So, romance/sci-fi it is.
I kind of like the heaven plot. Most of us stop at the you get to go to heaven part. What then? Hang out on clouds? Ho Hum. I suppose you could spend a good while meeting the ancesters. That would be fun for awhile. Unless they were cranky.Or none of your people made it "up there". What would you do with unlimited energy and time.Everones fine so you cant go be heroic. Heaven seems kind of hedonistic from that view. Hmmm. Too literal I guess.
Well, off to bed to dream up a new plot.