I'm going to make it!

No Dick Clark ball dropping ... Peter off to pick up Charlie ... New Year's will come in with no great pomp and circumstance.  Nice evening sitting by the fire sipping champagne.

Really.  All I wanted to do was read my book.

Happy New Year!  Gonna hit the button so this checks in on 2010.

GTNY 2010

On our annual Girl's Trip to New York (GTNY!) we went to see the Broadway play, Next to Normal.  Wow.

It is not by any stretch of the imagination what one would call an uplifting play.  At most parts there were tears running down my cheeks and many others where I was downright sobbing.  Sometimes I even had to laugh because during quiet scenes you could hear other people sniffling and stifling sobs.  I guess the emotions would hit different people at different times.  The theatre was charged -- at all times -- with the energy that these actors put into their roles.  At the end of the play, Maren Mazzie who plays Di, the mother who has led her life since the death of her son in depression and diagnosis' that include bipolar disorder, looks physically drained and exhausted.  I can not imagine playing that part everyday.  When the play ended, everyone stood up almost immediately.  There was no question in anyone's mind that we had seen all these actors had to offer -- from beginning to end.  Amazing.

I loved it so much I would go see it again.  Hallie enjoyed it, and Maddie and Emma, who are 17, also enjoyed it as well.  They related to the teenaged girl, whereas there is no human mother who hasn't felt crazy like Diana at one point in their lives. The music is incredible, the set absolutely captivating in its simplicity and you sit on the edge of your seat from the moment it starts.  I didn't want intermission to come, and I didn't want it to end either!  GO SEE IT!  You won't be sorry.  And as an added bonus, you can get reasonably priced tickets.  We sat in the second row mezzanine, and due to the fact the set is in three tiers, it was a perfect spot.  Perfect.  I am listening to the soundtrack now.  Powerful.

This year we mixed it up a little -- and stayed in SOHO instead of Times Square.  I didn't miss the hubbub of Times Square at all, and loved the "realness" of the area we were in, which allowed us to access by foot the Village, Little Italy, Tribeca, SoHo and China town.  What is especially nice is that you don't have to battle any crowds in that part of the city -- it was pleasant walking around (though China Town was a bit mobbed) and we had amazing sunsets from our hotel looking out across the river at New Jersey.  The statue of liberty was within our view too.  It was great.

There were no snowstorms to drive through -- in fact both drives down it was sunny and blue skies -- we hit next to no traffic because we took the "back way," which was through Vermont and Western Mass. versus picking up the southern crowd in Londonderry and heading there through Worcester and other highly traffic laden areas.  Loved that!  My sister didn't like the idea of traveling 50 miles north to go south, but even she HAS to admit that at rush hour dealing with mountains and darkness versus stop and go traffic was a plus!  (RIGHT?!!!!!!)
 


Just before we left the city yesterday around noon, we made a stop in Dean and Deluca to grab some sandwiches for the ride home.  Wow.

 At first I thought how amazing it would be to have such a place nearby, but after purchasing a handful of items and gasping at the cost, I think it is just as well it is out of my reach! 

So that is the story of  GTNY 2010. 

Bear necessities

 

I am going to begin this with a disclaimer:  Yes, it all sounds weird and new-agey and even freaky.  And it is all of those things, but it is also much, much more.

Not last weekend but the weekend before I attended a workshop on the basics of core shamanism.  I sort of stumbled upon it -- I wasn't seeking additional information on shamanism -- but it sounded appealing. (And I could add that the angel cards were all for it, but I suppose one should only introduce one layer of "out there" at a time!)

 I had met with a shaman in Sedona several years ago, but this was entirely different.  This was about going on journeys on your own for specific reasons, and also learning what shamanism is (at its core).  And really, all it is, from my perspective, is checking in.

Let me explain.  First of all, trying to explain a journey is like trying to describe being in love with someone.  For the most part, people understand love, but all words that you use -- he is cute, funny, makes me laugh, completes me (hahaha) -- are all pretty insufficient in terms of describing the way you feel.  The way you feel is just good.  Right?  Just filled up and warm and happy and ecstatic and the world is just a wonderful place to be.

That is what a journey is like, in part.  The details of a journey -- listening to a drum beat, taking an intent and focusing on it, visualizing yourself going into the lower world or upper world -- are all fairly universal in the world of shamanic journeying.  Is it real?  I guess that would be the same question as is love real.  Do you feel love?  Because you can't see it and properly describe it doesn't really negate its existence.  (Though I guess this isn't a good comparison, because you can absolutely see love.)

Over the course of the weekend we did 8 journeys.  Some were intense, some were huge let downs (like my first one where nothing happened and I couldn't get myself to enter the lower world through a tree, or anything, and was thoroughly frustrated) and some were incredibly profound.  By the end of the second day, around 3:00, I was done ... and in truth, it was a lot to take in over the course of two days.  I sat there for the next three hours wondering why the hell I was there!  And when it finally did conclude, everyone began chatting with each other and exchanging email addresses and the like, and I just left.  Like I said, I was done.

I felt infused with energy on my long ride home and yet, was not sure a shaman I would be!  They had discussed other workshops and I didn't feel drawn to them at all, and overall, I was glad I had done it, but I wasn't excited about pursuing it any further.

And yet, there was this residual feeling the entire following week that was just so amazing.  I felt different, I felt calm and happy and full of love.  It felt as though I'd been given an innoculation of BIG LOVE and it was just pouring out of my pores.  It was wonderful!



And yet, I did not pursue another journey.  I didn't meditate or do any of my morning rituals.  I guess, in truth, I was just coasting on my high, completely loving the love.  Then yesterday I was so hungry, I couldn't seem to eat enough.  I had my regular kefir/smoothie/coffee breakfast and it was as though I hadn't ingested a thing.  I had an english muffin and a leftover piece of pizza ... and that was pretty much how the day went on.  I am having a party tonight and yesterday I created a menu that was bizarre in its content because EVERYTHING sounded so delicious.  I had an appetite that could not be quenched, and that disgusted, bloating feeling you get when you overeat just didn't come.  So this morning when I woke up hungry, I thought, what is going on?

So I thought, maybe it is time to journey again.  The one thing that I did not meet success with over that weekend was meeting with my power animal.  Nearly everyone there had one, and while I have had experiences in nature with power animals, the journey world did not offer one up.  So this morning I downloaded a drumming CD, sat down, put on my blindfold thing and off I went in search of my power animal.

I hate snakes, as I have mentioned before, and my greatest fear was that a snake would be a power animal.  And sure enough, I was in this stream when it was suddenly writhing with snakes.  I wasn't afraid of them, though I wasn't all yeah, yahoo, I am surrounded by snakes, but they kept asking me, why?  Why are you afraid of us?  (And since I have no idea, I am returning at a later date to ask that very question!)  But this trip was about power animals, namely mine, and please angels above, do NOT make it a snake!  After a little more chatting with the snakes (and when I inquired as to whether or not they were my power animal, they never answered, which is a GOOD sign!) this huge bird flew in and sort of landed.  I could see the head, and it kept turning towards me, it had a yellow beak and a white head and black feathers .... and it was quite large, and he scared those snakes away, for which I was very grateful.  But he wouldn't speak to me either, or answer my question of are you my power animal.  So I moved on.  I ambled into a cave and there was a drum circle with (Indians?) sitting around a fire, but they were below me, and I sat at the edge and watched them.  And suddenly a bear sat down next to me.  Are you my power animal?  I asked (does anyone remember the book, Are You My Mother?") That is exactly what this journey felt like!  And the bear nodded!  Yahoo, I had found my power animal.  At first he was a black bear and kind of stiff looking.  Then he turned brown and was a little softer, and then I explained to him that I had had a stuffed bear once that was all cute and cuddly, and he said he could be that bear too.  (Don't you love the lower world?!  So accommodating!)  Then he wrapped me up in a huge bear hug and just held me ... and that feeling of love just pulsed through me.  It was sheer heaven.

This sure seems to be too cuddly of a bear to act as a power animal, but there was no fear with the bear.  The bear was kind and loving.  I looked it up, a bear as your power animal in shamanism, and it stated:

If you have bear as power animal, you will most probably be quieter during the winter months, which is similar to the bear hibernating during the winter. But in the spring you must awaken to seek whatever opportunities arise. Be fearless in standing up for what you believe in. You are also encouraged to use your abilities as a natural healer. Bear is linked to trees, considered to be natural antennas, joining the heavens and the Earth. Bear also has ties to the seven colour rays of the Universal Light, as well as Lunar associations, linking the conscious and subconscious mind.

Hibernating during the cold winter months, means bears know instinctively when the time is right and where to go. They also know when to wake back up. From this we can see it is good to know and realise that we sometimes need to be alone, to ponder and reflect, to examine our thoughts and emotions, where we are headed on our life journey. We need to trust and follow our instincts. Bear is active day and night, not like other animals, symbolising his connection with solar energy, strength and power, lunar energy and intuition. This enhances and teaches us how to develop these qualities within ourselves.

Bear medicine teaches us introspection, aiding us to digest (I found this word most interesting considering my food experience yesterday!)  our experiences and to discover that we have within ourselves the answers to all our questions. We all have bags of wisdom, if only we slow down and listen to what our intuition, our inner knowing voice is telling us. It is useful to be with yourself at times, so you can be yourself and are able to uncover your own answers to whatever challenge you are facing. On the other hand, just like Bear you need to know when to come out of 'hibernation' and to interact with others.

Sometimes bears are over confident and to quick to act on their fiery anger. Although possessing perhaps just a trace of fear they can forget caution, an important characteristic to own. If bear is your guide try not to forget caution. If you are unaware, or even disregard your limits, this can have consequences you may not want! 

All very interesting.  During the workshop we had to go on a journey for a partner to seek a healing for them.  My partner said that he thought my power animal was a raccoon.  And that so didn't feel right.  I just nodded and thanked him, but like I said, it didn't feel right.

The bear feels totally right. 

What a difference a decade makes

This picture was taken at Christmas time roughly 10 years ago -- give or take a few years.  This was before trim, carpet and lighting (though we were inventive and used icicle lighting year round for a number of years!)  This year our tree is much smaller -- when we first built this living room all we could think about was the BIGGEST tree we could fit.  But this year I wanted to keep the game table where the tree usually goes, and I created a much more intimate space.

The only thing that remains the same is the Morris chair -- the most expensive piece of furniture I ever bought -- and it goes to show, if you want something to last, and maintain its original integrity, pay for it!  The leather chair that is in the far right corner is now in my bedroom and is so bleached out there is no way you would have ever thought it was brown!

This one's for you, Maddie!

My daughter Maddie, who is 17, was sitting on the staircase by my office with her computer in her lap.  She commented that she read my blog, and did I know that?  I said that I didn't and that I was surprised that she did.  (She has never been a big reader!)  Then she said that she really only liked the ones that mentioned her.  Which got me to thinking.  I follow a blog where the woman writes these amazing posts on the birthdays of her children.  They are such beautiful and amazing tributes and I am always quite moved.  Her children are young, but they will always have that.

So this one's for you, Maddie!  (If you click on any of the pictures, they will get big!)



Maddie was born about seven years after my first child, Hallie.  This was completely on purpose -- I truly did not have the capacity at the time to take on anything more than one child, a full-time job, etc.  But as the years went by, both Peter and I definitely knew we wanted more kids.  So my sister and I chatted one day and decided that we would both get pregnant together, and we figured out the math so that we would end up with summer babies (and the summer to hang on the dock in the sun!)

Which is exactly what happened.  Maddie and her cousin Emma are nine days apart.  We have a scandalous amount of pictures of the two of them together -- it was a photo shoot just about every time.  They were such cute, cute, cute babies with entirely different personalities.  And that summer (they were born in June) we did spend countless hours on the dock.  But relaxing?  Ummm, no.  I remember spending an inordinate amount of time trying to get them to sleep.  We had constructed a sort of tent out of a Sunguard structure and then tarps to keep the sun off their white little baby skin.  And we would put them in there in their carriages and truly believe that they would snooze while we hung in the sun.  Yeah.  No.  Maddie was never what one would call a good napper.  She liked to fuss for hours prior -- and it was very, very exasperating!  I can remember coming home from work and she would be in her bouncy seat on the counter, and she would just cry.  I would try to nurse her, to comfort her, to do ANYTHING.  But that is what she wanted to do, and that is what she did!

She was independent and enjoyed exploring on her own.  It makes me laugh now, to see her dressed this way, because dresses just never were her.  I tried.  Hallie had worn dresses exclusively as a young child, and they were so much fun to buy.  Maddie wore dresses when she didn't have all that much control at the age of two -- but it wasn't that much longer after this that she took charge of her own appearance.

She may be smiling sweetly here, but she had another bag packed with "her" clothes for after this picture was taken!  I loved this dress, but she did not.  She said it was too long and when she played on the floor it got in the way.  So in truth this picture does not depict what Maddie was like at 3.  She also had a younger brother at this time and was not particularly pleased with the situation.  It took a number of years before she viewed him as anything more than an intrusion on her ordered life!  At this age she was very neat, she dressed neatly and she enjoyed playing with her Legos or laying on the floor drawing.  She had two best friends at school (daycare)  Emily and Nichole, and even spent the night at Emily's.  (This may have been the first and last time, if memory serves me right, that she actually did this!)

This is Maddie's third grade (I am pretty sure) class and you can see she doesn't look too happy. (she is on the left on the floor wearing the red and black striped shirt and jeans.) Maddie did not take to school right away -- in fact, it was very hard for her, she didn't want to be left there.  I found it a little strange because she had done very well in the two daycare's that she went to -- one in Manchester and then at Windy Hill in New London.  She made friends easily in both, but something changed when she went to school (real school).  On the first day of school I had to stay for a long time so that she could get acclimated.  But I could tell she never felt truly comfortable there.

You can tell in her face that she's not in her comfort zone.  But I didn't really know what to do about it, to be honest.  She did fine academically, but it definitely was not an environment that fed her spirit.  Her daycare situations had appealed to her creative side and the hands-on experiental learning environment clearly suited her.  Public school did not serve any of my children well.  If it was an entity that could be harmed, I would do so.   For all the harm it did to my children.  BABOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Look at the difference in her facial expression -- the above is a school picture and the below is one I took.  Interesting.

This was about the time Maddie seriously became a boy!  Above she was still allowing me to keep some length to her hair; but then she became adamant that it be short.  Everyone mistook her as a boy; and she loved it!  She had a friend who was actually horrified the day he found out she was a girl!  She had scorned traditional female bathing suits and would just wear shorts and no shirt.  Then, well, I will admit, I insisted that she wear a regular bathing suit, well, because it was TIME!  And her poor friend said to his mother, why is Maddie wearing a girl's bathing suit?  HAHAHAHA!

Maddie loved to ski and it was when she was about 10 or so that she started to pull away from her pack of friends in terms of racing ability.  But she was never boastful or prideful about it -- she just took it in stride and never took herself too seriously.  You can see here that she is once again allowing me to keep her hair a little longer!  (Allowing me means that she isn't taking a pair of scissors and cutting it off herself.  But instead letting me take her to the hairdressers where it was cut right!)  She will still do this to this day -- grab a pair of scissors and demand that her hair be cut or else she will do it herself!  Both Peter and Nana will accomodate her -- but I actually know I can't cut hair, so I don't.  Not even a trim.  I'm sorry, I just like long hair!

Yes!  Like this length.  Maddie does not like this picture, taken when she was in 8th grade.  And it really doesn't depict who she is, because I don't even remember her hair being that long.  It must have been for a minute!

While Maddie did really well during her short career as a ski racer, a torn ACL received in France at the beginning of her freshman year at Proctor was really the end of that.  She skied the next two seasons, but her heart and body were never able to return to that sweet place where races are won and it's all still fun.

But her one consistent love has been softball.

I have enjoyed attending all the races and games -- Maddie is a natural athlete and fun to watch.  She did have a rotten soccer coach at school who decided to undermine her confidence and abilities and make her think less of herself -- but I guess he just stands in the same category as that creepy (entity!) Public School.  I guess we all need to have certain lessons in life -- or situations that seem so wrong -- in order to grow, and one thing Maddie has said she might want to do is coach sports.  She is going to major in sports management in college and no doubt she will take the lessons of being the victim of a heartless son-of-a-bitch and be a good and fair coach.  I have no doubt that she will.  She doesn't even get that mad at this person -- but then she doesn't see what he does to her.  Oh well.  Moving on.  Fortunately we have softball season to look forward to, and I am sure it will be a great one!

And so I will end this blog kinda sorta where it began -- on the dock!  But Maddie doesn't cry on the dock anymore!  She is a beautiful, caring, sensitive and smart young woman who still plays with squirt guns and tortures her brother!

Suffering from PDS?

Even my kids agree that despite my intentions to "tone down" Christmas presents, I have yet to succeed.  And each year that is my goal -- and then, I start to think OH NO!  There's not enough.

Enough what?

When I was in middle school I came downstairs on Christmas morning and went to "my chair."  Just as my kids do, my brother and sister and I chose chairs where our gifts would be placed by Santa.  In middle school I was well aware that there was no Santa, but one surely did need a spot claimed as theirs for gifts to go.  Hence, my chair.  We don't hang stocking from the mantle, but instead each stocking is placed on the corresponding chair, and I am pretty sure we did this during my childhood too -- though my memories are a bit murky.  Anywho, that particular Christmas morning there was a big pink stuffed dog on my chair.  As the eldest, I was quite sure that my mother a.k.a. Santa had mistakenly put it on the wrong chair.  I quickly brought this to her attention, and she said no, it was mine.  It was mine?

I considered this, as I gazed back at the wrapped presents on my chair, and realized that the unwrapped pink dog was the Santa gift, as per our tradition.  A pink dog?  I had never been a stuffed animal child, and I certainly hadn't turned into a stuffed animal teenager, so I was confused.  I mean seriously, what was up with the pink dog?

I of course could not let it go, and after all the presents were opened and the day had drawn on and relatives had arrived and the adults were imbibing in a little holiday cheer, I finally got my answer.  My mother, who had been fielding pink dog questions all day, looked at me in exasperation and said that at the final hour, after all the presents had been wrapped and set upon chairs, my chair looked a little sparse.  So the pink dog (one has to assume it was to go to my younger sister, who liked dolls and stuffed animals enough to cherish them) ended up on my chair.  To make me feel better.  When in fact, it had had the opposite effect.  First, I thought my parents had made a mistake, which wasn't earth shaking, but still, at that age you are doing anything you can to hold on to the magic of the season despite no longer having the myth upheld -- so if they had just taken the dog and handed it to my sister, all would have been fine.  But no, instead they insisted that it was mine, which therefore led me to believe they had lost their minds ... which is always a scary thought for a child.  Especially when you are firm in your belief that you make it pretty clear what type of person you are.  I was a tomboy and I rode horses and I played in the woods with boys (and I PLAYED  and built forts and hide and seek, etc. in the woods with boys, not like the modern day version of a kid my age) but at no time during the 12-14 years of my life had I indicated I liked stuffed animals.  Pink was okay, I have always liked pink.  But not on a dog.

 

Every time I looked at that dog, it made me wonder.  I was in possession of a pink stuffed animal I didn't want because my parent's felt BAD that I didn't have enough presents.  It didn't make any sense.  And it still doesn't -- and yet, I am guilty of it myself.  Sometimes I will purchase something not because I know my child will love it, but because I am at a loss of what to get them and I have already purchased X amounts of presents for the other two, so it has to be fair.  Right?

I don't know, I really don't.  Every year there are one or two people who I could buy for over and over and over.  It is never the same people twice; and it is crazy frustrating.  This year it is my mother and sister.  I have already purchased their PERFECT presents, but every day I come up with a new idea -- which would be equal to what I have already come up with.  Last year it was Hallie and Peter.   This year they are near impossible -- can't come up with a thing!  Maddie and Charlie provided me with lists and since all Charlie wanted was an Xbox 360, well he's pretty much done.  As the youngest, I guess it is his year to realize that knowing what you are getting for Christmas is the best way to ensure that you get what you want!

I have wrapped the presents I have bought thus far, and because Maddie and Charlie are so competitive, I have resorted to not putting their actual names on the presents.  Last year I used numbers -- but they are smart and quickly figured out that 1 was Hallie and 2 was Maddie and 3 was Charlie.  As Maddie said, either way, I am two!  Which left Charlie to moan that 2 had the most presents!  Of course.  This year I came up with random, crazy names -- Zorba, Gemmy, Simian and Malachite.  It is interesting to listen to them try to figure out who is who.  I have thrown Peter into the mis-named mix as well to keep them all guessing.  Their biggest concern is that I will forget who is who -- which I did last year because I kept telling them so many different ways that it could work, I forgot myself!  (In fact, I think Hallie was 3 and Charlie was 1 because I assumed they would figure it out?)  I don't know.  No one received a pink dog. 

That I know for sure!

I was also wondering why I was so crazy organized this year -- even more so than in the past.  I know that I like to get the majority of my online shopping done before Thanksgiving just because of shipping reasons (for example, all the presents I ordered before Black Friday/CyberMonday came within days of ordering.  Days.  Everything I've ordered post-Thanksgiving hasn't even shipped.  It really makes a huge difference -- the volume they get after T-Day increases tenfold.)  My goal in the past has to have everything done before our annual trip to New York City -- and with the exception of a few stocking stuffers, have done this for quite some time.  But this year I feel compelled to have it all done even earlier than that.  I just want to avoid the stress of it all.  I really do.  I know this is based on years and years and years of trying to fit Christmas shopping around deadlines at work -- and every year in the spirit of post-traumatic-holiday-stress-disorder (PTHSD) -- I start to panic that I won't get it all done.  It's funny how something is so deeply ingrained in you -- and even those last years at work after I had figured out how to reduce the workload during that crazy holiday period -- it still persisted, that nagging, panicky, heaviness settling on the chest feeling that I will have to be in a mall surrounded by thousands of people, listening to Christmas music and feeling the brush of a thousand different coats as people try to get past me to get to the next store, carrying armloads of bags and hurrying.  Hurrying.  No smiles, just grim determination.

But despite it all, I do not want to fall into pink dog syndrome -- I don't want to be out there purchasing presents for the sake of creating volume -- on someone's chair!  I can not honestly say that if my parents had put the pink dog on its proper chair, whether or not I would have counted the presents and dutifully noted to one and all that I had been short changed!  My memories of Christmas are all good -- I don't have any ghosts of Christmas pasts banging on my door late at night causing me to lament any shortages.  The one present that is deeply etched in my memory is a small little record player.  Oh, how I loved that thing.  It was not much bigger than a breadbox -- okay, for all of us here who never dealt with bread boxes, it was about the size of a waffle maker!  And you would put in the small records (78's?)  I can't even remember what they were called, so you would put the teeny one song record into it, and then close the top and it would play.  I LOVED that thing.  Loved it.  I loved it as much as I love my Kindle, and that says a LOT!

We still lived in Bedford, so I was younger than 5th grade, and I couldn't tell you another present that I have received over the years that touched me like that one did.  I also can't tell you if I even asked for it.  All I remember is loving it.  Absolutely loving it.  It was tan and it had a handle that you could carry it around, like a small pocketbook (and we all know I love my pocketbooks!) and it was compact and perfect.  Loved it.  My guess is that I had no idea something like it even existed -- and that it was a Santa gift -- and I can still remember wondering what it was at first -- and then when I figured it out, it was the most incredible feeling.  How can our children who have grown up with iPods ever understand that kind of feeling?  That I, as a child, could carry around my own portable music making machine, that I could take it outside (it ran on batteries) and out into the woods and sing to my heart's content?

Maybe that is what was so special -- receiving something I didn't even know I wanted.

I feel so jaded -- because I can't for the life of me think of another present EVER that touched me that way.   And now, in order to ensure that I do get what I want, I buy most of my own Christmas presents, or tell everyone exactly what I want.  But now I think it explains why I love to try to surprise someone with something I think they will love -- I rarely ask people what they want -- because I am trying to give them what I experienced all those years ago. 

I guess we should all give thanks to the Pink Dog who reminded me of that wonderful present!



I was searching for the little mini record player and when this popped up I remembered having it too!!!!   It also reminded me that I loved, loved, loved my EasyBake oven!  Ahh, memories of Christmas presents past!    NEXT POST!  Stay tuned.

Ready or not, winter is coming

I think turkey's can take a break now between now and Christmas, but I think this is THE cutest idea.  If we go out for Thanksgiving, then I will do a big turkey spread on Christmas, but since I just did the works ... not sure what Christmas will bring.  But do love this!  Not sure I could eat it, makes it look kind of ... wrong!

So we have eaten turkey night, after night, after night.  Last night I called it Thanksgiving Two and we finished up the last of the mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes and stuffing.  There is still so much turkey left it's kind of ridiculous.  I am going to make a few turkey pot pies and freeze them.  No one here, including myself, wants any more turkey.  Not even sandwiches.  NO MORE TURKEY!

So now it is time to move on to Christmas.  The kids reminded me that we now decorate our house.  I'd forgotten.  Yes, really, I did!  Maddie reminded me that I had bought a ton of decorations and really done up the mantle and stairways, etc.  I guess I hadn't realized at the time that it was a tradition!  I think that is partly because the mantle display was sort of garish and I thought, in a way, ironic.  BUT NOT TRADITION!  I don't remember as a child glomming on to things and wanting to repeat them (otherwise known as tradition, I guess) but these kids crave it.  I said it was time for a smaller tree -- if only because the gi-normous ones cost a fortune.  But I saw their little faces, and spent yesterday afternoon rearranging the living room to accommodate our traditional-sized tree!  Geesh.

We had our first snow event on Saturday.  First this crazy squall came in and just pummelled the house for a half an hour.  It was a total white-out and the wind was insane.  Then the blue skies followed and left a perfect winter wonderland.  And it also left the roads a disaster.  Peter and I headed down to Concord to catch a movie, and when I pulled on to the highway, it was not a good sign to see the cars crawling.  The interstate was a skating rink and there were cars off all over the place and those lucky enough to stay on the road were going about 20 miles an hour.  Yikes.  I considered turning around, but the northbound side was blocked with fire trucks and ambulances, and major, major experience has taught me that we would be driving out of it soon enough.  Which we did, but I couldn't help but thinking OH NO.  Am I really ready for this?  (Truth be told, ever since the crazy drive to NYC in a blizzard, I have found any short trips driving on snow and ice to be quite do-able!)  Those squalls always leave wreckage in their wake, so I'm not really sure why we even bothered to go out; I guess because we're just not ready to admit that winter is upon us.  Today I am going to go out and pull the kale -- yes, I have had kale growing right up until the squall.  It looks a little toasted now though.  Time to admit defeat and accept what I can't stop!  Mount Sunapee opened today too.  Am I ready to ski?  Not really.  I certainly won't waste my time going there and skiing the one trail they open to the masses, but it's just another sign.  Of winter.

Happy Turkey Day in a big way

I have been on a roll the past few days -- I completely re-designed my bedroom and moved every stitch of furniture around -- and that required (because when I get on a roll watch out!) cleaning out every single drawer and the closet.  Well, my closet.  Peter can do his own, though truth be told, his never gets like mine.  You know, messy, cluttered, stuffing things in and shutting the door and walking away.  That's mine.  His just never seems to change.

It took a solid day and a half ... there isn't a speck of dust in that room or the bathroom.  It is CLEAN!  I even removed all the stacks of books (keep, give-away, maybe keep) as I weeded out the book shelf as well.  I realized about halfway in that I was under the influence of PMS and a full moon, and took full advantage of the crazy energy and drive.  Then yesterday afternoon I took my completed shopping list and went to get that little necessity of hell out of the way.  Yes, the traditional Thanksgiving shopping trip.

It was crowded.  Mobbed.  I was lucky to get both a parking spot and a cart.  I had made a special trip to Hanover to the Co-Op because I wanted a good bird.  An organic, free range happy bird.  (Or happy until the axe got him.)  I even went straight to the meat department to capture my bird before the droves of people behind me went there too.  And there was a bird, oh yes there was.  There were exactly two choices for someone who did not order a bird.  There was a 30-pounder, and a 10-pounder.   The large bird was scary and the small one was pathetic.  I went to the counter and asked the nice man if he had any smaller birds, and I made a rather horrified motion towards the big guy in the case, you know, I flashed that disarming smile we keep for good cuts of fish and meat, because that is sort of TOO big.  He asked me if I had ordered one, and while I briefly considered a) flashing him or b) saying yes, I did, my last name is Jones ... I noticed two other people hovering around the two big daddies.  I rushed over and just hefted one into my cart.  I'm pretty sure I pulled my back, and one woman said, did that really say 30 pounds?  Did that really say 30 pounds and $100?  YES.  SO WHAT.  I tucked my guy into the front seat (he was actually bigger than any child I'd put in that seat in year's past!) and rushed back to the bread department to see if I could at least get a normal amount of rolls to take home.

Was it a snap decision?  Yes.  After the sweat dried up I returned to the meat department and scoured the refrigerated cases, looking to see if perhaps I had overlooked a teeny tiny 15 pounder.  No such luck.  The guy behind the counter spotted me and said that I could come back tomorrow (which would be today) and see if there had been cancellations of people not picking up their birds (which ranged in size from 15-25 pounds.)  Yeah.  No.  Whatever.  Live and learn.

But I am going to have to put that sucker in the oven at dawn, which means I have no oven tomorrow.  So today I have made pumpkin pie, apple pie and will do the maple roasted sweet potatoes soon.  But you see, the problem with having that PMS craziness is that it is followed by something else.  A full score drop in energy to negative numbers and a desire to lay on the couch and moan.  About cramps and leg aches and back aches (stupid bird) and the fact that every time I turn around the kitchen I have cleaned has been messed up by little urchins who sneak around and visit places I have cleaned.  You know, that sort of thing.  Whine whine.  Boo hiss.

So what I have now is an upside-down cleaned house.  Normally, normal people (of which I am clearly not one) would devote their tornado of energy towards areas where guests will be permitted.  In most cases, you can have a clean downstairs and a messy upstairs and no one has to know.  But this is going to be hard to insist that everyone come to my bedroom for appetizers and cocktails.   Or even odder to set up a table in my squeaky clean bathroom for dinner.  No, what it all means is that I have to dig deep and find some sort of reserve to clean the entire downstairs of my house ... I will receive help on their terms.  Peter will do something TOMORROW.  He is a morning person, and despite the fact he's been home since 2:00, he feels it is his sitting on the couch time.  Not his help me with the downstairs cleaning time.  The kids cleaned their rooms too, during the upstairs frenzy, and have pretty much indicated that their quota for the month is full up.  Oh yes, I could yell and scream and rant and rave, and I assure you, it will come to that.  But for now, I am going to just not give a damn!

Look on the bright side.  We will be eating turkey for dinner for weeks.  No shopping or menu planning!!!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING !

Free shipping gets me every time

For the past several weeks now on my drive home after picking Charlie up from school, there have been a handful of homes with their Christmas lights up.  Seriously?  And on Halloween, the ACTUAL DAY, we were in Target looking for some costume additions, and the special holiday room they have in the back had already been transformed into a Christmas Wonderland.  That is, in case dates are hard to recall, OCTOBER 31st.  As Thanksgiving draws near, the "traditional" time when people drag out their Christmas paraphernalia and adorn their houses inside and out with holiday cheer, it is getting worse.  I say worse because my theory is that winter is already long enough as it is.  Christmas, in my mind, is a part of winter.  The leaves haven't even completely fallen off the trees in October -- it is NOT time to think about Christmas.

And yet.

AND YET!  I am almost done Christmas shopping.  This is borne entirely out of experience -- I am almost exclusively an online shopper, and there is a reason for this too.  Once I get out in the world of stores, I suddenly need everything I see.  I can go from a perfectly happy non-materialistic person to a nut job stacking up her credit card with one purchase after another.  FOR ME!  (Point in case, I was in a kitchen gadget store looking for an apple peeler to make applesauce, and I bought a sandwich maker AND a cake thing.  A glass cake stand with a cover.  It is still sitting out on the wood pile in the garage.  Why?  Because I make cakes exactly like three times a year ... for those at home who even want me to bake them a cake.  But this purchase happened to fall only days after Charlie's birthday, when I had labored over a completely from scratch chocolate cake that when I presented it, clearly needed to be on a glass stand.)  I am sure next time I make a cake I will have forgotten I purchased that.  Please remind me.

So, why so early with the Christmas shopping?  Because now is the time to get it all shipped for free.  Everyone wants your online business and the black friday deals have been going on for weeks (like the crazy early Christmas lights!)  There is this urgency to make Christmas bigger and better every year because it's all about spending.  SpENding and MORE spenDING.   Fine.  Spend away, but I intend not to spend a dime on shipping.  If I can get my act together (and it appears I have!) then I can get the slowest form of shipping (aka free) and not worry because I still have over a month for it to get here.  Also, UPS gets completely and totally bogged down the last weeks (believe me, I've been on the phone with them before) and while they actually ship up to Christmas Eve ... it kinda sucks when you sit and stare out the window all day Christmas Eve waiting for the package that never arrives.  And when you live where I live, that means you are shit out of luck. 

My early shopping, as I've said, comes from years of experience. I have spent a fortune sending an item from eBay overnight, only to find it is broken.  (I very rarely buy things from eBay now because I have discovered that they are the reason you can't get things in the stores!)  These buyer's buy as many of a popular item as they can then auction them on eBay before Christmas to make a profit.  Ho Ho Ho you HO's!  You won't get a penny out of me anymore ..... been there done that. 

So it has been like Christmas here -- I have packages arriving daily and my office is stacked with it all (unopened so that prying eyes won't get a peek).

And here is another added bonus.  I told the kids if they had something they really, really wanted (the true black Friday and CyberMonday are really my last shopping days) they should give me a list.  (Keeping in mind I have purchased their majorities already).  Charlie gave me a list that is about a grand worth of things -- topping the list is the Xbox 360.  What, you ask?  We don't have that?  You mean he is right?  We are truly the ONLY Family in America who does not have one?  How can this be?

Below that are two video games for said Xbox, a remote-control helicopter that is in the hundreds (with additional and necessary accessories, ca-ching ca-ching) and then some electronic piggy bank for a hundred bucks.  I think it was the look on my face (he woke me up to show me) but 20 minutes later he returned to my bedroom with a tray with homemade waffles and coffee. 

Bribery works.  Don't rule it out.

I actually did away with lists for a while because one year when Maddie was 8 or so, she came down on Christmas morning with her list in hand.  As she received each item, she would cross it off.  Later that day I saw her searching the living room amongst the debris of wrapping paper, bows and opened boxes.  "What are you looking for?" I asked her.  And she looked at me, pencil behind her ear, and said "I can't find my trash can."  Huh?  Well, that was on her list!  And she had received EVERYthing on it but the trash can.  Which, as she pointed out matter-of-factly, she needed for her room.

Literal people should not have Christmas Lists.  They think they are contracts or something!  Geesh.

So with Christmas more or less taken care of, I should probably make that Thanksgiving shopping list.

Yeah, ya think????

I got no junk in my trunk so funk you

While I don't have any junk that can be   touched, other than my breasts I suppose, I am still totally and one hundred percent completely against all this TSA crap.  From one article I read, the agent said to someone who did not want to be sexually molested, "you gave up your rights when you bought your ticket."

Oh, really?  Then we need to get our rights back!  And quite frankly, if no one flies, then they are going to have to add common courtesy, respect and decency back into the game plan.

Do not, for one single second, convince yourself that your subjecting yourself to either a dose of radiation (in the case of the body scanners) or a pat-down that includes touching someones balls and breasts is in any way shape or form protecting you on your flight.

(Has anyone read the book the Outliers?)

Listen, I get that we have to do what we do, and I have never complained about going through a metal detector.  I think taking off your shoes is moronic and ludicrous, but it's not invasive enough for me to follow through on it.

But I will NOT subject my person to radiation of any kind, and neither should anyone else.  They already know that progressive X-rays is dangerous.  And in time we will see the damage from our children getting multiple MRI's to diagnose sports injuries, but there is no dispute that radiation is bad for you, and the lesser you are exposed to, the better.  Why do you think that there is a "pat down" option?  Because when a frequent flier gets diagnosed with cancer down the road and some class action lawyer decides to put together a case, the airline will have that covered.  They will state that you CHOSE to do it.    Yeah, yeah, I know I sound crazy and all that, but NOTHING has changed since 9/11 (when we lost many rights) that has indicated that the system is not working.  The packages with devices that created the recent brouhaha were all on cargo planes.  What that says to me is that the terrorists have realized that getting things through security doesn't work.

That means that the security procedures WORK!  But isn't it interesting that the government is using yet another opening of terror to slip in yet another item.  Hey, there are companies out there making these things -- and they make money if it is MANDATED that all airports have them.  Hmmmm.

Don't line the pockets of yet another government-subsidized company ... scream and yell for your rights, stay off planes until they get the message, oh don't give me that it won't work.  IT WILL WORK!  The airline industry, like most industries in the world, are run on the purchase of goods and service.  In this case, the service of being flown from one destination or another.  Do I go into my local supermarket to buy a loaf of bread and need to be patted down or given a good dose of radiation?  No, and you know why?  Because no one would stand for it!!!!

And you could also embarrass the people patting you down by moaning and groaning and acting like it is getting you off.

Whatever works.  (That is my idea, but other blogger's have suggested burping and farting ... I guess the point is DO NOT STAND PLACIDLY BY AND LET PEOPLE TOUCH YOU).

This is a good blog on it:   http://www.everywhereist.com/hate-full-body-scanners-heres-10-things-you-can-do/
 

Common sense hits iceberg

"Navy helicopters flew in Spam, Pop Tarts and canned crab meat and other goods for the passengers and crew, passengers said."

I'm sorry, but who is in charge of feeding 4,500 people stranded people on a cruise ship?  Mickey Mouse?   Was it some kind of joke -- send in the grossest food in the world (via Navy helicopter no less) and then take four days to get them to land?  And those ships are LOADED with food ... what are the cooks, all morons?  They couldn't figure out what to do with what they had on hand?  And one fire in one room causes the entire ship to fall apart ... was there not ONE boy scout on board?

Was I supposed to feel bad as the passengers disembarking were talking about their woes at sea?  SHIT HAPPENS.  I love the comparisons to the Titanic.  Oh yes, almost identical.

Again, I ask, who is in charge of common sense?

The orange dress

First off I will start with the fact that when I googled "Macy's orange dress," nothing of what I spotted back in the 80's comes up.  Not even close.  And there are often times I even wonder if I have any recall of what the dress looked like, because all I did was walk by it, and it was like 25 years ago.  But it has remained in my head, taking up real estate all this time, and I believe it is time to exorcise it from my consciousness!

I was going to a Christmas party and I needed a fancy dress.  It was my first grown-up office Christmas party, and I wanted something nice.  A friend and I went into Jordan Marsh department store (which is now Macy's) and we entered a section of the store I'd never been in.  The world of dresses!  Wow, I was instantly overwhelmed, and a few glances at price tags convinced me I was also way out of my financial league.  But as I was high tailing it out of that particular area, a mannequin wearing a smashing orange dress that was perched upon one of the dress racks caught my eye.  She had her hand on her hip and she was standing (in her mannequinish way!) with that hip jutted out.  In other words, a sexy pose.  She had pouty lips and she was wearing this dress that made my heart go pitter patter.  I stopped and gazed up at it.  It was beaded and glittery and form fitting and 3/4 quarter length and low bodice and well ... the body I had at the time would have done it proud. Oh, and when I say orange, I misrepresent the color -- it was more of a cool orange sherbet color that looked a little darker in places where the beadwork was heavy.  I looked around to see if I could find the dress on a rack so I could check out the price, but I couldn't find it.  There was no salesperson around, even though I circled the mannequin in the dress several times.  My friend finally convinced me that since it was nicer than some of the dresses I had been appalled at their price, obviously this one would be too much as well.

I didn't find anything else in any other department and I wanted to go by the dress another time.  But we were parked on another end of the building, so it didn't happen.  And as you can glean, the dress still haunts me to this day!

After I had exhausted countless stores, I decided that I would return to Jordan Marsh and try on the dress that had spoken to me (really quite loudly, but at that stage in my life, I didn't know how to listen!)  I went straight to the dress department and scanned the mannequins.  She was gone!  My sexy, pouty, pretty mannequin was nowhere to be found.  And neither was the dress!  I found a saleswoman and tried to explain what I was looking for.  I brought her to the rack where the mannequin had stood, but she couldn't remember.  She kept pulling out other dresses and saying, "What about this one?"  But none of them were THE dress.  The dress was gone.  Had it ever existed at all?  Sometimes I wonder, I really do!

My mother was also on the job, and she had found this secondhand dress in an upscale secondhand store, that was full sequins -- and quite crazy.  It wasn't form fitting, it sort of hung down straight, but once on, it was quite reminiscent of the flapper dresses, and this one had gone wild!  It sparkled and glittered -- wearing that I was a walking disco ball!  It was expensive, but she paid for half and I was all set.  But ... I still missed that damn orange dress -- the dress that I had deemed to be THE PERFECT DRESS in my mind. 

At the party I was constantly complimented on my dress (and as the night progressed it became a joke as to where I had been because everywhere I went I dropped sequins!)  On several occasions I replied that this was a cool dress, but there had been this other dress ... eventually I stopped myself because really, I had no idea if the dress would have worked at all.  Not a clue.

But here is the thing -- the orange dress had taught me an invaluable lesson that I have followed to this day.  When I see something -- anything -- that represents the same idea as the orange dress, I buy it.  I don't care what it is, if it catches my eye and somewhere deep inside feels that it is right, I don't look at the price tag, I just take it home with me.  Now, that seems probably a little extreme, but it sure has made my shopping life easy!  And because I have done this all these years, there is very little I actually do buy, because none of it is beyond my reach.  Does that make sense?

For example, I have a $300 hat.  No, that is not a typo.  Some friends and I were at this obviously over-priced store, and this hat caught my eye ... it was on a mannequin's head and it was a very light pink and I reached for it and put it on.  I am one of those people who hates hats -- can't stand them on me, can't stand how I look in one -- and yet, I live in a climate where the wearing of a hat on many days is more of a necessity than an option.  One friend came around the corner and said "Oh, you look so good in that hat," (which was kind of how I was feeling looking at myself in the mirror.)  I took off the hat, which wasn't super tight fitting so it didn't really ruin my hair, and happened to glance at the price tag.  I gulped.  Why would it cost so much?  A salesperson saw me and explained that it was a died wool hat that was hand blah blah blah and that it took a long time to make and shape and that each hat was a work of art and was actually numbered and signed by the artist slash hat maker.  Oh.

I put the hat back on the mannequin's head and moved on.  I mean, it would be one thing if I absolutely loved and adored hats, right?  But in truth, I hated hats.  As I wandered around it occurred to me that this was the orange dress all over again.  What would happen if this hat haunted me until the day I died?  There were a few other hats there, but none the color I would have chosen.  I picked up the hat and both friends gasped.  "Are you really going to buy that hat?"

Again, the doubt began to creep in, and then I remembered that orange dress!  I plunked the hat on my head and said with great determination that I was.  And that I was going to promptly forget how much it cost!

Now, here is the thing.  I love that hat.  I love and ADORE that hat.  It looks as perfect today as the day I bought it -- and it lives in a drawer with my scarves and mittens (there are no other hats in there, I am quite monogamous in my hat wearing ways!)  And each and every time I put on my hat, I smile.  And I always get comments about it, because it is quite different from your average hat!  And I am not afraid to wear it at ski races or any outdoor activity, because, as I have explained, it is my only hat!

Who knows what my life would be like today if that orange dress hadn't taught me that price does not mean everything.  How much better to cut costs in other areas for a short while in order to cover the cost of the dress (or whatever it is you fancy) than to pine after it for the rest of one's days!!!!!

Now how's that for a hat trick!

I'm all for change too

The television was on a bit this morning and it was just inundated with political ads.  If the candidates aren't pointing out how stupid their opponents are, they are squawking about change.


Me too!


I change the channel.

Sorry Hoarders, not this time.

 

In order to avoid an episode of Hoarder's featuring me, I am de-cluttering my office.  I am having a hard time though, disposing of the piles of stuff that threaten to take over every inch of available space in an already small environment.

Let's start with magazines.  I love magazines, and I have loads of them.  What I don't seem to do is actually read them cover to cover.  I flip through, get engaged for a short bit, do some dog-earring and then put it down.  But ... it's not DONE done, so I can't exactly throw it out.  Right?  I have about 50 Vanity Fair magazines that fall into that category.  The problem with that particular tome is that each story is like a short novel.  So while I will read one or two things, there are still at least half a dozen other articles I would like to read as well.  So it goes in the "get to later" pile.  Which, by the way, nearly reaches the ceiling.

The truth of the matter is, there is no later.  There is only the now that I read it, and the later will never come.  Ever.  And I have a stack of magazines to prove that!  Today I have thrown away like 10.  Which is the proverbial drop in the bucket.  I could also start reading them right now instead of writing about them.  But that isn't what I feel like doing.  In fact, I am so Kindle-addicted I can't really think of when I read ANYthing else, including newspapers, junk mail and magazines, other than something to amuse me while using the lady's room.  (I am saying that politely.)  And that is hardly enough time to finish a short article, forget Vanity Fair fare.

Then there are the recipes.  I print them out, I rip them out of magazines, I create massive piles of them.  But I rarely actually take the next step and try them out.  I just went through a stack of ripped out magazine pages that I can't for the life of me figure out why I ripped out in the first place.  I was seriously bugged that there was no obvious reason, and I kept going over and over them.  Weird.

So, we've covered the magazines, and there are of course the books.  The stack of fun reading I have yet to read (and might never actually get to due to that Kindle problem!) and then the stack of gardening books and the self-help books and the yoga books and ... well, what they really are are books that I will probably never read since I haven't seemed to in all the years they have been sitting there, right out in the open so I won't forget them!

Moving on we have the bags.  I love bags.  Pocketbooks, backpacks, larger bags, computer bags, camera bags ... oh my gawd the bags.  Now, I can do what I just did and neaten up the pile/stack of bags, but I know that next time I go to grab my hiking backpack, which is sort of in the middle of the pack (haha), everything will come tumbling down and it will spill out of its little corner.  But where else shall I keep the bags?  This is my central bag location!

And shoes.  When I come in from a walk, I have a tendency to come into my office and take my shoes off sitting on my chair.  There really is no closer seat, and I also like to put them on in same seat, so it makes sense to just keep them in my office, right?  But then it gets complicated, because I will be wearing a pair of shoes before I put on my walking shoes, and well, what if I am hiking that day instead of walking?  That is a different pair of shoes.  And well, there is the issue of lower and higher hiking boots.  They tend to line up.  I just put away my cowboy boots, two pairs of clogs and my Uggs, but the sneakers, well I know I am just going to use them here tomorrow, so why bother to pretend they go elsewhere?  (The hiking boots are back in the hall closet, but let's be serious, for how long?)  The only thing that prevents me from storing my shoes in my office is if they are muddy -- then I take them off on the porch.  But after the last episode of putting on my hiking boots and having to tear away a lot of cobwebs, I am thinking that's not such a great spot!  (Okay, I hadn't been hiking in a while, but cobwebs are tough to get off!)

I know!  I think I have a solution.  What I need to do is move my desk and computer to another location, and then re-label this space as my walk-in closet!  The fact of the matter is, that would be perfect!

Fun day sightings

 I don't know how I ended up on this website, but I couldn't stop laughing.
I am sharing some that literally had me laughing out loud -- there are
captions too -- which I will probably elaborate on because I can!
In this case
"If you don't want to sell me a pretzel, just say so.  You don't have to lie." 

I do this all the time when I am out and about -- see things and
make up captions in my head that make the situation that much
happier. Who knew that there were others out there that not only did it,
but recorded it too!  I am going to steal (um, I mean share) these
today, and then I am going to take my camera and do this on my own.
  It is too flipping funny.  Working with photos and Blogger is a
fricking nightmare, so bear with the fact it will look like shit.
I can't get below that picture down there! AAAAAAAAAAAARGH

The caption for this one: "Is this considered statue-tory rape?" 
 But can you imagine the embarrassment this
poor dumb moose experienced?





















"I want to see his credentials.  
What food medical school did he attend?"

"In his defense, she was sending mixed signals."  
(Perhaps the lack of a head?) LOL


























This one hits very close to home for me!  This summer while on Martha's Vineyard on the beach, I was going to take a bite of my sandwich, when a seagull landed on my leg and tried to get the sandwich out of my grasp (I shrieked and threw the sandwich into the air) and then he dug his talons into me as he launched himself towards the airborne snack.  The caption to this one:
"They'll do it too.  They're crazy, godless, lawless birds.  One time a seagull ate a funnel cake right out of my hand at the Jersey Shore." 
Guess they're after everyone!




 











"The circle of life is so beautiful and wondrous."















The website where I found all of these is  http://pictures.todaysbigthing.com/2010/10/13

Tree to be you and me

I have had the most intense and vivid dreams the past month or so.  I always dream, but these are the type you wake up thinking about -- and while I will have those from time to time, to have them nightly is a new phenomena.  And I like it, because I believe your dreams are meaningful if you take the time to look a little deeper.

Last night's dream was about having a big fight with someone -- a fight where things were said that are always ALWAYS left unsaid -- and it felt good, and it felt right, and in the end, when I woke up, I felt as though it was a validation towards defending my feelings towards this person.  I am always trying to be open and accepting and to turn the other cheek, so to speak, because I can be a bitch and sometimes only just for the sake of being one.  Why?  I think that is partially laziness -- sometimes it is easier just to dismiss someone and believe that you don't connect with them because you don't feel like it -- but then again, what sense does that make?  There has to be a REASON you don't like someone, right?

But then that conflicts with the notion that we are all one and the same and the universe should just be gushing with love and if you are pulsing your own love machine, then how can you not like someone?  I seriously wish sometimes that I didn't give a shit, you know?  And it's not even a situation of over thinking something -- because that's not really it.  It's the idea that maybe if I am having a problem with someone, than somehow it is MY fault because am I not supposed to be the enlightened, open, and loving source?

It's all very confusing -- but the dream spoke to me in a way that I can't speak to myself -- and the altercation that took place within the dream felt right.  I know that probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but the first thing I thought of this morning (after I stopped oohing and aaaahing over the pink sky) was, yeah, I knew it.  I've ALWAYS known it!  And there is a richness of feeling in having that confirmed, even if ultimately it is me that confirmed it!  HAHAHAHA.

I have been using Angel Cards on a daily basis, and they have directed me towards a path I find a bit disconcerting.  Not in a bad way, mind you, but in a kind of hmmm, are you sure and positive way.  (As in oh angels, you sure you got the right person?!!!)  I used the cards on a diverse group of people -- as in my family!  I have been using them for a little while now, and have grown quite comfortable in knowing that the card I draw is the right one (and very often the same one I drew before).  Which, if you think about a deck of 50 cards, which I shuffle and shuffle and shuffle, and have only drawn maybe 10 of the same cards over and over, is pretty validating.  But then again, I am a believer and that's all there is to it.  So when I drew certain cards for the non believers -- I was amazed at how dead on the cards were for THAT person (even if they thought it was all a bunch of hooey.)   I am not going to go into specific detail, because one of the cards instructed me to keep it to myself (because obviously people think you are crazy so why make it easy for them, right?!!!!) but through a series of different things I ended up at a website about shamanism.

I am not really sure that shamanism resonates with me -- to the degree I would suspect one would resonate with something they are supposed to "get into," but somehow I ended up finding a workshop that was outside of Boston, and I signed up.  It happened very quickly and without thought, and after I did it, I thought, really?  Is it really in me to wander about the woods with a drum and talk to the animals and trees?  Then I realized, I have been doing that for YEARS (sans drum) and the one exercise I did a while back where I was supposed to put my hand on a tree and just be, I remember it being so freaky I never did it again.

Freaky how?  I could feel the tree -- and I don't mean on my hand.  So why did I freak out and why did I then just walk by the tree and not acknowledge it?  Fear.  The fear of the unknown, the fear of having it stir something deep within that fights the fact that you can talk to trees, I guess.  There is an enormous pine tree in my front yard, and I sit at my desk and I am parallel to it -- I look out and we are staring at each other.  I look at this tree a hundred times a day, and now I realize that I draw strength from it.  Which then takes me back to my old house where there were also pine trees across the street, but they were tall and skinny and I always expected them to fall over.  In other words, I not only did not draw any strength from them, but they were yet another concern in a life full of many concerns (baby, job, relationship, shitty house ...) bad trees!

I look out at my (grandfather, grandmother?) of a tree, I take a deep breath and I continue on with what I am doing.  In the course of writing this I have done that about five times.  It is my touchstone (touch tree!) and it is magnificent in its size and strength.  In other words, it has some to share!

As soon as I signed up for the workshop, I ran for the angel cards with the basic question of are you shitting me?  The card I drew gave me the chills and I haven't drawn for two days.  (I apparently am a bit of a baby letting all these things freak me out!)  And I think if I drew one now it would be the one that says to keep things close to the vest -- don't be so open and honest that people think you are a wack job. (My interpretation of the card!)  But then, this morning Jesse Ventura was on Good Morning America, and I remembered that I liked him -- because he is so into conspiracy theories and even George Stephanopulous was like, Really Jesse?  And I laughed and thought, Jesse doesn't care, why should I?  (I don't, really, and since I've never been one for following directions, from angels or trees, obviously I am showing off my wackadoodleness with great glee!)  But seriously, there has to be a middle road between a sheeple and a wack job.  Right?  It can't be everyone either goes with the flow, or against it?

Earth Angel.  That is the card I drew today.

Oh, and the reason I started this blog this morning was because the book I have been writing is no longer an urgency ... as in, while I can write, it just doesn't seem all that satisfying.  I guess that is because I am supposed to go out and chat with trees and birds.

SQUAWK!

So, what do you want to know about my hot tub?

It is a beautiful October morning -- and I was standing knee deep (literally) in water in the hot tub scrubbing it down.  Suddenly, as my aching back caused me to stand up, I (once again literally) gasped in amazement as all the colors of the sky and the trees and the lower field hit my vision at once.  It was such staggering beauty.  Wow.

Oh the hot tub.  Such a ball and chain that thing has been.  Peter shut it down several summers ago and all the crap in the lines that hardened has been joining us for each and every hot tub event ever since.  It is gross.  Even though you know it's not big chunks of skin floating around, it is hard to ignore.  Disgusting.  Peter tried to wet-vac up the clumps of the stuff this weekend, and was feeling as though he'd really gotten a handle on it.  The thing is, even 10 small pieces of blech floating around is just not good.

We had to get some more chemicals, so off we went up north to the spa and pool store.  (It was deliciously gorgeous out on Sunday, but it was interesting to note that the foliage is peaking here and over up there.)  Seems early.  Anyway, we got to chatting with the girl at the store, and while we explained that we had crystal clear water, we were still battling gook from an error past.  She suggested that not only do we do Spa Purge, but because I have a hard time with immersing myself in chemicals, we stop using the old system of bromine (or chlorine?) and move to this other system that is silky smooth, odor free, and now that I am typing this, I have no idea what it is -- but she probably didn't say chemical free, right?  I can pretend.  Or even better, look it up!  Un momento por favor.

SilkBalance System ... Well it says that it is going to keep my spa clean and my body silky smooth without the use of chemicals.  It then goes on to discuss some such thing called BioFilm Dispersion Technology, which in a nutshell doesn't let gunk collect in your pipes, etc., and helps maintain hygiene and safer water.  Upon further research (which is kind of funny, isn't this something you are supposed to do BEFORE you switch?!)   Well, I am sorry I went off on THAT tangent -- geesh.  I have just been reading a message board with some people for and some people against the SilkBalance system.  Whatever, since we needed to do something ANYthing, to get rid of our original problem, it is worth a try.

I will say that the purge stuff seemed to work like a charm, because the ozonator was going mad this morning!  (You leave it in overnight, and then drain the tub.)  I wiped up very little of the "pieces" that have been haunting us ... so hopefully it will all work.

And now that I am done that project, I am off to clean up the raspberry beds and surround the thriving kale plants with straw so that I can keep them around for as long as possible.  I am already missing my cucumbers ... and while there are tons of green tomatoes on the vines, I don't think they are going to be able to mature as the days get so cold.  I know I should tear them down, but it was painful enough tossing away the cucumber vines.  I did transplant several basil TREES (they are ginormous!) and am bringing them into the house and see how they winter over.  All that I have read about them says that I will fail -- and that it would be easier to start a plant from seed, but I had six of the most gorgeous basil trees in my garden, and it's hard to imagine just letting them die!  So I have rescued a green and purple ... and the rest must fend for themselves.  Seriously, this is a brutal time of year for me.  After having that lush garden, to have it all die ... and even worse, to have to resort to having to BUY this stuff in a store ... it's just so sad.

Really one of the most frustrating things about this time of year is that you can NOT capture it.  While this looks pretty enough, it does not even come close to portraying the absolute magnificence one feels looking out at this, or being in it.