Collecting rocks and blogs

I have about a dozen blogs that I follow on a regular basis and it has seemed that about half of them have sort of slowed down in terms of how much they are updating them. I too, fall into patterns where I don't have much to say, and so I don't, so it's not that big of a deal, but I have found that when I go to a blog a few times and there is nothing to read, that I will click on links of their favorite blogs.

Well.

I really don't need any new ones to follow, but sometimes it is like reading a novel when you discover a new blog and start right from the beginning, and read to the present. I become as absorbed as one can, really, and I am always struck by how much talent there is out there, and also, how amazing this whole blogging thing is.

One man started a blog to keep his family updated on the pregnancy of his wife. matt, liz and madeline . Not much of a name, but to the point! He picked up a following and when his wife went into labor, he received requests to let his blog fans know the outcome.

His wife, who was young and healthy, delivered their first child, a baby girl named Maddie. She ended up having a C-section, and after she had been in recovery and at last moved to a room, she wanted to go see her baby. When she stood up, her last words were "I feel a little light headed." And she crashed to the floor, dead, from a blood clot that traveled to her brain.

The blogging community, which was updated by a friend, drew together and sent out as much support as they could for this widowed and single father. And they even started to collect money, which eventually Matt funneled into an organization named after his late wife, which supports parents who are left alone in similar circumstances.

There is no doubt, as you read through this blog, that a huge part of his recovery is due to the fact that he vents his frustrations -- not only to people that are now his friends, but to total strangers. It really is a fascinating thing. Right now he is in India, where he spent the first part of his relationship with his wife, writing a book about the events of the past 19 months. He takes photos of his little girl standing in the same places that her mother did just a few years ago. It is strangely haunting and yet poignant. I get it -- I get it because I know how therapeutic writing can be; and he is also creating a wonderful "history" for his daughter to look back on as she grows up -- without her mother -- and she will understand how truly her father loved her.

So instead of writing in my own blog, I have been exploring others. Blogs are kind of like rocks on a beach -- there are as many as the eye can see, but there are only a few that catch your eye. And after you pick it up and examine it a bit, you either throw it back down or haul it back to live with you. I guess you could say, I am a bit of a blog collector!

Is it just me?

This morning I ran up to the grocery and liquor store as I am having people over for dinner tonight and I wanted to get it done.

Well, I apparently had the same idea as the rest of the world -- place was packed. I was fairly patient as I kept getting blocked in aisles or someone would leave their cart in the middle of an aisle and then go someplace else. By the time I got to the checkout area, it was three people deep. Okay, whatever. I don't think people realize that Thanksgiving is a few weeks away, because that is how it felt! Crazy.

I put my groceries in the car and then walked to the liquor store. I didn't drive over because it is a nice day and I figured I could use the walk. Except that I'd forgotten that not only did I need a bottle of vodka, two bottles of wine and contreau -- but also two bottle of marsala wine for dinner! Shoot! So I ended up schlepping a huge box (and a heavy one at that) across the parking lot, waiting patiently for cars to pull out and so on. At last I made it to my car and rested the box on the side to find my keys in my pocket, and somehow I hurt my finger. I don't recall how, unlocking the door, opening the door, whatever. It hurt.

Put the stupid box into the car and climbed in. I started to back out and there was a woman pushing her cart behind me. I waited and realized she was still there. I looked closer and realized that she was texting on her phone! She was stopped directly behind me and I was obviously pulling out, and she was too busy fricking texting!

I said, out loud, are you kidding me? And of course assumed, as I inched my car out, that she would move. Oh, but I was wrong. She was NOT going to move for any car, oh no, she was BUSY. Fine. My car is bigger than you are, I backed up right against her. She gave me this WITHERING look, but not until she'd finished her stupid text and flipped her phone shut! Then, instead of moving, she put the phone back into her pocket and did something with her pocketbook.

I should have hit her. Just for kicks. And the thing is, I don't think she even felt as though she'd done anything rude! I think she was so into her texting world that it didn't even occur to her that SHE was in the path of a vehicle and since she wasn't anywhere near her car, had no real reason and/or right to stop there! Oh, but she did! She was busy!

As I finally managed to back out and drive away, as I passed her pushing her cart to her car, I wondered if it would make any sense to put my window down and inform her that texting in traffic was kind of, well, umm, fricking MORONIC if she was risking her life doing it! And I thought, nah, she had already put the rudeness card in my court, she truly believed that I was being pushy. When in truth I was just done with being around people who think the whole world evolves around them.

When HELLO, it evolves around ME!

This is it ...

Let me state first of all that I've never been a HUGE Michael Jackson fan. I loved many of his songs, and was amazed at his dancing talent. But for the most part, he didn't really rock my world to any great extent.

As the years went by, it became quite clear that this person was, well, a little more than ODD. I never paid a whole lot of attention, but things like "he bought the Hunchback of Notre Dame's bones," and he now owns the entire Beatle' catalog," would permeate my consciousness (that wasn't hunchback, it was something else. Can't recall exactly whose bones he had and it's not important enough to me to look it up.) Anyway, then I realized his physical appearance was changing ... A LOT. And then he was on an Oprah show and he said that he'd had NO plastic surgery and the reason that his skin had changed color so dramatically was because he had some type of disease. Ummm. No. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

He became a true oddity to me and one not worth much of my attention at all. Then I saw him I think on a Barbara Walter's special, or maybe another Oprah or one of those VHS shows, who knows, but something about him completely touched me. I realized that he was a product of what happens to someone when their world is completely wrong. He was, in essence, an abused child.

Now, how did I end up at that conclusion? He was a very young child when he was catapulted to stardom. He had more talent in his little pinky than any of his siblings, and his family capitalized on that ... if only to keep the older brothers working! There was footage of this little boy trying to get into a car and being completely MOBBED by screaming fans (which I so don't get, what are you going to do when you get to a person you adore, tear him apart?) And things seemed to click into place ... the fact that he lived on a ranch called Neverland, which created the perfect environment that a child would want to be in; or the fact that he hung out with children. I don't think he did anything pedophile-like to these kids, I think the problem was that he was emotionally stuck at about 10-years-old and that was all he could relate to. And think about it -- all adults would have treated him differently because of who he was. So he never had anyone treating him in a proper manner. I am sure he was always so confused. But children, children don't know how to act other than who they are (at least for a little while!) So he could be himself around them without being judged.

So here he was, alone in his castle, unable to leave without creating some kind of mob scene. It's really beyond sad. And when you are 10, you are not really ready to have sex or a relationship, so that kind of left him in a place of limbo -- because a part of him wanted to be "normal," except that he had no concept of normal.

So the people he bonded with were people who had experienced the same wacky and surreal childhoods -- people like Elizabeth Taylor and Brooke Shields and Lisa Marie Presley. I can just see him and Lisa Marie sitting around and talking, of course having the mutually exclusive "badge" of being different because of extraordinary circumstances, and just howling at how funny it would be to get married.

So this more or less 10-year-old is then accused of molesting children and I am sure that really took him from the edge of the precipice to a free fall into nowhere for a good long time. I don't think he ever recovered, and in truth, would any child?

I saw a different Michael Jackson in the film "This is It." It certainly didn't convince me that he was a full-fledged adult, but I sure did see someone who knew his stuff. You can say a lot of things about Michael, but you can't say he wasn't amazing at his craft. Amazing isn't a strong enough adjective ... in truth, there really are no words. (But don't you worry, I'll struggle along!)

First off, I never would have gone to see his concert. After seeing what it would have been like, I have no doubt I would have absolutely ADORED it. In fact, it made me very sad that the costumes that were custom-made for him that were "beyond anything that had been designed before," will never be worn by him. He had a real flair for the dramatic when it came to his wardrobe -- a true understatement!

The film is pieced together parts of his rehearsals and the filming of the various movies that would have been shown on the backdrop. He is involved in every aspect and the people in charge kind of treat him a bit like a God. I found that part a little distressing, I must admit, and that also reinforced my earlier feeling that no one ever treated him "properly." The director of the show and the producer of the movie, Kenny Ortega, sort of fawns on him ... "what do you want Michael, what can we do for you Michael, I love you Michael," to which Michael responds in a very weak voice, "I love you too."

Except that Michael doesn't really know what love is, I don't think. But man, does he know how to put on a show! His meticulous attention to detail is almost painful. You can see every cell of his being twinging when he tries to convey to the piano player what key he wants the song to be in, or how long he wants a note to be held. But he does get it across, and every single one of his band members and dancers knows they are in the presence of greatness and performs willingly. And the talent he surrounds himself with is just plain awesome. And he doesn't have that need to be the only person shining on stage, he very often wanders behind them or off to the side.

This Michael Jackson is someone you would want to know, because he is doing something that he knows. He is strong and confident and man could that guy move. But when he was doing a duet with a female vocalist, a love song, it wasn't believable. When he drew the woman to him, there was nothing there. I truly believe he was asexual. Even his signature move of grabbing his crotch and doing the grind ... has no sexual undertone to it AT ALL. Zip.

So here was this 50-year-old man moving around the stage like a teenager, rocking and rolling and creating a masterpiece. There has been speculation that he was anorexic, that he was doing massive amounts of drugs; that he had this or that.

There is no doubt that Michael Jackson was riddled with emotional and physical problems. I believe he is in a better place and I hope that this time around he stays under the radar and keeps his talents to himself. They ruined him for this life. How sad is that?

The power of cravings

This morning on my way home from dropping Charlie off at school, I had the most powerful and incredible NEED for coffee. All I could think about was a hot cup in my hand, sipping it ... I could imagine the aroma and the flavor. I drove into Dunkin' Donuts. I mean, wouldn't you?

The coffee itself was far too hot to drink, so instead of putting the craving to rest, I examined it. You see, I don't drink coffee -- at least not on a regular basis. I like coffee and for years on my way to work I would drive through and pick up my big cup of Dunkin' Donuts hazelnut with milk and one sweet and low. (Yes, that is what I ordered today!) I don't know whether it's because I drive by a Dunkin' Donuts every morning, or because I am in the car every morning at a "commuting" hour, but it seems as though it is unleashing some dormant need for coffee!

I have felt it before, but not this strong. I don't want to be a slave to my coffee addiction as I was before. After I stopped working and no longer made the regular commute past the addiction affliction coffee stop, it became a hassle to actually remember to drink it so that I wouldn't get a headache. So if I didn't remember to drink my coffee before noon, I was screwed, because if I drank it after that, I wouldn't sleep. It was ridiculous, so I went through a detox, it was horrible and I swore I'd never go near the stuff again.

And I didn't, for many years. But now I am, like many addicts, quite sure I can "handle it." This past summer while we were at the Vineyard, I had a cup of coffee nearly every morning for two weeks. I was aware that this could be a problem, so I would deliberately not have it some days just to make sure I could "get by." But everyone else was drinking it (I know, I know, terrible reason) but it's such a social thing, and I really like it! I figured what the heck, I was on vacation after all!

As soon as we returned home, I knocked off the coffee completely. And it was fine, no big deal. But not only do I like the taste of coffee, I like the IDEA of it. I like the idea of having something that "gets you going," that signifies a ritual that implies you don't really have to be yourself until you have consumed at least half a cup. When people say, "I can't deal with this, I haven't had my coffee yet," I think, "YEAH! I want that too."

Why?

You got me. Seriously, even re-reading that above paragraph I find it puzzling that I would actually WANT something that, well that makes me seem weak. I "can't" shouldn't really be in any of our vocabularies, and certainly not first thing in the morning!

Every morning I have a smoothie -- it revs me up and tastes delicious and it's all I need for hours. Sometimes it is fruit-based and other times it is green (with veggies). But I don't NEED it, but it makes for a wonderful and healthy breakfast. Coffee doesn't really fit that bill, though it does fill me up. I have now only had a cup of coffee this morning (large, hazelnut, with milk and sweet and low,) and I am stuffed. But what have I ingested that is going to do my body good? I can't imagine drinking a smoothie on top of it, so in truth, the coffee is a detriment to me.

(Talking myself off the coffee wagon here!)

What is most interesting about this whole thing is how the craving grew and grew until I had to listen to it. So, does my body actually NEED caffeine right now? Is that what it's all about? Another thing I am wondering is that I have this cream that contains caffeine in it, because it is made from a coffee bean. It smells absolutely AMAZING, and I put it on before I go to bed. So, could this be going into my system and I am waking up craving more of what I am smelling all night?

Well, that could be it! See, if I hadn't started this whole thing about craving caffeine I never would have thought of that. I am going to ditch the cream for a few nights and see if the cravings go away. Before I find myself between that fine line of NEED versus WANT!

White moon rises over sunset

First I started complaining because it was getting dark before 5:00. Then I happened to turn the car towards home and gasped at the sight of the full moon.

It was amazing.

I decided to take a long way home so that I could drive into the moon with the mountain behind it. As I started down the hill I gasped again and poked Charlie.

Look at that sunset! Wow. I nearly drove off the road gaping (and gasping) between the picture of the moon and the portrait of the sunset, obviously on different sides, it was like being in heaven.

I arrived home and went to take pictures.

But my battery died.

And I didn't even care -- so there!

Rise and fall of Fall 2009

I think one of the hardest things to capture is the perfect fall day. I mean, some are no-brainers -- there are some days when the sky is the right blue and the leaves have peaked and you just happen to have a camera. But those days are pretty few and far between. Believe me.

I carry my camera around with me religiously and I am always looking for that perfect picture. This year it didn't seem to come. When the foliage was at its best, the sun never came out. And when it did, perfection wasn't speaking to me.

I did spend a day in Portsmouth when the sky was just right, but by then the foliage had progressed to mostly yellows. Oh well, it was beautiful and I took a bunch.

Following is the rise and "fall" of fall 2009!

OHMYGOD I have been playing with these pictures all day, I swear. To heck with it, I am just posting this. I used to go to flickr and drag the photos into the blog, but they have downgraded my account because I don't pay and now I can only drag the photos in a SMALL size. So I then downloaded the photos via blogger but they all came in as one and if I try to delete one, it deletes them all.

Nightmare, I tell you. Anyway, I was going to comment on the pictures, but I can't. Or at least near them. The first and last photo (I wanted it to be last, not first and for some reason it is now in twice and if I try to get rid of it ALL the photos go) was going to be a tag line such as ... and this is how it ends ... and I sometimes feel like this sunflower -- beaten down and discouraged that summer and fall are both over and it's all gray and dismal from here on in. I haven't chopped these down (the sunflowers in the garden) yet, because they really are so forlorn and yet ... so strong. Those stems are amazing. They could weather a winter if they wanted to. Except for the part where they're well, you know, dead!!!!!

Later, tomorrow, soon, yep, I'll get to it.

I promise.

I don't know what is going on, but I am like a giant magnet walking about with things pinging towards me and clinging for all their life. And I think, oh, good idea, I can do that, oh, I'll do that too ... and I am getting buried!

My desk is ridiculous. Everything is at that stage where it has gone so far it is overwhelming. So I've been putting off cleaning my desk since ... ummm, August? Ditto with the pile of clothes in my room that represents the between seasons limbo -- there are still shorts and t-shirts, because I am a diehard optimist and I am STILL holding out for that Indian Summer. Anytime please. I need to get rid of that pile to make room for ski pants, fleece and sweaters.

My pantry crossed over from being disorganized to detrimental to cooking about a month ago, but again, that is a P R O J E C T and I am not ready to deal. Yesterday I stood there for ten minutes searching for cumin. I used to have all of my spices alphabetically organized on a shelf. But that shelf now has about 10 spices on it. Where did all the spices go? No, seriously, where did they go? I haven't used them all up! They are in hiding.

Or on a shelf where I can't spot them. Same with all of my superfoods. I smartened up a few weeks ago and combined my daily supplements in the cupboard above my blender so I wouldn't have to go search for them every morning. But the umpteen boxes of tea that I took out of that cupboard are now in a basket on the pantry floor. Seriously. WHAT IS MY PROBLEM?

Also, while searching for maple syrup in the jungle of a pantry, I discovered other superfoods I should be incorporating into our diets as well -- especially those with lots of Vitamin C. Oh, and where did all the maple syrup go? I had TONS of it. I was lucky to find the one small bottle. Did someone steal it? No, seriously.

And then there is my office. It's out of control. I mentioned my desk, or the big hulking thing that holds my computer and countless other items like an opened Larabar, old batteries, a Fast & Furious DVD that I don't want but was sent anyway by Columbia House and apparently want to get mad about daily, four books, a pile of empty CD cases, a jar of coconut oil, a bottle of coconut handcream (I do use that constantly) an empty plastic baggy, a water glass, a stapler, two calenders, a notebook with notes scribbled in it for a future blog, and then underneath all that -- who knows.

Then on the ottoman to my right are four stacks of books and magazines, a container of string that I believe HALLIE put there that she was making bracelets with and now a lampshade. Then an empty chair, only because someone sat in it last night and put the lampshade on the ottoman! Then on the floor, in what I am now referring to as my bag store, are all the bags I use. My hiking backpack, my backpack I take to the beach or dock (hmmmm, time to put that away?) and then two sort of handbags that I switch between where I throw in my camera, a snack, water bottle and shopping bags, etc. when I head out for the day. My pocketbook is on the table next to it, which also contains three books, a bra (yes, I was looking for it, now that you mention it) and the camera case. Which begs the question, where is the camera? Undoubtedly in one of the bags in the bag store. I just counted, there are 7 bags.

Am I slob? Well, it would seem so, but not really. It just accumulates, and then, well, what the hell am I going to do with them all? Two of them are those big canvas ones that I take to soccer games, with a blanket and other warm clothes because you never know what it's going to be like. And two sizes because sometimes I go to the games alone, and other times Charlie and Peter go. I could bring them back to the basement, where I got them, but there are still a bunch of soccer games left. Is it worth climbing the stairs each time? I think not.

As for the umpteen backpacks, they really have no home. I used to hide them around the side of my desk in the corner, but that is now home to a stack of pictures that I need to deal with (later) and a big bowl full of rocks.

I love rocks.

I hate all this stuff, as much as I love it. If I rid myself of the detritus of my office; I would undoubtedly purchase it all within weeks. I love bags, I adore books and magazines and truly, the lampshade needs to go because I bought a new one, but do I throw it out? I don't know. I tried to convince the kids to use it as a halloween costume ... but no. Charlie jumps out of bed this morning, with about 10 minutes before we need to leave, and asks me to help him with a great ghost costume.

I think not. But I mentioned the lampshade ... no go. And no go goes the lampshade.

::::::::::::::sigh:::::::::::::::::::::::

I suppose I should get out of the messy office and go into the messy kitchen and clean that up. That is pretty much where my loyalty lies as far as my cleaning budget. I clean that (%#)*$()@&%)@(*$#P* kitchen twice a day. Once in the morning to clean up whatever mess was left from the night before, and then after I cook. The second time I don't mind, because I am cleaning up after myself. But cleaning up after others -- others who can certainly clean up after themselves, just sucks. And really, the only solution I've found to that problem is to just leave! The ONLY time I don't have to deal with the kitchen is if I am not here. And somehow they manage to figure it out. But if I am here, the best they can do is throw a dish or two into the dishwasher. Crumbs on the counter, pans on the stove, etc. are all invisible to their untrained eye.

How did this turn into a bitching session? Because I hate to clean when I don't want to clean. So I'll get to it later. Tomorrow. Soon. Yep, I'll get to it.

Taxi!