The Thank You Bone

Everyone who knows us will attest to the fact that we have the occasional squirrel visit our attic for some winter warmth. When we first moved in, we thought the scamping around in the roof above might be  a ghost, but that was until a baby squirrel was spotted sitting on my nightstand, as I was about to shut out the bedside light, made it's presence known. He sat upright and then jumped on the bed as if to say, "Hi, here I am!" Startled, I yelled "EEEKK", and the poor little thing flew off the bed, headed down the hall, and jumped into the toilet. We had a heck of a time corralling the little culprit, but unfortunately the damage was done...I scared the bejesus out him. For years we did our best to squirrel proof the house, but this summer everything changed. My husband Gerry and I were sitting on the front porch listening to music, when I spotted a skinny little squirrel with a crooked tail sitting by the tree. She must have gotten a pork chop bone from the dog bowl that I keep in the backyard for the various table scraps, and leftovers, that my woodland friends (raccoons, opossums, and foxes) enjoy. The bone was slightly curved and to our surprise Mrs. Personality (as she was later named) started playing the bone like a banjo! We started laughing, an before we could stop, she took the bone in her two little hands and started blowing it like a trumpet. OMG... it was the funniest sight to see, but wait... as we laughed and giggled, that lil bit of a squirrel took the bone, put it between her hind legs and started doing what can only be described here as a "lap dance". We were overcome with laughter, and wished we had caught it on video, as it would have been a million hit clip. Since that time, when Mrs. Personality comes scamping about, she is rewarded with potato chips, nuts or crackers. I often leave them for her on a chest that holds our garden tools on the back porch. I know it's her, as she has a distinctively crooked tail. She has no fear of me, and will sit with her unblinking eyes, staring at me as she takes a cracker, (which is like a human holding a dinner plate), and rotate it as she chips off the edges... it just cracks me up!

Well, the other day as I went to tidy up the spare room that sits directly below the attic where the squirrels scamper above,  I found that an odd artifact had made its way from the attic through the rustic beams of the ceiling. As I picked it up off the floor, it occurred to me that it was a remnant of a pork chop bone... about the same size as the one that Mrs. Personality played with this summer. It is now a sacred keepsake, as I do believe with the onset of a cold winter, that she is thanking me and Gerry for her cozy winter quarters, with a keepsake of her summertime performance.

Snake on the Beach

Yesterday's forecast called for another cloudy day, but with temperatures into the mid 60's... a perfect day to take our winter pilgrimage down the shore to Point Pleasant. As we silently drove, I watched the grey clouds in the sky part to expose blue sky with light rays from the sun shining through the scattered clear spots, and I felt happy. We listened to the 60's oldie station on the radio, and it seemed like all of my favorite songs played one after the other. It's only about an hour away, and as we drove into Point Pleasant, the sun was indeed shining through a veiled mist that illuminated the ocean foam in a snowy white at the breaking points. The wind was strong as we trudged along the boardwalk to watch the people, who like us did not let the winter deter their love of the beach. As we trudged out towards the waves, I felt that old surge of peace that only comes from being near the sea...when there is no one else around. After a half hour of walking against the wind, we headed back in the other direction, as our joints and muscles had gotten a pretty good work by then. We watched boats being bounced down the the inlet for a brief sail into the ocean, only to return from whence they came. It was too rough for a pleasure cruise or a day's fishing for that matter. The sun shone through the remnants of mist, giving a filmy glow to the landscape, as we searched along the shoreline for whatever treasures we might find. I always take a big clam shell that works well as an ashtray and left the more exotic shells for the few families that were also scouting the beach for treasure. As we approached the boardwalk, I noticed an odd shaped stick that was half buried in the sand. As I uncovered it I noticed that it was a perfectly formed little snake, probably a tree branch that was smoothed by the waves. Hurray! a prefect treasure just for me! I cradled it in my coat sleeve and got it safely to the car, where I laid it gently on the back seat (as if it was a priceless ornament). Then, satisfied with my find, we went back to the boardwalk for a slice of pizza and a soda. My husband laughed and said I was a cheap date... I laughed and stated, "I know, aren't you a lucky guy." We drove home back into the gloomy clouds, but I was happy... it was a perfect date. 

And the Scrooge Award... Goes to TD Bank

I'm a big fan of shopping online, as I don't have a car, and I like the convenience of having a really nice gift delivered to my parents in Florida. I ordered a beautiful Godiva gift basket for my mom, whose favorite thing these days is candy. The purchase was easy and I got my confirmation on email. After a quick look on my checking account to see if the purchase amount was debited correctly, I found that I was charged twice for the purchase. Keeping my temper in check, I called Godiva and they assured me that they only charged once for the purchase. The representative was very polite and told me that she had been having lots of complaints from customers, who like me, were charged twice from their accounts. She went on to explain that once the bank received the funds, one would drop off. I asked her why the bank would hold up my capital that way... it wasn't fair. She said it was probably to ensure that there was enough money in the account for the charge to go through. I was dumbfounded. I had plenty of money in my account, but now I had to make sure that the charge would indeed drop off. This is the same Canadian bank, whose chief officer said the bailout would be "a sugar boost to the US banking industry and just won't help." Meanwhile, they took over Commerce, (which was a wonderful bank), and now, hours are no longer convenient, and the service is gloomy at best.  I guess this scam is their version of a "sugar boost" for themselves... a means to trap clients who carefully budget their capital... into the dreaded overdraft. Well, Merry Christmas Scrooge bank. For my New Years resolution, I will be taking all of my money out of your dark chambers and finding an American Bank who will not use your tactics. And if that fails, I'll be investing in a home safe and I will become my own banker! 

Solstice Celebration

This year my husband Gerry and I celebrated Yule on the eve of the Winter solstice. This is a beautiful and sacred time of year when the northern hemisphere is at it's shortest day and we celebrate for the reversal of that shortening. It was cold and wintry following Friday's snowstorm, as we made our way to the store to buy our dinner feast. Normally we would have bought firewood to help light our yule log, but this year's frigid temperature and the possibility of winds precluded that plan. I had baked an oatmeal raison bread to feed my woodland creatures, as Gerry carved the roast beef of all fat and threw it out to attract the Turkey Buzzards that I adore. My favorite squirrel, Mrs. Personality visited me on the back porch and got a handful of nuts for her treat. Holiday music blared through the house, anything ranging from James Taylor to Trans-Siberian Orchestra, and my bunny Otis was unusually perky in anticipation of the celebration. We are training him to dance in a circle for his snacky snacks, and he can get almost half way around on his hind legs before stealing off to the corner with the vegetable puffs that he loves. Gerry herb encrusted the beef and we had a nice visit with his kids who are anticipating the Christmas celebration that we will also attend later in the week. It's so nice to pass the torch to the next generation to do the big family  parties, and it's probably why my Wiccan holidays are so meaningful... it's just the two of us who celebrates them. The holiday branch that we decorated on Jack Frost day glowed it merry white lights, as the sun set early, and occasional flakes of snow floated by. It seemed we laughed the whole afternoon away, drinking our holiday cheer as my husband prepared our dinner. Normally I bake or cook dessert, but we just couldn't pass up the tin of Belgian chocolate cookies at Cosco, so my work consisted of setting the table. At dinnertime we ate by candlelight and enjoyed the most delicious rare roast beef, sweet potatoes, and harvard beets, as the Celtic Women sang for us. After our own private and intimate ceremony, we snuggled on the couch with the box of Belgian chocolate cookies and watched "Home Alone"... which was even funnier after a Green Fairy cocktail! 

Spoiled Rotten Rabbit

My kids are grown and on to their own adventures in adulthood, and to avoid becoming the pining, "budinski mom," I got a baby bunny as a pet. Otis has been such a joy to my husband and I, but I must say he is spoiled beyond belief! At 4:30 in the morning my husband arises and goes to Otis's cage to free him to the kitchen. Once he is gently placed on the floor and the gate is in place, he sits by his empty glass bowl and stares at the fridge. Before pouring his morning coffee, my husband doles out Otis's six blueberries. We have tried to introduce other fruits for a little variety, but often he will take the glass bowl with offending fruit in his mouth, and toss it across the room. Then he will literally dive into his litter box, sending litter flying in all directions, and sulk. We've learned that it is just easier to give him what he wants. When I come down to the kitchen, I usually greet Otis with a husky endearment while bending down to stroke his silky ears. My husband is trained to let me know if Otis was good or bad getting out of the cage, and if he ate his blueberry breakfast. Once satisfied that my little "bunny boy" has been taken care of, then I can kiss my mate and pour my coffee. Me and Otis hang out most of the day, he lounging in his big fancy cat litter box, nibbling straw now and again ( his rabbit potty box is kept hidden in the corner, as he is shy about doing his business in public) and me talking and singing to him. When he was a bit younger, I could not  figure out why he would "go" in the litter box and then pick it up with his teeth and dump it over. It wasn't until I bought him the big one for lounging, and the small one for "going," that he settled down. Who knew rabbits were so darned fussy?! During the day Otis has free run of the kitchen. He plays amongst the pots and pans, begs for snacky snacks (dried puffed vegetables free of artificial anything) ... but mostly he sits and meditatively stares (he's so Zen). Heaven forbid though, if I have to show the house and put him into his night-time cage... his temper is completely unleashed. First he will take the little phone book that I give him to chew on and savagely rip the pages out. Then he grabs the set of jingle bells (one of his toys), and bashes them against the side of the cage making a terrible racket. From there he scratches and digs through the bedding  and then pushes it around his cage in all directions. It's as if he is purposely trying to dirty the surrounding floor. I try to soothingly talk him out of his rage, but usually I give in and entice him with an extra scoop of his malty kibble. He will hop on his eating shelf and munch furiously, while giving me the icy stare. Once the cage is in lock down, I bravely state to him, "now you just sit there and think about what you've done!" I just hope my grown kids don't see me when I am scolding Otis like that, as they would probably accuse me of going soft in my old age.    

Awestruck by van Gogh

Today as I was sitting in my kitchen, digesting the words of an esoteric novel that I was reading, my eye was suddenly drawn to a replica of van Gogh's Starry Night that adorned a decorative cutting board that I received as a gift from one of the kids. Although not as captivating as the original painting that I have seen at the Museum of Modern Art in NY, I couldn't stop staring at it. As I gazed down at the little town, which was the vantage point from the sanitorium where he spent his final months, I felt the usual well of emotion that comes when I see a van Gogh painting... and I cried. For while he was living in pain and torment, this beautiful scene was destined to be painted, and shared with a world of people who considered him insane. There is the dark color of the tree pointing upwards towards the sky, set in front of the small whiteness of the church steeple, while the town and the hills are immersed in blues and violets. But what captivated me the most in that particular moment was the swirling ethers of the sky, set amongst the glowing stars. It looked as if two lovers were being entwined, or two closed hands were moving together to be interlocked by the fingers, and I almost felt as if it was a star in the making. The coming together of those two moving forces had me transfixed and emotional, and yet I could not reason why... there were no words, and so I just felt, and my mind went still. After several minutes, I took a deep breath and sighed. I looked out the window to my own backyard, as the sun illuminated patches of unmelted snow, and droplets of roof melt dripped daintily before me, and I appreciated, that with all of life's distractions, disappointments, and unfulfilled dreams... it is still a beautiful world.

The Day I Met Santa

Santa Claus, that jolly old elf of goodwill, will always make his appearance known to kids and adults alike... just when you need him the most. It was the early 60's, and me, my sister, and brother, were all excited about Christmas. I think my parents had the usual holiday stress about money, as they seemed to be arguing quite a bit, which inadvertently affected the sensitive nature of us children. It was Christmas eve, and although we were put to bed at the usual 7:30 PM, it was well after 9:00PM that we remained awake in our bedrooms, whispering, giggling and wondering what we would be getting for Christmas. My dad hollered up, "Be quiet and go to sleep!," several times, but within a short span of time we were back to our shenanigans. Suddenly, he came bounding up the stairs with a newspaper in his hand and asked my brother to come to our room for some news. Opening it to the mid section he read, "There will be no Christmas this year because Santa got into an accident with a helicopter, and now he is in the hospital. So you might as well go to sleep and forget about getting presents." Now as the oldest, I didn't really believe in Santa because one of the big kids on the block ruined it for me the prior year (I was 5 then). She told me to stay up late and peek downstairs and I would see my parents putting out the gifts under the tree (which I did). But since I wanted to keep the excitement up for my sister and brother, it seemed only natural to cry at the upsetting news, as they were sobbing. We cried ourselves to sleep that night, but not before I heard  my mom hissing and quietly yelling at my dad him for his cruelty. Very early the next morning, as the sun was still below the horizon, I awoke to the sound of jingle bells. As I looked out my window, I saw a shadow of Santa and the reindeer flying over our neighbor's rooftop. I could not believe my eyes, but I was sure of what I saw! Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I crawled back into bed and waited for my sister to wake. When she did, we went and woke my little brother and I got to deliver the news that Santa had come. They looked worried, but  I led them downstairs into the living room, and sure enough, the tree was decorated and there were presents underneath. My Dad and Mom woke in better spirits, and all was forgotten about the "helicopter accident." Later that day, it turned out to be warm and sunny, and as I skipped around the block with my new little pocketbook, I almost skipped right into a man who looked exactly like Santa, but in street clothes. "Merry Christmas little one, he said in a chuckled voice, "what do you have there with you?" Being shy, I stammered, "It's a p-p-ocketbook that I got for Christmas." "Well, well", he replied  with a warm smile, " I heard that you were extra good this year, and so I have something special for you." With that, he pulled out a shiny new quarter and gave it to me to put in my pocketbook. "  I thanked him, wished him a Merry Christmas, happily skipped home... and then kept the good news to myself. I didn't want to take any chance that my believing in Santa would be spoiled again. And to this day I remain a firm and faithful believer!

Veni, Vidi, Vici, Yappi, Dismissi...Finito

As I look back on a career path that spanned three decades and several years, I can't help but be proud of the fact that I was able to reinvent myself, and change course in several different fields. As each new job unfolded into the next best thing, I can see that this was done in an orderly progression, enhanced by what I previously learned and achieved. As a nursing student, I was terrified of hospitals and sick people, and yet I stuck it out and went on enjoy nursing in several key areas. I bounced around from nursing homes, to neonatal intensive care units, cardiac, and critical care units, and ended up a certified oncology nurse. At each turn, I remained skeptical that I had what it took to perform, and yet I managed to achieve clinical expertise wherever I applied myself. When an accident curtailed my physical ability to perform my job, I went back for additional education and achieved a degree. I returned to community nursing as a comeback, and realized that while I loved the visiting part, the homework involved was too demanding, as I could not complete paperwork in the presence of people who poured their heart out about what their illness meant to them. I took the nursing background and decided to go corporate.. as a case manager. It was a rewarding position, where I got to advocate for patient's needs, sometimes against the wishes of my insurance based employer. I used both persuasion and cost benefit analysis ... adept at the game, until the department was let go. I went on to Pharma world, where I landed a job in Data Management. After seven years I worked myself to a Senior Level and also got another degree in Information Systems while doing so. But, the job lacked a helping interaction with people, and focused on technical achievements, and so I left for a Sales and Marketing position. Though I was now helping people telephonically, forced into a daily social environment, often traveling several times a month around the country to give presentations, it soon became apparent that I was not extrovert that I hoped to be. I became burnt out and in an attempt to voice my dismay at what I perceived as a paltry raise for a glowing evaluation, I managed to get myself fired. It didn't help that I also voiced my opinion on my boss's lack of professional discretion (or as my son pointed out... "I couldn't keep my big yap shut.") It was a shocking verdict, but I have no hard feelings about it... it is what it is. I decided that I was through with the game playing that occurs in the corporate world, and I don't look back. Currently I have the luxury of being a kept House Goddess, and the time to pursue my creative talents. Sure, I have had to downsize my life, but it doesn't really seem like a sacrifice to me... just a fair tradeoff for a more enjoyable existence. And so in honesty I have to add another word to the above litany... Magnifico!

Soft Selling My Home

Today began as cold and gloomy, typical for this time of year in NJ. A few days ago a couple pulled up to our house, walked to the back yard and then came up on the front porch and looked around. When I opened the front door, they looked surprised, and a little embarrassed that someone was home. " Can I help you?" was all I could think to say. It was answered with, "We're so sorry, the realtor said you were on vacation ... we have an appointment to see your home this week." I replied,"Oh, that lovely... it's no trouble, this is a great house." The man looked at the peace sign that is decaled upon the window of my front door and said, " I like the vibe already" as he pointed to it." I told them I looked forward to their return, and they headed back to their car. I tried to be as nice as possible, as they seemed like a nice couple, and yet I had not yet heard from any realtor about an appointment. I could have gotten annoyed at the obvious snoop, and yet I had a pretty good vibe of my own. Oh well, no harm in looking, I thought, and went about my usual day. I did an extra cleaning yesterday, just in case... and today I got the call that indeed someone requested to view my home! Then a second call by the realtor came about 10 minutes before show time, saying the client would be late, so I felt a momentary dash of hope. This scenario played out a few times before, and the viewings were actually cancelled. The realtor actually arrived about 15 minutes prior to the client, and did his own little inspection. I told him that I would go to the porch with a book, as my usual way of getting lost, and he said, "no way, you're welcome to stay here, it's cold and rainy out there." I was happy to be welcomed in my own home. Now for some reason I decided to bake brownie cookies today, and so there was a nice aroma coming from the kitchen. I made a cup of tea for the realtor to go with the cookies he was eating, and when the client came, I was delighted that he asked for a cup of coffee. The old grind and brew was put into action, as the men wandered to basement, and then upstairs for a good look-see. When they came down, tea, coffee, and cookies were served informally, and some positive chatter commenced. I got to answer questions about the age of the house, how long we were here, the fact that the brook in the back does not flood etc. It was the first time I got to join in the the selling fun. I also let the client (who loves Victorian homes) know that another couple wants to buy the house so they can rebuild it into something more "updated", and wouldn't it be a shame (not lying here). The client said he liked it as is, and would return with his friend to get her take. Hurray! Not only did I get a good vibe, I got to play salesperson and hostess! So, I will remain cautiously optimistic, and will make sure I keep hot coffee and homemade cookies on hand.

Writing for Amusement

Lately, I have been eager to complete my morning exercise routine, and chores, so that I can move on to a real treat for me...writing. I have slowly been working on my memoir of growing up in a small, blue collar town during the 60's, and some days my memory gets jogged to a funny, or poignant event, and I will have to jot it down for the next writing time (usually during the afternoons). I have also been known to get up from a sound sleep and go jot something down for later translation during writing time. I enjoy the challenge of writing entries to this blog four days a week ( I don't believe in a five day work week) as it stimulates my thinking process and hones my writing skills. Most days the entry will take an hour to perfect, and yet the time goes by as if it were only five minutes, which is a good indicator that I am enjoying what I'm doing. I also write poetry and have done so for the past 30 years. Poems are a little tricky,  as usually I don't sit the computer and say to myself, I think I will write a poem now, although recently this occurred when a topic popped in my head and a poem was completed in 5 minutes... and it was good! Most of my poems come from nagging words strung together that will persist, then evolve into an original thought. Sometimes the meaning isn't crystal clear, but the words just seem right. Often the words rhyme, but it gives me more leeway if they don't. If there is a lot of emotion in what I want to say, I will let it spill out from my mind as fast as I can type (which is a pretty good clip) and I don't stop to edit until the full force of what I want to say is completed. Other times, if I am in a thoughtful, or expressive mindset, each sentence is carefully worded, then edited, before moving on to the next. Recently, I was doing my chores, when my mind imagined a place, gave it a name, and the plot of a novel starting surfacing. Now when I am walking to the store, or having a minute to stare out the window and think, my characters develop, or I hear dialogue, or see a scene or circumstance that gets stored for writing time. When I do sit down, I have long thought about the chapter and the writing becomes automatic... and its the coolest thing in the world! 

Peace on Earth ... Starting with the Family

Ah, the holiday season is upon us,  as we play carols, and watch cartoons that proclaim "Pleace on Earth, Goodwill Towards Men"... (we have probably all cried after Linus's speech on the "Charlie Brown Christmas") knowing it is our most human desire that this be so. And yet for me, it calls to mind the difficulty of the task at hand, as I reflect on the usual drama that is caused by families, comprised of a diverse set of members, with differing circumstances and emotional temperaments, who come together to share the common bond that binds. Leo Tolstoy once wrote, "All happy families resemble each other, each unhappy family is unhappy in it's own way." No truer words were ever spoken, and yet we fight within the convicted place that lies between our heart and our head that this should not be so. We so much want the fairy tale existence, where everyone should be merry, and gay, and loving, that we lose sight, that if this were so... we would not have opportunities to grow and learn, and become better versions of ourselves. And so this holiday season I am prepared for the usual drama, for better or worse, and will deal with it in a different way this year. Of those family ties that I can find a common ground for peace, I will savor, and share, and enjoy the goodwill that emanates. For those I cannot control, and cannot reconcile... I will let go, knowing the time is not yet right. For this year, I can synthesize the lessons of the past ... that to fully enjoy peace you must find it first within yourself. No harsh judgement, no condemnation... just acceptance for the person I am and the life I am living. Only in this way can I transcend the drama, and enjoy the many blessings, that are the greatest gifts meant to be shared.

Celebrating Jack Frost Day

This Saturday my husband Gerry and I celebrated our first Jack Frost day and it was wonderful! We awoke early and as the sun peeked above the horizon we could see the patches of frost that were decorating our front yard. He announced "Happy Jack Frost Day," and we were off to an excellent start. I had looked for historical reference to the little elf who is the namesake, and the information was  scant... an elfin figure who personifies crisp, cold winter weather. It inspired me to write a poem which I shared with my friends on Facebook. We did our usual Saturday errands as we decided on a few rules for the holiday. First, we would make a meal of all white food. Secondly,we would bring back the tradition of decorating a Holiday branch in lieu of a Christmas tree. Thirdly, we would exchange and recite poems about winter... oh and the unsaid was that merry silliness would be the tone of the day. My one purchase was a small white pointsettia that I used as a base for a holiday centerpiece (the white pointy flowers looked like elf ears). I made Paula Deen's coconut cake, which although labor intensive turned out both delicious and stunning to look at. Gerry was quick to go to the back yard and find a branch that was suitable to decorate (he has experience on this front). Before I could look out the window for progress, he was securing it a styrofoam container in which a Holiday package of frozen Omaha goodies arrived. As I started to upload our holiday music into itunes, Gerry strung the branch with lights and decorated with tinsel. It was magnificent, and although I may want to add a few bows and balls later on, it was a perfect symbol of simple elegance. As we listened to the holiday music and enjoyed some holiday libations, we laughed at our bunny Otis's antics. He picked up his food bowel with his teeth and threw it, scattering his kibble across the floor. He'll do the naughtiest things for attention! Then we both went and found our chosen poems for our reading. We had both chosen 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost. Gerry also chose "Dust of Snow" and "A Winter Eden" by Frost. I chose, "To a Locomotive in Winter" by Walt Whitman. We read to each other as the sun set low in the western sky. At dusk Gerry started our white meal: crab stuffed flounder, twice baked potatoes, white asparagus and endive and heart of palm salad. We dined by candlelight enjoying the white light glow of our holiday branch. After dinner and before dessert, a special cocktail was made. We took turns pouring cold water over a slotted spoon with a sugar cube on it, into Absinthe, a green liquor. As the water melted the sugar and it blended with the liquor it magically turned a cloudy, milky white. Thus our Green Fairies were made. It was good that we drank this with the moist and heavy coconut cake, as the alcohol content is 130 proof. Suddenly, we noticed it was snowing outside and our glee soared! The night ended with singing and dancing on the patio... well that was me... my husband video captured it as we both laughed hysterically (this will remain locked in the private collection). Yes, in the cold and dark of winter there is so much fun waiting to be had... you just have to have the imagination to name it, and the joy to experience it.

               

They Call me the Snapper

I love to dance... and so it is fitting that I explain why this is so. You see dancing for me is not just a way to express myself through music, it becomes a meditation, a fantasy and an escape. It was also good at annoying my way too cool teenagers, as their friends would come in see me whirling around the living room, snapping my fingers, shaking my hips, clapping and swinging my hair to and fro... like a schizophrenic on speed. I could see their embarrassment as they hinted with that teen disdain..  don't look at the weirdo. But usually at that point I was oblivious and immersed in my own brand of trance. I might start a warm up with some Rolling Stones, and I'm right on stage as a blond version of Tina Turner, jumpin around with Mick. Or I could get funky, as when I hear "Cowfunk" by Brandon Marsalis. I cannot NOT dance to that tune, as I sway way low with extra loud snapping of my fingers...mmnn mmmn, that's my favorite! Or maybe I'm in a Madonna mood, and want to be really expressive and interpretive. Then it's all Vogue baby. I even have special hand signs for the lyrics that talk about the Vogue- ers named in the song. I need a lot of room for this one as I do the pirouettes and ball change steps learned in a long ago jazz class. But sometimes, I just want to get rowdy and so it's Alan, Jackson, George Strait and Jimmy Buffet live.. and I'm at a dancing hoedown (and I can Woo-Hoo with the loudest of them.) You see in my world, I am right there with the performers, and the Furies in my mind finally shut up their mindless chatter. So look out Bono, I'm coming to "Vertigo" to clap, snap, sway and shimmy!

Rabbit Loaf

Ah, I'm so glad Otis is finally back to his old self. He really had a good vacation with us in Florida, but the two day 18 hour trip each way really took its toll on the poor lil varmint. Now he remained all snuggled up in the back seat in his travel cage, but I could tell that he was a little carsick... he did no eating on route or coming back, only sips of water. But he was really very good... there were no calls to go to the bathroom, no chants for fast food, and not once did he whine and say, "are we almost there yet?" ( I did several times, but as the driver, I had to focus on the white line and couldn't turn to look at the signs). Otis didn't even squeak when I took the NC exit at 65, when the limit was 25, nor did he protest like his Dad did when I coasted full speed into the gas station and stalled before reaching the pump. No he was a perfect angel, sitting primly in his cage, only hopping about when I let him out at the Econolodge, to be barricaded with the ironing board in the bathroom and vanity sink area. Though he made a little mess by strewing his litter and hay about, we cleaned up all his droppings, and figured the cleaning lady would just assume we were big tipping red-necks with chickens in tow. It was even... we didn't shower there, so the extra vacuuming was in exchange for not having to clean the tub and shower. We did let him lie on the bed and watch the Ellen DeGeneres Vegas special with us, and petted him throughout, so it wasn't like he was neglected. When we finally arrived home the next evening, he started eating again, thank goodness! For the past two days Otis has been assuming the sphinx position, alert and ready for the constant vibration that would not cease during the road trip. I had been cooing at him and singing his favorite song... "here comes Peter Cottontail", but as of yesterday he would just give me that squinty eyed look that means, " good God woman, would you shut up, you're annoying me!" He is a pre-teen, so it's to be expected. But today, he hopped into his favorite sunning spot amongst the pots and pans and he seems his old self again... happy to sit and loaf... in the meatloaf dish.

Turkey on the Beach

I am one of the luckiest people in the world. You see wherever and whenever I go on vacation, treasure lands right at my feet... no need for cheesy souvenirs (my husband is lucky too, as I shun the usual beads and bangles often coveted by my female friends.) You can imagine the delight I felt, when strolling along Cocoa Beach in Florida during this past Thanksgiving holiday weekend, during one of my hunts for unusual shells, I came across this turkey shell! Halleujah, what a find! You see, nature is always looking for ways to entice you into a world of wonder, a world that has left most adults a long time ago due to a serious sense of disbelief. I marvel at everything when my eyes are alive and looking, and my tongue is not idling chatting. The world of quiet observation evokes imaginations and during this time... well, the world is your oyster... or scallop, so to speak. The universe has a divine sense of humor if you just give it a child-like chance. If you shut your eyes and quietly listen, for example, trees will whisper words of encouragement to you, and so will the ocean, or the morning doves. Usually these Muses of Nature will gently remind you of the miracle and beauty that you are, and then encourage you to take those tucked away dreams out of the closet of your head and make them real. But you have to be on guard that those voracious voices of reason don't come barging in with accusations of crazy, and stupid, or silly, to dash away your plans. Secondly, you must remember that no one, not even your closest ally, really knows who you are, and so you can't let them dispel your unique sense of wonder by bringing you back to a worldly reality. Once you can free the mind and quiet the tongue, the promised magick, known to you in your early youth, will come flooding back like an old imaginary friend... letting you know you are truly loved and welcome... and treasures will arrive to prove it!  

The Joyous Wonder of Child's Play

While in Florida last week, I eagerly looked forward to seeing my niece Aubrey, and her little cousin Brynnie. Of course, I looked forward to seeing my brother and his wife, and knew that there would be great food and a lot of laughter, but I really miss being around the 7 and under crowd. Children are so real, and when they laugh and play all is right with the world. So I had to share the moments we spent in the backyard watching the girls jump on Aubrey's new trampoline so you could partake of the the wonderful joy of being a kid again... if only for a moment. Bet you have to smile when you see those cherub faces gaily laughing and unabashedly showing off for the adults.  I'll bet that like me, secretly you wish you could do the same (without feeling foolish or getting hurt). Now if you're able to hear the adult commentary, then you will hear the smile on the voice of the adult as he tells them that they could be hitting the stars, or the tree, but like an adult, there is always the need to introduce a little warning or a subtle fear into the fun. The last comment made to invoke more laughter, was to be careful of a bird that might peck you in the head! Thank goodness children disregard much of what adults say, or it could have ruined all the fun. I started feeling nervous after that comment, which just goes to show, that once you have reached adulthood, that wonderful joyful abandon gets colored with warning.... as an unconscious stab of regret for a time when jumping for joy is not attached to an event... but is the event itself.