Garden ramblings

There are two areas where I experience great feelings of inadequacy in the garden; and they are raspberries and asparagus.  I read about them; I am pretty sure I "get it," then I go out and am completely nonplussed as I stare at what I've got.  Right now my asparagus plants, which were cut down in the fall per directions I read, are still just the dead husks sticking out of the ground.  I covered them with hay and uncovered them this morning, thinking I might see some green.  Ummm, no.  So I do what I always do, I walked away!  I mean, do I get rid of those dead husks?  I don't know.  I hate not knowing.

The raspberry bushes confound me beyond belief.  Either you have summer bearing or overbearing.  If they are summer bearing, then you prune them one way, if they are overbearing, you prune them another.  I know that I get two crops of berries from these teeny bushes; which would lead me to believe they are overbearing.  But then it says if you want a greater yield; you should only go for one crop.  So, I was out looking at my raspberry bushes and they look like hell.  Peter says they are all dead.  I know they're not all dead, but I also know that I was supposed to prune out the dead canes last fall.  But I freaked out in total confusion and left them alone.  So now we're here, Spring is coming, and I still don't know what to do!  Do I prune them now?  Then the same summer bearing overbearing thing comes up, and I just want to ignore them.  I ignored them last year and they gave me some berries -- but they definitely need some type of TLC.  Oh geesh.   I find it so interesting how I let these things get to me!  I mean, make a damn decision and move on.  But I can't seem to!  Like the end of the world will happen if I don't make the right one.

What I do know for sure is that they will do their damndest to stay alive -- that is just in their nature.  And my worst problem is that I hate reading directions -- I just always assume I will figure something out intuitively -- especially in the garden.  But not these two buggers!  I still remain confounded after looking them up... again!

On another note, nearly ALL of the garlic I planted in the fall is growing -- and that is very exciting.  How cool is that -- plant a clove of garlic and you get more garlic.  Now THAT makes sense!  But these are touchy plants too -- you have to trim down the garlic scapes at a certain point, and naturally none of the sources I seek agree on one certain time.  Whatever.

When I started to garden three years ago (this will be my fourth year) I had no idea what I was doing.  But I have gained experience, which is really the best way to learn anything.  I feel very confident with many things -- lettuce, kale, cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, beets, carrots ... but then others do me in.  Last year the broccoli and cabbage brought in these stupid pesty moths that ate everything in the garden that they could.  So this year I am avoiding them like the plague!   Besides, cabbage plants are huge and take forever to grow into one head of cabbage -- and all the while I was pulling worms off of them.  By the time I got the hole-riddled cabbages, I didn't even want to eat them -- sure they were bug infested!

As for tomatoes -- oh such torture with the worm -- whatever it is called.  I have a tendency to block out bad things, so I can't remember the name of the worm, but it is big, insidious and last year I lost nearly my entire tomato crop.  I spoke to an organic gardener, hoping he would give me some fabulous insight on how to beat this worm, and he said, you pick them off.  Great.  Oh, and feed them to the chickens!  Yeah, another reason to have chickens!

So this year I am going to put the tomatoes in a raised bed, to make it easier to pull off the worms!  Fine, if that is the way to save the tomatoes, then so be it.  I figure this way I can sit on the edge of the bed and pick away.  Last year it was a hands and knees thing and I planted them too close, so it was really hard to spot the worms.  This year, it will be all about getting those damn words as conveniently as possible!   But I love garden fresh tomatoes way too much to not plant them.

So Peter and I wandered about to make a list of all the things that need to be done, as spring begins to come into play.  The coop is going to require a bit of effort, but we determined where the run will be and how to set up the interior (we are using an existing playhouse, which was originally a shed.)

Then we scoped out the garden, decided to enlarge it a bit, add the raised bed, some more fencing and additional watering system, and then we discussed how to deal with the weeds that are climbing up both the inside and outside of the fence.  Since this is where I plant the peas, it needs to be dealt with now, and we are trying to figure out a more permanent solution other than pulling the weeds, because they grow way to fast and they are nearly impossible to pull (tall grasses).  It seems to me that the raised bed won't experience this; so who knows, maybe we will continue to add raised beds if I find they make more sense.

Peter and I have quite differing end games though, and it is kind of funny.  He talks about leveling off this side and putting in steps and some more patio, adding more fence for aesthetic purposes, while I am all about where the plants are going to go and how to keep the varmints out!

This is such a tough time of year though -- it is right before the bloom.  We hardly even have buds on the trees, where 15 miles south the trees are budding, and 30 miles south they are flowering.   You almost get a false sense of no urgency when you go out and everything seems dead.  But I know that it is only a matter of time before the garden will sprout up in weeds if I don't get a hop on it!

Bloggy ramblings

It is interesting that many of the blogs that I have been following for years have petered out ... and I am guilty of this as well.  Is it a bad thing?  No, I don't think so.  I find it so fascinating how some blogs seem to take off, getting hundreds of visitors a day, while others just seem to lanquish with their handful of followers.  It has nothing to do with the subject matter or the quality of writing either.   In fact, I would almost say that in my experience, the better writers have the least amount of visitors.  And I think it's because they don't put the time in to promote themselves.

I think you are either born having the ability to spin gold (make money) or you're not.  By that I mean it is so important that whatever one does computes to a paycheck that they figure out how to make that happen.  When I first started blogging I researched it, as is my way, and started out by putting ads and labels and key words so that I would come up on search engines, etc.  At that time, everyone within certain communities (those that followed each other's blogs) would make sure that they would click on the ads on each other's blogs.  I did that for a few months, and then I decided it wasn't for me.  Yes, I understand that pennies add up, but I wasn't really interested in counting my pennies.  Then I put the URL for my blog into my emails, and that is when I got into trouble with Charlie's school, as they intimated that they would use my written words against me.  And that made me think for a little while.  Did I really want my written word "out there?"

Ultimately I don't really care who reads my blog, my words, my thoughts and opinions.  I have journals, and they are the old-fashioned kind that hold my true, deep, dark secrets ... and thoughts and opinions that I don't want to share.  For me, this is a bit of a time capsule and it is fun to go back and read old posts.  I think I will ultimately pull out the ones I like best and make a book out of them.  Someday!  But for now, I will write when I feel like, never feel beholden to it, and let it be organic ... write what comes to mind.

It has been very interesting to watch social media develop over the years -- especially because I don't have a stake in it.  If I was into self-promotion, I have a pretty good idea how to go about it -- not from my own trial and error; but from watching others.  My favorite blogs are still the ones who are like me -- just putting it out there because.  The ones that have become commercial (selling things that once they posted for free) I no longer go to.  It's not that I think that people don't deserve to be paid for their skills.  It's just that they found them on the internet too -- and they happen to be the ones born to self-promote and spin gold.  And then they truly do believe that they "invented" whatever they are selling.

I was given a book by a Dr. Mark Hyman a few years ago, that discussed nutrition and the diet that was going to change your life.  I thumbed through it, but it was pretty repetitive of many, many, many, many, many other books I had already read.  Then Dr. Christiane Northrup, who keeps a daily presence in Facebook started talking about his latest book, The Sugar Solution or some such thing, that addresses the epidemic of "diabesity," a term that Dr. Hyman claims he founded, but after a little quick research I discovered that really isn't so.  I downloaded the first chapter of his book for free via Kindle, and was thrown a lot of research and science and how this is the first generation of children who will not live as long as their parents, and I was a bit aghast.  This was not new information.  Not a bit of it.   And you were constantly told to visit his website.  Which I did, because it is so easy now, just click and away you are go, right from the book.  I couldn't even peek around without signing up (I hate that) and once I was confirmed with a user name and password, I was at last allowed to access the quizzes that would let me know if I was prone to any of the 20 diseases this particular diet he was touting would solve.  Just for fun, I answered NO to everything, and of course it told me I was prone to all of those diseases and that I should order various jumpstart kits before starting the diet.

Seriously?

The website has bits and pieces of information, but you are constantly being directed to purchase this or that -- all of which would solve all of your problems by Tuesday.

The book that Dr. Hyman wrote before this latest one also had a website, which directed its readers to follow.  But once he came out with his new book; he dumped that website.  I stumbled upon message boards with people who had purchased that book wondering what was going on.  He came out with yet another regurgitated book on the same subject that is not a new subject, but he is an expert now, and really more money can be made with a new book with a new title.  What the hell is that?

Wrong, is what it is, but when the bottom line is about making money, there really is no end to it I suppose.   One person who comes to mind is Alissa Cohen.  This is a person who promoted herself as a raw food expert -- and her classes were so special, so unique, so fricking amazing, she had to charge a fortune for them.  And in addition to that, there was a NO MONEY BACK policy, because of course there were 5 million other people who would have taken the spot in that class and because you took it, you had to pay for it no matter what.

Alissa Cohen did me wrong.  And I am going to put her name in my labels today and see what happens.  Because you can google her and not find anything negative against her.  And I know people that have plenty negative things to say about her, beyond myself, and yet there was a little brainwashing going on during the "class" that talked about how if you were negative, then you would attract that.  So I haven't really told my Alissa Cohen tale.  Mostly because I was so angry, and doing anything out of anger is never a smart thing to do.  But if anyone is interested, let me know.  I just might be ready to share.

And I won't charge you for it!!!

The chicks are coming

 

After several years of consideration ... and the wearing down of one reluctant spouse ... the chicks are in the mail.  Or they will be, in three to five weeks!  I have envisioned the little buggers running around my yard for a while now, but every time I brought it up, Peter would say absolutely not.  You can buy eggs.

True.  And I didn't really push it, because any animal means more work, and do I really want to shovel chicken poop?  Maybe not so much.

But I love fresh eggs.  I can really tell, and one thing you never know for sure is if you are buying a free range egg.  Not so much for the egg's sake, but I have been to a chicken place and it is horrible.  I mean, terrible.  I think everyone should visit one -- and to think that I did it on a 4-H visit -- and the people who owned the place were proud to show it!  It was horrible.  Yes, I know I've already said that, but it was years and years ago and I can still see it, smell it and hear it.  More chickens than you can imagine are in cages, but they don't have bottoms.  They sort of perch on a small area, and when they lay their eggs, the egg goes on to a conveyor belt and off it goes to where it is weighed and whatever else.  I was too traumatized by the chickens to see the rest of the deal.


















    

I can't find a picture that show exactly what the factory I went to visit was like, but this is pretty darn close.  The smell and the noise are beyond words, really, and free range just means they are not in a cage but smashed together, wandering around, almost always inside.  In other words, a free range egg is fairly meaningless.  And because of that, I spend a LOT of money on free range eggs that are from supposedly reputable farms; or get local when I can.

When I was in 4-H as a kid, a friend and I shared a flock of chickens, so I am well aware of what it entails.  But I have never raised chicks, and I wonder if you get closer to them?  The ones I dealt with were not all that friendly, but they were kept in a large stall in a barn, and they weren't free range really, either.  To me, that means they are outside, wandering around, eating bugs and rolling in the dirt.  The good chicken life!  I am aiming to provide the good life to my chickens in exchange for eggs that come from happy chickens.

There are no other farm animals that I would be interested in.  I don't drink milk, so there is no need for a cow; and while I do enjoy a rasher of bacon (whatever that is!!!) from time to time, I don't really eat pig.  I grew up with horses, and haven't really had the desire to return to that, in all these years.  Back then there was a purpose; you rode to get better so that when you were in horse shows you could potentially win.  Horse people really have no other life if they are really into it.  I knew as a kid that that wasn't going to be my lot in life!

As for food sources, I would ultimately like to eat as little meat as possible.  I won't have any issues eating my happy chickens when the time comes; if that is a route we choose to go.   But I am not sure I can throw a chicken on a log and whack its head off.  So I guess if I can't do that, then I shouldn't be eating my friends!  But I don't want to raise my own meat, ultimately, even if to know where it comes from.  I'd rather not eat it, I guess!

So now the playhouse needs to be converted into a chicken coop and the dogs need to be lectured on how to get along with furry creatures!

The middle of the middle

I have always disliked the term "middle-aged," and I don't really know why.  I've shied from it, never applying it to myself, sure that it meant something old.  I know people my age who already talk about being old, and I find it appalling.  I am not old, but recently I "got" what middle-aged means.

While it still has a derogatory, old feel to it, to me, I think that it seemed less scary in context when I thought about it from a different perspective.

I was sitting on the beach in Florida, my last day, all alone.  This in itself was remarkable, after many weeks of lots of people coming and going, but I actually felt lonely, which is odd for me.  And it was because I was on a beach surrounded by groups of people, talking, laughing, swimming, playing games. And I thought to myself, you have done all of this on this beach.  You have been a sister, walking the beach with your own siblings.  You have been a daughter, walking the beach with your mother.  You have been a mother, walking the beach with your children.  You have been a wife, walking the beach with your husband, and you have been a friend, walking the beach with friends.

It was two women talking animatedly as they passed by that started my thought process.  For a moment I was jealous, because I was alone and they were together, talking.  But that is when it dawned on me, as I watched first a young couple stroll by, hand and hand, and then a "middle-aged" couple (if you will!) go by, not talking, not holding hands, but still, together, that I had had it all.  Every scenario that passed my gaze I had experienced, and I thought to myself, wow, how lucky is that?

And that is when I thought, so this is what the middle is!  It is that precipice of time -- that trek to the top of the mountain -- where you stand on the top and admire the view.  The climb up represents your youth, your relationships that resulted in marriage, having your children, your career ... all of it.  And not everyone gets to take advantage of viewing the landscape before it disappears, slowly, as the downhill trek begins.  And downhill can represent whatever you want!

Not sure why I fell into that metaphor -- because it's not what I am trying to say.  What I felt, sitting on that beautiful beach with the sun gazing down on me and pelicans diving into the surf was sheer gratitude.  This is such a golden time -- when children are no longer a full time job, but more often than not fascinating and interesting people and when we still have our parents in our lives ... even though we are being reminded that this won't always be so.  This is the dawn of that new day ... that day when our parents will leave us and our children too, will be on their own.  And it is as though I was given a nudge to keep an eye on that sunrise ... because if you look away, bam, the sun is up and the glow has passed.

I hate reading metaphors; I don't know why I insist upon writing them!  I guess because it is hard to come up with words to describe something that is more a feeling than anything else.  It was such an awe-inspiring thought process ... it really opened something up inside of me ... something deep and god help me, I am going to say this, awesome.

For me, the middle (though technically if I am accepting the badge of middle-age-hood, then that means I have to live to 98!) is an amazing place to be.  There is so much promise in the unknown ... what does the future hold?  I don't know!  What I do know is it does not hold me driving any one anywhere on a daily basis; or the worry of whether I can get someone to the point that I have brought them (ie graduated from high school, or well on the way).  It is often said that the most important job in the world is to be a parent -- and I have never taken that lightly -- but it is such an incredible sense of accomplishment to cool my heels at this point and see what my dedication has reaped.  I was not a perfect mother -- no such thing I suppose -- but I produced perfect kids, so I must have done most things right! HAHAHAHA. 

It isn't often that I have a hard time expressing myself (in words) but I am not able to say what I feel in this situation.  It was very profound and lingering...a week or so later I am still thinking about it, still feeling it.

Behind the house in Florida, on the canal.  I was so excited that it was actually going to RAIN!

I am home, alone at last, and thank heavens the sun is out.  I can see that spring is ready to pounce and it is time to think about my garden.  Yesterday I went out to see if the garlic I planted in the fall had done anything, and it did!  I am so excited!  I know, weird, but there really is a thrill in watching plants grow.  I think I stare at my plants more than I eat them!  While in Florida, every day it was blue sky, 80-plus degrees and of course, quite easy to take.  But one day the sky behind the house got really dark, and I was really excited!  Just having something different to look at -- black sky versus blue -- but it reminded me that I am far too mercurial to live in a climate that is always nice.  I like to complain about the weather -- it is what we New Englanders do -- and with good reason!  But what happens when you have grey day upon grey day and then suddenly it is sunny, is that you appreciate it.  I came to accept that every day would be sunny and gorgeous, and when there were a few clouds in the sky, my thought was what is this!  We can't have these clouds floating around messing up bluebird skies!

I don't know.  I constantly think I would like to move.  But where?

This dolphin remains in the same place and goes from boat to boat to say hello (or get food).  What is it about dolphins?  I don't know.  I love the addition of the stars -- so that is what the sun looks like when it sparkles on the water!  (this is my photo, stars not photoshopped!)

I need mountains.  As soon as I started to see them while driving home, I definitely realized how much I had missed them.  Ups and downs ... they really do add a lot!  I am clearly not cut out to live on level ground with the sun shining all day, every day.  Go figure!

Hmm Ho Hmm Ho

I don't mean to diss Christmas.  I really don't.  I have the largest christmas tree the living room can take; there are decorations all over, lights and a wreath on the front door.  I get into the holiday, I really do.  And I also get excited at trying to get the perfect gift for everyone.  But I am seriously running out of ideas, and my mother made a comment recently that made me think.  She said, I think you've done it all.

I've spray painted a box to look like the Tower of London when Hallie was going to London and our big gift to her that year was money.  I hung it, chandelier-like from the inside of the tower, and wrapped it, a big gift.  A very big gift.  I've created treasure hunts for big ticket items like the Gator; I've filled an enormous box with rocks and then taped the small gift (an iPod) to the top of the box -- so the receiver would understand that it was a BIG gift!  (And of course, half of it for my kids has always been about the wrapped boxes the weeks before Christmas.  The "I have better presents and MORE presents than you."  I have come up with little devious plans like a number system (instead of names on the packages.)  Though last year I forgot which was which!  Ooops!  I would listen to them talk.  Maddie would say if Hallie is one, then I must be two, and Charlie would be three.  But if I was trying to be tricky, then Charlie would be one and Hallie would be three, but Maddie would always be two.  (She was right!)  This year I put their names on their packages, but once the grumbling started, the pointing out of inequities in number of boxes and sizes, I told them that I switched names this year.  So Maddie could be Charlie, or Hallie could be Maddie or ... well, you get the gist.

This is a total lie.  Their actual names are on the boxes, but the doubt has already been formed.  Maddie told me this morning, while perusing the rather small array of packages, that I am just cruel. 

I seem to be a little behind this year (though the house is clean, decorated and my food shopping is all done.)  But I have very little for stockings, and that is usually the one thing I enjoy shopping for.  The stumbling across perfect little items to tuck into the stocking, something small, not always cheap, to go along with the filler of candy.  I usually stock up on the candy end of things at Target, so I hit that yesterday.  The place was wiped out.  There were so many shelves that were empty, and the Christmas candy aisles were threadbare.  I was a little taken aback, and so I stood there for a moment, observing.  There were people pushing carts aimlessly, in search of something to put into them.  There was very little joy to behold.  For this Christmas shopping to fill stockings and provide presents is NOT a joyful event.  It just isn't.

I was in the mens section, looking, looking, looking for SOMEthing.  Anything.  There was this display of Christmas boxer shorts, so I went to look.  There were about 11 boxes of Small, triple packed underwear sets.  They had lights, or reindeer.  They were cute.  Overpriced.  And Small.  Oh, wait, I found a XXL box.  Oh well.

I then wandered across the aisle and looked at tights.  All of the Mediums were gone.  There were lots and lots and lots of Smalls.  Oh, and a few XL's.  I hope the retailers are taking stock of this.  There aren't that many small people out there anymore!  Then I glanced over and saw people looking at the men's Christmas underwear.  Like me, they examined each box, only to discover they were all Small.  And I saw them get excited when they spotted the XXL, then took it out of the box (like I had done with both the small and those) only to discover that XXL is like ridiculously large.  And ditto on the smalls.  I almost told the next person.  But isn't that what we were all there for?  The hunt?  For one small moment there was hope that you could fill a stocking with some overpriced kitschy underwear for your loved one.  Then it was over, and you moved on.  Ho ho ho.

Peter likes smarties in his stocking.  There was only ONE package of smarties.  One.  I didn't even realize that smarties were traditional holiday fare!  My biggest thing this year is not to buy something for the sake of buying something.  And for the most part, I have done this.  I looked at some small flashlight for a few minutes, before putting it back with the knowledge that I have purchased Peter countless flashlights over the years to fill his stocking.  We like never lose power.  We don't go camping that often.  Our current cache of flashlight greatly exceeds our needs!  He doesn't need a flashlight.  He doesn't really NEED anything.  What a lovely problem to have.  Right?

Sigh.  I always go through the same thing, this time of year, every year.  There is not enough.   Not enough.  But not enough what?  Enough stuff that no one really needs?  How did we get caught up in this?  I don't remember, as a kid, that the quantity meant as much as the quality -- or what you wanted.  The hardest thing for my kids is coming up with wants.  Bravo to us, as parents, for providing them with their every want and need.  But it leaves a bit of a void for Christmas shopping!

One other thing I did not do this year is shop very much.  I usually go out with friends a couple of times, with my sister.  But this year I have hardly done that at all.  Maybe it is a good thing that I am finally accepting what I keep saying:  they don't NEED anything, and there is no point in buying to provide things under the tree.  In my mind I am always saying that.  I am always saying that to them too.  But I still have that need to try to outdo myself.  I think that is too hard, at this point!

The bottom line is, it will be all over soon, regardless of what is purchased.  It is one day, a blip on the calendar, and yet we give it so much importance.  To what end, I ask?  To what end?

I just don't know.  I am still working it out!

Trader Joes

 

One thing I have enjoyed about Maddie being so close (and yet so far!) at college, is the opportunity to go to Trader Joe's.  Because she comes home frequently enough for me to hit the store several times a month, it has opened up new doors for me, in terms of how I food shop.

Living in such isolation (well it sounds good!) I am stuck with very limited choices in where to obtain food.  While summers provide ample opportunity between my own garden, my CSA and other local farm options, once the gardens have closed up shop, I am pretty much left with sub-par food choices at the local supermarket.  I have had to drive for food for years, and I am okay with that, because I have never really known nothing else.  But this Trader Joe's accessibility has been lovely.

Except for a few things.

For one, you can't go there on Fridays.  There is no place to park and the place is mobbed.  I mean, half the time Fridays is the day I go, but you have to get there early and the whole experience downgrades exponentially with every passing hour.  I will say this, and I will mean it: People in that part of the world are mean and sucky.  (I also want to say that the people who work at Trader Joe's are wonderful, down to earth and friendly, and are even starting to recognize me.  The customers, however, are an entirely different story.)

After I dropped Maddie off at school on Monday morning, I proceeded south-bound on 128 to the Trader Joe's.  It was traffic mayhem, and as I sat at a light and watched a sea of humanity pass me by, I thought, I don't care how wonderful the shopping is, I could NOT live here.  Not even for a little while.  I found a parking spot easily and grabbed a cart and began my shopping.  I try to park my cart in obscure little spots and then run around and get what I need, because traffic jams with carts is fairly common.  (Like the woman in front of the cheese who kept her cart in front of her and then looked at everything to her left, therefore basically taking up the entire cheese display.  Rude.

As I stood before the cereals in search of a certain one, this gray-haired lady was near the flowers having a bit of a melt down and screaming loudly IS THERE ANYONE TO HELP ME?  She "looked" ahem "normal," but her actions indicated otherwise.  It was very distracting and I finally found what I was looking for and whizzed off to another section.  But it's not a very big store, and it seemed she was stalking me.  Or stalking my space.  I kept wondering why I was letting it all get to me -- I should be delighted to be there, period.  There was a woman with two children who was letting them run around and she thought they were amusing.

Let's just say, I did not.

I am leap years away from shopping with small children, but I have been there.  And I would not have let my children do that shit, because it is annoying, unnecessary and just plain RUDE!  Oops, the moronic mom smiled at me as her toddler rammed her cart into me.  So sorry.   As my thoughts ran along the lines of FUCK YOU LADY AND THE CART YOU RODE IN ON, I tried to get a grip.  What was this energy here?  Why was I allowing myself to get caught up in it?

I had to go to the bathroom, so I parked my cart and did my business, and when I returned, I left my cart where it was, off the beaten path and in no one's way, and continued my shopping.  There was an employee near my cart as I approached with an armful of goods, and she said, Oh, is this your cart?  I thought it was abandoned.

Really?  Do people abandon carts?  What the hell is that?  So I rescued my cart and went off to the dairy section, where I was clearly in the way of this woman who only wanted to look at the section of dairy that I was standing in.  I kept moving my cart, and moving myself to accomodate her, but that didn't seem to make her happy.

I just don't fit in.  I don't know how to be ruthless and bitchy (well of course I do, I am a woman) but that isn't my natural way.  I want to smile and be accomodating and friendly and share the space with one and all, and just buy my food and be on my way.    But there is a territorial bent to the whole experience -- almost as though they recognize me as a stranger.  Not from these here parts. 

Then as I was getting back onto 128 to head home, there was only one car coming towards me, in the right hand lane.  And they refused to move over to the wide open left hand lane.  Why?  Why do people just ignore common courtesies?  So once again, I punched my accelerator with the intent to jam my large vehicle right into their Mercede ass.  NEGATIVE ENERGY city!  Geesh.  The place is toxic!

Clearly I had a chip on my shoulder that day -- because you attract what you put out there.  I can't blame it on Massachusetts I suppose.  The state can't really affect my state, can it?

Not so sure!

Weird but true

When I am in the middle of writing a novel, I find it most helpful to tape picture of my characters around my desk.  It makes them feel more real and it also makes it easier to remember their physical appearances in the beginning, before they become full-bore people in my life.

I come across these characters in magazines or I will attribute their looks to say a movie star and then kind of morph them from that.  But Walter, Walter was in a magazine, in some ad I guess, because he's not a face I've ever seen before or since.  But the moment I turned the page and saw him, I knew it was Walter.

Walter has been on my wall for quite a few years now.  This particular book has been slower than others I have written (or am still in the process of writing) to flesh out and quite frankly, I have gotten to a certain point and had no idea where to go.  So I stopped.  But as of the past month or so, I have been going gangbusters with it, and once again Walter is a part of my daily life.

I love Walter -- he is a rich character and it has been challenging to write from a perspective of an older man.  Walter spans in age in my story from about 40 to his late 60s, and the story also includes his wife who is 20 years his junior.  It also includes another character who is 20 years the junior of his wife (I don't come up with this stuff, it wants to be what it wants to be!)  I have struggled with the second story line because I am able to put myself in that position and the question would I want to be with someone 20 years younger than myself is a most resounding no!  And then I wonder if it is believable.  And of course that invites questions and then I question myself and wonder what the hell am I doing writing a book on this bizarre topic anyway?

But this book wants to be written.  For one, it is the sweetest experience thus far in that it is not all-inclusive.  I don't have to sit down and write and write and write and write and then write some more because I am worried I will forget.  There is nothing frenetic about this particular process.  It is a book that knows that it mellows with age (and I am not going to do a fine wine metaphor here because that is so B O R I N G.)    I can sit down for a few hours and write.  And it flows.  And then I can get up and go do something else and when I sit back down again, be it a few hours later or even a few days later, it flows again, seamlessly.  And while the characters are in my head, and they often talk to me, they only do so when beckoned.  It's been a lovely experience.  But that is not all.

The day I was seriously questioning raising the age of the young college student that my 40+ heroine was not only dating, but was like in love with, I was shopping at a local market and this young (college age) guy was all over me.  At first I was wondering what is his problem was ... how many times was he going to accidently bump into me in the aisles?  How many times was he going to ask me if I needed any help.  How many times was he going to try to catch my eye?  Then it hit me!  This was just a message from the universe to let me know that all is possible.  Now, I was not at all attracted to the kid, don't get me wrong, but the message was that he COULD be with me.  That of course did not come at the time, but when he gave me this bizarre look when he handed me my bag and brushed my fingers with his, I walked out of there somewhat dumbfounded.  But by the time I had climbed into my car I got it.  And laughed out loud.

So I scurried home and let Cooper (I don't like the name either, but for some reason that is his name) stay his age.  But then ANOTHER character jumped into the fray, and so help me god I was ready to quit.  I stepped back and thought, what is this story about and why does it need to be told?  It's ridiculous.  It is complicated and hard to remember what is going on when and how and what and there is a brain tumor and if you think it sounds like a soap opera, well, you ought to have it in your head!

But then I went to a party.  The hostess is in my book club and of course I knew her.  But I had never met her husband.  I did, however know, that her husband is 18 years older than her.  No, the book has nothing to do with her, it was well under progress by the time I met her.  But I thought it was interesting, just another one of those "coincidences" you run into ... all the time!  So I had that on the back burner, where it has been simmering (I think I need to have a long chat with the both of them for perspective, and how nice of the universe to provide that, huh?) but I am not there yet ... I am still fleshing out the last major character and further plot lines and flashbacks and journals that are kicking my butt.  When all of a sudden her husband came up to me and introduced himself and my mouth dropped open and ... HE WAS FUCKING WALTER.  I am serious, almost the spitting image.  I was beyond dumbfounded,  I could hardly speak.  I shook his hand and I swear to god, it was like meeting Walter in the flesh.  He had the same .... he was Walter, plain and simple.  He was who Walter would be if he was actually alive and well, at that moment in time it felt like that was the case.

I was a bit freaked.  And then I felt like I was at Walter and Margie's house as a spectator.  How many times had Margie talked about having had no friends other than Walter's?  (Margie is the heroine in the book if you didn't pick that up.)  The hostess of this party had invited the book club because she too had commented that she almost exclusively hangs out with her husband's friends.

It was a weird night.  But don't worry universe, I totally got it.  No need to give me further assistance.  In fact, I am not sure I could take anything more!

So now I must go join Walter and the gang before another character comes to life!!!

P.S.  I always listen to music when I write and there is always one artist that seems to put me in the right groove ... and I will essentially listen to the same album over and over and over.  Once I have done this, that particular album can never be listened to again (for obvious reasons!)  Such over-saturation needs to be applied to an artist that I am not madly in love with.  I have been seeking that particular artist and for three days in a row, every time I got in the car a song by Lady Antebellum was playing.  Same song.  Sometimes it would play twice.  No, seriously.  So I have my new list of songs ... and they are of course, perfect.  The universe is so helpful!!!