Homesick

The air is cool today. The sunshine is warm with a much softer light than usual. Sure signs that Fall has arrived in Florida.

I love Indiana. It's my childhood stomping ground. But I don't often miss it...except at this time of the year.

I long for the seasons - spring, summer, winter and fall. How I miss watching Mother Nature announce the arrival of Halloween with pumpkin stands and hay bales, followed by Thanksgiving and then a snowy Christmas.

Here, we have different seasons - lobster season, hurricane season and tourist season. And we have the variable weather to go with them - hot and humid, hotter and more humid, and so damn hot and humid you can barely breathe.

Our trees' leaves don't change colors. They live forever or die a sudden death at the hands of one of our many tree 'hat-rackers' in town. It's an ugly sight lending no indication of the time of year it might be.

If we had any, we'd be sweating our balls off down here. In Indiana they're getting our their mittens and winter apparel.

When it drops below 75 here, in Florida, we get excited to wear our sweaters and scarves. They feel good early in the morning. But by lunch you could wring the perspiration out of your underwear and everyone fooled by the morning air, starts their strip-tease. Off come the layers, discard the socks, burn that jacket. So baffling to have bathing suit weather in October. Hmmm. Maybe a string bikini for a halloween costume? Disgusting!

I dream of red, yellow and orange leaves. I dream of the smell of burning leaves. No. Wait. That's the smell of the Everglades burning from 90 degree temps and no rain in a month. There go my allergies - looking forward to nasal drip and the feel of a vice-grip on my temples.

Ahhh...Autumn in the south.

Maybe I'll just turn my air conditioner down to 'really cold', close my eyes, and pretend that I'm a Hoosier once again.

Sept 6, 2009 Labor Day weekend

Just saw a man standing on the corner with a sign that read:

'Lost everything - job, house and wife. Please help and God bless.'

He was clean cut, apparently in good health and didn't have any signs of drug or alcohol addiction or mental illness.

I was 3 lanes away from him or I would have given him one of the McDonalds gift cards I carry in my wallet. In most cases I figure buying them a meal is better than cash for their habit. But this man looked different. He was obviously new at the begging concept. It was apparent by his embarrassment and inability to look in the eye of those passing by.

What does labor day mean to him? Bittersweet for the job lost? Hopelessness for the next meal to come? Lost and disappointed in a Country known for its wealth and generosity? Regret for decisions made and opportunities not taken? Wonderment at the destination of cars full of families and smiling faces passing by him? Wondering if he's ever been to where they're going or if he ever will?

I don't have answers to these questions. I probably wouldn't like the answers anyway.
I would love to be a part of the solution. I don't really know what the solution is.

So, I will buy more McDonalds gift cards and hand them out at the next corner where there is a human face, some mother's child, who has lost their way.

I am grateful to have a job this year and I hope you are too.

August 30, 2009

Have been inspired by the movie - 'Julie, Julia.' If Julie can start a blog and get famous, Dammit I can too! ha, ha.

Actually the inspiration has come in the form of discipline and focusing on the project at hand which is the memoir I have been working on for 3 years. Have written every day for the past 9 days and that's a first!

Have done less retail damage due to time at the keyboard however the dust bunnies are taking over the house because the vacuum cleaner refuses to run it's self. Ahh....priorities.

Must close this blog now and get to the book, or the words on this page are for naught!
Toodles.

Saturdays. I love them. I hate them.

Free time....but a restless time.
So much to do....so many tasks to avoid.

Feels like the rest of the world has a plan...I wrote mine down, but I lost it.

Sunday is around the corner.
Sundays. I love them. I hate them.

Sadness

The sky is blue, but it looks gray.

I am rested, but I feel tired.
So many are healthy, but so many are sick.

The shoes are the right color, but they don't fit.
I think I'm on the right road, but I can't make a left.

I want to cry, but the well is dry.

Stalled. Sinking. Hanging on. This too shall pass. Hurry.

P.S. Happy Birthday Mom!

Taking the 'high' road!

Damn life! It's kept me away from my blog...........ha, ha.

Today my palms are sweaty, heart rate escalated, mood -edgy, thoughts - racing.

Is it alcohol withdrawal? Jonesing for drugs? No, can't be those. I just celebrated my 10 years of sobriety.

It's R E T A I L withdrawal!

I need Starbucks coffee. I crave a trip up and down every aisle at Target. I deserve a new nail polish - after all, I've been wearing this color for at least the last 3 weeks!
My favorite consignment store is calling my name.

Isn't it my duty to shop to support the success of our flailing economy? Barack, doesn't the stimulus plan include my stimulating the retail world? After all, I AM very patriotic. I want to do my part.

Times are tough. I even gave up a movie last weekend. Must I retire my debit card as well?
I feel like a prisoner in my own home. Trapped behind the front door. Afraid to pick up my car keys for fear it will lead me directly to the smell of a sale.

Meanwhile, I glance again out the window again waiting impatiently for the mail carrier. Perhaps a Victoria Secret's catalogue will appear. Maybe a Home Depot flyer.

Or, maybe another charge card bill. Oh well, back in the wallet goes my debit card. Detox is a bitch.

Ain't Life Grand?

I wanted dad to be my hero. I desperately needed him to be my hero. Every life desire was second to the longing of this affirmation.

Could I find it by impressing him with my knowledge? Could I earn it by escaping from the Midwest? Would my sobriety and the changes of a life in recovery be enough to let me see behind his impenetrable wall?

I searched for a chink in his armor.

I knew he had a compassionate and sentient soul. I believed that’s where mine had come from. I was driven by the hunt to ferret it out of him.

Hope appeared and then was smashed again, and again. I was idled by futile attempts to scratch beneath the surface.

But I couldn’t give up the quest. Even before the blood on my fingers could dry, I would start to claw at the metal again.

Red Candy Lips

It was a cold, snowy Indiana afternoon. In town to photograph my niece's wedding, I found myself wandering in the local mall where the warmth was second best only to the people watching opportunities.

I bought myself a treat - Starbucks 'Non Fat Cinnamon Dolce Latte, extra hot' and then headed for a candy store across the way with my 3 year old great nephew, Hunter, in mind.

Gummi worms, multi-colored gummi soldiers, blue and white gummi sharks - wow! They didn't have all of these when I was a kid. I filled several bags with all the treasures I thought he would enjoy. Headed toward the register and there they were ....waiting for me. The oversized RED CANDY LIPS!!

I couldn't subdue my glee as I reached into the box and started pulling out packages of the ruby red beauties. The clerk commented on the cost increase since we were kids. "Those things have really gone up in price!" she said.

She didn't understand. I didn't care how much they were. What a find! I could already see the photo. The entire bridal party poised in their formal attire and sporting their 'botox'ed candy lips. In the annals of spectacular wedding photography, I knew this would be a hit!

As I paid for my purchase, I became aware of a family that had entered the store as well. A young man and woman, surely barely out of a high school and a little toddler holding tightly onto his mother's hand. Their clothes had seen better days and their faces wore the shadow of bewilderment and defeat and hunger. I saw the little boy eyeing the candy bins, but his parents were not there to puchase.

As I headed toward the exit, the dad stepped forward to ask the clerk if they were hiring. I didn't hear her response but I saw the look on his face as his shoulders slumped and he turned away. I had no doubt what the answer had been.

I stood there for some time with my $26 worth of candy lips, watching that family as they walked into the next store and the next, looking for a place, any place, to punch a time card...not to be able to buy candy, but to buy bread and milk and heat.
Sadness, embarrassment and helplessness washed over me as reality kicked me in the gut.

Those candy lips never made it out of the bag. Never took a photo of them because they reminded me that you can't catch fish with gummi worms and you can't treat life like a candy store grabbing as much and as often as you want.

I'm thinking EBay or Craig's List. How much can I get for $26 worth of unworn red candy lips?

When you do something from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy...

Poet Rumi knew what he spoke of..
'When you do something from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy...'

And Wavy Gravy spoke words of wisdom from the chaos of Woodstock,
'We're all bozos on the bus, so we might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.'

****************************************************************************

Hell, there are days I don't even wear a seatbelt!

If you want to read a life-changer, pick up the book Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser. If you're not hooked by page 2, put it down. Not everyone can be a "born twice" and if you aren't one, these ideas probably won't click.
**Book review by unknown author named Limp Ropes.

Thought For the Day

"We hold these truths to be self evident - that all men are created equal."

The Fragmented Fur

I post this piece every Presidential election year. Being a guest at a White House Christmas party, shaking President Reagan’s hand and then attending his inauguration are honors I will never forget.

As it may for you, as well, it saddens me to see the streets of Washington, DC right now and to witness how our political differences have tarnished the ritual of a peaceful transition.

Perhaps, my post of years ago can banish the dark cloud of chaos that surround us and bring a little smile to your face.

Ballgown....$1000 

Outside temperature...-2 

Raccoon Fur Coat...Free.

My cold ass at the 1982 Presidential Inauguration...Priceless. 

 

Because it was going to be beyond cold in Washington that year and I had no appropriate coat to wear on such a trip, my mother-in-law suggested I borrow a rather old (can you say antique) raccoon fur coat she hadn't worn in many decades. It fit, and I was good to go. It was a time when social sentiment was just beginning to rear its head against the use of furs for frivolous outerwear. The demonstrators were racking up a reputation for hurling nasty remarks and going as far as throwing paint at those who dared to wear. Nevertheless, fearless and furred, we hit the streets. Turned out I didn't need to worry about being harrassed. I had bigger problems - HOLES IN MY COAT! Seemed time had caused the raccoon pelts to deteriorate and separate at every seam. I wasn't wearing a coat, I was wearing fur streamers! 

Had it not been for the Presidential Ball where we watched Frank Sinatra smoke a cigarette as he crooned with Mikhail Baryshnikov dancing behind him, my fondest memory might have been finding a small sewing kit in the hotel room where I frantically mended my Presidential rags. 

Peace to all. ❤️

well, it took me 2 days to locate this blog site after I created it! Lost in cyberspace, but retrieved at last.

Quote for the Day
"The collapse of power leads to waves of turbulence
that cause a tense void,
which leads to new awareness." author unknown

Applied to the Obama Inauguration committee for tickets to the big show. Chances of selection are similar to winning the lottery. But as my photography teacher stated regarding entering competitions, "You can't catch the bus if you're not standing on the corner."

Dulces suenos.

Random thoughts...this should be easy. My bucket is full.
First blog. First day. Nothing to say.
Goodbye.