Next Time Won't You Sing With Me?

I am standing on the curve of Sunday into Monday on the last week track in February as I am heading up the ramp into both the Month of March and the beginning of my forty second year.

In my mind's eye I can see the road of my past, present and future.  It is a three dimensional, Dr. Seuss-like path that curves in a slightly upward and semi-spiral motion. I wish I could draw it for you. What I really need to do is animate it in 3D. To see it, you would need special glasses and maybe the use of my brain.

If you could zoom in on the path you would see another circular path within each year and more paths breaking down the hours and the days and the months.  

This is how I see time.

February is a good time for making a plan (fear not, John Lennon I am living my life as well). 

I've got my TripTik, map and tour book. I'm ready to go.

I can see there is going to to be a lot of hard work and persistence to get where I want to be. I am not worried. This is my path after all and all I have to do is move forward.

Woo Girl

I drew this whole alphabet series before I started this blog, before I decided to put words with the pictures. We can thank or blame Marcella for writing in the comments of the fourth letter, "hmmm, I'm wondering what's the rest of the story...".  

"Rest of the story? What story?  I guess I better come up with something."  And so it began. 

It has been a fun challenge to come up with a story for each semi-random word and picture.  Some have been more challenging than others. "Urchin! What the heck am I going to write about urchins?". 

I thought I had a great essay for "X".  It was all about how I've turned into a Cape Codder over the past sixteen years, since I moved here from the big city.  It was very positive and was a reminder to myself that even in January I love being here.  

Then the economy, much like the recent snowfall dumped itself upon our household. It gets you wondering about that roof over your head.  This was a big reminder that just like winter, this recession is not over yet. I couldn't bring myself to post a message that was counter to how I was really feeling. 

So, I posted nothing but the title to remind myself that I even when I am unsure of the future that I am happy to be here.

I moved on to the letter "Y" and had to laugh when I saw that, "Yippee" was the next word. I left the picture alone in a draft and thought, "Maybe I will have some good news by the time I get back to the blog."

A couple of days later I got a letter in the mail from the town.  My first thought was, "Oh man, did I forget to pay the water bill?".  Then, I noticed there was another letter from the town to my daughter.  She is nine-years-old and can not be held responsible for the water bill. What could this be?  I opened the one addressed to my husband and myself to see what this was all about.  

The letter was from the superintendent of the D.P.W. It was addressed to "the parents of". The letter was informing us that our girl got an honorable mention for her recycling design and she was invited to receive her honor at the next selectman's meeting.

The Dump Sticker Contest!

Honorable Mention!

I couldn't be more proud.

Yippee!

So far the metaphorical and physical roofs are holding. Thanks to my husband, on both counts.

Happy to Be Here

It Was a Very Good Year for Small Town Girls

Seventeen was the age that I knew everything. I would like to say that was a great year for me but it was not.  The only people who believed that I knew everything were my fellow seventeen-year-old friends.  All of the adults would shake their heads and say, "You have much to learn".

As I turned eighteen, I could feel the purity of my sense of knowledge start to tarnish.  So I decided to learn more to gain back the light of knowing everything I need to know.

I learned quite a bit at college. Somehow though, the books, the courses, the friends, the boyfriends only pointed out how much I didn't know. 

So I moved to the big city. 

I kept trying to learn to fill my brain with books (damned books, why do I keep reading them?) and life experiences that would get me to that high ground again.  No doubt, many lessons were learned. The main thing I learned was I didn't want to live in the city.

So I packed up my books and moved to the seashore.

I got married and had children.  Now, if there is a sure way that you want to prove that you don't know squat, get married.  

To really feel dumb, read several books on child rearing and then have some children. Children are happy to show you just how much you don't know. Despite the sleep deprived nights and maintenance filled days, there is beauty in seeing these kids grow up. 

You get to watch them learn.  They learn through trial and error, watching others and occasionally listening to advice from a grown-up. This is a messy process that often leaves someone or something bruised or dirty. It is an inspiration that learning is always possible. It is OK if you don't know everything. Keep trying and eventually you'll get the hang of it.

One day my kids will be seventeen. I am going to do my best not to ruin it for them by telling them that they don't know everything. I hope that they can bask in the light. It won't last. 

Trust me. I know.

A Byte from the Apple

My son felt that it was only right that he pick the word for the letter, "V" since his name begins with that same letter.  He also thinks that when he grows up he will have red hair and a beard and be a Dutch painter.  I don't argue. I draw the snake.

This got me thinking about an article I recently read about VanGogh and his famous ear mutilation. According to some researchers, it was Vincent's roommate at the time, Paul Gauguin who sliced the ear. The theory is that VanGogh attacked Gauguin and Gauguin defended himself with a sword. Word is Vincent covered for his friend who took off for Tahiti. This sounds like a reasonable turn of events based on my own personal roommate experiences.

I wasn't a very good roommate. I don't like to do dishes or laundry. I am a bear in the morning. I freely express my opinion.  I don't like your boyfriend.  My art stuff is taking up more than my fair share of the apartment. I smoke your cigarettes and wear your favorite shirt. I don't like to grocery shop or to refill the ice cube trays.

I would like to apologize to those of you who have had to live with me. My housekeeping skills have improved slightly and I quit smoking a long time ago. Mornings are not my best time of day and I still don't like your boyfriend.

If I still owe you for the phone bill in 1993, give me a call. I'd love to hear from you.

We're Not In Kansas Anymore

My kids are always asking me what my favorite color is. I tell them I don't have one. I love all the colors equally.

There is no color that I do not find amazing and beautiful. Choosing one is like choosing my favorite child (if I had billions of children).

Now, sure there are many purple tones that (when worn close to my face) make me look as if I have a blood disorder. Purple on a a ripe plum or in the twilight sky or a healing bruise is beautiful. Purple makes the word Dioxazine sexy.

My kids will try to trip me up by asking if I like the color of poop or throw-up. I tell them I don't like the smell of those things but the colors are amazing. In fact one of my favorite sweaters was a multi-colored knit that closely resembled vomit.

I can start to get overwhelmed if I dwell on all the beautiful colors that occur in ordinary ways on ordinary objects . A slight shift of the Earth's relationship to the sun and the colors change. Awesome. When I see an actual rainbow I get pretty excited.

On the other hand, I've always been a big fan of black and white. When I was a teenager I went so far as to decorate my entire room in black and white.

I never feel the absence of color when I work in black and white or when I'm viewing black and white. It's right there in my imagination. I unconsciously fill in the colors and I am satisfied.

Color though, is my true love.

I recently learned how to "paint" with software and I am having a good time.

There are a lot of hyperlinks in this post which goes to show how excited I get when talking about color.

The Opium of the People

I look at my (smart)phone first thing in the morning, before I eat breakfast or brush my teeth or get dressed.

I get the kids and myself ready for our day.

Like generations before me, I read the (online)paper while I have my morning coffee.

I spend the next eight hours or so doing my work by the soft glow of a computer screen.

During lunch, I take a break. I read the (e)mail and see how my (fb)friends are doing.

The screens go off for supper, homework and story time.

Then the grown-ups can relax and watch the wide screen for a couple of hours.

Then it's off to bed, right after I check my phone.

What I Got

"...the leading cause of wrinkles" was a phrase that caught my ear the other night as I was watching Project Runway. Through the sea of beauty product ads I heard those words . I sat up and replied, "The leading cause of wrinkles is life.".

Time on the planet, what you did with that time and genetics are the leading cause of wrinkles.

I know because I've been working on a pretty good collection of lines over the past forty years.

I've got a pair of parentheses framing my mouth, one from smiling, one from smirking.

The birdlike footprints by my eyes are from being in the sunshine as often as I can.


I've got some small ones here and there from the mistakes I've made. The cigarettes I smoked and the sunscreen I didn't apply aren't even the chief culprits.* Worrying about events that are beyond my control is a mistake I continue to make. Let's call those lines, stress fractures.

The deepest valley on my face is just above the inner part of my left eyebrow. I'm pretty sure that's from making the the quizzical, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you face. I think this is one is genetic since my brother has the same crease.

Hey, don't get me wrong. I can be just as vain as the next woman. I often will take a too close look in the mirror to examine the topical map of my face. I then take a step back (some days way back) and remember that I am lucky to be here.

I then throw on my sunglasses and put on some lip gloss as I head out into the sunshine.



*Smoking cigarettes is a bad idea because some day you will want to quit and quitting really really sucks. I know drug addicts who had an easier time quitting drugs. So don't smoke...or do drugs. Oh, and reapply the sunscreen, that's the key not the SPF.

July, She Will Fly

We wait all year for the summer to come. We get ourselves through waiting at the bus stop in a foot of snow in January by thinking, "Someday it will be warm again.".

Don't get me wrong I love this place all year round and feel lucky to live in such a beautiful place.

The summer though.
Man, I love it.

I love eating pizza at Corporation Beach after a long day in the sun and salt water.

I love that my kids want to be outside all day and I have to drag them in at bedtime.

I love swimming in Scargo Lake on a hot day while the swans swim by and the osprey dive for their lunch.

I love eating seafood that you know just came out of the ocean and washing it down with a locally brewed beer.

I love having our house full of friends and family.

I love taking my guests to out to hear my talented friends perform.

I love working in the garden and then washing off the sweat and the dirt in the outdoor shower with the big beautiful blue sky above.

I love a big, loud, summer, thunder storm and I don't even care if the power goes out.

I love to sit in my wicker rocking chair on the screened-in porch, smelling the lavender and feeling rich.

Ma Bell

I'm one of those people who has the sound of an old fashioned telephone as my ring tone on my cell phone (mobile? smart phone? magic phone?). I knew if I had anything else I'd be one of those people who never notices that their phone is ringing.
Despite having a recognizable tone I still don't always answer my phone when it rings. I don't feel comfortable answering it or even looking to see who it is if I am in the middle of a live conversation. I also won't answer while I'm at work or at the library or if I'm at home and the phone is in my coat pocket in the closet while I'm upstairs or outside.
For the record I am also old and crotchety enough to think it is rude to text message while you are having a live experience with a living breathing human being right in front of you.

For the most part it works out fine. People leave a message and I call them back when I am free. The only problem was that my husband sometimes need to get in touch with me in real time and I wouldn't notice his call until an hour or so later. I remedied this problem by making a special ring tone just for his calls. I used a little techno riff that came with the phone since my husband likes that kind of music and it would remind me of him. It's got a spy-movie-theme-song vibe to it.

The first time it "rang" I was in the grocery store with my daughter. We were in the toothbrush aisle. At first, I thought the sound was coming from the store's piped in music. I realised this wasn't the case when the familiar voice of Jimmy Buffett told me that he was. "wasting away again in Margaritaville". Then I thought it was the toothbrushes, you know the kind that play music while you brush. I finally noticed that it was coming from the shopping cart. I was starting to get a little freaked out because I couldn't see any products in the cart that could possibly be making music. Surely a musical device in the packaging of the frozen peas or the pudding pops wouldn't be able to withstand the extreme temperature and moisture conditions of a supermarket freezer.

I stuck my head all the way in the cart and doing my best not to sound crazy I whispered to my eight-year-old, "Can you hear that music?".
She looked at me with a casual expression and said, "I think that's your phone".