The book that must leave home

This is the probably 100th time I've read through this one particular book I've written. I don't even know when I first wrote it, it's been so long. The characters have been a part of my life, my family, for so many years. They are composites of many different people with the exception of the main character: I saw him on the beach on Martha's Vineyard a long, long time ago. He was there for a few consecutive summers; then he probably grew up and no longer needed a summer job hanging at the beach.

But he lives on in my mind, as real as he really isn't. I have no idea who he is. He was a teenager who happened to catch my eye. His job was to sit on the beach and be a presence; to tell people not to touch the clay cliffs or answer questions. He wasn't a lifeguard. While I sat in my beach chair, one eye watching the kids swim in the surf, another on a book, I saw him. He was kicking a soccer ball into the ocean. And it would bob around in the waves a bit, then eventually come back to the beach on a wave. He would trot down the beach to where it rolled out, and do a few fancy moves before kicking it back in.

I was mesmerized.

The boy was beautiful. He had gorgeous blonde hair that was really curly. He was tanned, blue-eyed and muscular. His mother came to hang out with him sometimes, with his sisters. The entire family was movie star gorgeous; I couldn't keep my eyes off of them.

The book centered around him wrote itself between that summer and the next. My mother was reading it on that beach when he walked by. I pointed him out and told her that he was my muse.

I literally regurgitate a book. It spews out of me and the only thing that slows me down is that I can't type as fast as it comes. I live and breathe the book until it is over. I don't sleep and huge gaps of time are lost as I promise a child I will help with homework when they get home from school, only to realize that the sun is about to come up and I haven't even realized that not only have I not honored that promise, I didn't even notice when they went to bed.

It's kind of scary, really, how sucked in I get. And because it's really nothing short of detrimental to family life; I tend to avoid it. And the best way to do that is to not write a book, but continue to "edit" the one that I wrote so long ago. I have three other books going; but I have to ignore them, because I lose all touch with reality.

Of course, I have tried to be moderate about it! I have tried to walk away after 8 hours of solid writing and engage myself in some other activity. But it is hopeless. My brain is completely locked up in another world, with other people and conversations and plot potentials.

It seems like such a cop-out; to say that I can't write because it is too much fun! Too wonderful, too mind-consuming and like floating in the ocean and staring up at the sun. It brings me that much pleasure and peace. It is who I am. Or do I use it to escape?

I have no idea.

But I love this book -- I love the characters, and I can see them developing and becoming more of themselves with each time I go through and "edit." I put it in quotes because it's more than editing. It's revisiting and re-addressing the decisions I've made -- but which can be changed with a few paragraph modifications. Lucy, the main character, is so ridiculous not to see that right before her is true love, in more than one occasion. She steadfastly and resolutely believes that she is in love with Ethan (my beach boy with the soccer ball). Sometimes I wonder if that dedication is due to the fact that while he was the seed to a book idea, he eventually became a lesser character. Did Lucy hold on to him for way longer than she would have because of me?

I love one of the characters that Lucy doesn't see clearly; and how does that get in the way of Lucy's story? It concerns me at times that I get TOO involved (gee, what makes you think that?!!! LOL) and then somehow the core of the original story gets tainted.

Just before I switched to blogging I was about to make a monumental change to the book. Based on the fact that **I** wanted it to go another way. Not the way Lucy would choose. I know Lucy wouldn't. She doesn't have the strength yet. So I am trying to write myself away from making such a drastic decision; try to figure out why I don't just let this book GO!

I am not Lucy. I think that everyone thinks that you are the main character of a book that you write. And it's not a ridiculous conclusion. But Lucy drives me nuts. I can't STAND her choices. But Lucy comes from me, right? What part of Lucy am I? (These questions are all rhetorical, I am just typing as quickly as I can, in an attempt to get away from the urge to change the course of the book by making one monumental change.)

I won't do it! I won't!

I am going to take a cold shower. Shock my system; seek clarity. Understand that the blockages are breaking wide open and it is the flow that writing creates in my life making everything bigger. More.

Let Lucy go.

Just let go.

Farewell free food

So today was the final meal from the garden. Boo Hoo HOO HOO BOO.

Seriously. I have loved my garden. And it's SUCH a short season.

I had cleaned it out this past weekend; pulled up all the tomato plants, etc. with the promise (which was delivered) of a frost. But I left a handful of pepper plants, zucchini and the basil since it was still producing quite liberally.

But the frost got the tips of the basil, so I figured I'd get one last batch of pesto. I also tried to spiral slice the teeny tiny zucchini I harvested for "noodles," but it was too small. Oh well.

But I wanted to say that the garden was a HUGE success and I fully plan on having another one (and even bigger!) next year! I want more peas, less tomatoes, less peppers (I still have about 10 I can't figure out what to do with!) the cukes were good, not too many, not too few, and the lettuce I have to figure out how to stagger a bit. (I still have tons of that in the fridge). The beets were tiny, the brussell sprouts never sprouted and the kale got eaten. The sunflowers were fabulous and out of four pumpkin berms I got ONE measly pumpkin! Pretty color though.

I tilled the soil and made a map of where my things were planted so I won't put them in the same areas next spring and the only thing I have left to do is get rid of the few plants out there. It is SeriOUSLY just not that much work. Sure, it was a big chunk of time to get it prepared and then planted, and there was some weeding; but overall I didn't even have to water that much since it rained the whole season! Whatever the bit of work, it was enormously rewarded by having fresh food outside the door.

I want to plant potatoes, onions, garlic and perhaps corn next year. I am going to start a lot of things from seed myself (as opposed to relying on what the nurseries have on hand) and I also want to get some strawberry and blueberry plants/bushes going. Oh, and asparagus. I want an asparagus patch! I want patches!

Farewell free food -- you will be sorely missed.

Do you really care about my ankle?

I have three drafts of blogs in progress that I can't seem to finish.

That is how life has been lately ... kind of hurried.

I don't like it.

We got our new mattress (a tempurpedic kind) and I have definitely been sleeping much better. But I never have time to just revel in it! It seems I am always jumping out of bed to do something; and I just want to enjoy it.

So I did that this morning. I drove Charlie to school then returned to bed with a book and my smoothie and read. And read. And read. Sheer and total heaven. SOOOOO what I needed.

Then Hallie and I hit the woods. We hiked for two-and-a-half hours in the sun-dappled woods upon a crunchy carpet of yellow, red and orange fallen leaves. Beautiful. (And just how many adjectives can YOU get in a sentence at one time!)

And now ... it is tomorrow!

Mid-blog I had to go pick up Charlie. I was rather hoping that I could convince one of the THREE other licensed drivers in the family to do it, but no go. Hallie was already at the grocery store getting dinner and wasn't back in time; Maddie drove in, grumped about how much homework she had to do and stormed to her room; and Peter ... still not home from work.

So, I drove. And enroute my ankle started to KILL me. While hiking I had stepped on a stick which then rammed into my ankle, and while it hurt at the time, I literally just walked it off. Guess I hit a nerve or something, because I was in agony. I could hardly stand the pain of pushing on the brake and gas pedal, and SERIOUSLY considered having Charlie (who is almost 14) drive home. Well, semi-seriously if you are a cop reading this.

When I got home I couldn't even walk on it. I had to hobble inside, and I examined it and saw it was swollen. All I could think of was getting it elevated and iced ... and I explained that I was not going to be able to cook dinner as planned because I was IN AGONY.

People waiting for their food (and having to wait a good long time because I had to leave to drive for an hour) do not take kindly to discover that they will not be fed. Whatever, I got to the couch and put my aching ankle on a pile of pillows and instantly felt better. Total relief. With TV remote in hand, I started to relax.

Eventually, after exhausting several take-out options (well, we ONLY have two, and one of them is closed on Mondays) it was determined that Hallie would take over the reins and attempt the homemade pizza I was going to make. I must say, I make a damn good pizza, but she did fine, and it was LOVELY to be waited on hand and ankle ... hahaha.

I had arranged for a walking date this morning and wondered if I should cancel it, but I started moving my ankle around and realized it felt better, and by the time I actually got off the couch, I could walk with minimal pain. How weird is that?

I drove Charlie to school this morning and it was fine, so I just returned from a six mile walk, no pain at all. I am serious, who goes from hobbling and agony to perfectly fine the next day? I agree, kind of weird and even weirder that I would go hiking, but I chose a flat surface (the rail trail) and figured I could turn around if it hurt. Instead, we walked further than we ever have on the trail -- another marathon 2-and-a-half hours!

I mean, it aches a little, but I can certainly use it. (I just realized how wack it all sounds, and so I decided to concentrate on my ankle and see what the deal was!) The place where the stick went in is where the pain is; it must have been a nerve. Freaky.

Clearly I am not in a blogging mood since I can't seem to stray off the topic of my ankle! I just can't believe I can't get one done! It must have something to do with the fact that I am working on my book. I am going to send it to Kindle -- and then anyone who owns a Kindle can get it! So, if you were on the fence as to whether or not you need a Kindle (and quite frankly, I love mine more than I ever thought I would) now is the time; because you can read MY book on it!

In search of Zen

Like Zen is a person. (hahahaha). That will actually mean something to someone, but overall, the comment stands true: What the hell does it mean?

I am not super enlightened, I freely admit this. I lived in a world cloaked in clue-less-ness for years, until I interviewed someone who meditated. And I wanted in. I went to a class, I engaged in things that modified my brain (I am sure of this, because when I was learning to meditate, a person was pushing a shopping cart down the street. To this day, before I drop into deep meditation, I hear those wheels squeaking on pavement.) I practiced. And practiced. I sobbed tears for past boyfriends ... believed that I was releasing my cellular memory of pain I had clung on to with sheer abandon.

I felt my lips tingle and feel huge; I felt my forehead expand. I saw visions and the world exploding and then there was peace. I truly arrived.

For a little while.

The problem with any of it -- all of it -- is that you can't be lax. Even for a little while. Well, maybe for a short while. But then you are screwed.

I climbed upon a space ship and traveled within my body ... I didn't get any further than my throat. We landed there and there was plenty of material to deal with. If I was smart, I'd climb on that space ship over and over and over until we could get to my toes.

But life doesn't really work that way. Or does it?

I don't know. I think it does for some. I guess I would call them selfish. At least if they have children and spouses and big houses that need cleaning.

Blech.

Blech mostly for the house that needs cleaning.

My son just read what he could see on the screen and he said that I was weird. You know, for the most part, I am proud of being weird. I told him that too, as he trotted out screaming "my mom wants to ride a space ship to her toes."

Here's the thing. When you are surrounded by people that don't get it, it makes it harder to obtain.

I have lost my train of thought.

The diamond in my ring sparkles.

I have enough self-help books to build a bunker.

I am who I am and most of the time that is fine. It's just when it's not that it pisses me off. Because it means I have lost my way. Despite all the trying not to.

I have walked upon a trail with a shaman, I have felt the wind summoned by my own power. I have manifested things with the power of thought. I am.

I am.

I Am

I AM.

Who I am. Unless I forget.

The whole thing sucks.

Such a chore.

Constant. Constant. Constant.

And then again. Repeat. Rinse and Repeat. Who does that?

Exactly.

We all just wash our hair once, then put in the conditioner. Which I guess puts our hair into a state of numbness.

If only we followed directions: Wash and repeat.

Never condition.

Never one to follow the rules.

Conditioning makes your hair soft.

Yeah.

More period ... period!

WARNING: Contains explicit and gross information regarding feminine hygiene product. (And I just like to be gross.)

You have been warned:

Last month I wrote about the taboo and forbidden topic of the monthly bleed (see here: Freedom Acres: I'm talking about it ... period. A reader suggested that I use the Diva Cup. And so I did. This is that story!)

So today is day three of my new adventure using The DivaCup, an innovative menstrual cup the best alternative to Tampons and Pads ... and it's going ... OK.

Not great.

Sometimes it seems to go in and work, and then other times I can't get it right and it leaks. Either way I am wearing a pad and I am under the understanding that this is normal; that it takes a few cycles before you become comfortable with it.

While I am no fan of tampons, I do like that when you insert one that is it. This cup deal seems to involve quite a bit more intimacy with ones' self. As in, I am getting as much action as your average gynecologist! I feel like I am birthing a calf sometimes I have to go in so deep. (I have actually birthed a calf and because I was young and had such small hands, I was chosen to go into the birth canal, grab the leg, and pull. There are a lot of similarities here.)

I presume that it is not normal to do this, but it appears to be part of the learning process! I would like both Hallie and Maddie to use one -- because it has to be better than putting a chemical-coated tootsie roll into your innards -- but I am not so sure either of them would be as, umm, willing to be as down and dirty as I am.

And why is that? I mean, they were raised with a mother who clearly has no problem discussing periods, that is for sure!

So, now today is day five, and it is strange; I did not have a HUGELY successful first time experience with the little cup, but I am still quite sure that it is the way to go. I can see why it takes time, because with each insertion I start to get more of a feel for it. I now understand that the suction part is VERY important. It takes time to stop feeling as though you are putting in a tampon, but instead inserting something else in a completely different direction.

What I really, really, really like is that there is no waste. And with each passing day I became much more experienced at how not to turn it into a bloody chore (literally). I also used a public restroom on several occasions, with no problems, and with the exception of having dry hands from so much washing, it's been all good.

But I can also see why you can't just say to someone, okay, do this and it should work fine. Because until you actually understand that it is the suction that stops the leaking, it just seems as though it is "in there," at first. Then you leak, and you know something is wrong, but what? You have to turn it, and that creates the suction, but it's hard to turn it. I found a little tip where you put it in halfway, turn it, then push it in. That worked for a bit, but then I just got better at it. And it's only been the first time.

So I HIGHLY recommend it, and not because it is so much easier, less messier, etc. but because I did not have ONE blow-out, not even close -- and because it just felt right. I am so sorry that I didn't discover them a hundred years ago. Seriously. In fact, I remember a friend in high school telling me that she used a sponge, and I thought instantly ... GROSS. And I know I've heard mention of a menstrual cup over the years; but I know that I also thought to myself that it wasn't necessary. But that was the pre-blow-out days. Those were the days, my friends, we thought would never end.

But they did.

So, now it is time to fix a problem, and I think I have!

Now with that said, I can see how someone would try it once and give up. It's a commitment. It's something new and it takes time and patience to figure it out. I have no problem with that aspect of it at all, and I am determined to convince my daughters that it is the way to go.

So go for it. I dare you!

A drive to remember

I drive Charlie to school, 1/2 an hour each way, in the morning, and then I pick him up at night. This is the end of the second week, and it is interesting how you fall into a pattern of awareness about certain things.

Before we reach the main roads we take a lovely, meandering country way through farmland. It is beautiful, and I love to see the cows with their breath steaming in the cold morning air. Sometimes the mist is below the trees and it swirls about in the meadows. I notice things like a line of grass that is brown, surrounded by green. One flower, yellow, all by itself.

One day we drove by a house where a man was washing his car. Nothing unusual about that. The next morning, he was washing his car and using this big thing to dry it. We laughed at the absurdity of this. The next morning I looked closer and realized he was washing a different car. Oh! I said, he must be a car detailer. Charlie didn't know what that meant, and I explained he was washing and cleaning cars -- as a job.

Now we check every morning to see what he is up to. We were a little later today because Charlie starts classes later, and all we saw was a big puddle in the driveway. Clearly the guy is an early bird!

Another thing we encounter are buses. Oh, to get behind the wrong bus can be SUCH a drag! One morning, after dropping Charlie off, I had to stop for a bus coming toward me. I watched as the mother climbed onto the bus with her small son, waited until he reached his seat, then proceeded to chat with the bus driver. It was beyond ridiculous as there were cars lined up as far as the eye could see on both sides, and finally someone honked their horn. The woman climbed off, waved to her son, then walked into her house (which was literally about three feet from the sidewalk.)

The next morning we were behind the bus and I told Charlie that it was going to be a long time. But this time the father put the kid on the bus, and he did it quickly. When we drove by him I snuck a peek. He was probably in his early 20's, shirtless and wearing those pants that are 10 sizes too large. Thankfully he wasn't a chatter!

The next time I saw this bus it had just pulled away from the house and I saw a glimpse of the mother entering the house and closing the door behind her. It was hard to judge if there had been a chat session just on the line of cars behind a bus, because those tend to line up quite quickly, but as the bus passed me I took a long look at the driver. Young girl. Probably a friend of the young mom. Probably doesn't even occur to them that as they stand there chatting they affect the mornings of dozens of people in cars tapping in great frustration on their steering wheels. (Unless of course you are me and are quite vigilant about not getting behind THAT bus!)

My mind whirls with all the different scenarios of this young family. There are two boys, I know, because on Saturday morning when I drove Charlie to school she was walking down the sidewalk clutching their hands. When I passed the house I could see a figure sitting on the couch, shirtless.

Am I a voyeur? Or just bored and trying to fill the time? You tell me.

It is more like landmarks. I know exactly how much time it takes me to get from the car washing guy to the young parents/small boy/talky bus house. 5 minutes if I don't get behind a bus; 8 if I do. Three minutes is not insignificant, and I have it figured out that this little short cut of a road will make a huge difference if I get behind a car that is slow. It is a teeth-knocking, head jerking bit of a ride, but if I can shave off the three minutes I will incur by being behind someone who will slow me down; it's a necessity. I spend about two minutes prior to the turn-off to this road trying to judge of the cars in front of me are slow or progressing at a normal rate. If my foot has to hit the brake even once, I make the turn and brake only for deer (not potholes).

It's all very exciting.

This morning at a stoplight I happened to look up at the windows of a bank and saw a man doing strange hand signals. I couldn't tell if he was talking to someone, but it seemed that his desk was up against the wall and that there wasn't room for anyone else to be in front of him. I found this quite amusing until the light changed, and even cranked my neck as I went forward to see what he was doing. I guess he was talking to someone on the computer. But I am looking forward to checking him out tomorrow. That is a mid-point between the car washing guy and the bus-house. How exciting!

Also in the town of Franklin there are always people sitting on their stoops. There is this one stoop where there are always different people; all a little scary looking, teeth optional. I try to figure them out? Do they live nearby? Are they students? Druggies? This is also by a stoplight, so a red light gives me more time for research.

At Arianna's Restaurant there is a sign that they serve breakfast all day long; but they aren't open at 7:30 a.m. How weird is that? Did they decide to serve breakfast all day long because they open so late and miss most of the breakfast crowd, so they are really catering to the late sleepers and lazy people of the world? There is also a big soft-serve ice cream window on the front, and I can't quite believe that breakfast is going to be very good there. I have no intentions of stopping, for either item. Ever. Just a feeling I have.

Also on the corner of one of the stoplights there is a restaurant that serves Japanese, Chinese and Thai food. Well, which one do they specialize in? Is the cook any of these nationalities, or are they just catering to anyone who feels like Asian food of any kind? I will never go there either. It's just wrong. I am, however, curious about the small storefront that has sunflowers painted on it. It says it is a bakery, and you never know. It could be run by some quirky, wonderful person who really knows how to cook. That one is on my list for one morning. When the stoop is empty.

I have tried all the potential short cuts, only to discover that most are longer. It is bad to head into either of the small "cities" of Franklin and Tilton between the hours of 3-4 because there are two schools and the buses take precedent over anything else. Not to mention loads of high school kids in their cars, all getting trapped between the line of traffic lights that litter the main road.

Sometimes I hit every light, green, green green, and other times I hit them and they are all turning yellow, but I go anyway. Not very often, but occasionally they will be all red. That happened the other day when I got behind a row of buses and then later a nasty white van that kept coughing up black smoke. The whole ride sucked and was a FULL TEN MINUTES longer than it's ever been.

So I try to think happy thoughts and be calm and flow my way to and from, because Charlie is a freshman and it's going to be a loooooong haul!

Evil Credit Card Going's On

My credit care statement came in today, and I had to do my usual checking to see what charges are on there that I didn't actually want put on there. Every month it is a couple of hundred bucks of charges that I guess they hope I'll not notice.

Last month it was a renewal of my Norton anti-virus software. I don't even have a PC anymore -- just a bunch of virus-free Macs -- so I guess I wasn't interested in spending $49.99 for something I don't need. There were also two charges for the same thing -- one charge that I had actually made, and then a double underneath it. Both the Norton people and the person who double-charged me were very nice -- but it took me about 20 minutes all total to clear it up, because I had to endure their voice mail systems.

Today was an interesting one. I have a $24.95 charge from picnik.com. I vaguely remember signing up for that (probably a year ago) when I was heavily involved in taking pictures on a daily basis, and it was sort of a very light version of Photoshop. I did not, however, intend to keep it for the rest of my life, and quite frankly, the fact that they charge you every year really sucks. All of you software people out there -- you suck. Basically you are stealing. Why not send an email ASKING if I want to renew? Oh, you only have credit card information? Yeah, I don't think so.

Anyway, a very young girl voice answered the phone mechanically and for whatever problem I might have, she provided an email address. And if I absolutely needed to speak to a person, to leave a message. Yeah. Talk about making yourself available.

My other charge is from the Columbia House Video Club. Now, this has been a $()_*#()@_*)(# fricking nightmare since day one. A hundred years ago when we first got our first DVD player (versus tapes) I did the old buy three and get a whole ton for free, like I used to do with books. I don't rip these companies off, I sign up for their free books and immediately pay for the ones I am supposed to buy over the course of three years. I do it all at once. And then cancel.

But this video club, it's like a snake. It just keeps creeping around, and no matter what lengths I go to to cancel it, they just don't seem to do it. Of course, this all has to do with the fact that they are in possession of my credit card number, so they can just send me videos and charge me. I am pretty vigilant about canceling during the monthly email they send, so it really pisses me off to no end that I received one in the mail today along with a charge on my credit card bill. How timely! Like I said, I ALWAYS cancel it, I've called the company countless times to cancel but you have to write a letter. Which I have also done. That must get lost in the mail, huh? They also tell you to send the video back by writing REFUSED on the carton and dropping it in the mailbox. I've done this too, and lo and behold it comes back to me.

At this point I am thinking of canceling the credit card! Might be the only way. They already send me monthly emails saying that I need to update my credit card information (it expired and has a new expiration date) but apparently it's not all THAT necessary, because they keep sending me product.

I hope that everyone goes through their credit card statements with a fine-tooth comb. Apparently companies will do anything they can to try to cheat you -- at least that has been my experience. I don't really appreciate being charged for a service or product I didn't order, and the fact that it happens on a monthly basis implies that this is just business as usual.

And it sucks.

I've got my eye on you, Corporate America

Lately my internet has been really slow. I also have noticed a deluge of commercials about some booster thing you can get for your Comcast internet package. Coincidence?

I think not.

My yahoo mailbox has been just FULL of spam lately -- upwards of 20 or more daily. I tried to play around with my settings, and what popped up but a special deal that if I wanted to upgrade my Yahoo account, I could do away with that spammy spam and also get a whole ton of things I have no desire for. Coincidence?

I think not.

I was just thinking last night, as we went to Staples to get school supplies, that the mattress store with the neon lights jammed into a mini mall was new. And look, across the street, another one. And the one we went to in Concord had one directly across the street as well. Coincidence?

I think not.

All of this is about money. And the best way to make more money for a company is to create a demand. And the best way to create demand is to somehow make their products inferior or absolutely untenable so that "the people" will buy upgrades or new models.

Seriously, a mattress store on every corner? The fact that nearly everyone I know has just recently purchased or is in the market for a new mattress? All very, very interesting. And as far as the slower internet, hey, I can wait. And I can go in and delete a bunch of ads too from my email account. But not for one second will I believe that it hasn't been done purposefully to try to get me to spend more money on something I used to have.

I am on to you, corporate America. Bring it on. You don't scare me!

Once upon a mattress

Once again we need a new mattress. My body aches and it doesn't ache after I climb a mountain; it aches after I get up in the morning. Our stupid mattress is all indented and lumpy and uncomfortable as hell. We paid a fortune for it less than seven years ago.

We have the seven-year bitch of a mattress!

Anyway, we went to a store. Let me tell you this: ALL the beds in the store are comfortable. Even the cheap one. Compared to our bed from hell, firm, soft, pillow top or not, they all felt great.

So how to choose?

Price? Well, that would seem like the way to go, but I'm not so sure. Both times we've purchased a mattress in the past 20 years we went hog wild in the price department, considering (rationalizing) that we spend so much time sleeping, blah blah blah, so we went for it.

So that isn't the answer. We looked at a Simmons BeautyRest World Class Kimble plush firm (the only reason they add that many names to a mattress is because it is difficult to google) and it was quite comfy. But we didn't buy on the spot, as we are known to do, because the third time better be the goddamn charm; and if a ridiculous amount of research gets us that charm, then so be it.

I googled it and had to put in the name five different ways to get a decent return. There were loads of complaints, all along the same lines that the mattress starts to sag quite quickly, that indentations are normal, but these turn into holes, and that when the warranty is called into question, the manufacturer says that due to the stains on the mattress, they can't do anything about it. Or the indentation isn't deep enough. There are hundreds of these comments.

I put out a call on Facebook and received a few very quick responses from my sister and three friends, and the majority are LOOKING FOR A NEW MATTRESS. One person said that the Stearns and Foster was the way to go. I looked that up, and the same complaints prevailed for that model as well.

So, here's the deal. Mattresses are made to fail and because we get so bloody tired we can't see or think straight, we go out and buy new ones over and over and over. It's a scam! I'm going to make my own damn mattress.

Hmmmmmm.

I'm so tired of hearing about "sleep technology." Here's the bottom line: It needs to be comfortable, able to withstand someone sleeping on it for close to 100 years and not develop crater-like holes in it in the first decade.

IS THIS SO HARD?

And it's kind of hard to boycott. "I refuse to sleep on a mattress until one is created that will withstand the ravages of sleep."

Hmmmmmm. I just can't picture the masses making this pledge across the land.

I guess I'll have to sleep on it.

September 11

September 11, 2001, was our generation's "JFK moment." While my parents can tell you exactly what they were doing when they heard that JFK had been shot, my peers and I can remember this day 8 years ago like it was yesterday.

The hours before I actually found out were very trying. Before I dropped the kids off at school, we kept having to run into the house because we forgot things. I was on the highway when I realized that I'd forgotten my pocketbook. I can vividly remember screaming out loud, as I tried to decide whether or not I needed to turn around, "what the hell is going on."

What I know now, but didn't know then, was that I was tuned into the universe, and the energy that was being utilized by those many hundreds of thousands of people who were all praying that what would eventually happen, would happen.

When I got to Manchester and walked into the office, a little later than usual, two of my co-workers were standing in the hallway talking. They looked at me and asked me whether or not I'd heard about the plane that had hit one of the twin towers. I will admit, I didn't know what a twin tower was, and I was completely clueless as I listened to books on tape during my commute. I was also completely preoccupied with the fact that I was already behind on what would be a normal, busy day. I just shrugged and said no, I hadn't heard, and went to my desk.

I was reading emails when I could hear a hullaballoo down the hall, and I went to investigate. "Can you believe it?" they asked me, and I said I didn't know what they were talking about. "The plane," someone cried.

Oh yeah, I said, so some pilot didn't realize it and hit a tall building, right?

They all stared at me. "No, it was a big plane, a passenger plane."

Oh. Okay. Well that sucks, but what was the big deal? I was curious as I watched everyone get all freaked out, and for the life of me I couldn't understand it. Didn't planes crash? I mean, yes, it's pretty awful but...

"It wasn't one plane, Lisa, it was two planes. It wasn't an accident."

I can remember that whooshing feeling, that I was standing there and watching everyone in sort of a trance as I tried to process it.

"A plane just hit the Pentagon," another co-worker said, and I felt the tingling chills go through me before panic hit me like a ton of bricks. My kids! What the hell was going on?

Another co-worker came running through the doors, a look of sheer panic on her face, and said she'd just heard from her sister. Her husband was a New York firefighter and he'd just called to tell her that it was armageddon down there. People were jumping.

What the hell was going on?

I ran into the conference room and turned on the TV. Peter Jennings was there, ashen and shaky, talking about the twin towers. There was a live video feed and everyone piled into the small room. We were all silent as the first tower collapsed.

Did that just really happen?

You could see the people jumping as they showed the raw video they had taped earlier. They would remove that later; but early that morning it was all there for the world to witness.

I didn't know what to do. Was Manchester, NH under attack too? I don't remember when I specifically learned about the other hijacked plane, but I do remember feeling as though all safety -- my own version of my safe existence in small town, USA, was completely obliterated.

I started to make phone calls. My husband, mother, sister, brother ... there was an innate need to make sure that everyone was safe. Did I know anyone who worked or lived in New York? Later I would find out, that indeed I did. That this was a tragedy that had far reaching tentacles, even snatching a woman who lived up the road from me. From my small town of under 1,000 people.

The rest of that day is a blur. Our country was now instantly at war, it was all too much to take. Our enemy was terror. And we'd met him intimately for the first time.

Jon and Kate, ain't it great

Jon Gosselin was on Nightline last night "defending" himself and telling "his" story. Despite the interviewer's (Chris Cuomo) clearly biased opinion that Jon should stay off TV and tend to his children, I felt kind of bad for this guy.

Why?

As they showed picture after picture, video after video, of him dealing with 8 kids, six of them babies, I thought, what type of hell is that? Cuomo made some comment that he was going through something similar to a midlife crisis, and Jon said oh no, I am only 32, I don't want to die at 64. But seriously. He's had enough baby/childcare episodes to last him a lifetime. As anyone knows, when you are a mother and dealing with your children, you get into a routine, a rut even, and when your husband comes along, he just does everything wrong. Always. There is no reason for this other than that as the primary caregivers (breastfeeding for example) we just feel as though our entire lives are over and we are jealous.

Yes, that is the truth. We are jealous that our spouses, no matter how helpful and wonderful they are, are not the mothers. Because to a small child, the mother is everything. And to be everything to anyone or anything is exhausting and draining and though sometimes even amazing, it brings out a degree of vindictiveness we take out on our husbands and/or the father of the child.

And so how do we deal with this when we get no sleep, no encouragement, no approval that we are doing our best from the world? We lash out. Yep. We try to diminish the role of father; we try to make them feel small and useless and stupid and totally unnecessary, because it should make us feel better. It doesn't. But unless you get a ton of sleep, encouragement, approval and more sleep, chances are you won't care if you are mean. You can't be mean to your baby (or BABIES) so you go for daddy.

And then he feels guilty because he can't be EVERYTHING to his child the way the mother can (seriously, it's mostly just breastfeeding, I know father's can be primary caregivers, I am not father bashing here!) and so he lets his wife scream and yell and tell him he does everything wrong, because he probably does, so he has no true defense.

And that is the life we lead, with a little bliss snuck in there, until our children grow up. And if you make it, that's great. Onward and upward to better things. But gee, is it really a surprise that two young regular people are having a little trouble raising all those kids? Just another example of money doesn't solve anything, just in case you were wondering if it would all work out if you had all the things that money can buy.

So Kate might, might not have had an affair with her bodyguard. Well, I've seen pictures of him, and my vote is she did. That is purely based on my opinion that while traveling to promote her show she felt good; dressed up and made up and no kids around and no husband either ... time to breathe, time to be someone else for a little while. And there, attached to the hip was this good looking man who was there solely to keep an eye on you. Men have had their secretaries throughout time, now the modern woman has her bodyguard.

I want me one of those!

I don't really know why either of them would go on national television and air their dirty laundry, other than the fact that their lives are public and they made a choice (certainly not an unreasonable choice when taking into consideration how to feed, clothe and educate a slew of kids like that) to trade their privacy for money. But still, while I felt bad for the guy because if you ever watched the show, Kate was pretty brutal to him; always mean to him, I would still respect him more if he had just let the world think he was being the bad guy ... because who really cares what the public thinks?

He made a comment that at one point he and Kate went to see Dr. Phil in a last ditch attempt to save, not their marriage, but what he called the brand. The brand being their family as a TV show. It was apparent that he was horrified by this, and who knows how Kate felt as well, but it must have been enlightening to them both to realize that they were no longer partners in a traditional family; but merely two ingredients of a recipe that generated income that supported them both.

If nothing else, the constant media attention has brought their name (if not their show) more into the minds of the average American. I personally never watched the show on a regular basis. From time to time I would stop on it, but who wants to spend any amount of time with a bunch of kids like that? No thanks!

I just think we need to stop it with these "reality" shows, I really do. We have yet to see the fallout of what becomes of children who grow up with their daily lives everyone else's business, but I can't imagine it would be anything positive. And in the end, Jon and Kate are just another couple who couldn't make their marriage work. They aren't special, other than they are unusual in the fact they have sextuplets and twins. What Kate needs is a couple of good girlfriends who she can bitch to -- instead of People magazine and Larry King.

I am just saying.

Listless

I've never been one for making lists and while it's certainly easier at times to have one, I like to strain the brain a bit instead of using a cheat sheet. For example, I will see something in the grocery store and make a decision on the spot to have pizza for dinner. Like today I saw the dough and I thought that would taste good. Okay, then I need cheese. I know, I'll make a BBQ chicken pizza, so I need BBQ sauce, and the challenge is to keep remembering all the ingredients I need and actually make it out the door with them.

Then, start adding meals to that. Okay, those hamburger rolls look good, let's have turkey burgers this week for dinner too. Well, that means I'll need onion and some type of flavoring ... hmmm. Then maybe a chicken dinner, so add to that. I find that it turns me into a bit of a muttering fool as I wander around repeating over and over all the things I need while at the same time putting things into the cart that I don't need.

That was my first stop today, Trader Joe's, which is really far away and I never go, and therefore I just bought things randomly. My next stop was the health food store because I needed some superfoods. OH NO! They didn't have them either. What is going on? Why can't I find chia or cacao in this damn state of N.H.? It is bloody frustrating. I have to order them online now, which is aggravating because I need them NOW. And while I was looking for MSM, somehow I became distracted by my growing anger that they didn't have what I needed, and I forgot it.

And that was just the beginning. I drove right by the bank where I needed to make a deposit. How the hell did I do that? Then in Concord I had to stop for my face stuff, and while I was at the counter paying, I suddenly had a flash that I was out of the toner, because I saw it smash on the tile shower at the cottage on the Vineyard, weeks ago. Yikes. Couple of hundred bucks later, I was on the road back home without a handful of things I needed.

Would a list have helped? Well, I am sure I wouldn't have forgotten the bank. But the other day I made a list of things I needed to take to the lake and when I pulled it out of my pocket at the store, I realized it was not the list, but the recipe for margaritas I was making. I had to really tug at the old brain cells to try to remember what was on that list. In fact, to this day I have no idea what happened to that list, nor if I even got everything on it!

I hate errands, and lists imply errands, so therefore I don't make them. I know some people like to go out on their errands and check them all off their lists and then they feel a great sense of accomplishment.

Not me. I'd rather figure out a way to live without the things that would make it on a list. Like last night, because I had no desire to go to the store, I said we had enough bread for grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. We had enough for two sandwiches, and there were three of us. Peter opted for cereal, so it worked out.

Did I buy bread today?

Bread isn't really that good for you. It's over-rated. So is milk. I hate staples -- or those things that you run out of constantly and you believe that you need them. I don't think that is necessarily true. I don't think we really need much of anything. So therefore, we don't need lists. We can just wing our way through (though damn it I have to drive to Manchester to go to the bank this week, which is just plain so out of the way it's not funny.) But I'll make the most of it and do something else, maybe go visit my parents or even go to the beach.

The worrisome part of that is that I might just forget to go to the bank.

Oh well. I did remember all the ingredients for pizza, so we'll have that for dinner tonight. At least that is on my list.

The last of the freshmen in this family

Charlie started high school today. My youngest child, in high school. I know I'm supposed to say "I can't believe it," or "where has the time gone," but I can believe it and I've been there and experienced all the time. None of this is a surprise, nor is it difficult for me. Chalk that up to having been an "active" parent for the last 23 years. If you want to make all the big milestones seem like reasons to party and not cry, stretch out hands-on parenthood for two decades. Believe me, you get your fill!

He was scared and nervous last night, but bounded into my bedroom this morning and told me to get up. Registration was from 9-12 this morning, so we had plenty of time, but he wanted to get there earlier rather than later. That's good!

I am so impressed with this school Tilton School and I thank the universe for knowing that Charlie needed this environment. The freshmen class is small, 40 students, and they introduced the freshmen team of teachers. I really liked this aspect, because it is so nice to put a face to a name (not to mention that you can see if they are old, grouchy or bouncy and happy!) I am happy to report that this team looks ecstatic to be there and all seemed to be looking forward to the new year. It is a mixture of seasoned vets who have been there well over 10 years, sprinkled with a few brand new ones and some that have been there between 3-5. They have a program that they call FIRST, which stands for Foundation, Integrity, Respect, Service and Team. Tilton School ~ 9th Grade. The first thing we did this morning was meet with the director of the program, actually sat down with him and he answered all of our questions and made Charlie feel comfortable by telling him if he felt nervous and excited then he was in good company; that his own daughter who is a freshman this year, who grew up on the campus also felt the same way. I could see that this really meant something to Charlie, because he often feels that he feels differently from others.

While we were walking to the dorm where Charlie has a room (even though he is a day student, he has a room with a desk, bureau and closet where he can keep his belongings and hang out) the dorm parent was walking by and read our name tags and instantly introduced himself as the dorm parent and told Charlie to go on over to the dorm and make himself at home. No matter where we turned, there was a smiling face and a total willingness to engage us in conversation. We stopped by the library and the librarian was another wealth of information -- her husband co-directs the 9th and 10th grade programs and she has been in the library for 12 years.

After three consecutive sessions (parents of day students meeting, parents of freshmen meeting and parents of new student meeting) we watched as the entire student body marched behind a bag piper in full regalia, separated by class year towards the chapel for their first all school meeting. All the parents and faculty lined the sidewalk to watch, and you could see true pride in the faces of the older kids as they marched behind their banners. The seniors looked PSYCHED!

And Charlie? He never glanced to see if we were around, he was deep in conversation with another boy. While we were at all of the meetings, he was off meeting kids. We saw him briefly before we left, and he was bubbling over how he had met a ton of kids and could he live there?

So now it is almost 7:30 p.m. and the kids at the school need to be in their dorms by 8:00. We told him to call us and keep in mind that we have to drive 30 minutes to get him. But I have a feeling he doesn't want to leave.

And that is a good thing.

So tomorrow afternoon Maddie leaves for sports camp for the rest of the week; Peter goes to work and Charlie will be in school.

I am going to lay in the middle of the living room and just listen to the stillness for a few hours. Oh, I forgot, I have to pick up Hallie in Salem at 10:30. I'll have to get up early to enjoy my brief stint of peace!!!

Subliminal President

So some New Hampshire schools aren't going to show President Obama's address to school children live -- and I have to laugh.

HAHAHAHA.

Our district's recently departed superintendent (don't let the door hit you on the way out) now governs the Manchester school district and he is "opting out." He says the district needs to0 review the material first and make sure that it contains educational value. I have to laugh.

HAHAHAHA.

I've often wondered if that is a criterion for things that go on in the schools. I questioned it many times when the 8th grade class went to Six Flags on the way home from their Washington, D.C. trip. I suppose they could graph how many kids wet their pants on the roller coaster and ... oh wait, they didn't have to do anything like that. Just have fun.

Here we have this president who is really living in the real world and using tools that this digital generation understands, and there are the old fogey's saying "we have to monitor this." I have to laugh.

HAHAHAHA.

So we don't want any message from the president about accomplishing goals and working hard to interfere with the public school message of ... what exactly is their message if this type of a speech is SCARY?

Oh whatever. The stupidity of this stuff continues to amaze me. Normally I would ignore this ridiculous fodder as I do so much of the media-muck; but the commentary on this is just too rich to pass by:

Charles Littlefield, superintendent of SAU 15, which includes Candia, Auburn and Hooksett, said district principals polled their teachers about the speech. "We quite frankly didn't find any teachers that were interested in participating, and we wouldn't make them participate," he said.

Oh, I see. The superintendent doesn't make the teachers do things? I find that comforting, don't you?

So what are we worried about? Brainwashing. "Kids, you are in school and you are on the right path. :::::::::be a democrat be a democrat be a democrat:::::::::: I think that you should all get jobs in Wall Street and make a ton of funny money and steal from people who work hard to earn their money ::::::::universal health care universal health care::::::::::::::::::::: You can come from a well-to-do family and use that money to buy your way into politics, or you can do what I did, work hard, go to good schools and care about my fellow man..."

I can't even go on, it's so stupid it's not even fun!

Has anyone, for one teeny tiny second ever considered this: RESPECT? Our young children will not be brainwashed any more than the crap they watch on TV turns their young minds into mush. Why not have the teachers explain to them that as the elected leader of their country, it would behoove them to take the time to listen to what he has to say? George Bush went to sit in on classrooms and read to young children (he did this to avoid the real work at hand) and no one ever got upset about that.

What is respect, exactly?

I'd say something that is NOT being taught in our public schools. You know, we don't have to make our teachers do things they don't want to.

But then again ... if you found out that you were being shielded from a speech that everyone across the country was watching ... what would that make you want to do?

HAHAHAHA.

Stuff

What glorious weather we are having these days. Yesterday Peter and I went out on the boat and trolled around the shore's edge just checking things out. He has designed and landscaped many of the grand homes, and he always likes to go by and see how things are growing and I like to take pictures.

This is a house that Peter landscaped this spring on the lake.

As we scooted into a cove, I noticed a house that I'd never noticed before. And I thought, how can it be, 20 years into this boating around the lake thing we do, that I could have missed this house? It was huge, and not a new one -- old and understated. And I realized that it is because of this -- the constant discovery (or even re-discovery) that makes these relaxed roams about the lake enjoyable. I could do it all day.

Yesterday was the day to do it though, because today and tomorrow it will be crazy -- great weather and the holiday will bring boats to the lake in droves and instead of a calm, glass-like boat ride, we would get tossed about in boat chop and the constant need to avoid people dragging their kids in tubes. Instead we will just sit on the dock and watch the mayhem, all the while knowing that in two days time the lake will be returned to us for our solitary pleasure!

This is the sunset on Thursday night ... unbelievable.

I picked a ton more lettuce, a load of cukes and tomatoes from the garden this morning -- and it looks like the tomatoes will keep coming for a while yet, as well as the cukes. The lettuce I cut all down, so that is dwindling. What will I do -- go to the STORE for lettuce? Horrors! Again, I had to stare in fascination at my sunflowers. Since I've never grown them before, I am not sure how they work, but I remember seeing the seeds sort of come out of them? Anyway, the bees are busy and they just grow taller everyday. Next year I am going to start seeds myself and have a more continuous garden, where I put in fresh lettuce after I've picked a bunch, and then get a few things in earlier so that I am not fighting frost (which I am worried about now!) I have one pumpkin out there turning orange. But think, if I'd wanted to showcase any of my garden fare in the Hopkinton fair, I couldn't have because it wouldn't be ready!

Here are the sunflowers. There are even more flowering today.

Orange moon

Early this morning, just before dawn, I woke up. I don't usually do this, so I lay there for a moment trying to figure out if some sound had startled me, or what. There wasn't a pressing need to go to the bathroom, but since I was up, I figured what the heck.

As I walked toward the bathroom, there framed in the middle of the french doors was the most magnificent orange moon. It took my breath away, as it hung there in a state of almost full, surrounded by a midnight blue sky. I reached out to touch it, it was so close, and I wondered, as I tried to pinch it between my fingers like a silver dollar, if I would find that it was flat, as it looked, or truly round as it's supposed to be.

But I couldn't reach it. I stood there for a long time and wondered if I should take a picture. But that seemed like a lot of work, so I returned to bed. Peter got up shortly after, and asked if I was awake. I said yes. He asked if I saw the moon. I sat up and looked and it had sunk behind the buildings below us, making them look as if they were on fire. It looked like the sun setting. It was fabulous.

Breathtaking.

I have seen the harvest moon rising, but never setting. Tomorrow it is full. Tomorrow my camera stays with me.

All things in moderation

Whoever came up with that term really doesn't get it. Why would you want to do ALL things in moderation?

Do you want to have sex in moderation? "Oh, honey, hold off, this is getting off-the-charts enjoyable, and I don't swing that way."

What about when you are in the middle of a blueberry field and you can eat as many blueberries as you want? Why moderate? Why not stuff as many of the bursting warm berries into your mouth as you can? How many times do you find yourself in front of a blueberry bush? I say go for it! Eat until you bust!

I could go on and on, but I won't. I will be moderate ... but only because my other ideas might portray my lifestyle in such a light that ... well, anyway. I mentioned sex and blueberries, that's enough for the imagination right now.

My reason for the whole moderation thing is that I am in the kitchen making dinner. I have a bunch of ingredients from the garden and I am trying to fit them all into a meal, while at the same time creating crazy wonderful flavors and staying healthy. I decided to make a tomato sauce out of all the tomatoes I have, but I didn't want to cook it. So as I peeled and seeded a ton of tomatoes, I realized that I was creating a raw sauce. Okay. But then I caramelized the fresh-from-the-garden onion because that flavor is to die for. And then toasted some pine nuts, which made me think, is there some way to find a balance between cooked and raw foods that makes sense?

My biggest problem with raw food is that it is so time-consuming to prepare and it only lasts for that meal. It's not like spending a chunk of time putting together a lasagna that you can then freeze. Of course the purpose is to eat only fresh, raw food, but it's not realistic in my mind, unless you have decided to devote your entire life to that lifestyle.

And I am not. In the least bit interested in that. And as I cut up my tomatoes, I realized that unless it has the appearance of being cooked, no one else in the family will eat it. And let me tell you, the days of spending hours in the kitchen creating meals that no one will eat are over and done with. NO MODERATION THERE!

I guess the key would be to figure out which foods provide the most benefit from being raw. In truth, the tomatoes should be the ones cooked here, but I wanted the flavor from the tomatoes to show through -- and once cooked down to a sauce, it's sort of just sauce! But am I creating a salsa? I don't know.

I like to be creative (with absolutely no moderation whatsoever) in the kitchen, and I find that like writing, the ingredients sort of just fit and I know where to put them. But I am a little stalled here. I also have a bunch of beautiful swiss chard that I am thinking I'd like to incorporate, but should that be cooked or raw?

Which is why I am here. I am waiting for the genius to hit me and then I can go finish dinner! Maybe cook down some tomatoes and then add the others to it, but leave them cold. I am going to cook up some pasta and grill some chicken, and that will be what I pour the sauce over. Cheese? No.

As I laboriously worked on peeling and seeding the tomatoes (only crazy people do this) the idea of raw blended with cooked came to me. I know it hasn't been done because the raw purists would argue that once you put the dead food into your body, it negates the purpose of the raw food. But I don't know if I agree with that.

So I went out to the garden to get some basil and somehow more tomatoes turned red! Good heavens. And I decided to cook some tomatoes and did you know that the skins pop right off? And the seeds seem to miraculously disappear?

If that's not an argument for cooking those red buggers, I don't know what is! True, when eating tomatoes raw it is nice not to deal with the skin and seeds (in a sauce) but since I am so on the fence, I will easily take the easy way out on this one!

So while the sauce cooks down, I still have the bowl full of chunky tomatoes, and I guess the plan is to throw those in, along with the swiss chard, at the end, just to warm them up a little.

I don't know, I am just winging it. And I don't do that in moderation either! I do it full out, and if the entire thing is inedible, then we'll start again. (Well, in this case we would go out to eat!) But I keep tasting it, and it is DELICIOUS. The basil has the most magnificent aroma, while I was chopping it I nearly wept it was so amazing.

I love to cook, and the problem with raw cooking for me is that I am not comfortable enough about it to do grand experiments like this. At least at the end of this we will have dinner. At the end of failed raw experiments I can only cringe at the money I've wasted.

So why the big war here with the raw vs. not raw? I didn't even realize I was battling it. But I guess I always am. It is, without a doubt, an amazing thing to do for your body (to eat totally raw.) My problems are that I have too much energy and I get sick of preparing the food. Which should balance itself out -- but it doesn't. I think, now that I am in the kitchen stirring and smelling the aromas that are released during the cooking process, that I am realizing that I love to COOK. Not just un-cook.

Off to stir the pot!

UPDATE: It was DELICIOUS! I am writing the recipe down because it was a true keeper. I think the layering of different ingredients at different cooking times made a huge difference. The toasted pine nuts -- exquisite! Caramelized onions ... to die for! I think I will call it Garden Bounty Reduction!

The Zen in Garden

I have a blister on my pinkie. Right on the inside edge tip. I use that while typing I am discovering! Ouch.

Why do I have a blister on my pinkie? I went out to the garden to do some housekeeping and ended up doing some MAJOR weeding. There was a whole side of the garden where I didn't lay down the weed guard which had become a bit of a jungle and it was choking out the plants on either side. I dumped two big wagon's worth of weeds over the edge -- and I did this with the bad back. Yeah, though I think when you have a bad back the worst thing you can do is not use it.

So I used it. And it's not worse!

ANYWAY, the intent of this post was to be upbeat and cheery, not talk about all of my ailments! Because while I was out in the garden, I was getting all Zen with nature and realized after my "blech" commentary I wanted to point out how less than 15 minutes later after ingesting a big glass of green juice I was outside absolutely at peace with the world. EVEN on Sept. 1st!

In between bouts of hauling up the most tenacious of weeds, I would stand up and look around. The tomato plants need help; and I really did a number in the pumpkin patch by separating all of the various plants from each other and sending them off in their own directions. The zucchini was getting choked out by the pumpkins, so I remedied that and I realized that I really needed to cut down the bolted lettuce. But with all of that before me, I couldn't get over how cool this garden really is. The cucumbers are plentiful, I've had lettuce all summer long and I am just now getting green peppers; beets; tomatoes and kohlrabi. (The latter I have no idea what to do with, but it is pretty!) And all of that without really that much work. I've neglected it really the entire month of August -- short of going out and harvesting the bootie. I do water it religiously, but even that hasn't been too much of a chore because it rains so much.

Now I can see where my neglect has caused a few problems; like with the zucchini and the brussell sprouts also were a little weed-choked, but overall, it has been a very positive experience.

And the sunflowers! Oh, I am so pleased with my towering sunflowers and was looking around and picking out other places where I want to put them next year, like up against the garage and surrounding the little brick patio to the right of the garden. I don't know why, but I find them to be so amazing. The stalks are so thick and they look so impressively tough. All of the flowers were turned toward the sun, and I too did the same, and for a moment wondered what it would be like to be a flower. And if I was to be one, it would HAVE to be a sunflower. Because they are purposeful and beautiful. And what can be better than that?

The sounds of the insects and the birds were also magnified as I felt myself fall deeper into the experience of owning what I was doing. Which was not only working, but being. Being present. There is this thing with dragon flies that I find quite interesting; they seem to gravitate in great swarms towards where people are. I am talking upwards of 20 of these magnificent insects all flying around me. They came out last weekend when Peter and I were sitting out on the back patio. Like the dogs and the cat; it seems that these bugs are attracted to the energy of people, and I wonder why. (Where ever we are outside, the three dogs are right there, and the cat with his catlike radar, will show up within five minutes to join in.) There must be something in the energy of the air that changes or something. All I know is that it happens all the time.

And it's not like black flies or mosquitos, where they hone in and then call in all of their buddies to say there is fresh meat available. These cool bugs just fly around and around and around, and don't even come all that near. In the garden they will land on stakes, and hang for a bit, and they are SO COOL to look at!

The earth was also full of worms and these tough black bugs. I have no idea what they were, but they were quite plentiful. And when I say tough, I mean hard as rocks. No matter what those bugs went through (being mauled by my little rake for example) they just kept on going.

It was also hot out there, and that made me happy because it was more summer-like than fall; and well, we all know how that makes me feel! But then I would stand up and gaze around and see how there really are so many trees changing. And I would sigh. And return to my work at hand.

And after just typing that, I looked out the window of my office and the dragon flies have all moved to the front yard, where I can see them. Do they sense that I am nearby?

Am I crazy?

The Blech Blog

This is such a transitional time of year and I've NEVER liked it. The whole back to school feeling pervades everything -- and I don't even have to go to school! But it's a strong feeling, sort of like melancholy, that drapes over you and weighs you down with its promise of the end of summer and back to "the real world." Blech!

Even the weather is flaky and I can't decide if it is warm out or cold! It's kind of both, and while the sky is blue and there's not a cloud in the sky, there is something else in the air. Blech.

My kids don't actually start anything until next week, so we have an extended version of summer; but once the calendar changes to September, it's hard to pretend that fall isn't coming. Really hard.

Maddie and I drove home in the Jeep last night from Portsmouth and nearly contracted hypothermia. Oh, sure, we could have put the top on. Or even sweatshirts. Blech.

The leaves are changing. Double Blech.

I do not go quietly into the season of fall, no sirree. I don't like it and I don't have to pretend that I do! I love summer; I love hot and beaches and tans and the word barbeque. I love the term summer vacation and I love hot summer nights when it is dead calm and you can be outside and everything feels the way it is supposed to. I love boating and staring up at a sky full of stars and catching a trailing meteorite as it ends its term in the galaxy.

I love green lawns and sparkling lakes and perfectly-sized waves at the ocean that you can float on or ride in.

So many people say that their favorite season is fall. I merely tolerate it, as I have no other choice! While it is a good time for hiking and the foliage often provides for some lovely eye candy, it too is brief and fleeting, and more often than not we get a huge windy rainstorm that blows all the colored leaves off the trees.

I don't make this stuff up! And I am not even trying to be somewhat positive and upbeat about the change of seasons BECAUSE I DO NOT LIKE IT and therefore I can pout and kick and scream and scream BLECH BLECH BLECH if I want to, because it is my blog and this blog loves SUMMER!

So Happy September to all you fall lovers. As for me, k()@*#)_@*()%&$*(@)*#()_!*@.

Blech.