Don't let your babies grow up to be superwomen!

I am just LOVING Cancel, Clear and Delete -- it is funny to me how ingrained it is in me in such a short period of time. I was driving Charlie to school this morning and these same negative thought patterns popped up, and I tapped my wrist, Cancel, Clear, Delete, and he said to me, what was that? What did you just do?

I explained to him that it was a technique I used to clear negative thoughts from my mind, and that it worked, instantly! He just gave me that "I am not really sure why I ended up with the weirdest mother on the planet," look, and muttered something like, sure it does.

But it does, it really, really does. There is this one thought or thoughts that keeps popping up, over and over and over, and it is really clear to me how angry I am about it. There is no doubt in my mind that I am awful at letting things go -- and I am working on it, and have been. But it's not so easy to just say toodles to years and years and years of resentment.

It is a recurring theme for me because clearly it has damaged me in some way. Damaged me in that I can't get beyond it, and so as they say, the only way beyond is through it. So I am going to examine it as best I can through my handy dandy blog tool! My ventomatic!

There was no doubt in my mind that I would work, and while having a baby came upon me a little earlier than planned, there was never a discussion as to whether or not I would work or "stay home." I worked, it is what I did, I earned a paycheck, I supported myself, end of story. I was not married when I had my first child and that had a lot to do with my need for independence. Which is quite ironic at a time when that was going down the drain in a big way! A focus on yourself is a lovely idea when you are young and single, but it's not even in the cards when you are a family. And I don't even mean a focus on myself -- more of a continuation of being in charge of my life.

HA ha. Best way to learn new coping skills is to work fulltime AND have a baby BEFORE they wrote the "Babies For Dummies," manual. (I don't believe it even exists now, but that is how I always prepared for anything -- through books, and 25 years ago my options were slim and I was reading books that had been written decades earlier. Dr. Spock for crying out loud!)

I have always had strong intuition, so that was really my best ally in those crazy, crazy years. My life was certainly not more difficult than others -- but in retrospect I realize I put a lot on myself. For one thing, I did not put Hallie into day care until she was one. I drove to Manchester (nearly an hour) every single day with her in the car. Some days were fine, some days she cried. Some days she demanded, some days she was sweet. I listened to every children's song invented on the planet, I came up with new snacks to entice her. In other words, before I'd even walked through the door to the office, I'd expended a great deal of energy. Then I had to sneak in actual work between breastfeeding and attempting to get her to nap. I had a lot of help in the office; my mother was there some of the time (she worked part time) and there were other co-workers who were happy to coo to a baby -- but when it was deadline time for either the newspaper or the magazine, we were all under stress to meet it.

Of course I knew that stress transferred to her; and I worked very hard to be present and calm -- to get her to that nap that was so precious to me -- that allowed me to work in an uninterrupted space for upwards of an hour. I would put her in a front pack and go for a walk; or I would put her in the stroller and do the same. I should point out here that every day I schlepped all of this stuff from the car to the office. I didn't have duplicates of anything -- what I used there I also used at home.

The drive home was more of the same -- and by the time I arrived home I was completely exhausted. But I still had to do all the things that need to be done to ensure that you can get your ass out the door the next morning and do it all over again. Run to the store to get more snacks! Do laundry. Feed and bathe Hallie, and then read to her. Put her to bed and then collapse myself.

I had no friends with babies, no support system whatsoever in terms of brainstorming the easiest way to do things. I was completely overwhelmed and alone. What about Hallie's father, you might ask? Oh, he was there. I couldn't even stomach to ask him about his day -- because I knew what it was like! I'd been living it myself not too long ago. I knew there was an easy commute to work in a car alone, I knew that he was able to actually sit and do his work, uninterrupted and that he actually got to go out to lunch! With people and talk, and sit and eat, and actually enjoy the whole thing. I would pick up take-out on one of my get Hallie to sleep walks, and eat it with her either attached to me, or whenever. I did not eat when I actually had the opportunity to work while she was sleeping.

I understand now it wasn't his fault -- and later on in the game I utilized daycare so that I too could bring more of that into my own life. But then? Oh, I just hated him. I hated the fact that he would be sitting there on the couch, watching TV while I'd just endured a long ride home with a crying infant, or a demanding toddler or many years later two small children in the car demanding my last ounce of blood.

I am sure I have written about this before -- because it is a huge part of my life. But I would like to impart to my own children (and I believe I've said this before as well) that it is NOT possible to do it all. It's not. NO NO NO NO NO!

I had no clue. My mother didn't work when I was younger and it was only when I was a teenager and they bought the newspaper that they would disappear for days on end. (That was later revealed to be deadlines, which I grew to understand quite well, believe me). I couldn't imagine in the very core of my being that I could put my baby into daycare and yet, there was never a thought that I would stop working. So what other alternative did I have but to take her? At the time I blamed Peter for just about everything, including the weather. Of course it was his fault that it snowed on my ride home and I had to endure a screaming baby AND icy roads! I guess you have to give him credit for even wanting to stay with someone so angry! And I was angry. But let me give you a few examples!

My mother didn't much take to the whole grandmother thing -- if it was convenient she would shower Hallie with attention, but like say if I asked her to babysit, she would ask me what I planned to do, and I would say I don't know, maybe a movie. And she would think that was a great idea and go herself.

Several days after I came home from the hospital with Hallie, Peter and my father-in-law started to build the front porch on our house. Peter had so progressively taken off the newly formed "paternity leave" that his company had so progressively offered, and it was clearly a perfect time to work on a house project. Hallie was born on August 12th, so on August 15th, while I sat one wall away in our hot house with a fan blowing on me, feeling as though my insides had been turned outside (and they had) and a deep, dark depression fell on me, they hammered and nailed and sawed.

I am not sure how depression hits others, but for me it was tangible. I could feel it. In fact, I welcomed it because how the hell else was I going to explain what was going on? I'd gone through 42 hours of labor, half of it in a birthing center before having to rush to the hospital because there were complications. Then I started to bleed out (and I remember that feeling too) and needed to be rushed to surgery and transfused with blood. I'd also been diagnosed with toxemia two months before delivery and had been on strict bed rest. In other words, I was a flaming wreck and my husband (or soon to be) interpreted paternity leave as ignore your wife and child and build a flipping porch.

So yes, I was a little angry. And then my mother-in-law would come in carrying a box of food (Peter had turned over such details to his mother, because when I explained that because of all that had just happened to me I was supposed to be sitting and regaining my strength and would NOT be able to provide meals, and that was what HE WAS SUPPOSED TO DO BECAUSE THAT IS WHY HE WAS HOME ... he found the perfect solution) and she would say "I have to feed the men first."

Yes, I see. Those amazing creatures who had borne nothing, who had not had every cell of their being affected by a difficult pregnancy and birth, who were turning my life into a living hell with their noisy shit ... yes, of course they needed to be fed first.

Oh yes, the darkness that enveloped me ... the sheer joy I would feel at staring up at the huge trees on the embankment across the street and willing them to crush me ... good times. Such good times.

I understand that every generation has their woes. My mother will tell you that men weren't allowed in the whole birthing process and that she was taken to a room and left alone and eventually gassed and delivered. You see, to me, that sounded like sheer heaven ... why had I been fed a stream of bullshit at a Lamaze class that a "natural" birth was the way to go? How come progress had gone from gassing women to making them suffer naturally? Who the hell is in charge of all this anyway?

Every woman has their birth story(ies) and I've got three very different ones, none of them greatly improved by my own previous experiences! So it's not as though we can figure out how to "fix this problem" so that future generations of women can release their babies with ease. But my advice is that as a woman you are NOT doing yourself any favors if you believe you can do it all. I made that mistake and it just meant years of resentment and frustration and well, I am still living it! I still can't let it go, and my youngest is in high school!

So here is why it keeps coming back to me. I do not work anymore. I don't even bother to put in quotes "outside of the home" because in truth I don't spend lavish amounts of time keeping my home clean and I no longer have small children to tend to. I stopped working when Charlie was in third grade because he was having problems in school, and things had changed dramatically at the newspaper since it had been sold. It was of course a difficult decision to make, but in the end, there wasn't one. I had to figure out how to improve his school experience. So I basically moved into his classroom. It was a fine year, the teacher loved me -- free help! -- and with my presence Charlie was fine. I dove deeply into PTA and other volunteer activities and basically replaced my paid work hours with volunteer ones.

Anyway, as the years passed the situation with Charlie was always tenuous. In fact, I just realized as I was writing this that this is the first time, if ever, that I don't have to worry about him and school. I think he is making his way -- I think we have actually survived what was really an incredibly horrendous situation. But the public school system is another big bone I've been chewing on over the years, and has no place in this vent!

So let's let another companion enter our story: Guilt. Now, I wasn't working and I was dependent upon someone else for my livelihood. This was hard. Oh, you have no idea how hard it was in the beginning (I'm so over it now!) and of course Peter has told me that I need to work all these years, because why wouldn't he? Who doesn't want as much money as they can get, and I worked for over 17 years and he was accustomed to a dual income. So was I! But not much had changed over all those years. I was still in charge of it all -- the commuting with kids, taking them and picking them up from daycare or school or sports, shopping, cleaning, cooking, homework, the whole enchilada. And in all that time were two houses that were constantly under construction. In fact, I've never lived in a house that wasn't under construction for one project or another in all these years. So yes, there were plenty of times that I felt guilty for not pulling my own weight -- which basically meant 10 jobs instead of a handful -- and I would go back to that store room of resentment and pull out a file ... oh yes, the day that I was running down the stairs when I was very pregnant with Charlie because I was going to be late picking up Maddie at daycare because I was struggling to finish a deadline and almost fell and realized that I could have killed both my baby and myself. Whose fault was that? Peter's! Of course!

So, it has been very easy these past few years (and it really is a few compared to the number that I worked) to assuage that guilt with vivid images of all the sacrifices and crazy shit that I have done over the years. And no, not any more than many women, I get that. But this is my story! MY story, MY life ... and until I get over it, I won't be able to move on.

Last night, after dinner, Peter was piling the dishes in the sink. This is his method of "doing dishes." I had spent all afternoon working on dinner. I had pored through cookbooks looking for something new and exciting, I had gone shopping, I had cleaned the kitchen from the night before's method of "doing dishes," I had timed it all so that it would be done as soon as I returned from picking up Charlie and afterward I sat there thinking, great, now I get to do dishes. And I thought, BULLSHIT! Why should I feel guilty that he WORKED all day? I worked for years and years (are you seeing a pattern here!) and he wouldn't have even considered feeling guilty if I both cooked and cleaned after a long day at work. So why am ***I**** feeling guilty? Why? Why? WHY? And so I said, I'm not doing dishes, and of course the kids scattered screaming they had homework to do and Peter was like, I am letting them soak, and I said no, that's just a cheap way to get out of doing dishes and I AM NOT DOING DISHES.

This particular rant has no resolution here! It's not like I can say, "and then after he was done doing the dishes he came into the living room and said `honey, I realize that you are still mad over all those years that I should have done more, but now I will do all the dishes and you don't have to do them ever again...' or something along those lines!" No, he was of course pissed that he had to do the dishes and then stormed off to the TV room and ignored us all until he went to bed.

And I am just trying to evolve! I'm trying to destroy that room full of nasty old files of every wrong that I perceived as an injustice to my humanity! I do want to move on, and maybe I can, but I also want my children and any other young women out there to understand, only WE can make the change that so needs to happen if we are to co-exist as equal partners. It is not equal for one person to do the brunt of the work; and yet, as women we also don't know our boundaries. We are forging new ground all the time -- the one thing that a man can do is look back through the generations and see that it is his job to go to work and provide for the family. I am sure there is great comfort in that. And while back in the day the man went to work and the women did everything else, unfortunately we got a taste of what the work day looks like. And it's a whole hell of a lot more fun than sitting around the house tending to small children, cooking, cleaning and shopping. Oh yes, it is!

As women we can look back through the generations and the formula is not as definitive. And apparently today we are all ever so progressive and equal and will be sure to live happily ever after, right? What I see the trend to be now is women pursuing their careers in their 20's and 30's and waiting to have children. In theory, this makes a LOT of sense. But then what? Now, these women who have been in the workplace for 20 plus years are now going to stay home? Or will be able to convince their partner's that it is an equal deal? I am sure that goes on, but those of us women who ended up with men from very traditional backgrounds know there are more of them out there!

I am glad that I didn't do that -- I am over the moon thrilled that I have several very juicy decades ahead of me to take all that I know and all that I have yet to learn and mix it all together into a really fabulous life. If I had had my first child at 39, I would still be dealing with elementary school, and quite frankly, we women need to realize that we change as we get older. We get less patient with EVERYTHING ... it is our time, as we go into our late 40s and early 50s to become the best version of ourselves. To be saddled with round-the-clock motherhood at this age is not right. What I am saying is, that it is not the answer, and I hope that there are vocal women out there who will tell it like it is. So that future generations have a plethora of information to sort through to make their own choices.

I can't blame Peter for everything any more. I shouldn't have blamed him right from the start. But he was my villian! He was the person NOT being as miserable as I was. Of course I put it all on myself, for the most part. He did not share in the decisions I made about the children and daycare and such, because in my mind he wasn't going to be a part of it. Do I know for sure that he wouldn't have? No, not really. And he has helped over the years and would tell you with absolute belief that he did way more than I give him credit for. And I tried to show him otherwise -- I remember putting up a chore chart on the fridge, because he believed that he did half of everything. And I said, okay, every time you do one of those things, check it off. And then at the end of the week I would look at the chart, and he'd only done a few things, but that wasn't proof, he'd say, he just forgot to mark the chart. OHMYGOD it was so frustrating!!!!

Wow, long rant! Probably at this point it is just me ranting to myself, because who wants to read something this long!!! But that is fine. This is it -- this is the place in my life where I say things I should probably not put out there, but I am anyway. Because if I had come across a blog such as this when I was in my 20s, I would have found it FASCINATING! Would I have agreed with it? Probably not, because I always did things my way and if someone had told me it was going to be hard, I wouldn't have believed them.

And that is life -- but there are always ways to improve upon old systems and beliefs. What would have been different (if anything) in my life if my mother-in-law had rushed into the house and insisted upon taking care of me first? If my own mother had insisted upon taking care of my infant so that I could have some time alone to regroup? If someone, anyone! had shown me some care and compassion and nurturing so that I could get strong and share that with my own child. But they couldn't because they didn't know how. And I probably taught my own children to be fiercely independent and depend on no one because that is what I learned was the safest way to get by.

Crazy, crazy crazy.

Clear.

Cancel.

Delete.

Earth Angel ... Cancel, Clear, Delete!

Hmmm today the old novel is just not speaking to me. Figures, right? First of the new world order where I have hours upon hours of time to devote to it -- and it's just stalled out. I keep writing, but the dialogue is stilted and I really have no idea where it is going. Which is part of the way it works, but usually I just start writing and it happens.

Today, I write and I keep thinking are they ever getting off this boat? Finally I had to get them off, and then they get stuck on the porch! Several hours and very little advancement! Bleah.

It is FREEZING cold here. I have closed all the windows and now I am considering turning on heat. How ridiculous is that? Wednesday I was sitting on the beach. I think I will draw an angel card. That is my new latest thing.

WOW.

Yesterday I drew a card that completely spoke to me. It was called Cancel, Clear, Delete. The message of the card was to "Use only positive words and thoughts, as they're rapidly manifesting into form. Ask the angels to cancel the effects of past negative thinking." There is a companion booklet, which translates into a teeny tiny square that might be a book to say a hobbit, but to me is torture. I actually have to use those reader glasses to see the print. Anyway, for Cancel, Clear, Delete it says this: (wait, I have to put on those dumb glasses first)

Have you been complaining or worrying lately ? Do you consider yourself a victim of outside circumstances or people? This card indicates that you've been using negative affirmations to describe yourself and your situations. The angels are asking you to be more aware of what you say, think, and write about yourself. Your past choice of words has blocked you, but fortunately, that barrie is removed the moment you choose positive words.

Action: If you catch yourself saying something negative (even in jest) stop and sweep your hand at the wrist in order to push the energy of your words away from you and then say Cancel, Clear, delete! You let the universe know of your positive and clear outlook for yourself. You ensure that any previous negative affirmations won't manifest in form; instead they will be replaced by your new, radiant intentions.

Okay, so that was yesterday, and when I took my shower I had all these negative things running through my head and all of a sudden, without warning, I tapped my wrist and said Cancel, Clear, Delete! And whammo, it worked.

Then later, as I was getting ready for bed, I realized that once again I had some negative stuff running through my mind, and I did the same thing. It was SO COOL!

So these cards are new, and I am quite unsure as to what I am supposed to do, so I have to read this impossible to read booklet while speaking to the angels and asking them to assist me, blah blah blah. But the directions say that while you are shuffling the cards and thinking of your question, if a card happens to fall out, just leave it be, because it is important. A card did fall out, face down, and it was Cancel, Clear, Delete! I swear, the hairs all over my body stood on end and I was completely flooded with energy. Because I LOVE that card, and when I put it back in the deck before shuffling, I even thought, I love that card! (It also has a picture of a really studly angel bearing a sword, with long brown hair and angel wings of course, but I am sure that is now what attracted me to it!) So cool.

Then, I continued shuffling the cards while asking "am I supposed to be writing this book," because as I stated, the book just isn't flowing today. And here is the card I drew:

Earth Angel ... you are a lightworker who has come to Earth to teach about love.

This card comes to you in response to your question about your life's purpose. The answer is: Teach about love. You fulfill this task whenever you're centered, serene and loving, as that's when you're a role model of Divine peace. You needn't say a word, WRITE A BOOK, or work as a healer in order to positive affect others. You merely need to be loving and compassionate in your interactions with others. Those who are peaceful teach about peace, which is the expression of Divine love on Earth.

What I find so interesting about this is that writing and being a healer are two of the things I am most drawn to do. When I say healer, I mean I want to learn all about herbs (and have been over the years) that can be used for healing purposes. I guess I should look at the writing not as my life's purpose, but that which makes me calm, therefore enabling me to be serene and loving!

Anyway, my mood has greatly altered and get this ... the sun came out.

Toodles!

My shit or yours?

And so the school year starts, and I am once again driving an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening, and I am completely off kilter and resentful that I have to wake up early against my will and the weather has decided that if it's back to school time, then it has to be cold, windy and gray. Oh. And I have my period.

It is back to school and on day one Charlie walks right into it. Shit, really. The kid can't avoid walking into shit. And there it sticks, to the bottom of his shoe, and we can all smell it, and we can all beg him to take off his shoe. But he has no other shoe to wear. And so I try to help him navigate, and I wonder. Why? Why does Charlie always have this ONE person that completely monopolizes his time (and mine!) Why?

It has something to do with fairness and equity and fucking justice. I have to swear, because I have to make this point. I have lived with this my whole life ... this NEED, this pure blind rage that you should not have to do something you don't want to or TAKE something that isn't right. My parents told me that I COULD NOT change anything. Here is the thing, that was NOT the way to go about it! I have had a much more difficult life due to the fact that I do not like the word No and if you tell me I CAN NOT do something, then I will spend a lifetime proving you otherwise. The fact that I might not actually prove a thing is meaningless. The WAY we spend our lives is really what it's all about. Oh, if only I didn't HAVE to argue with the english teacher that he was wrong. Guess what! At the age of 47 I can see now that telling him he was wrong probably wasn't the best way to go about it. I have never felt heavily pressured to prove my rightness. I have always just been sure about everyone else's wrongness!

So. Charlie encounters a situation where it's just not fair. I agree with him! It's NOT fair! I know EXACTLY how he feels. In fact, if I were in his shoes I would write long letters (to the editor of 10 different newspapers) and the heads of school and Aunt Mildred in Kansas, talking about the injustice of it all. That was me -- that was what I did. I ranted, I raved, I didn't care what your opinion was, because here is the thing, I AM ALWAYS RIGHT! Always. No seconds.

Okay, so that didn't really work for me, in truth. I am who I am, and I have no plans of changing now, or in the near future. And in fact, I am becoming even more of who I am as I enter this next phase of my life with my eyes wide open. Good, or bad, I care even less now of what anyone thinks of me then I did before. I am a button pusher. I will close my eyes, and without further thought, push the button. (To send out the ranting email, what the hell else are you thinking I was referring to?) But I believe I have learned, through experience, that it's not really worth my time to send my well written rants to small minded morons. That is progress, right?

When the line blurs between Charlie's agenda and mine, I have to stop and think. I would love to tell them (the authority figures that Charlie is dealing with right now) my thoughts. I would love to ask them why did Charlie have to endure a certain degree of hazing as a freshman and when he calls a freshman a tattler it is considered harassment? But no one really cares. Imagine that! No one really cares about what happened before, or what will happen tomorrow. What anyone cares about is just making a problem go away, and the easiest path to make that happen.

What I am trying to figure out now, as opposed to write about the whole stupid thing and give it more power and energy, is how best to go about helping Charlie navigate this. I have to be careful of phrases like "you can't change anything," "you have to do what you are told," and other words that make my own blood boil and the mask of crazy woman falls upon me! Charlie is clearly drawn to this stuff, and while I didn't always step in the shit, I sure as hell smelled it, and that was all it took to get me going.

I just drew a healing card. It was about self-expression and risk vs. safety. New ideas and ways of doing things are often threatening to the status quo. Have the courage to advance your ideas despite the resistance of others. Do so with an open heart and compassion for the points of view of others. Risk keeping an open mind and heart, despite the opinion of others.

That is a tall order for a teenager, but as a seasoned adult there must be a way I can convey this to him. This morning I explained that he was Obama. He was told that he was put with this particular freshman boy because he was a "school leader." The implication here, of course, is that he must rise above. The thing is, he only has the behavior to go on that was modeled to him during his own freshman year. When upper classmen pushed you around and tattling on one another was verboten. Just because he is a "school leader," (or just because Obama is the president of the United States,) does not mean that all the problems you are confronted with are those of your own making. But some how, because you are the school leader/POTA, these problems ARE your fault and YOU need to fix them, and suddenly you lose favor with all those around you because they had FAITH in you and you let them down.

That's a big pile of shit. Steaming hot.

So the risk vs. safety part of the healing card -- a card I drew because I was supposed to -- is the push the button vs. not pushing the button. Take a stand, or risk, and see how that plays out, or take cover (safety) and see how that plays out. My natural born instinct is to jump on the horse with guns blazing and risk everything. But I get it. This is NOT A BIG DEAL. Even big piles of shit wash away in a heavy rainstorm, or rot into the soil. Long forgotten. No one cares who is right or wrong. No one.

I am 47 and he is 15. He won't listen to me, he's not programmed to -- nor should he, really. I might not be right. And that isn't even a risk or safety statement. For the first time ever, I don't care! It doesn't MATTER. He won't be able to let it go, but I can. It might be the job of the school officials to take care of piles of shit that mar their pretty lawns. But it's not mine!

It's not mine.

It's. Not. Mine.

Can it really be that simple?

Want

So as I sit here with my monitor totally covered with bugs -- not sure how they got in, but there are like 20 of them all over the screen -- I am listening to the rain fall and I am pretty convinced that I am not happy about the end of summer.

I love summer.

I always have.

Now I don't need a lot of excuses to be irresponsible and care free, but summer really brings out those qualities in me in a big way. And I embrace them, and more often than not I bring my children along for the ride. It is very important to me to instill in them a sense of eking out all the oomph out of summer. Stay up late, eat ice cream instead of dinner, swim when you are hot and pack a huge cooler of food and drink and just sit on a dock for hours. And hours.

Earlier in the week we went to the ocean. I am an ocean girl, pure and simple. If asked would I like to live on the ocean or on the lake, I would scream out ocean and head in that direction. If I was then told that they were just kidding and I had to live on a lake, I would say you suck and go to the lake and deal. But I wouldn't be happy.

(I must say that writing with a ton of bugs on your screens is weird)

Anyway, my kids go to private school so they are not put through the indignation of having to start before Labor day. And this of course works for me because I abhor the end of summer. So anything that keeps it going -- say to the tune of thousands of dollars -- then I am in! This last week was particularly HOT ... and I must admit it is difficult for me not to complain about that. While I do so love summer, I do not particularly enjoy sweating while employed in the strenuous activity of sitting still.

But there is still that "back to school" feel in the air and it is unavoidable to pretend otherwise. And while I do enjoy the predictability of a schedule after living with no schedule at all, it is only a few months before I am chafing at the constraints of having my day compartmentalized in hours of this, this and that. I am, however, looking forward to alone time -- to having the house to myself, myself to myself and many hours stretching out with just myself! I can tell, as the summer draws to a close, that I am no longer interested in socializing ... This is the second hardest change of seasons for me. The first is fall changing to winter ... that is brutal and generally requires a few days of real-to-goodness depression. This one isn't quite as bad because fall really is a beautiful time of year, and a wonderful opportunity to hike in weather that doesn't want to kill you (as this oppressive hot weather has been known to try!) But I still have to wrestle with the thought of losing my favorite season of all.

I am excited to have huge chunks of hours to devote to finishing my book (and not having that awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that if I don't go out and enjoy the sunshine and summer day soon it will all be gone and I will rue the fact that I didn't!) I still want another fabulous beach day, and definitely at least one more night on the boat with a blanket of stars covering us and the sounds of the loons filling the air. I want. I want. I want!

Of cucumbers and novels

I could write a horror movie and call it, "The cucumbers are coming and the zucchini is not far behind."

I am not sure if it is possible to overdose on cucumbers, but I am pretty sure I have come close. Every day I juice about six of them and then eat another six. That still leaves plenty for the rest of the family, friends and neighbors. I have to pick them twice a day because they grow from little bitty things to these oversized beasts in a few hours time. I have a huge pile of ones that have grown beyond an acceptable size -- and that is with me combing through the leaves on a daily basis. Plenty like to escape out the fence and grow into these freaks. Today I tried to kill a zucchini plant by taking all its leaves off. Because the cucumbers were all entwined in them.

And don't even talk about the tomatoes. I used to love cherry tomatoes -- they tasted like candy and were ever so delicious. Now I am not sure I will ever eat another one. And my daily sandwich -- lettuce and tomato -- is getting old. After I've had my large cucumber juice, it's like, oh goody, time for lunch. NOT! But I have to enjoy these foods while they are so fresh and amazing, right? Because in a few weeks time I am going to have to go back to the supermarket and get the bland versions and actually pay great sums of money for them.

That is if I ever eat any of these items ever again! Today I am not so sure.

So I have not had time to blog the past few weeks (months?) because I am writing elsewhere. In essence, I am cheating on the blog. Big time. I started a novel in 1999 that was inspired by the plane crash that killed John F. Kennedy, Jr. and his wife Caroline. Shortly after, we were on the Vineyard and a shrine had been built on the beach up at Gay Head, near where items from the plane had washed up on shore. I had taken pictures of it and whammo, a novel was born. But then it fizzled out. I just couldn't seem to figure out where to go with it, and tried out a bunch of different scenarios, before abandoning it and writing several more novels instead. But I always liked it, and I figured out how to download my books onto my kindle (the ones I've written) and I read it again while on the Vineyard. And it all just clicked ... and the end became so obvious and even more interesting, the span of ten years has made all the difference!

So I have been writing up a storm and while I have several other completed novels, this is going to be my debut one, I have decided. I am looking forward to the kids returning to school so that I can put in a huge amount of hours toward writing. Currently I am sitting down whenever and getting lost for hours on end, and then I have to pull myself out. It is hard, so I have been actually holding myself back, because it is still summer and there are still summery things to do ... so I am working on being patient. Not that it always works, and it's not unusual for me to say I am headed to bed, only to write a few words that turns into several hours and any thoughts of being tired are long gone.

The writing life is NOT family-friendly -- at least not the way it works for me. I have spent much of my children's lives saying, "okay, be right there," only to find the house dark and everyone asleep and a little nagging thought that I was supposed to do something. It's not really fair, but the future is upon me -- pretty soon there won't be any children at home at all, and no reason not to lose myself for hours on end. The fact that I can return to a book ten-plus years later and it's as though it was the way it was supposed to be has taught me that nothing has to be written overnight. You can get the characters back fully once again and they become richer over the passage of time.

A lot of the blogs I follow seem to be on the verge of coming to an end. It as though we have collectively shared and honed our ability to write on a regular basis, and now we are all concluding that it is time to channel it elsewhere. And unspoken as it seems to be -- the fact that so few words are being spoken speaks volumes!

I am not formally ending my blog -- but I do not feel compelled to write everyday, as I already am.

There once was an evil bitch on a beautiful night in Menemsha

Do you see the brown-haired woman in the middle in the white shirt? Let me tell you about this woman. While vacationing on Martha's Vineyard the past few weeks, one night we decided to partake, along with a couple hundred other people, in a beautiful Menemsha sunset. As we approached, I began to intend for "a perfect parking spot." Yes, this does work. Almost always. As we approached the parked lot, there were dozens of cars milling about looking for a spot. I saw a van with all the doors open, and we stopped and asked them if they were leaving. The man said yes, but it might be a little while as he was trying to get everyone packed in. No problem. I maneuvered the car so that it was out of the way of other cars trolling around looking for a spot, and waited. Then this woman (the one I pointed out above) came from the van and said to us "it looks like we're not leaving after all." I was like, what?

Now.

It was quite possible that it was the truth because why exactly WOULD you leave a prime parking spot on a beach that was about to experience a fantastic sunset. Then she walked back towards the van and did not get in, but instead sort of went behind it like she was going to sit down on the beach. It was that movement that made me realize I was wasting my time waiting for them to leave. So we pulled away and inched back into the line of cars looking for parking spaces. Then we saw the van leave and another car pulled in (of course.) At first we all thought it was the van people who had saved the spot for someone else, and that sort of made sense. But then, when the van passed me, I noticed the woman in the car was NOT the woman who had acted as though she was the "woman of the van." Suddenly I realized what had happened. She had played us!

I said to everyone, "OHMYGOD, that evil bitch just said that and stole the parking spot. That was her waving in the other car ... the car that SHE CAME IN." Peter likes to believe all people are nice, and he said he thought I was mistaken. I bee-lined back there and sure enough, there was that woman walking with another woman towards the lobster place. I gave her an evil growly "I can't believe what type of person you are," and she just stared ahead and totally ignored me. I was totally blown away. It took me a while to get over it, literally. We just dumped all of our stuff (chairs and cooler) and Peter took the car off to find a space because I was quite possibly going to drive over the woman (oops, shit happens, right?) and he kinda sorta knows me and was probably worried about that. So I walked over to where she was sitting, as you can see, and snapped her picture. She didn't see me at first, but then it registered that she had a big-assed lense trained right at her. I just gave her the biggest most evil smile I could muster, and turned and walked away. And then I sat in my chair and hexed her. Yes, you can do that.

She is probably bald today. And quite possibly had a very awful bout with food poisoning. I am just saying.

Anyways ... if you are ever in a situation where you are waiting for a spot, and someone walks by you and says they aren't leaving -- get a second opinion -- like from the people actually near the car. Because evil lurks in all sorts of places. Even beautiful beaches.

Speaking of which ...

After all my hexing and questioning the universe why such a thing was dumped on my lap, (and a few quick vodka drinks) I was able to enjoy this. It really was beautiful, despite the number of people. There was even a group who came and set up a long table and like dining room chairs, put on a table cloth and sat there eating their lobster. What was so silly was that they weren't paying any attention to the sunset -- they were far more interested in how clever they were. In a world of one-up-manship, I was happy that I'd managed to abstain from all the fanfare and was quite happy with our cheese and crackers and cocktails. I mean, do you really need anything else when you have this:

No. You do not. And a beautiful ball of gorgeous sun can make all the evil go away.

Stupid worm

This is how my morning began. I went out to the garden to harvest as much kale and cucumber and zucchini as I could fit into a cooler for the next two weeks, since I am off to Martha's Vineyard. As I went by the tomato plants, I noticed that the upper branches looked funny. I inspected closer and realized they were BEING EATEN. Shit. Then I noticed this stuff all over the ground, and upon closer inspection realized I was looking face to face with one of these ugly things. My tomato plants were covered with them. I am sorry, but would you want to touch one of those? They are several inches long and they cling on to the branch with suction cups. They are just icky.

I did what any new gardener would do (what did they do before the internet?) and I quickly googled in creepy slug on my tomato plant. That actually worked, and up popped the Horned Worm. Yep, that was it. The solution? Well you can spray with something that I do not have, and remember, I am organic, so the next solution was to pick them all off. Lovely.

So I took a pair of kitchen tongs and a jar with a lid and off I went and plucked these creepy crawlies off my plants. I collected about ten, and then Peter came out and instantly found three more where I had been staring. Which leads me to believe there are a whole hell of a lot more out there. But I am leaving and will not have time to search for them, which also leads me to believe that when I return my garden will be a ghost town. They eat SOOOOOOOOO much. They are almost amazing. And my question is, why the hell don't they eat the fricking zucchini?

It has been a long day and it's only 11:00!