Scenes From a Charmed Life

One Empty Chair...

2008-06-18T21:12:00.004-06:00

I haven’t blogged in ages for two reasons:

1) I’ve been very busy living life and
2) I have had nothing noteworthy to say

Until now.

When I was 13 years old, Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated. The injustice of it all saddened me and touched me so deeply that I wrote a lengthy essay and compiled a book of newspaper clippings. It wasn’t a school assignment – it was June for cryin’ out loud. And I was 13. It wasn’t a requirement.

I did it because I needed some place to take my grief.

I feel that need again. Tim Russert died suddenly last week and I was in left shock; wondering why such a good man in his prime would be taken. He was a man I greatly admired – for his intelligence, his humour, but most of all - his integrity. That’s not a quality we find in society much these days.

Tim was a fixture in the newscasts I follow. A tough interviewer? Yes. A brilliant man? Yes. But what touched me? His warmth as a human being. His integrity came thru – you could just see it in his manner, his fairness, his love of family, his faith, his generous spirit… I loved his enthusiasm for life. He took a big ol’ bite out of life. And I so love anyone who does that.

I will miss him particularly in this political season. I remember him saying after the Super Bowl in January of 2008, “Well, MY Super Bowl is just beginning!” It will not be the same without him…

Tim Russert set the bar high.

And he makes me want to be a better person.

Thanks for listening. Because 40 years later - eerily almost to the day -- I needed some place to take my grief…

To Life...

2008-05-01T22:44:00.002-06:00

It was an ordinary Tuesday night.

Except we were witnessing the signing of wills ~ those of good friends, drawn up by another good friend (who in this story just happens to be the attorney). We, of course, made it light and breezy ~ glasses of chardonnay, a vodka tonic or two, scotch on the rocks; a nice camembert, sliced apples and chocolates completed the table. We’re all in our 50’s and good health, so it was just a matter of signing on the dotted line so to speak, with conversations of our busy days floating around the room. We didn’t give a lot of thought to what was really taking place here.

Until Mark said, “Ok. Let’s go around the table and answer some questions. Do you want to be cremated or buried and why? And if you want to be cremated, where do you want your ashes spread and why?”

The room became silent as we all gave those serious questions some thought. O, yeah. What we’re gathered here for is serious. Life. And Death. Life. And what follows.

Eventually answers formed. They held hands and made their way around the table. There were some light moments and some laughter ~ even a couple of song lyrics and tunes bantered about ~ but in the end we shared fears and resignations; beliefs and hopes. Eight people who grew up in the Midwest, the South, the East, and the Northwest ~ all as varied as we were the same.

What do I carry with me from that night? The importance of friendship. How friends really do double your joy and divide your grief. What’s important in life. Family. Friends. Living one’s life with purpose. Remembering to have fun. Caring about something enough to sacrifice for it. Spending my days well ~ and defining my days in my way. To quote Richard Carlson ~ “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” And, you know what? In the big scheme of things, there’s a lot of small stuff.

Mark said, “Come on over around 7:15 for a will-signing party.”

It was so much more.

In the Zone

2008-04-10T18:12:00.002-06:00

Life is returning to normal. The chaos that has been our lives the last 5 weeks is finally settling into a routine. A different routine for sure for the folks, but they are troopers and are proving to be quite determined and resilient after surviving a car accident that should have killed at least one of them. Never underestimate the importance of airbags…

So now it’s time to get my routine and my goals back in line. Motivation. Inspiration. First step is getting back to my morning reads on just those topics. It’s time to get back in the zone. I have two books to market. I have one I abruptly abandoned half finished.

And the seed for another that’s been planted and slowly starting to sprout. I’ve had the idea to write a book about my Mom – her life in general, but really focusing on how she is the original Green Recycler – the original Green Energy Saver. You see, she came of age during the Great Depression, one of eight children in a poor immigrant farming family. Believe me, they knew how to make a dollar stretch! And my Mom carried those habits into her own family. And I grew up thinking everyone wrote notes from the bottom of the page up, tearing small bits off at a time ~ all to make one page of paper last a loooong time. See? She’s a wealth of incredible and very original conservation methods.

My siblings and I are also waiting for her to finish writing her life’s story so we can incorporate some photos and self publish a little book for her 90th Birthday in September. Perhaps mine will be a little add-on from me.

Yup, time to get back in the zone. And stop eating cookies.

funkytown

2008-04-03T08:10:00.004-06:00

It’s a grey morning with rain/snow in the sky. It’s April but it feels like January. You know those days of deep winter when it feels as though it will forever be grey and gloomy. But it’s ok. It suits me today.

I do believe I’m in a funk. I used to be funky (and I don’t mean strangely cool) quite a bit. I changed my attitude, however, a few years ago and spunky may be more applicable to my personality lately. (Although spunky is a stoopid word.) Something about growing into my 5th decade made me realize that waking up every morning was a good thing. A blessing, really. And perhaps it would be a good idea to celebrate that, rather than bemoan it.

But, not being perfect and not living in a perfect world, every once in awhile I take a tumble from the spunky wagon. Sometimes I like waking up and sitting in bed with the ceiling fan softly whirring, making me cold ~ which suits me right now, too. Furball the cat curled up at the foot of the bed giving me attitude. It’s ok. I totally understand. My journal beside me unopened and unwritten. “The Energy Bus” by Jon Gordon lying next to that, unopened as well. I don’t have the energy to have an infusion of positiveness right now. I’m hungry (having not eaten properly yesterday), but don’t want to eat this early before my morning hike (the reward for exercise always being a decent breakfast upon return). In fact, I don’t feel like a hike this morning. That would require getting out of bed.

I guess in light of the emotional and traumatic month we’ve been thru it’s not surprising to find Ms. Moody crawling under my skin and setting up household for awhile. Just hope it’s not long. January and February found me in an unusually creative and productive frame of mind. I was shocked. Those are the greyest of grey months. But then it was as if March blew in and set about putting me in my proper winter space. How dare I be so arrogant to think I could escape the winter greys?! Relationships are strained; life as we know it is changing; priorities realigned; every day holds some kind of a question mark...

So I’ll wear this cloak of belated bad temper for just a bit. But not too long. As Stella did, I need to get my groove back. My positive, happy, love-of-life groove. Because without it creativity stops. And my smile stops. And joy stops. And life's energy stops. And without that, breathing stops.

And I’ve grown rather fond of breathing…

Therapy

2008-03-17T20:15:00.002-06:00

I have found over the last couple of days that I can’t concentrate on any serious work, so I spent yesterday caring for my indoor garden ~ my house plants. Which is something I love to do but don’t take time for often enough. It’s the next best thing to tending my outdoor garden of flowers in the summer.

Today I hadn’t planned it but I just naturally migrated to the kitchen. I baked lemon cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. I baked snickerdoodle cookies. And because poor Boo kept thinking every time I opened the oven it might be something for her and her neighborhood buddies, I baked these peanut butter dog biscuits. In the shape of bunny rabbits of course because that’s what the dogs in the ‘hood like to chase. (They’re all on leashes, so it’s basically a tease.)

Half way thru the cookies I realized what I’d been doing the last two days. I was connecting with my Mom.

Things since the accident have been very tense. Each day holds a new drama and all of it is unnecessary. Of course it's going to take awhile, but the folks are coming along fine. It’s The Others. (You all watch LOST.)

So I realized I was doing things that would connect me in a comforting way with my Mom. My Mom has always led a busy life, but two of the things she has always tried to make time for were tending to her flowers and baking. I’m no psychologist, but I really think I unconsciously entered into activities that brought me comfort. And they were comforting to me because I can see my Mom doing them. And that always meant home to me.

I feel better. The next thing you know I’ll be bringing out my sewing machine. (She’s an awesome seamstress…) Thanks, Mom.

What's Your Sign?

2008-02-26T21:35:00.003-07:00

So this may sound a little crazy, but I do believe in staying true to myself ~ slightly crazy.

I read my horoscope in two places every morning. In case you missed it, that’s the crazy part. I’m a Scorpio, btw, and we’re quite the interesting bunch. I just Googled it.

·We are not social butterflies. Aha! That explains why I describe myself as a lone wolf. And what a relief! I adore being a Lone Wolf. We actually prefer being alone because we like to be in charge and if we’re alone there’s no question of who’s in charge. Yikes. That’s harsh…
·We have an excellent memory, but that can be a double-edged sword as we don’t let go of things easily ~ however, that can be positive as well because we remember a kindness forever and will repay that time and time again.
·Honesty is a priority for us. Just ask my husband. Or my kids.
·We are ambitious, persistent and determined. You would think I would have done more with my life by now…
·We don’t give trust easily. Just ask my husband. Or my kids.
·We love intensely. Just ask my husband. Or my kids. Maybe even my friends.
·We are not game players. Just ask my husband. Period.
·We are passionate. Period.
·We are driven by emotions. Sorry.
·We are intense. Sorry again.
·We are loyal, but jealous and possessive. Two things not to be proud of.
·We are observant (helloooo total visual learner and observer of life; not to mention my love of cameras)
·We are fiercely independent. I like that.
·We are tenacious. That can be good and bad.
·We are intuitive. Just ask my kids.
·We are emotional. Just ask my husband.
·We are the most misunderstood of all astrological signs. Is that supposed to make me feel better?
·We are constantly seeking our purpose in life. Tell me something I don’t know. But in a strange way, that’s comforting to know I’m on a path I’m supposed to be on.

So, ummm… yeah. When I Googled all that it was intriguing, but a little scary. Scary because that’s me ~ all the good and bad of me. Yikes.

But what I started out to say was, I read my horoscope in two places every day and it really does blow me away how close to my day to day life they seem to come. Not that I live my life by it, but I do find it curiously interesting. And I’ve always kind of been happy to be a Scorpio. The intensity is hard to live with sometimes, but it’s never, ever boring!

And, actually, I’ve been struggling with some stuff in the last week and gaining this information (if you think its all crap ~ sorry); I’m actually finding some solace in this little interpretation of my personality. In a weird way, it’s helping me to lighten up on myself a little. (Did it say any place in there that Scorpios are terribly hard on themselves and experts at brow-beating?)

So what’s your sign? I’d love to know. Blog about it!

M.I.A.

2008-02-25T12:46:00.001-07:00

O, yeah. I have a blog. I forgot.

I’ve been kinda’ busy. Published one book. Then another (awaiting the prototype ~ and the magpie factors in big time on that one). Working on a third. Researching printers to reproduce all locally. Had family in town for 2 weeks ~ which was a blast, but kept me very busy. More family coming into town this weekend ~ may or may not take some time. I’m supposed to be working on another site for my photography, etc. on Smug Mug, but I keep forgetting that, too.

Sheesh. I guess I have nothing profound to say. I’m still here. Still sick of winter. We’ve been lucky to have a few 60 degree days spattered here and there this month. Boo Boo and I have even been able to visit the park again (see above). I finally scheduled my colonoscopy; it won’t happen for about 6 weeks, but it’s out there. I feel relieved that I’ve committed to a date and time. Now I just have to do it. And once it’s over I know I’ll be glad I did.

As I write, it’s snowing and the sun’s out. Go figure. I’m excited to turn the calendar in a few days. March is a long, snowy month (the snowiest month in Colorado’s winter/spring), but at least we’re one month closer to summer.

And then I can complain about it being too hot.

The Tap on the Shoulder Thing

2008-01-27T08:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I fulfilled a life-long dream – to publish a book. Although I don’t know if self-publishing really qualifies as “being published,” as anyone can do it. It doesn’t mean that you’re good or anything; it just means you know how to connect the dots in the online software and declare yourself a published author.

Still, there is a sense of accomplishment and I am just beside myself waiting to hold that little book, that little piece of me in my hands. I even splurged for two day shipping – which is something for me, ‘cause I’m pretty cheap when it comes to things like that. And I never imagined the book would be a story told thru the “eyes” of flowers. In fact, there was no story at all until I started putting the flowers on the pages and realized that because of the titles I had chosen for the flowers over the years, a story was evolving. I typically assign a title to an image on a whim ~ whatever emotion the image is evoking from me that particular day ~~ what it is saying to me. Or more likely, a reflection of the mood I’m in that particular day. And what’s really weird is that when I started stringing these floral images together and seeing a story evolve I saw a little of myself in the story. In fact when I did my last review before hitting that “publish now” button, I actually got a little choked up and realized this is kind of autobiographical.

And I guess that makes sense. I mean, I took the photographs ~ my eye was attracted to a flower on a certain day, in a certain way and I liked it enough to snap. The title I gave it reflected some emotion I was feeling at the time. So I guess when I string them together it’s not unusual that the story would be mine as well.

I’ve already started my second and third books. Yup, now that it’s possible to actually do this, all the stored up stories and images in this 53 year old head are pushing and shoving and scrambling their way to the front of the line to be next. The possibilities make me dizzy. And in what has otherwise been one rough and complicated week the hope of things to come is the reason I’ve gotten out of bed every morning. That which does not kill us makes us stronger.

Which reminds me and on an unrelated note - feeling angry and frustrated and confused the other day, I hit the park for a hike. At one point I sat on a lonely pier and looked to the blue, blue sky and whispered, “I need a sign. I need to know you’re here.” Almost instantaneously and out of nowhere, a flock of white gulls appeared in the eastern sky, miles up, slowly flying in circles and slowly making their way toward me. They stopped and circled over my head for a minute, then disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.

I burst into tears. Whoever is out there looking out for me wanted me to know I’m not alone.

I found great comfort in that. Not to mention awe.

Amazing grace.

Grey Skies

2008-01-21T17:12:00.000-07:00

The day is drawing to a close, the sky is getting a 5:00 shade of grey (darker than the grey it was at 9:00 and noon and 3:00) and I’m trying to keep my eyes open. I realize that I’ve done nothing productive all day. I’ve emailed friends and family; played with a couple of photos; flickred a little; glanced at television occasionally. But I’ve done absolutely nothing productive. And, in light of all the work (on the book) I did over the weekend I’m thinking maybe that’s ok. I wish I wasn’t so tired – and wish that the Esther tape in my head that says “thou shalt not take a nap” wasn’t playing. (And I wish I hadn’t stayed up so late to watch the Lewis Black special. Even though it was really funny.)

This winter is different. I think our Colorado climate is changing - we used to have lots of blue sky sun-filled days all throughout winter; now it seems more like the Midwest I left behind decades ago – a seemingly endless string of snow and grey.

I think I’m changing. My winter is different. It’s turning into the winter of my discontent; the winter of my upheaval.

My climate is changing, too. My blue sky sun-filled days are turning shades of grey. What used to be so clear is muddled.

Spring remains to be seen…

To Be or Not To Be - Sick

2008-01-17T08:27:00.000-07:00

So I woke up this morning with an uneasy feeling. That was just it – clearing the cobwebs of night from my head, opening my eyes and feeling – something’s not right. Or something’s not going to go well today. Nothing terrible, just a disruption of some kind. Uneasy.

I said I was trying to listen more to The Universe and the little pebbles it throws my way ~ before it has to resort to bricks. So whatever it is, I hope it presents itself to me early in the day so I can go on about my business. (There’s a controlling attitude for you, eh?)

Maybe I’m just one day deeper into the cold/flu I’ve been trying to pretend is not coming on for the last three days. I really don’t like being sick. I think it must be a control thing again – I just don’t like any downtime unless I’ve planned it ~ unless it is of my own choosing. And not allowing time for illness is kind of silly anyway, because it’s not like the Earth will stop rotating on its axis if I take a couple of days to lie around. Control and self-importance ~ hmmmm… now there’s a couple of traits to really be proud of.

On that note ~ off to make a cuppa’ tea and get ready to take Boo to the Vet. I’m hoping that my uneasy feeling has nothing to do with that scenario later this morning…

Snap Your Fingers.

2008-01-15T07:55:00.000-07:00

Snap your fingers.

That’s how quickly it can happen. One second you’re here breathing. The next second you’re not. Like a sunrise. Come and gone in an instant.

I’ve been thinking much of the night about the life and death of someone I didn’t even know. And I only know her family (mother) in cyberspace. Yet, we have become friends over these mysterious waves and my heart is breaking for her. I honestly cannot imagine the pain of losing a child ~ no matter how old they are. It’s just not the way we see things in the life. The orderly manner in which we all grow old, parents leave us and children assume their position. Next?

When The Universe, God, whatever you want to call it has other plans, we’re not ready. It’s not how it is supposed to play out. We are caught off guard and life from that point on is one big question. Why?

This prompted the memory of another unexplainable loss, probably five or six years ago now. The sudden and tragic death of a beautiful 24 year old woman I watched grow up. (Ironically tomorrow is her birthday.) Her mother and I had been best friends for years. But as happens, our lives changed, we grew apart and lost touch over the years: what a sad event to bring us [temporarily] back together ~ her daughter’s funeral. And one thing my friend said I carry with me to this day:

“We are so arrogant to think we have control over anything.”

And then all kinds of things people have said over the years started flooding my mind last night. My cyberspace friend, deep in grief, reminded us of something that had been on her mind for the last week (and I know this for a fact because she blogged about it) ~ “Life is a gift.” Someone was definitely sending a message.

I thought about a friend who, in helping me cope with a recent problem, told me the way he views his life and how he has always tried to measure things is:

“If I’m at least 60% happy, I’m ok with that. I strive to increase that, but 60% is the cut-off. If it falls below that, something has to change.”

And I thought about all the things I’ve written in my journals over the years; blogged about in recent years. The books I’ve read; the therapists I’ve seen. It all really boils down to one thing.

You don’t have forever. This isn’t a dress rehearsal; this is it.

So, I’m thinking it’s time to start living life with intent. Intent to accomplish some of the goals I’ve had my entire life; see some of those places I want to see. Intent to live healthy and happy. Intent to be a good person. Intent to love more freely and be more tolerant. Relax. Have fun. Focus. Or not. Listen to the lessons that The Universe is sending my way; be aware. When those bricks hit my head, pay attention. Lighten up. Love myself and love the stuffings out of my friends and family.

It’s all sounding so incredibly trite, but it’s true.

Snap your fingers. Here. Gone.

Think of Good Things

2008-01-08T22:18:00.000-07:00

I set out to write tonight about an upsetting news event – one that has tugged at my heartstrings for days. Two words. Meredith Emerson. But I think it’s wiser not to talk about it. No matter how much it is bothering me. I can’t change the events that have happened; I can’t change the world. And it is terribly sad.

So I’ll try to focus on some positive things.

Like I actually cleaned the fridge and pantry the other day. As happens every year, post-holiday both are cluttered with good intentions – neighbors stopping by with sweets and libations; family bringing too much of whatever they were assigned for the holiday meal; us over-buying for parties because we don’t want anyone to go hungry. Or thirsty. Lordie, lord. Excess abounds.

And as I am every January, I’m over excess. The first thing on my grocery list this week was fresh vegetables. I’ve been making salads every night. So as I opened the doors to the fridge and pantry respectively it was almost thrilling for me to drag out the trash can and start tossing. I feel a little guilty that some of it is probably still edible; but I assuaged my guilt this year by washing out every single glass and plastic container and depositing them in our recycling bins.

I just love seeing bare space in the fridge – clean glass shelves with food organized according to use. Freezer shelves the same. And the pantry! All the soups in one section; the beans in another. Breakfast items in one corner; baking supplies on the bottom shelf. Oils and vinegars next to the pastas and rice. My tea assortment over here. Those evil snacks (all except chocolate – it’s not evil) over to the side.

And all the labels – fridge, freezer and pantry - clearly facing out so they can be read. It bothers me when they are not. Why, yes… I totally understood Julia Robert’s husband in “Sleeping with the Enemy.” At least as far as the kitchen shelves and the bath towels went. Not so much the whole beating and wanting to kill her part.

So all is happy in my kitchen again.

At least until Easter.

I Resolve...

2008-01-01T08:59:00.000-07:00

I used to make resolutions every year. Never kept ‘em. So I quit. For some reason, I feel like making some this year. And what has possessed me to publicly broadcast them is beyond me, but here we go.

1. Do one nice thing a day for my husband. It’s rather sad that this should even be a resolution, but after 16 years together (and the last two pretty much 24/7) one gets lazy and self-centered. I’m going to fix that.

2. Find a balance between the social butterfly who has emerged from her cocoon and the solitude that I need for my craft and my soul. Never thought that would be a problem for lone wolf me, but life does take strange twists.

3. Lose 5 lbs. Ha! You knew that one was coming. Losing weight was always on the list (isn’t it on everyone’s?), but I was never specific. Besides, I need to lose at least 10, so I’m splitting the difference hoping that perhaps by setting my sites lower (and more reasonably) I’ll actually be able to reach the goal. But first I need a cookie…

4. Get out there. By that I mean, marketing my images and my words. Which is a huge challenge seeing as how I’ve always sucked at self-promotion. And getting out there also means following thru on my intentions to actually meet some of my cyberspace friends in the flesh. Which is a huge challenge because it means putting my shy nature on the shelf. Shut up. I am shy.

5. Self publish at least two books, maybe more. I’ve had a book or two in me for years. It’s time. Because – duh – I’m not getting any younger.
(I’ve already started laying out the first one. Yay!)

6. Get thee to a beach!!! With cookies.

7. Speaking of cookies, start baking my own dog biscuits again. Everything I pick up in the store is made in China. Back on the shelf it goes. Nope. Not gonna’ do it. Not to my dog. God knows what's in them.

8. Grow my hair out. Again. Sheesh. I was doing so well there for awhile…

9. Give back. I know that's a very broad statement, but it's going to require a lot of thought as to how I'm going to do this. Living the Charmed Life as I do, it's long overdue.

10. Get a colonoscopy. I’m 53 and my doctor has been telling me since I turned 50 that it would be a good idea to get a baseline. O joy. Do I know how to have a good time or what?!

11. So on the heels of that last one ~~ be kinder to myself. I’m the Queen of brow-beating ~ no one beats me up like me. Which actually kind of falls into line with what I read earlier this morning in my “Horoscope for 2008.” It recommended my mantra for the year be “lighten up.” Seeing as how I’m a Scorpio ~~ and we all know how passionate and intense Scorpions are ~~ that’s going to be a challenge. But actually it makes sense. I just finished reading "Eat, Pray, Love" and soaked up so much inspiration from it; I think Elizabeth would endorse that mantra. I really am going to try to BE in the moment more. And along those same lines ~ be more myself. (I know what that means.)

So. There ya' go. I really was going to keep it to 10, but as you know, I can't do anything in a small way... I’ve got a couple more, but they’re private. One can’t blog about everything, ya’ know. Here's to an exciting and inspiring 2008! It's going to be a great ride...

We Did. And It Did.

2007-12-31T09:28:00.000-07:00

December 31 ~ a time for reflection. Last year at this time I was absolutely a fountain of excitement upon hearing my younger son and his girlfriend of forever had decided to make it official. The marriage would take place in 2007. Then the mister and I got a little more serious about leaving our home of 10 years and moving to a new space. With that decision the excitement went off the charts.

Hence the mantra for 2007 became “Leap and the net will appear.”

We did and it did.

What a great year. I mean a really great year. As we were to learn, it was one event after another after another. The whole house scenario – putting a contract on one house and it falling thru; selling our home in 11 days; finally settling on and in our dream home (things, indeed, happen for a reason) – took up much of the first half of the year. Along the way all of our children – the Denver branch and the San Francisco/Berkeley branch – moved to bigger and better homes as well. The wedding and the family fun which ensued was definitely the highlight of the year. It was… magic. Being able to share that and our new home with my 89 year old Mom in from Iowa was a true blessing. A multitude of friends and family followed to christen the house properly (let’s just say the bar was open often…).

From out of nowhere a tiny whisper of self confidence began to enter my life. Wow. Where did that come from? I stretched my boundaries and my eye and my imagination a tad with my photography. I was published in places I never would have guessed I’d be published. I took some chances. I actually did some spontaneous self-promotion and much to my surprise, was accepted and invited in with enthusiasm! I found myself in new spaces – retail and exhibition. I truly never knew I had it in me.

I made friends. Tons of them ~ both in cyberspace and in the flesh. For someone who has been a lone wolf almost her entire life, this was life-changing. It’s been so much fun, but I’m learning I need to set limits. I need to find a balance between the solitude that I need – for my craft and my soul – and being the social butterfly.

So now as 2007 draws to a close, I find myself with so much to be grateful for, very few regrets and for the first time in a long time ~ a genuine excitement and anticipation for all the doors I see that are waiting to be opened. It’s all there waiting for me; I just have to take those first few steps. My life is a whirlwind of choices to be made, directions to be sought, ideas to pursue. The sky is the limit. No. Beyond the sky.

I feel like Dorothy. I think I’ve had a Good Witch Glinda whispering in my ear this year. She has been continually and consistently softly speaking, “You don't need to be helped any longer. You've always had the power...”

All I have to do now is click my heels.

I Can See Clearly Now

2007-12-29T16:06:00.000-07:00

It’s funny how you can see something every day and not really see it. I don’t know if you do this, but when I move into a new home (which, thank God, doesn’t happen that often anymore), I am so exhausted that where the furniture is first set down, often remains it’s resting place for months ~ years. So to see something thru new eyes is fun.

This morning I had the most delightful revelation. Because we are dog-sitting our little neighbor, Sweetie (but I call him Bubba), feeding time at our house takes two of us to separate the dogs. The mister stays in the kitchen with Sweetie Bubba; Simba and I retreat to the bedroom for about 10 minutes. A perfect time to do something quiet for 10 minutes; like pick up a book. Those of you who know me know my history with reading… Mom didn’t see it as productive time, so reading was never encouraged. Thus, as much as I enjoy reading, I’ve always felt guilty taking time to do it.

Anyhoo, forced to spend a few minutes in a quiet room I picked up my current read “Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert. Probably one of the best books ~ certainly most original stories ~ I’ve ever read. I have adored traveling with her on her journey. Having just made the bed (and y’all know how anal I am) and not wanting to mess it up, I chose to sit in the corner in my seldom-used Grandfather’s rocking chair.

It’s funny how you can see something every day and not really see it.

Within minutes my feet were up on the ottoman and I literally kicked back and was lost in Elizabeth’s fascinating story. The morning sun streamed in over my shoulder, a cup of hot cocoa at my side. Occasionally I would take a moment to sip the cocoa and savor some of Elizabeth’s wisdom while staring out the window on to the untouched velvet snow. Ten minutes turned into an hour and I sadly said goodbye to Elizabeth and her travels as I closed the book on the final page. Maybe something she said seeped into my unconscious or maybe it was – for once – taking some real “me” time, but I decided then and there that this is a wonderful way to start a day!

I’ve always been one to throw on my sweats, grab my camera and leash up the dog, jump in the Jeep and head to the park every morning. All before breakfast. All before brushing my teeth! I had to hit the day running or it wasn’t starting right. But I have a patient pup; she can wait a little while before hitting the pavement. I have no children pulling at my shirt needing breakfast; no alarm jolting me out of bed and on the road to the office. Why not?

Now I’m thinking I’ll try this new sunshine-on-my-shoulder-take-some-time-to-step-into-another-world-meditative thing a couple of days a week. I still need my mornings in nature; but I really relished that quiet time this morning. Time to lose myself in another place, another time, another life. Ironically one of my New Year’s Resolutions for many years has been to read more. Because I have always believed prolific readers make for prolific and better writers. I do believe I have found how to do that. I’m seeing a few more pillows and plants and cozy touches in that corner… my corner.

It’s funny how you can see something every day and not really see it.

Are We There Yet?

2007-12-16T19:38:00.000-07:00

So my enthusiasm of the other day has given way to too many Christmas parties and late nights. Enough with the holidays already. I literally cringed when I saw yet another invitation pop up into my mailbox a minute ago. That would be #7 (and that’s not even counting our own family celebration). Stick a fork in me; I’m done.

I’ve spent the day doing basically nothing. Which, I always remind myself, is ok once in awhile, especially on a Sunday. I did attempt a shoot for a Lensbaby contest this morning. Most of it was just frustrating, but I got a couple of “maybe” shots. I tried to remember how to crochet for about 5 minutes until it was time to turn and do a new row and that headache that’s been hanging around all day decided to pull up a chair, kick off his shoes and get comfortable. And that bugs me because I seldom get headaches.

There seems to never be anything on TV these days (so why is the cable bill so high?); so I’ve resorted to an old standby “Sleepless in Seattle.” It was either that or “While You Were Sleeping.” Hmmm… wonder if I’m just tired.

The one bright spot in my day? Reading my horoscope for January 2008. And I quote, “Here’s your takeaway message for 2008: No matter what else you accomplish, this year you will learn how to communicate with others in a new way.” It went on to say, “It is an excellent time to start a new website or strike a deal to write that book you’ve been dreaming up.”

Helloooooo.

Light Speed, Baby.

2007-12-13T12:46:00.000-07:00

For the first time in ages, I don’t feel stressed out over Christmas. What a novel idea… just enjoy the season and all that comes with it. Despite the fact that we have six – count them six – parties on our calendar this month, I’m not stressed. I’m actually looking forward to each one.

A couple of years ago all the siblings on both sides of our families decided we have enough stuff. We don’t need any more stuff. So in lieu of giving gifts to each other, we give to charities and causes we believe in. I’ve discovered the joys of online shopping for my little nieces and my kids and my mister. No long lines in the post office for me!

Both the mister and I have had a good time decorating our new home in all its glory for its first Christmas. We have thoroughly decked the halls. Now we just sit back and enjoy (even though I have moments when the “clutter” gets on my OCD nerves a little. I know it will all be back to normal in a couple of weeks.).

And despite the fact that I’m indulging in a sweet here and there (ok, several sweets), I’m managing to keep my 6.5 lb. weight loss off. If I can just maintain thru the holidays, I’ll resume the loss when we turn the calendar.

And I can't wait to turn that calendar. I can’t remember a time when I was so excited about starting a new year. I’ve decided that 2008 is going to be my year to break out. I am going to challenge myself to try new things, meet new people, see new places. (All of which will, of course, be recorded in both word and image.) This year has been life-changing for me, giving me the courage and the energy to do some exceptional things as I dance into ’08. Big time goals (a couple of books and about 20 other things) and big time fun ~ travels to the northwest I’ve been longing to experience and day by day by day adventures.

I’m going to practice my mantra ~ “Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”

I’m going to grab every moment. And then share it.

Hide and watch me.

Life. Or Something Like It.

2007-11-25T22:19:00.000-07:00

So I’m trying to figure out two things:

Why I have this impending sense of doom. Why I have a morbid and depressing, yet intriguing, obsession with death and what comes after (and it’s not just because of my current involvement in a project by almost the same name). And why I kept hyperventilating in the art museum yesterday.

O, wait, that’s three things.

The hyperventilating bordered on an anxiety attack a couple of times. Go figure. It could have been because I was annoyed with the mister who was supposed to be spending quality time with me, but instead was spending a significant amount of time on his blackberry. So while he was doing that I spent some time studying the paintings and images in the Contemporary Gallery (my favorite of all the galleries, I think). I read about the artists ~ if they were still alive or when they died. And I stared at their signatures on their art. Some of these artists had been gone for many, many years. And yet their work and their name and their signatures live on.

I found myself wondering if my work would live on. If my name would live on.

And then I wondered why I cared. And what is it exactly I want to be remembered for? What am I hoping to contribute to society? What will be my legacy? And, why do I care? I'll be gone!

And why do I spend an inordinate amount of time feeling bad about myself? And then feeling bad that I spend so much time doing that because life is too fricking short to be doing that. It is one frustrating and draining endless circle.

Sheesh. No wonder I hyperventilate.

The Kindness of Strangers

2007-11-25T21:14:00.001-07:00

You just never know when a stranger will make your day.

I spent my 53rd birthday in Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago. The day before my birthday I was wandering around shooting; Vegas is one big photo op. It was a day when I was happy to have some alone time. Just me and my camera. I wasn’t in a particularly good mood and I was enjoying the absence of human interaction. When I’m on a shoot like that I can go all day without speaking to anyone. To do so distracts my attention and I lose my momentum.

So I tried not to show my annoyance when a man struck up a conversation w/me as I was shooting the fountains at the Bellagio. Couldn’t he see I was working? He was making idle chit chat and I just wanted to get back to my fountains before they stopped showing off. Even though I was pleasant, I must have sent off the vibe that I was busy because the conversation was brief. Thank God. But as he was leaving he turned, pointed in my direction and said~

“You have a nice smile. Don’t lose that smile!”

I smiled bigger. And I smiled thru that day and the next. I’m smiling again as I write. All because a stranger was thoughtful enough to take the time and say a few kind words. It made me want to go out and do the same.

You just never know when a stranger will make your day.

“We should not forget to entertain strangers, lest we entertain angels unaware.” The Bible

What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

2007-11-04T17:41:00.000-07:00

A broadcaster, a florist and a psychologist. No, they didn’t go into a bar.

It’s what I was supposed to be when I grew up – in that order. At least that’s what my Myers Briggs Personality Test said at age 30. And why that occurred to me at 4:00 am is beyond me. My mind works in mysterious ways.

I can’t really see myself as a broadcaster, although at my 20th high school reunion one of my former cheerleading buddies who worked for a radio station in Florida told me I should do voiceovers. Maybe the whole broadcasting thing was tied into my teenage aspirations to be an actress.

I’ve known a few therapists in my time (don’t ask) so I could see me doing a psychology thing. I know a lot of the lingo…

But a florist… now I could see myself being a florist. That’s artistic. That’s creative. I am a florist in my own home, when I arrange my grocery store bought flowers each week.

So maybe it wasn’t such a stretch that my first foray into photography revolved around flowers…

Life and Death

2007-10-30T22:13:00.000-06:00

Ok. So the second place my great thoughts originate is in the shower. The other morning this flashed across my radar. It scared me. It comforted me. It confused me.

I need to accept the fact I’m going to die.

Even embrace it. Because I don’t think I can truly live until I fully realize and accept the fact that I’m going to die. I’m beginning to see that until I realize my time here is finite, I won’t appreciate each day as I should. For all my big talk about my mantra being “Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life” ~ they are just wonderful words.

That is, until I start living them.

Now the challenge is to learn how to do that.

It's a start.

Unexpected Memories

2007-10-28T15:42:00.000-06:00

Sometimes you don’t even notice it is missing.

That is until something comes along and reminds you. And then there are tears and there is no way you can explain them. You get it. You feel it in your gut. But explaining it is impossible. Even to the one who should understand the most…

Can you live without it?

Of course.

Will there always be a hole in your heart?

Of course.

But you tuck it in your pocket, dry your face and walk back thru the door to your life.

Home-grown

2007-10-27T15:27:00.000-06:00

As most of my great thoughts do, this one occurred to me on my morning walk the other day. And as with most of my great thoughts, I should have pounced on it then. But I’ll try to get my inspiration back. Strolling down a beautiful path, crunching golden leaves under my tennis-shoed feet, this flashed thru my soon-to-be-no-longer-blonde head:

I am the Rachel Ray of photography.

Seriously. I love that analogy. And that’s not to say I’m anywhere near her level of talent or bankability or cuteness - and certainly not perkiness. But metaphorically speaking we’re the same. She is the first to describe herself as a “cook” not a “chef.” Her education has all been on-the-job experience, much of what she knows and what she does is self-taught.
I can relate.

I am a cook, not a chef. Any photography or art classes I have taken were so long ago they are totally irrelevant in today’s high tech world. I shoot from the gut. I shoot from the heart. I shoot totally emotionally. Sometimes I remember to frame a shot. Sometimes I take a creative angle. I don’t have degrees or initials after my name, but I’m learning. Most of what I do is self-taught and always a work in progress. I’ve picked up great hints and ideas and support from fellow photogs, but that’s all online, never in person.

So I’m kind of home-grown I guess. My kind of photography almost forces me to be in the moment and react to the moment (although sometimes I don’t realize until I get back home and review what I’ve shot). Which explains exactly why I like to be alone when I shoot. Because I have to just BE.

I spent a long time feeling very intimidated by other photographers. I felt extremely inadequate. I was very, very cautious about sharing my work because I had no education, no formal training. I'm technically retarded. Until I realized one day that anyone who picks up a camera every single day of their life is learning something and accomplishing something that just might be good. Because if I am doing something every day of my life and I’m not getting better, I need to find a new obsession.

And in the end, the only real judge of me should be me.

I’m a cook, not a chef. And I’m ok with that.

Be Happy For This Moment

2007-10-26T20:45:00.000-06:00

I’m the world’s worst blogger. I leave with a tease and don’t return. And as I’ve written about previously, I should always write while the thought is fresh in my mind or – poof – it’s gone.

So here’s what I can recall of my feelings. A beautiful young woman is diagnosed with incurable cancer – or at the very least – cancer requiring a three organ transplant. She chose to fight it her own way – a healthy diet and yoga. A year later she is stable. Not cured, but stable. She has embraced her cancer and says that it teaches her every day how to live and love life. She was married recently because, she says, life is terminal for all of us. Mine just might be shorter, she said, but it’s sweet all the same. She feels lucky to have realized that every moment is special. And every moment is your life.

Bells went off in my head on that one. My mantra (I even print it in the byline of my note cards) is, “Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”

Then there is the PhD professor and father of three who has three to six months to live – pancreatic cancer. He continues his medical treatment and looks perfectly healthy. But when the doctors say three to six months, they qualify that by saying, “only because the three is in there…” He faces the future, what he has of it, stoically and bravely, recording memories and advice for his children. He says, “We all stand on that dartboard of life. It’s not what I would have chosen, but it is what it is.”

It’s not the first time I’ve been touched by stories like this. Who isn’t? Some days it hits me stronger than others, though, and I seemed to be particularly vulnerable lately. Seeing how I believe in signs so much I’m hoping that this isn’t one of those angels whispering in my ear to take better care of myself. Reminding me that this is the only trip I get (at least in this form). To keep that doctor’s appointment I was supposed to have made in August… I guess I need to wait for the brick...

I do believe we are here to teach each other ~ to help each other. I need to practice what I preach. And believe.

Alone

2007-10-22T20:16:00.000-06:00

Whatever people may say about Oprah, you’ve got to admit quite often the topic of her daily show will get you thinking. And I think that’s her whole point. Stop for a minute and consider this (whatever it may be).

Last week it was Christiane Northrup and her views on menopause. Much of her information was things I’ve heard before, but it did reinforce some of the things I’ve been feeling and thinking. Not the least of which is not to feel guilty because I enjoy my alone time. Especially in the morning. Let me have my walk with my camera and my dog ~ however long that may be. Let me come home and make my own breakfast ~ whatever that may be. Let me download my images from my walk; check my email and check in w/cyberspace friends. Let me shower and plan my day. All without talking.

By afternoon I’m starting to warm up to conversation. But alone is when I think and imagine and create and get to be me. All of this is based on 10 years of spending most of my waking hours alone. Well, with a camera and a dog and a cat and my thoughts. My life changed overnight about 2 years ago and those days/nights alone are no more.

Time for a chat perhaps…

However that‘s not what I set out to write about tonight. Today’s show centered around two people who have terminal illnesses, know their deaths are imminent and how they have chosen to live what remains of their lives. I’ll write about that tomorrow. Because their stories deserve their own place.

It All Started Here...

2007-10-14T19:18:00.000-06:00

…with a cup of Tazo chai tea and my new Betty Crocker “Celebrating the Promise” cookbook. (Costco’s book section can be dangerous… and anything that promises to give to the cause always sucks me in…) That being said, why have I waited so long to buy Tazo??? It is every bit as good as Starbuck’s – which to this point as been my favorite, next to Racine’s. Now I can make it at home while in my jammies and drink it out of my kitty mug given to me by my sweet friend.

I know I’ll be bitching and moaning in a couple of months, but I do love it when seasons change. Which is why I’ll probably always have to live in a climate that will provide me with something new every 3 months or so. I am so easily bored. I thrive on change. Take my hair. Please. It’s at that awful growing out stage now and driving me crazy. Years ago my then hair stylist would just smile when I changed my mind and my hair style at every visit, and tell me it’s in the blonde handbook – "Blondes are fickle." That and we had to be cheerleaders. Yes, I was. (shut up.) She had jet black hair. What did she know?

But I digress. I was actually happy to wake up to rain this morning. Simba not so much. She hated that I put on her Old Navy green parka and only walked her to the mailbox and back. She gave me one of those looks as she was doing her business like, “Dammit. I guess I’d better go now or hold it all day.” She forgave me a little when we returned home and I made a fire and she snuggled down in her chair next to it. Yeah. I made a fire. It’s that switch on the wall next to the fireplace. You gotta’ love it…

This kind of weather does make me fat, though. Especially when it falls on a Sunday. Something about Sundays give me that sense of entitlement ~ no make-up; sweats; the freedom to watch movies all day if I want (The Queen and Evan Almighty today; Greenfingers last night ~ all of which I enjoyed; we’ve joined Netflix and I can see it’s going to be my winter addiction for sure!!) and actually watch CBS Sunday Morning ON Sunday morning, not Wednesday night ~ which btw, if you don’t watch, you should. It is one of the smartest, most interesting and cultural shows on television. I’ve watched it faithfully for over 20 years.

O, but the fat part. On days like this we bake. I bake muffins for breakfast. The mister baked cookies this afternoon. I baked bread for dinner. To go along with the pot roast and veggies I put in the crock pot at 10:30 and let cook slowly all day. I ate an unbelievably delicious layered bar (chocolate, caramel, coconut, nuts) from Under the Umbrella. I had a truffle. But I balanced it all out with tons of water and two Diet Pepsis. See how my mind works?? Now I’m having a pre-dinner glass of champagne just ‘cause I want to. We’re gearing up for our fair-weather fan mode as we watch our Colorado Rockies in the playoffs. I don’t know any of the players so whenever they do something good I just yell, “Way to go, you… Rocky Guy!!” Pretty cool to think they are only like two or three games away from going to the World Series on a wildcard ticket. I sound like I know what I’m talking about, don’t I? ha! Did the same thing when our Colorado Avalanche won the Stanley Cup their first year in Colorado. Didn’t know a damn thing about hockey, but in the playoffs I was a diehard fan.

So, all of that to say ~ I had a good day. Sing the chorus to “You Had a Bad Day” in your head, but substitute “I Had a Good Day.” That’s what I’m talkin’ about. We hung a new exhibit yesterday (Under the Umbrella); I just found out I have a total of three images featured in galleries on the new Lensbabies site and I feel like maybe I’m not such a failure today.

I love a rainy Sunday!!!

Be Yourself

2007-10-10T13:36:00.000-06:00

Before I lose this thought (as so often happens when I think about something and tell myself, “I’ll have to be sure to write about that” and then I totally forget) ~ this thought is about being yourself. Nobody does it better. Why do so few of us actually practice it? Or maybe it’s just me.

I saw a little blurb about Marin Alsop (who I think resembles Mary Chapin Carpenter with short hair) on The Today Show this morning and she made me think. In case you don’t know who Marin Alsop is, she is the first woman to head a major American orchestra (The Baltimore Symphony) and from 1993-1999(ish) she conducted our own Colorado Symphony Orchestra. We don’t go to the Symphony as often as I’d like, but I do believe I even attended a concert or two during her tenure. And I remember thinking it was very cool that we had a woman as a conductor.

In her interview this morning she reflected upon her career and how difficult it was to make it in a “man’s world” as a conductor. At one point she was chosen to conduct an orchestra at Tanglewood with her hero, Leonard Bernstein. To quote Marin:

“Part way thru he told me, ‘The conducting was fine, but it didn’t move me.’ I was devastated. Then he said, ‘Let's give the orchestra a break and then you'll come back and do this again.’ He said, ‘Forget about conducting now. Just be yourself and be the music.’ But then I came back in and it was the weirdest experience. I felt like I'd had a massage. I thought I had nothing to lose. I'm just going to try it. I remember in the middle of the piece—this makes me cry—he came up to me and whispered, ‘That's it.’ It was so liberating.”

If you’ve followed my saga, you know that I was raised pretty much to be seen and not heard. And not even seen sometimes… It wasn’t until I was in my mid-40’s that someone gave me Marin's advice ~ to just be myself. And it’s taken me another 10 years to trust in that. I’m still a work in progress (letting go and just being myself), but I’m getting there. And it truly is liberating. It’s easy. I don’t have to think about what others will think about me because it doesn’t matter. I’m just being me. And I don’t have to remember how to act or what to say because I’m just being me.

And I have found that when I let down my guard, smile, enjoy and just be me, people respond ~ in a very positive way. I get smiles back. I can make someone laugh. I can touch someone with my words - or an image. I get an invitation. I gain a friendship. I get a hug. I get a display space. I get an offer. And I can do this. I’m the best me there is ~ because only I can do it. This whole comfortable confidence thing is so new to me. I still have to consciously work on it, but it’s coming easier. And Marin is right ~ you have nothing to lose by being yourself.

To paraphrase Oprah, who paraphrased Maya Angelou ~
“Your 50’s are everything you are meant to be. You get to become yourself…”

And as The Beatles said ~
“It’s easy. All you need is love.”

Love for yourself…

Too Many Cooks

2007-10-09T17:55:00.000-06:00

So the mister and I have started a new routine. I cook dinner on Monday-Wednesday-Friday-sometimes Sunday; he cooks on Tuesday-Thursday-sometimes-Saturday. Yes, I know that’s one to two more nights for me; but I’m a better cook. The weekends are more or less up for grabs anyway, as we may be out or there are certainly leftovers after cooking all week.

So remember that whole control thing I talked about last time? Huge challenge for me to sit in the family room (which is open to the kitchen – something we really wanted in a home… or did we…) while he’s mucking about in the kitchen. Because I always have a better way to do it, don’t chya’ know. I should be relaxing ~ just watching my guy, Brian Williams and the NBC Nightly News, sipping on my chardonnay and playing on my laptop. You would think I could do this. But it is an exercise in restraint. Restraint from standing over his shoulder telling him what to do…

‘Course the downside is that I have to clean up when he cooks and omg – could he use one bowl instead of three? I guess not. Why use two pots when two and a frying pan will do? I tell myself these are all things I would miss if he were not here.

That, and how irritatingly cheerful he is in the morning. Until I met him I didn’t know that real people really sang in the shower. To their cat.

But I digress. And hope that Eat, Love, Pray will help make me a more mellow person.

Right.

What a Pain

2007-10-07T12:24:00.000-06:00

I’m procrastinating, so thought I’d lose myself in cyberspace for awhile. (Why does that always happen when I truly do have a project ~ i.e., printing, matting and framing photos for Under the Umbrella??) “Eat, Pray, Love” is calling me from the other room but I’m playing that whole “you can’t sit down in the middle of the day to read” tape in my head. (Long story – again, going back to childhood.)

But on that “Eat, Pray, Love” note ~ I saw the author on Oprah the other day ~ as Oprah gushed about the book. I do feel it necessary to say that I bought this book months ago ~ long before the Oprah rush and gush began. It just sometimes takes me awhile to work my way down the stack of books I want to read. Restricting myself to only reading at night prolongs that process.

I kind of wish I hadn’t seen the interview ~ at least until I had finished the book. I’m afraid that what was initially such a well-intentioned work will turn into the latest in the “self help” phenomena of written word out there today. And that, in my mind, will cheapen it.

I’m just tired and cranky because my arm/elbow/shoulder still hurt like hell and I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in 2 weeks. Time to get serious about fixing this physical malady because it is affecting everything.

Not the least of which is my mood. Dammit.

It All Started With The Water...

2007-10-04T08:55:00.000-06:00

“Will you get me a glass of water?”

“What?”

“A glass of water, please,” I whispered as I slowly blinked myself awake.

To no one in particular ~ the dog, the cat, the air ~ He exclaimed in his dramatic way as only he can exclaim, “Did you hear that? She asked me to do something! She actually asked for help!”

A tiny little light bulb began to flicker in my head. Gez, is it really such a big deal I asked him to do something for me? It’s just a glass of water. He brought the water, kissed my forehead and the day began as my sleepy eyes opened.

But as it did and they did and I became more conscious with each sip, I realize it wasn’t just a glass of water. I had actually asked for help. Admitted I couldn't (or didn't want to) do it myself. And he was happy to be there. I was learning something new about myself. It’s not only hard for me to ask for help, it’s almost impossible. It’s not even something I think about; I just don’t ask.

And because I missed my calling as a psychologist, I began to analyze why. And, of course, everything is always traced back to our childhood and how we were parented. I’m more like my mom than I realize and would like to admit. Possessing some of her traits isn’t all bad. At 89 she is one of the most active, energetic, positive, cheerful people I know – of any age. But she spent her life caring for others – five kids and a husband who – let’s just say – wasn’t the most willing participant in his marriage, his family or life in general. She was also a nurse and church volunteer. You get the picture. She has always taken care of everyone, is in charge and does little for herself.

Although I am more selfish than my mother (I do treat myself and enjoy a nice life), I’m seeing that I’m more stubbornly independent than I’ve realized – fiercely so. Asking for help… isn’t that a sign of weakness? Admitting that I can’t do it all myself? And I’m beyond “picky;” I’m a damned perfectionist, bordering on OCD. Let’s just say Monk is a kindred spirit… And my mom’s words echo in my head as they fall into my thoughts ~~ “It’s just easier to do it myself.” Surrender control to someone else? Wow. That’s huge…

So this whole asking for help thing ~ new to me. It’ll take some practice, but I might be able to do it.

As long as it’s done my way.

Aging...

2007-10-02T07:00:00.000-06:00

The days are definitely getting shorter. Life is, too. Thinking that it’s almost half a year we’ve been in the house… well, it doesn’t seem possible. Everything still feels so new. And I guess it will for the first year. We’ve had our first summer; we’re heading into our first autumn – Thanksgiving, then Christmas, the first winter snowfalls ~ followed by the first snowstorms, etc.

But my point ~ and as Ellen says, “I do have one” ~ is that when I woke up to dark at 6 am, with an aching shoulder two things occurred to me. One – the days fly by and two – I can’t wait for my next massage therapy session. Sheesh. I still don’t really know what caused this (could it really be carrying around a heavier camera?), but the message is ~ I’m getting older. Dammit. I’ve always taken my health for granted and now I’m seeing that as I approach 53 (which sounds old, but I don’t feel 53) I’m getting older. And these aches and pains will happen.

I stepped on the scale this morning, too, for the first time in weeks. What possessed me to do that, I’ll never know… Accepting the rising numbers there as a fact of aging is something I really can’t do. Or I’ll end up weighing 300 cookie pounds. So sore shoulder or not, the sun is rising and I’m out the door to walk off the truffle I just ate.

Priceless

2007-09-28T20:40:00.000-06:00

So because I’m nursing what is shaping up to perhaps be a combination of carpal tunnel syndrome, tennis elbow with maybe a bit of tendentious thrown in for good measure, I did something quite unusual this morning. I left my Canon at home and headed out onto the prairie and around the lake with nothing but my little Sony Cybershot DSC-N2 (and Simba, of course). I think I’ve underrated the little point and shoot. It’s 10.1 megapix and can surprise me with what it can do. Granted the images aren’t what I can capture with a dslr, but they’re not bad.

And my arm is thanking me for the reprieve. I’m thanking God we have a massage therapist in the family… I start treatment next week.

But this is no time for me to become handicapped. I hesitate to say that my “career” might just be on the cusp of taking off, but things are picking up for sure. First Wildflowers; now Under the Umbrella. Things come in threes I guess because after a lull in sales in general I sold two prints at Solera yesterday. I’m taking it all as a sign that I need to [for lack of a less cliché phrase] strike while the iron is hot. I know exactly the area I’m going to explore next.

After some early experiences that didn’t turn out quite so well as recent ones, I was reluctant about promoting myself. I’m slowly gaining some confidence. And I do need to pull out that “Chicken Soup for the Soul” edition with the lists of all the famous people (Walt Disney comes to mind, not to mention Mark Hansen and Jack Canfield themselves) who failed several times before reaching their goals of success.

Success is all relative; it means different things to different people. For me it’s all about the validation that has eluded me all my life. Making a few buckaroos along the way would be nice.

But feeling I’m worthy;

that I’ve done something of value with my life and someone acknowledges that;

that maybe – just maybe – I have a thimbleful of talent and I’m not as dumb as my Dad told me I was as I was growing up ~ well…

you can’t put a price on that.

Winds of Change

2007-09-26T08:17:00.000-06:00

Autumn always brings changes in me. Typically it’s just a nesting instinct ~ that feeling of wanting to settle in, hunker down, get domestic and all cozy as the weather turns cooler and the days shorter. Bring out the crochet hook and the yarn (yes I crochet! Not very well and I’m trying to remember how to make a turn, but dammit, I can do stuff!). The crockpot finds its way down from the top shelf and takes up a semi-permanent spot on the kitchen counter. The stack of unread books that has grown taller all summer is showing some movement as reading becomes a favorite pastime again. Bedtime arrives earlier and sleeping in, a regular thing.

In other words, hibernation sets in and the casual and easy socialization that comes with summer gets tucked away with the deck umbrella.

This year I’m feeling something different, though. So different I don’t even know what it is. Of course my whole life has done a 180 since I moved into this house and this neighborhood 5 months ago. Most of its good and long overdue; some of it has me questioning my life. So I guess it is the questions – and the opportunities and the potential? – that are on my mind lately. Change can be good… really good. But it is seldom easy. Shouldn’t I be happier?

So as the seasons change and I prepare to enter another Winter of my life, I find myself wondering where I will be – who I will be - when we come out on the other side in Spring…

Don 't Call Me in January

2007-09-24T05:52:00.000-06:00

I’ve been a really bad, bad blogger. And a really, really bad blog-friend. Which is probably why I’ll never have a career as a writer. And I have an even worse one as a friend. One actually requires writing on a daily basis; the other a reciprocal line of communication more than once every 6 weeks. Both seem to be something I can’t become disciplined to do. Life keeps getting in the way.

Is it just me or has every frickin’ person we’ve ever known decided to show up in our lives in the last 5 months?

And on that note, I’m about “hostsessed” out. I do love entertaining and I do love sharing our new home and I do love seeing people I haven’t seen in years, but I’m weary. And I miss my life. It seems all I’ve done all summer is pick up clutter, dust furniture, plan menus, camp out at the local grocery, Costco and Discount Liquor, cook and clean up. Actually since moving in May I haven’t had time to figure out what my life will be in this new place. I love having my own space – my own physical space to work and think and play and just be. The problem is – I haven’t had much time to actually be, let alone be in my own space.

So this Monday morning at 4:30 am finds me sitting here in my own space in kind of a crappy mood after another weekend of non-stop entertaining and socializing, with a couple more days to go. It finds us with short tempers and tense moments and just wanting to be left alone.

It finds me with a list of ideas I’m excited to get to – you know, those ideas that come to you on a walk in the woods… or at 4:00 in the morning when you can’t sleep because you went to bed angry w/your spouse - but don’t seem to have the time to actually get to. The Umbrella Project really spurred my imagination and I’m anxious to explore a couple more ideas. But it seems I just get inspired and just get started and I have to stop.

After Wednesday I’ll have exactly two weeks to implement my inspired moments before I don my hostess apron again. Three days of smiling and offering drinks and serving dinner and I’ll have exactly 2 ½ weeks before I’m packing a suitcase and boarding a plane, this time jetting off to spend time with yet more family. (And why is it I anticipate at least at some point in those four days short tempers and tense moments and wanting to be left alone will enter into the scenario…)

Returning from that trip I will have 2 weeks before I am entertaining once more for the holidays. And then Christmas arrives 4 weeks later.

Lest I be labeled as a “people hater,” I assure you I’m not. I enjoy my friends and family immensely. It’s just been a lot this year. A whole lot. And the artist in me cries out for my space ~ literally and figuratively.

Typically January, after all the excitement and fun of the holidays, is a letdown for me. This year I find myself looking forward to it…

I love ya’, but don’t call me in January.

I Would Miss You All My Life...

2007-09-11T20:45:00.000-06:00

I would miss you all my life.

That’s what I thought the other day when the mister did something that annoyed me. It wasn’t my first thought, but it evolved to that.

I would miss you all my life.

You know what they say. They say that when you feel annoyed with your spouse over little things you should remember what attracted you to them in the first place and focus on that.

Ok. If you weren't in my life...

Damn. I would miss you.

When I went home after meeting him for the first time, I wrote in my journal - He talked more than any other guy I had ever met; he told great stories and asked great questions. After our first date I wrote - He was charming… he said all the right things. “I love walking out of a restaurant behind you because every guy in the place is looking at you. And I think to myself, ‘Yeah. She’s with me.’” (Ok, he was part bullshit, too, but it was charming at the time. It worked, didn’t it???)

I love to laugh and he made me laugh. A lot. O, god, he made me laugh.

As we got to know one another, I wrote - He made anyone he encountered want to be where he was, experience what he had experienced. He was a magnet. He was caring and giving – and he showed it. He was handsome – huge brown eyes, jet black hair w/a hint of grey. He was adorable. He was a living teddy bear. A couple of months into it, I wrote - He was a great hugger and a sweet kisser. He loved my cat – and he wasn’t a cat person. A few months later, I wrote - He insisted I phoned my parents every weekend; up until meeting him I rarely called.

You get the picture.

So no matter how many socks I trip over; how many coffee cups I wash; how many nights he works late... like 18 hour days; how many times he drives me nuts w/questions and observances (see - it comes back to haunt you!); how many times I roll my eyes… if he wasn’t in my life I would always have wondered…

What stories are you telling?
Where have you been?
What are you doing now?
Whose cat are you snuggling?
Who are you charming?
Who are you loving…

I know he won’t read this, but thanks for 16 years of an interesting life.

I would have missed you all my life.

Freeze Frame

2007-09-01T09:57:00.000-06:00

So here’s the Question of the Week:

What’s up with two requests in as many days for me to do portrait photography??? I mean it usually is the first question out of people’s mouths when they learn I’m a photographer, because I think most non-photog type people can’t really picture (ha) any other kind of photography. I mean, if you don’t take pictures of people, what else is there? (My first thought ~ "Ummm… like the whole Universe." Second thought ~ Ansel Adams response to those who said, "But there are no people in these pictures." He said, "O, but there are. The photographer and the viewer.) So they just naturally assume you shoot people. But what’s different about this is, these requests came after people viewed what seems to be developing into (ha! another photo pun) my very unintentional portfolio – otherwise known as my son and daughter-in-love’s wedding photos. Never in 500 years did I imagine anyone would look at those and think, “Wow. She could do our family portrait.” Never.

But that is exactly what has happened. I had lunch with a friend I see probably once a year and of course as we reviewed the happenings of the past year, I shared wedding photographs. She loved the style in which they were shot – candidly and trying my best to catch people being themselves. She asked me four times to do a casual, candid shoot with her family – she, her husband and two darling little boys. Last night (after the wedding photos made the rounds at a neighborhood party) a woman I know only slightly asked if I would take a portrait of her family – if she could ever get her four kids together at one time.

I’m stunned. Literally. Kind of frozen in place. And wondering if this is something I should say “Yes” to. You know the ol’ story about The Universe/God trying to get your attention? It starts with a whisper, then a tap on your shoulder, then a brick thrown at your head. The tap is getting stronger and a little more consistent and a little harder to ignore. Where it was easy for me to say a quick and unequivocal “No!” before, I hesitate now. These are people who have seen my work (which wasn’t work at all because I absolutely loved capturing the moments of that once-in-a-lifetime day…) and they think it’s good. Again, I’m stunned. Speechless. I’ve had nothing but positive feedback from the wedding photos. I’m certainly not saying I’ll become a wedding or portrait photog because I’m not trained in that and would never want the stress and I still consider myself a rank amateur in any genre of photography! But I find myself needing to respond to people who have seen - quite literally in black and white - what I have done. And I’m whispering to them in my head as they are talking with me, “Listen, folks, you really need to set your bar higher…”

But, the more positive feedback I get, the more I think back to that once-in-a-lifetime day and remember how much fun I had doing the candids (and if I listen to The Universe ~ what does THAT tell me??). The “formal” shots were a little stressful for me ~ for a number of reasons that really had nothing to do with photography; but the candids ~ catching people in the act of being themselves? I loved. Hanging on the outskirts observing, watching, quietly interacting? My God! That’s what I’ve been doing my whole life! It’s what I do best!!

So I’m remembering that feeling and wondering how I could incorporate that into family photographs and make some memories that people would reflect upon with a smile. I have found that, over the years, the photographs I have taken that wrap around my heart won’t win any prizes for photographic genius. But I remember the time of day, the way the sun hit the ocean, or the mountain or his face; the conversation, what I was wearing, the fragrance of lilacs or freshly baked bread or his cologne in the air… That’s the kind of “portrait” photographer I am. If people can “get” that and be happy with that; if they know up front what I do and why I do it and they like “my style”… well, yeah, maybe – just maybe – I could shoot people.

So my response to the two requests to do family portraits was a wishy-washy “Maybe; let’s talk....”

At least it’s not an unequivocal “No!” *wink*

I Come By It Honestly

2007-08-21T07:12:00.000-06:00

I read a book once on birth order and how that shapes who you are. Well, ok, I didn’t read the whole book; I skimmed it – focusing more on the parts that I thought related to me. But I’ve still got it and may someday read the entire thing. It was an interesting read. What I read of it.

I am the fourth of five children. The first three children (two brothers and a sister) were all two years apart. Seven years later, I came along; and seven years later, my little sister came along. So, it came as little surprise to me that the author stated when there are five years or more between siblings, children grow up basically as only children. Without the closeness in years and the shared experience, there is little to bond the later child(ren) to the older one(s).

We lived in “the country” until I was about nine - as opposed to my peers who grew up “in town” (town being a population of about 1,800 inhabiting about 100 blocks). Shortly after my little sister was born we did move to town, but my personality was pretty much formed by then. It’s funny how light bulbs go off in your head when you least expect them. Yesterday on my morning stroll – excited over discovering a black butterfly I’d never captured before and quite literally stumbling upon a social goldfinch munching on a dried sunflower – I thought about my childhood.

We didn’t have a lot of money back then and material things didn’t come easily, so toys weren’t a big option. Let’s just say I was left to my own resources a lot to provide entertainment. We lived on a farm, although others farmed the land, so I didn’t have chores. We didn’t have pets because, well, I’m not sure why we didn’t have pets; but they weren’t an option as entertainment. What I was left with was a lot of time and an imagination. I wandered the farmland and the fields and the back roads – always alone (this was before the days of child abduction) - wishing I was anywhere but where I was. This prompted me to daydream a lot ~ beaming myself to faraway places and imagining myself as someone famous – someone in the spotlight – someone talented and special and beloved by all. In retrospect I can see that was a cry (if only in my own mind) for attention. I did, after all, spend an inordinate amount of time alone. And my parents were of the generation who believed that it was a disservice to praise a child for anything, lest that child get “a big head.”

So now – in the present - as I start each day with my three constant companions – my dog, my camera and my imagination – I’m in my comfort zone. When I had my little epiphany yesterday I realized that my childhood – good or bad – truly did shape who I am today. I’m not a huge “people person.” I enjoy people, but I don’t need to be around them all the time (or even much of the time) to feel complete and content. I have – as someone once said – a lot of inner resources. I’m good at entertaining myself; but I am lacking at times in social situations (although marrying Mr. Gregarious has helped me progress on that score). I’m seldom bored. I sometimes appear aloof. And maybe I am. I have so many interests I could live three lifetimes and never accomplish all that I want to accomplish.

But there’s still one nagging hangover from childhood. This – what I do – write and capture images – is probably still that lonely little girl seeking approval. I have heard that the one thing people all have in common is the need to be validated. To know that what they do is important and meaningful and good. So the shy country girl hides behind her pen and her lens and hopes that someone will notice her.

But not too much. Or she’ll retreat even farther behind them. And daydream of being anywhere else.

A Child of Nature

2007-08-19T21:42:00.000-06:00

Remember how Phil Collins could feel it comin’ in the air tonight? Well, I definitely feel it comin’ in the air in the morning. When I hit the trail early in the morning lately, it’s a little cooler ~ which is a tremendous relief seeing as how this has been one hot summer. I’m noticing the usually lackadaisical Canada geese taking a few more practice runs each day at sunrise. In fact there’s a bit more early morning activity in the park in general; the blue herons are making an appearance again; some sort of white cranes or egrets hung around for a couple of days and then disappeared; even the gulls are circling more. Everyone seems to be waking up and preparing for the next chapter.

So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that I have woken up the last couple of days with an unexplained restlessness. I have felt an almost physical pull to the mountains. I smiled when I realized that it is my natural migratory path as sure as the geese have theirs.

We have never intentionally put off our “summer” trip to the mountains until September or October, but it has just happened that way the past few years. Summers in the Rockies can be congested ~ Midwesterners consider Colorado prime vacation territory. And as hot as our summers have been on the plains, they are also getting warmer in the mountains. I moved to Colorado 33 years ago specifically to be closer to the mountains. So when Autumn rolls around I do feel an irresistible urge to lose myself (not literally) in their majesty. The crowds are fewer, the scenery more mellow as the aspens begin to gently paint their golden canvases.

A couple more summer obligations to put behind me and I’m in that Jeep headed west. And I can’t wait. Because for the first time I really see my role in the whole Nature scheme of things. I truly am a child of Nature.

Who knew?

Playing With Fire

2007-08-19T08:55:00.000-06:00

“You’re playing with fire, you know.”

She didn’t want to hear it. She looked for anything to focus on besides his face.

“It’s a crap shoot. It’s Russian roulette. It’s like DeeDee smoking. Once it’s gone – it’s gone - and it's all over.” His voice was steady and serious.

“I know.”

This room was far too small. Where was the door? Because she needed to exit stage left like NOW.

"It's nothing you did; it's not your fault. But you do need to wake up."

Where is that damn door????

Denial – as they say – is not just a river in Egypt. It’s a really lovely little fantasy land where one can get lost for days – months – years. There are no rules in Denial; there are no guidelines by which to live. It’s a five star resort with no spending limit. It’s no responsibility (what an ugly word), no cares, no worries.

But Truth will find you. There really is no escaping Truth; it will find you. It knows your name, it has your number and it will hunt you down mercilessly. It carries the book of what is real ~ the facts, the things you can’t deny; and it will whack you over the head with it. Because some things are beyond our control; Truth holds the ultimate power. It will back you up against the wall, holding your arm up against that rigid back until you scream Uncle so loud they can hear you on the moon.

If Guilt is a Vampire, then Truth must be an angel. In disguise. Truth can take on any form and speak in any tongue.

Who knew mine would have a southern accent?

Ok, I give. I think. I hope. I pray.

Uncle.

Hello Goodbye

2007-08-15T16:26:00.000-06:00

It’s been one of those days when I feel as though I’m just spinning my wheels. By 3:00 I decided the hell with it – and just kick back and admitted I probably wasn’t going to accomplish anything grand today. And I’m not going to feel guilty ~ until later tonight I’m sure.

I hate reading manuals, so of course, my new 3D (yup, I did it) is sitting on my desk, with the unopened manual. I took the camera out for a spin this morning - with the factory settings – and now I have to spend some time personalizing my new baby. The shots were ok, but I know they are meant to be SO much better.

My original XT froze on me in early July – was sent in for repair and came back in time for the wedding. She made it thru the wedding as my back-up camera (thank god) and froze up again a week later. Long story short – I was able to trade her in and upgrade for a pretty good deal. So now Big Sister and I are getting acquainted. I still have the mister’s XT as a back-up (pictured here), but Ms. Big will be my primary.

My fellow photographers will understand that I had to have a moment with my XT yesterday as the trade was being made. The Best Buy boy (a non-photographer obviously) stopped short of rolling his eyes as I said goodbye to this little piece of plastic and metal. My XT was my first DSLR and brought me full-force into the world of photography. She taught me volumes. She traveled with me to distant ports and captured moments I’ll treasure for a lifetime. She was my constant companion for more than 2 years. She walked with me every single day. I guess it's only right that her last hurrah was to photograph my son and daughter in love's wedding ~ one of the highest highlights of my life. We got thru it together. I really would have like to have kept her just for sentimental reasons, but practicality took over and by saying goodbye I was able to save a few dollars and take a big step forward.

I guess it’s time to make new memories with Ms. Big and move into the future…

but i'll never forget my first little Canon girl.

Guilt is a Vampire

2007-08-13T06:59:00.000-06:00

For all my brave talk about kicking Mr. Guilt’s behind right out my soul’s door, I can’t stop him from doing one thing ~~ creeping in the back door of my dreams. So, of course, just as I’m feeling I might be in control, he makes an appearance early this morning to prove me wrong. Guilt noshes literally on the remains of ice cream (well, sherbet) smiles at the end of the day. Guilt is a vampire – he feeds on the darkness, sucks you dry and scampers away at first light. Coward.

But yet I let him wield his nasty power in the wee hours of the morning. He crawls in my brain and scratches around until my eyes flutter and my body rolls back and forth, back and forth fighting to return to the sleep that will taunt me all day. In the end he almost always wins and I’m left tormented and exhausted – facing another day with the anger, the guilt and the need for a nap. Which I will never take because I feel guilty when I do.

One of my mantras is “Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.” Easy enough to at least attempt to follow in my waking hours; but when caught off guard while sleeping… I’m not strong enough to live it.
Sometimes I wonder if this is all about faith ~ about trusting that higher power to be there for me. To back me up and face down this Vampire Guilt in the Darkness. Maybe this struggle with Anger and Guilt and lack of Self Discipline is all one big test. But then that’s a whole other conversation.

For now I just want to be able to sleep. I think Guilt is whipping Self-Discipline’s ass. Guilt is loving it and Anger’s over in the corner just snickering while waiting his turn.

The Surpise That is This Life

2007-08-11T23:13:00.000-06:00

I’m crawling out of the pool of guilt – I did my laps quite early this morning and have earned a night off - poolside with a glass of vino and a few reflections. It was a day spent playing with wedding photos; an evening with the 6th season of the Gilmore Girls (Susan if you are reading this - stop gagging), a glass of wine and good ol’ comfort food – jalapeno havarti grilled sandwich and I’m good. And happy.

A day all to myself to do whatever I want. Which most of my days could be, it’s just that guilt thing and that Midwestern work ethic thing that keep that from happening. I’m thinking my days could be a lot happier without the guilt and the self-imposed expectations. And taking a cue from my friend, Jaki – an incredible spirit, a 4 year breast cancer survivor – every day is a gift and is meant to be lived.

So on that inspirational note, I’m reflecting on the past week. It’s interesting what graduations, weddings and funerals bring about. They bring people together in a reminiscent way – restoring the past, if only momentarily. And introduce us to people we have known but have lost touch with, seeing them thru new eyes. Sometimes really wonderful surprises land on your heart and make you smile.

I’m sending a wink and a hug to Canada. Who knew?

Waterlogged

2007-08-11T03:38:00.000-06:00

I’ve been swimming laps in this pool of emotion for months now and I’m exhausted. My heart and my head working at times in concert; but more often than not, against each other.

Wanting to put the past behind me but turning to hear it knocking on my door ~ it follows me whether I want it to or not. I can’t escape decisions I’ve made, actions I’ve taken and now, in retrospect, how that has affected more than just me. When I start going down for the count in that sea of regret these words act as my life preserver ~ “When you knew better; you did better.” Everyone makes mistakes ~ some of us just make bigger ones than others.

Awhile back I wrote about “letting go.” In that case I was referring to letting go of anger; now I need to let go of guilt. Things I should have done; action (or inaction) that has disappointed others; and the mother of all guilt ~ the masterful art of brow-beating. Guilt is the most useless of all emotions ~ it most often applies to events that have passed; and there really is very little one can do to go back in time and change something that has already happened. We don’t live in “back to the future.”

I want to stop wallowing in that swamp that is guilt. Those waters will suck you down and drain your life’s energy if you let them. A cocktail a day of self-loathing mixed with a shot of self-pity can poison your soul.

It stops now. Because the only one that can save me is… me.

On Edge

2007-07-03T22:29:00.000-06:00

I have always been somewhat of a packrat. Being raised by Depression-era parents, it’s hard for me to part with a good box. I can use it again. Or bubble wrap. Why go pay for that when I’ve got it for free in that package that just arrived?

Then there’s the memorabilia packratness. Drawers are scattered with matchbooks from restaurants I once visited even though I have little use for matches since I quit smoking 8 ½ years ago; pens I’ve “borrowed” from the nicer hotels. I’ve got scraps of paper scribbled with website addresses, quotes and ideas for essays. I can’t throw away a photograph no matter who it is or what it’s of. There are ponytail holders – now that my hair is getting long enough to eek out two scrawny pigtails and emery boards for my horrid nails. There are coupons for places I’ll probably never frequent, but think I might someday; keys that unlock places I don’t know.

In my effort to try and organize a drawer the other day I came across a small picture of a volcano I had clipped from a magazine; the quote printed across it read “Anger is a sign that something needs to change.” I took it as a sign that I found it as it seems to suit my mood lately.

Ready to blow. Ready for a change. Kind of scaring myself. Missing my space. Creating it in not the best of ways. And all the while the anger simmering just under the calm surface.

Remembrance

2007-07-02T06:22:00.000-06:00

Someone once told me dates – anniversaries if you will – can lurk in dark forgotten corners of your mind and resurface at the most unexpected times. Sometimes you’re not even aware that it is an “anniversary” ~ you just have a nagging feeling that something is different about that day. It may come and go without you ever recognizing or realizing what it was. But something happened that day that left an indelible mark on your soul.

I have a mind full of trivia – useless information – which really serves no purpose, save perhaps a couple of categories I can ace in “Trivial Pursuit.” I have often wondered how much room I would have for really intelligent conversation were my mind not so full of ineffectual clutter.

Dates. I remember those. Sometimes it’s important to remember; sometimes it’s better to forget. I remember a lot of happy dates; but I remember my share of dark ones, too. Both remind me of how fleeting life is; how quickly things can change ~ even if it takes years. I try to tell myself that the bleak ones make me appreciate the joyous ones.

But sometimes they just remind me of what’s missing, what is forever changed and what will never be again.

Traveling Light

2007-06-29T07:32:00.000-06:00

What started as kind of an “accident” (as most of my brilliant ideas do) has now turned into an everyday practice with purpose.

I do my “field work” as I call it early in the morning and typically in the same 880 acre park. Because my dog is always at my side we’re limited to the paths we can travel (i.e., dogs are not allowed on the wetland/forest trails). Since I don’t like weighing myself down with several lenses I found myself along the same five or six trails and shooting with the same lens almost every day (usually my telephoto). One day as I grabbed my camera to jump in the Jeep I realized I had my Lensbaby on my Canon. Too lazy to run back inside and all the way upstairs (I said I was lazy), I decided to shoot with the ‘baby that day.

And guess what? I saw the same path thru totally different eyes. And my images that resulted reflected that.

So now before I leave the house I think about which lens or camera I would like to travel with that day. And I can only take one lens or one camera. It is amazing how restricting myself to that has changed how I see things. I am forced to “make do” with what I have that day. And, yes, there are days when I know I missed a great telephoto shot of a pelican because I’ve only got my macro. But I have captured a fabulous shot of a ladybug’s face sitting on a yucca plant.

A landscape will look totally different to me if I’m shooting it with my Polaroid as opposed to my wide angle. Some places just lend themselves to a certain look I know will be captured on film (or digital). There is no mistaking a Polaroid landscape ~ it just cries out to be shot in Polaroid. The same path will look completely different when I shoot with a Holga as opposed to a digital. A wildflower takes on a different personality when shot with a Lensbaby and even another when I add a 10x macro filter. A sparse meadow with dead trees takes on a haunting feel when shot with a toy fisheye.

Shooting with a different lens or camera every day has breathed new life into the same territory ~ and the same me. I’m not a tech savvy person; never will be. (I’ve got Photoshop CS2 and know how to do six things in it.) My interest lies in seeing the world as a beautiful palette and painting an image I can share. The “one lens/one camera” challenge has quite literally opened my eyes and tested my artistic senses. I like to think that I’m learning to stretch my abilities and develop a more discerning feel for not only my cameras, but how I view the world.

I see it as a metaphor for life. I can walk thru life doing the same thing in the same way each day; or I can step outside the box, (so to speak) challenge myself and try on a new cloak. Doing so has quite literally shown me that seeing the world thru a new eye every day is exciting and exhilarating; it is challenging, fun and mind-expanding. I am never bored; I greet each day with anticipation I’ve never known. Each day holds the promise of discovery.

Traveling light has taken on a new meaning for me. Light as in a beacon guiding my life.

I’m thinking it’s a Polaroid morning…

Bonded

2007-06-27T22:30:00.000-06:00

I never imagined I would be one to get a tattoo. Me – a straight-laced Lutheran-raised country girl from the Midwest – growing up in the mountains… just doesn’t seem to fit. Then as my children grew and I was introduced to the actual artistry and meaning of tattoos, I began to open my mind and give the whole genre a new look. It didn’t have to be all flaming dragons and hoochy-koochy girls. Tattoos could be a beautiful, simple, artistic image of you. And, as I decided, a way to celebrate life…

At age 52, I have two tattoos. And I have decided that my reason for having any tattoo is to commemorate a joyous occasion – a time I want to cherish and relish and look back upon with a smile. I will not add any ink to my body frivolously. Because nothing says forever like a tattoo. It will always be there.

My first tattoo rests on my right ankle and is the Chinese symbol for Happiness. At least I pray to God it is. My dear friend who is of Chinese descent told me, “O I’m sure it means happiness in some dialect; there are so many…” He is so sweet. What do I know; I grew up in Iowa. But it means happiness to me. And the impetus for that tattoo was to celebrate the fact that I was about to turn 50 years old. 50 years on the planet deserves a statement!

I knew nothing of tattoos, but I had wonderful guides. Both my sons’ girlfriends – who are so beautiful – knew the way thru the tattoo world and were planning to add each a new one. They invited me along and we all “bonded” while getting our tattoos (all different but inked at the same time) together.

So that was the coming of age for me at 50.

Flash forward to yesterday, June 26, 2007. My son is marrying the most amazing woman – someone I love and respect and LIKE. Having had history together in their 7 year relationship, we decided it was only proper to celebrate that with permanent ink. We drove to the seedy/yet up and coming part of town and after having two beers each at the dive bar across the street (I loved it), we sauntered in to the tattoo parlour and were branded with the image that you see here. Mine is on my wrist; her’s on her foot.

And I still have a spare wrist available… you know who I’m talkin’ to ;-)

And btw – I wore my hat the whole time I wrote this. I do believe it is my new thinking hat.

I really love this hat. And I love my new tattoo.

Life is good.

Time.

2007-06-14T12:52:00.000-06:00

I seem to be having issues with time lately. Sunday I had too much of it; today I woke up wishing I could add a couple of hours to each day. Just put me in the “she’s just never happy” category.

I woke up kinda’ grumpy this morning and on my walk near the lake I tried to figure out why. That’s what those early morning walks are sometimes good for – sorting things out. That is when I’m not distracted by some brilliant work of nature and have to stick my camera in my face and lose my train of thought.

I started thinking about how it is already the middle of June. My son’s wedding is in 7 weeks. My 88 year old Mom (she’ll be 89 in September) is flying out for the week before the wedding and staying with us. My San Francisco kids will be in town the week before the wedding, too. (Thank goodness my Denver kids now have a 2 bedroom, 2 bath condo!) We’re hosting the rehearsal dinner (more of a cocktail – hors d'oeuvre party than dinner) the night before the wedding. We always attend the Cherry Creek Arts Festival the weekend near July 4; there’s another community pool party on the 6th. We would really like to have the mister’s business partners and their wives over for a bbq before summer flies by. We have various out-of-town family and friends who will be stopping by over the next few weeks (months?) to see the new house – food and drink included in the tour, of course. I'm due for my annual physical w/my family doctor in August and I need a crash course in taking better care of my body.

And I haven’t had my girls day out with my future daughter-in-law where we will find THE dress for the wedding (mine; she already has hers).

These are all happy events (well, except the physical) and I need to slow down and appreciate them. The anal side of me has trouble reconciling that with the sentimental side of me.

Although the boxes are unpacked (at least the ones I intend to unpack for now; thank God for a big basement), but there is so much organizing in our new home yet to be done; not to mention the final decorating touches. The decorating touches are what I love and will spend hours thinking about and implementing. I still want to order some canvas "wrap" prints of my work for the house and it's a challenge choosing images and imagining how they may turn out... So, there’s a part of me that hesitates “revealing” the house until all that is done. But the problem is time…

So this morning I cut my walk short – I wasn’t in the mood to shoot pelicans anyway. I started feeling guilty about spending an hour or two every morning perusing the park. Then spending the rest of the morning downloading and tweaking photos ~ delivering them to the various venues in which I participate; printing some at times. I felt guilty about spending time writing and blogging and doing still shots in my studio.

But I’m trying to let go of the guilt and self-reproach. How I spend my mornings is what others would consider “work.” I think the fact that I am doing what I love – and that it in no way feels like work – is where my conflict arises. So, that’s something I have to work on.

No pun intended.

Biding Time

2007-06-10T15:00:00.000-06:00

So I’m just biding time waiting till 4:00 so we can wander down to the clubhouse for the big neighborhood pool party. I don’t want to start any projects now because I can’t finish anything in an hour and it bugs me to just get into something and have to leave. I’m sure the party will be fun – and interesting – see some familiar faces and meet some new ones. And, of course – like it matters – I changed my outfit three times. I’m so very used to dressing as nature girl and I realize there are occasions when I need to kick it up a notch and wear something a little more girly. Well, I don’t have to, but I kinda’ feel like I should. And a full-length mirror would certainly help. We sold mine with the old house and I’ve not found a replacement yet. I want a nice looking one in a wooden frame, free-standing and am finding it’s not that easy to find them. So for now I review my attire with a reflection from the shower door. If I squint I can kind of see the whole picture. Vaguely. So who knows what I leave the house looking like.

I’m hoping this will be a fairly short social gathering. The last block party we attended, we were among the final four to leave. I don’t want to become known as “o those people down the street who we can’t get rid of!” And besides the Sopranos finale is on tonight. We record it but I really want to see this as it airs. The end of an era. Their story lines did slip a bit in the last couple of years, but it really was a one-of-a-kind show in the beginning. I remember I was the one who turned the mister on to it – and that’s a real switch as I abhor violence. I think I was just fascinated by the shock value and tuned in every week to see how they were going to make me jump and gasp.

We’re also fascinated by a cleaning lady who spent 12 hours at the vacant house next door yesterday cleaning and finally left at 10:00 pm. (We are easily distracted.) She was back again this morning at 10:00 and after the realtor who let her in left, she pulled her car in the garage and apparently is settling in quite nicely. Keep in mind this is an unfurnished house. I really don’t think I could spend more than 12 hours cleaning my furnished house; let alone carry it into the next day.

So, with my official “neighborhood watch block captain” hat on (I wish they did give me a hat – or a badge or something; I was heavy into theatre in high school and love costumes), I’m keeping an eye on the situation. Just seems kinda’ fishy to me. I have my first official NW meeting next week and will learn all of my official duties. Maybe I’ll get my hat/badge then.

Well, that killed 15 minutes… maybe I’ll call my Mom and see what life in Iowa is like today…

I Refuse To Call It An Obsession...

2007-06-07T21:27:00.000-06:00

Even when I was pregnant I didn’t crave ice cream. Or pickles. And certainly didn’t crave them together. In fact, I don’t remember having any cravings. Except maybe craving to come out on the other side with a healthy baby and as little excess weight as possible. My doctor was pretty stern when it came to weight gain and in retrospect, I thank him. And my babies didn’t suffer – weighing in at 8 lbs. 9 oz. and 8 lbs. 12 oz. respectively. (And how the heck do I remember things like that when by 2:30 in the afternoon I can’t remember if it’s Wednesday or Thursday??)

So where this nightly need for a little taste of frozen yogurt came from I have no idea. And I never, ever liked ice cream (or frozen yogurt) with chunks of anything in it. Yuck. So what possessed me about a month ago to buy a Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream bar and eat the whole thing in about 2 minutes while driving home from the store? Unfortunately on the next trip to the store (which I believe may have been the next day) I discovered Ben & Jerry packed that same ice cream bar into a recyclable pint-sized box. And they cloned it in a frozen yogurt form with less calories, less fat and less guilt. And just a few days ago I discovered yet another temptation – disguised as less threatening than fat-filled, calorie-laden ice cream – called Chocolate Fudge Brownie frozen yogurt.

So now I’m a connoisseur of frozen yogurt (not ice cream) with chunks of stuff in it. And I’m trying to forget that I’ll be the mother of the groom in wedding photos in less than two months. Thank God their colors are black and ivory. Black can be so slimming…

Letting Go

2007-06-05T11:15:00.000-06:00

A new concept I’ve been trying on for size (in my head) is letting go. Letting go of resentment, jealousy, competitiveness (the bad kind, not the healthy kind), repressed anger ~ you know, basically any emotion that is futile and self-defeating. Paraphrasing James Arthur Ray, “Not forgiving someone is like drinking poison every day and hoping the other person will die.”

I am toying with the idea of applying that same sentiment to resentment, jealousy, competitiveness (the bad kind, not the healthy kind) and repressed anger. Something inside me is beginning to click and I'm starting to realize I’m tired of drinking the poison. Who has time for that? And besides, my stomach hurts. As trite as it may sound, life really is too short (and it’s getting shorter) to allow those emotions any more space in my brain. Not to mention what it would do for my blood pressure.

It won’t happen overnight ~ some of these emotions run deep and have longevity. But it is a theory worth considering and I think I might work on it. It seems there is a lot more I want to say on the subject, but I’m just not there yet. Baby steps…

A couple of thoughts I’ll leave with you (and myself as well):

"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."
** Monhandas Gandhi

"When you forgive, you in no way change the past - but you sure do change the future."
**Bernard Meltzer

And on another note - a different slant - with which I happen to agree as well:

"Just because you forgive someone doesn't mean you have to invite them up to the house for potato salad."
**Oprah

Amen.

I'm Baaaack!

2007-06-03T22:10:00.000-06:00

I’ve been away from Bloggerland for a long time now and was beginning to wonder if I’d ever return. We’ve been in the new house one month today and I think it’s time to start living my life again.

My office is coming together and I’m really going to like spending time in here. God, I love having my own space. My very, very own... I’m still filing and putting things where they belong, but I’m almost there. At least I’m not tripping over boxes anymore. Not only do I have an inspiring (dare I say distracting!) view of the lake and mountains, I’ve got lots of space to spread out my “stuff.” My closet (which is long and kinda’ narrow) rocks. The mister built some “cubbies” for me – two sets of cubes, nine cubs in each. There’s nothing I love more than organization and making the most of space. Well, maybe chocolate and a quiet beach, but anything that helps me be organized is right up there.

In addition to my desk (which I’ve decided to go topless with – I left the cumbersome hutch in the basement this time and I LOVE the openness) ~ I've actually got room for some pink dahlias ~ I’ve got two of my favorite work tables on wheels to roll around wherever I want. I’ve got my little flat-screen TV on top of my cubbies in the closet – kind of a makeshift armoire of sorts – so I can slide the closet door shut and the place looks cleaner. Not that it’s ever closed because I am the original TV addict… But it’s a cool idea. Which I must admit was the mister’s…

I’ve got a dog bed on my left and a fleece-lined basket on my right – which A-choo is breaking in at this moment. I swore I wasn’t going to keep any food in here; so, of course, there is a wire basket on the corner of the desk with Ghirardelli dark chocolate mints, Harry & David milk chocolate truffles, Australian black licorice and Bazooka bubblegum. The chocolate two-bite brownies, which are nothing short of illegal, sit to the right of my monitor. In an effort to practice good posture, I also was not going to keep my little green duck print footstool under my desk. My feet are up on it as I type. And it’s under my desk.

My mornings in the park have provided so much photographic material I don’t have enough outlets for it all. (So, of course, I make a trip to the Gardens this afternoon to add about 200 more.) Actually tonight I’m pouring Visine into my eyes – they’re a bit strained.

Life is good. It’s not perfect, but it’s good. Some of the problems I had before are still in my life. A house can’t fix everything. But it’s a start.

And the one thing I’d really like to know... exactly what did I get myself into when tonight a nice neighbor-man with a kind and smiling face rang my doorbell and asked if I’d be interested in being a neighborhood watch block captain and I said, “Sure.”????

Old Paths. New Thoughts.

2007-05-21T21:22:00.000-06:00

This morning the little bundle of energy and I chose to drive into the park rather than hike in. I miss my time near the water (it’s quite a hike in to the lake from the house; it’s an 880 acre park, after all!). So as we drove into the park, my car just went on auto pilot and drove to the trailhead we used to hike several times a week. Although it has been exciting and fun to explore new paths, it felt good… natural… to be back on some familiar turf. And maybe that freed up my mind to let random thoughts enter.

As often happens, things come to me on my morning walk/hike like those little white Christmas tree lights that blink on and off and sometimes hit a round that stays on for awhile. Like the time about a week ago when I realized I was beyond happy; I was content. That was kind of a breakthrough of sorts for me.

This morning I had similar thoughts but they came in a different wave. For years I’ve indulged in what could be considered self-destructive habits. I used to smoke cigarettes, but wisely gave them up eight years ago. I have enjoyed my evening wine or champagne for a long time now. Not that I would consider myself a wino. Maybe a champagno, but not a wino. *wink* Funny, then, how after being in the new house, the new surroundings, for a mere two weeks, I’m not feeling the need for more than the occasional glass of wine. And then it’s just to bid the time till dinner is ready. My biggest vice these days is probably Ben & Jerry’s lowfat frozen yogurt. (Although that can be quite addictive…) Clearly when I was unhappy I felt like self-destructing. Clearly now I do not.

My days start very early (for me – not someone ever referred to as "a morning person") between 6:00 and 7:00. I was in the park at 7:15 this morning. It allows me at least an hour, sometimes two ~ to walk and think and capture beautiful images. There’s still always plenty to do at the new homestead and my days literally fly by. In fact, I have a hard time remembering what day it even is… It’s 9:00 pm now and I’m thinking it’s about time to call it a day (whatever day it is). Very unlike the girl who quite often put David Letterman to bed and sometimes even Conan because I didn’t want tomorrow to start.

Another bonus ~ I’ve rekindled my love of reading at night. I picked out three yumm-o recipes from Rachel Ray’s magazine last night and tried one tonight. Very yum. I’m about halfway thru “The Year of Magical Thinking” by Joan Didion. It is about the sudden death of her husband and subsequent death of her only daughter. I'm not giving anything away here - you know that from page 1. It really makes me think… In one part she says that when she sees couples bickering it makes her angry. She wants to shake them and say, “You just don’t have enough time for this!”

It makes me think. Which works because my morning walks/hikes allow me time to reflect.

And so the circle is complete.

Awesome

2007-05-13T22:21:00.000-06:00

In retrospect, it was totally stress and nerves that had me reacting as I did in my previous posting.

The first day in the new house I sold a print. In the week that followed, I’ve been notified by two publications that my work is in the running for an ad and a featured photograph. All this while stumbling over boxes, hastily hooking up my tower and printer and checking email sporadically at best. It’s exciting. And I believe good kharma. I’m meant to be in this space and I’ll be doing some good work here.

As for worrying about “not being worthy” of what I have… well, as I head out on my morning hike (it is quite often these days more than a “walk”) I subconsciously know I’m on a mission. I’ve been presented with the opportunity to photograph some of the best that nature has to offer. And it is literally at my doorstep. What a labor of love.

And it didn’t take me long to realize what I was feeling was more than mere happiness. I feel total and complete contentment. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that. It’s a nice feeling.

Much work yet to be done, but it is fun designing my new life in this beautiful space. I’m here for a reason and it is slowly unfolding and presenting itself to me. It just keeps getting better and better and better…

Life is better than good. Life is awesome.

What If...

2007-05-02T02:13:00.000-06:00

On yet another sleepless night (I can’t remember the last time I slept thru a whole night) I found myself at 1:00 am staring at the ceiling, feeling my heart beat too fast and wondering when this is going to stop. I’m a tangle of emotions these days and I just want a level playing field again. The extreme ups and downs, I am finding, are not only taking a toll on me mentally, but now physically. I’m wandering thru my days (and nights) in a constant state of worry and exhaustion.

Part of me chastises myself for not appreciating what I’ve got. After years of waiting and yearning for it, I’m getting what I wanted ~ a beautiful new home in a beautiful new environment. And although it’s been several years, I’ve been down this “relocation” road before and I know that the work that seems endless now will, indeed, end in a few days (weeks) and life can resume once more. (I ache for my creative outlets so much in these crazy busy days and that does leave me feeling like half a person...) But what will life look like when it resumes?

I think perhaps part of the sleeplessness and worry is ~ now, it appears, I have everything I want. And as I always do in a case like that, I have this sense of impending doom. Maybe what I’m feeling physically isn’t just caused by worry and exhaustion (with a pinch of menopause thrown in); maybe it’s something more serious. Maybe I won’t get to enjoy that new home for long. I have felt that walking thru the house. That scares me. And what about the unspoken and sometimes even unfelt distance between us? Where will that lead? What have we evolved into? I feel a loss there that cannot be explained, but can be ignored.

Maybe it’s just fear of the unknown. Even though we are only moving a couple of miles away, the difference is night and day. How will it change me? What’s waiting out there? Will I finally be able to truly focus on some creativity and feel fulfilled? Can I finally just BE?

Or will I always be wandering thru the forest searching for the perfect path? The one perfect path that leads to eternal contentment and happiness… Or will I constantly be setting myself up for the exact opposite??

Five Questions

2007-04-24T19:16:00.000-06:00

My cyberspace friend, Skip, participated in an interesting exercise in his blog recently where five questions were posed to him and he answered them. He offered to do the same for anyone interested and I was just curious enough to say, “Go for it.” Here are Skip’s questions and my responses:

1. What would your life have been like if you had been born 100 years earlier?

Miserable. My people were Scandinavians who migrated to the mid-section of the U.S. and took up farming. I’m not big on manual labor or getting dirty or cutting chickens’ heads off and de-feathering what’s left. No siree, Bob. All were required back then.

And I am far too much a creature of the world today. I have to admit I’m addicted to certain technologies ~ the internet, email, IM w/my kids, my cell phone w/a camera, my digital camera, PPV movies and On Demand ~ need I go on?

I would have been miserable.

2. If you could "come back" as an animal, which one would it be and why?

Hmmm… that’s a good one because I’m a true animal lover. I think I’d really have to be one of my cats. Not anyone else’s – just one of mine. Because I know how much I love my cats and how I absolutely spoil them. Only the finest of foods; the softest of places to rest their heads (located all over the house); all the love and attention they can stand.

3. If money wasn't an issue, what camera and equipment would you go out and buy today?

Another good one. Since I’m familiar now w/the Canon family of cameras, I’d probably upgrade my Canon DSLR. But I’m so technically ignorant, upgrading to something like a 5D would probably be a waste of a good camera on me. I do want to purchase a Manfrotto tripod as they have come highly recommended to me – a confessed tripod-hater. I adore toy cameras and weird little cameras, so I’d always look at whatever is the latest on that front. Actually, I’m considering the new Lensbaby 3G lens, too. I’m not too happy with my macro lens lately either so would love to get the best one on the market because the bulk of what I do (and love) is macro.

4. Besides relatives, who would be your most important mentor or role model...and why of course?

Wow. Hmmm… this one really has me thinking. And kinda’ stumped. I take this to mean who would I aspire to be like. Having said that, I need to revisit this question ~ and I promise I will. It’s actually worthy of a blog unto itself. It’s an important question and deserves a thoughtful answer. I just don’t have that answer right now.

5. What 5 songs do you play the most on your iPod?

Only 5? Ok.
“Half Acre” by Hem
“Send Lawyers, Guns & Money” by Warren Zevon
“All That We Let In” by Indigo Girls
“100 Years” by Five for Fighting
“You Can Leave Your Hat On” by Joe Cocker
And I can’t believe I don’t have Jimmy Buffett in there. One more; just one more!!
“Chanon Pour Le Petits Enfants”
Ok, two. “One Particular Harbour” Jimmy Buffett, too
“Strength of a Woman” Shaggy
Ok. I’ll stop. But that question really does kind of say a lot about someone, doesn’t it? I live on “shuffle.”

This was really fun and thought-provoking. Thanks, Skip! And if anyone out there would care to try this little exercise, I’d be happy to pose 5 questions – and from what I understand, the one posing the questions chooses the questions. Promise I'll be gentle.

A few years ago I was obsessed with a show called “Inside the Actor’s Studio” on Bravo; I haven’t seen it in a while. James Lipton has a very intimate way of interviewing actors, writers, and directors and does research like no one I’ve ever seen. It’s always a fascinating and revealing show. One of the things I liked the best however, was the very end of the show when James would ask his guest – whomever they may be - the same set of questions. He would ask things like, “What sound or noise do you hate? What sound or noise do you love?” And a variety of things that just tell you something about a person’s soul. I was fascinated by it and always wanted to do the same exercise at a dinner party (I’ve got the list of questions saved somewhere in my files).

Soon I hope to have a proper house for entertaining, I just might have to have a dinner party. But until then, I’d love to have a dinner party in cyberspace, complete with 5 questions here in Blogger-land. Any takers? Just send me your email address at cindi@elanphotography.net and I'll get back to you! :)

Hi Grandpa John

2007-04-17T20:53:00.000-06:00

On my walk this morning I heard the soulful cry of a mourning dove. My thoughts, as they always do when I hear that sound, immediately drifted to my Grandpa, long since deceased.

I wasn’t close to my grandparents on either my mom or my dad’s side of the family; although I wanted desperately to be...and always will. Part of that lies in the fact that they were quite on in years by the time my little sister and I came along; part of that is because we are of Scandinavian heritage. Scandinavians – or at least the ones I grew up around – are people of few words. And even fewer emotions. Which explains a lot about me.

But for some strange reason whenever I hear the cry of a mourning dove, Grandpa saunters into my head. And I feel comforted. Hi Grandpa John. I think it’s because I remember hearing doves conversing around my Grandpa and Grandma’s house. Grandpa was a farmer. When he and Grandma “moved to town” as farmers do when they retire, I would stay there for a few hours each day after kindergarten while my Mom finished her shift at the hospital. (Yes, I was in kindergarten at age 4.)

When I smell a marigold, Grandpa is there. Hi Grandpa John. When he had to leave the country and the earth that he loved so much he planted a huge garden in their backyard in town. Grandma fell ill w/ serious heart disease not long after they moved to town. But I do remember her being healthy enough to chastise me once for putting sugar (or was it salt?) on the tomato Grandpa had plucked fresh from the garden and presented on a plate for me. I didn’t eat a tomato again until well into my adulthood. And even now, they aren’t a favorite fruit of mine. Interesting the damage one can unknowingly do to an impressionable 4 year old…

Which is probably why when I hear a mourning dove or smell a marigold I think of Grandpa. I really have no fond memories of Grandma. The marigolds? Grandpa used to plant them around the parameter of his magnificent garden to keep the bugs from eating his vegetables.

Sounds. Smells. That is what is left of my Grandpa. O, and the rocking chair I bought at auction when my parents moved from their home into a retirement community a few years ago. It was the one thing I wanted. And I was willing to pay any price. It was a bargain at $50. It holds no value investment-wise. But it is the one thing I remember about Grandpa visually. I can see him sitting there reading his newspaper (I don’t think they had a television) as I played with the one toy they had in their home – a gyroscope. Which, when I think about it, was an exceptionally challenging toy for a 4 year old to be playing with.

My Grandpa was a quiet man. A gentle man. In the truest sense of the word. A devout man. A religious man. A hard-working man. An honest man. A loving man. A beautiful man. I only wish I could have known him more deeply. But, in a way, maybe I do. In retrospect, my mother is the epitome of her father, just in the female form.

I can’t wait to smell the marigolds this summer…

Warren Zevon Saved the Day

2007-04-16T08:19:00.000-06:00

The house we are leaving was inspected by an “official inspector” last week. The mister stayed behind as I hit the road with “the kids.” We’re not sure if the buyer of our home knows we have pets – or even how he might feel if he knew we did – but in the interest of making life easier we went for a ride.

Simba’s easy. She hops in the back of the Jeep and we’re ready to go. A-choo, on the other hand, needs to be tracked down, lovingly scooped up and coaxed into her cat carrier. She’s on to this game now, so it’s not as much fun as it was in the beginning.

We, of course, headed to the park. Thinking if I drove slowly it would probably take only one loop around the 880 acre park and we could just scoot back on home. Silly me. Two and a half hours later, I’m text messaging the mister saying, “Can we please come home now??” Simba was upset and whining – not understanding why the heck we were in the park and not out walking and chasing geese. It was too cold! A-choo was upset and crying endlessly as she pushed her little nose against the mesh trying to escape the carrier.

I searched my IPod continuously for something that might calm them both. Ironically Warren Zevon seemed to work for A-choo. She showed a particular fondness for “Send Lawyers, Guns and Money.” Go figure. Simba leaned more toward anything Enya as she isn’t into loud noises – considering the amount of ear surface she has with those big stand-up ears, that’s understandable.

I had grabbed my camera on my way out the door; but, of course, didn’t have time to snatch up any additional lenses. And, of course, what is the first thing I see when entering the park? Three pelicans circling high overhead. Yup, the pelicans are back and I was so excited. And so bummed because I was missing my telephoto lens. So, of course, because I didn’t have it pelicans were everywhere. And the cherry on top of this hot fudge sundae? As I my phone rang and I tried to engage in a conversation with the design person re: blinds for our new house, I saw the biggest eagle I’ve ever seen land in the woods several hundred yards away.

Does anyone remember the skit on SNL in the early years where a couple is driving along (Gildna Radner and maybe Rick Moranis? Can’t remember for sure) and suddenly they start seeing amazing things like flying dinosaurs? The catch line was something like, “and me, without my camera!”

Well, that was me all over last week. Even though I had my camera, it was pretty useless without the proper lenses. My saving grace? In two week’s time I’ll be able to walk back home to retrieve whatever I need!

Musings...

2007-04-10T17:41:00.000-06:00

Moving

I’m kind of surprised at how laid back I am when it comes to handling this move. I haven’t sold a house in almost 20 years; haven’t moved in 10. Perhaps it’s just being older and more relaxed. Perhaps it is being blessed to schedule my days this time around. In every other move I was working full-time and had kids w/all sorts of high school activities, etc. Perhaps it’s having three weeks in which to complete the move. Perhaps it’s because we’re only moving a couple of miles. Perhaps it’s because life is really good right now and things are just falling into line beautifully.

At last count I have 21 boxes packed. That sounds like a lot, but not really. I learned long ago that since we do most of our own moving of boxes, I pack ones that we can actually lift and carry w/out getting hernias. The furniture we leave to movers – big, buff guys in their 20’s who can do that kind of thing.

I will be riding around with one cat and one dog tomorrow morning while the inspector inspects our house… may have to seek out a drive-thru Starbuck’s.

Wedding

Thank God for organized kids. It’s all good and all very exciting. It’s going to be one fun summer.

Weather

Colorado gets most of its snow in March. That didn’t happen this year. So we shouldn’t be surprised that a snowstorm is predicted for the end of this week. April is our third snowiest month. They’re saying 6” at least for Denver; heavier in points east. We are in points east. We’ve plenty of boxes, packing paper, and tape. The pantry is stocked; the wine rack is full. There’s still some firewood in the garage that we might as well use ~ it will be of no use in the new house. The fire there will ignite immediately with the touch of a switch.

Health

I think I have a cavity. Dammit. My dentist has been after me to come in for a check-up for three months. I’m there.

The wind is awful today and has totally kicked up every blooming thing. Allergies are not fun.

The Calm Before the Storm

2007-04-08T16:17:00.000-06:00

It’s one of those days when I just can’t get motivated; and at 4:10 pm I don’t see it happening any time soon. I think it’s safe to say today is a write-off and tomorrow will be better. (However I do have a two hour hair appointment smack dab in the middle of the day tomorrow...) It’s been snowing for the better part of the weekend. It’s too warm to stick to the ground, but has quite literally put a damper on the day. And it’s Easter Sunday. I feel sorry for all the little kids who were looking forward to Easter egg hunts…

I was thinking about Easters past and how things have changed. When my guys were little we often made the trek back to the Midwest to spend Easter with my parents and siblings. Years later as my life changed, Easter dinner was the first time my new beau and I entertained together. As time went on and he became my husband, Easter dinner at our house was a recurring event. We made some really delectable feasts... And here we are this year, eating cookies and even forgetting that it’s a holiday. Looking around at a houseful of moving boxes kind of explains that.

With the knowledge that we will begin carrying those boxes into our new home in two weeks’ time, I’ve allowed myself this day of rest. The ensuing days will be full enough and busy enough. So today is the calm before the storm.

And now I’m off to start a turkey meatloaf and some veggies to keep it company.

Moving Ahead

2007-04-05T16:58:00.000-06:00

Buying a new house is fun. Packing is not.

I tried to start packing today, but it just ended up being an exercise in frustration. There is so much it’s hard to know where to begin. And this is where the “working together” part comes in. We each have our own way of moving thru life and that applies to moving to a new house as well. Neither one of us is right, nor are we wrong; we’re just different. So conversation and organization are in order before I can move forward ~ or anywhere.

And this I know for sure. I’ve had too much caffeine today.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name...

2007-04-03T19:45:00.000-06:00

Have you ever googled yourself? I mean, your name?

I hadn’t in a long time, so as I was taking a break tonight I did. At first it was like, “Whoa, aren’t I all that?” ~ seeing some photos and small articles I have had published over the years that I’d forgotten about. Then I started seeing some of my images which had clearly been stolen. Or at least borrowed without my permission. Think I’ll be careful with the tags from now on. People who know me and like me will find me. I say this just having joined a couple more online photo sites… go figure. In my defense (because I always feel the need to defend my actions and, yes, that would make me a rather defensive person sometimes which is not an attractive trait), these are rather specific sites aimed more at publication ~ unlike Flickr which has become my hometown. But then the internet is still unchartered and unregulated territory and I need to remember that. Sometimes it can become too familiar… too safe.

That being said, think I’ll post a pic to Flickr and go to bed.

My Sister Soul Mate

2007-03-27T07:22:00.000-06:00

If women can have “soul mates” I have one. Although, just for the record, I’ve never bought into that whole “soul mate” thing for couples. I don’t think there is one and only one person meant for you in life. And no one completes me but me.

But I digress.

I had a far too quick, chatter-filled, laughter-filled lunch with my sister yesterday. Not my biological sister; my sister by marriage. I got some real bonuses when I married the mister and Chris is just about the best one. When Chris walks into a room the room comes to life. And life is suddenly brighter. The energy is palpable. She lives in Canada so we don’t get to see each other as often as we’d like and sometimes don’t even speak for months. But when we meet the conversation resumes as if we had just spoken five minutes ago. And we constantly step on each other’s words. There is just too much to say!

“What have you written lately?” “What’s the status on the book?” (We’re both writers; she a poet and me, well, you know me.)

“How was Manhattan?” “What did you do in Vegas?” (We both love to travel.)

“Show me your latest photos.” “I need some note cards!” (She’s my biggest cheerleader.)

“I love that bag! Where did you get it?” “And speaking of bags, when are you going to design some?” (We’re girls! We both love unusual bags, clothes, shoes, etc.)

“What has the puppy chewed up recently?” (We both love animals and have a few in our lives.)

“Where are you finding your inspiration these days?” (We’re both creative souls.)

“What are the kids up to?” (We’re both Moms w/grown children.)

You get the idea. That’s a lot to pack into just a couple of hours and we always leave each other with so much more to say. But as we said our good byes and “I love yous” and “email mes!” I was struck by how lucky I am. How lucky I am that this brilliant spirit so full of energy and laughter and endless imagination came into my life.

And how delightful to leave a person always wanting more…

One of Those Aha! Moments

2007-03-25T18:54:00.000-06:00

What is so interesting about life is that if you are truly aware you’re constantly learning things ~ even when you don’t realize it at the time. Sometimes it takes me a few hours (or days; ok, sometimes years) to have that “a-ha!” moment.

I had one today. As I typically do on the weekends, I had Food Network on in the background while I was doing some still life shots. This afternoon’s programming was more interesting than usual. They ran back to back episodes of “Chefography” ~ biographies of Food Network stars. Call me snoopy, but I like learning about people’s backgrounds; and surprisingly, a lot of these people have really fascinating ones. Inspiring, in fact.

The one “star” I didn’t know much about because I don’t really watch her show is Nigella Lawson. She’s that amazingly beautiful British woman with the huge brown eyes. She certainly has suffered more than her share of losses… first her mother at a very young age; her sister at a younger age and her husband, also at a young age. In hearing her story the one thing that stuck with me was something her mother said when learning of her terminal diagnosis. She said [paraphrasing], “Well, I finally feel I can eat anything I want.”

How sad, I thought. A few hours later I had my Aha! moment. I have food issues.

Because that would probably be my first reaction on hearing my life would end soon. I can finally eat all the fabulous comfort foods (mashed potatoes in abundance springs to mind) and all the desserts I deprive myself of (omg even just an ice cream cone would thrill me!). I can’t blame my Mom. Mom – aside from being the original green recycler – has also had incredibly healthy eating habits for as long as I can remember. She was never one to eat huge meals; she eats small, healthy bites of things (with a tiny bits of sweets thrown in for good measure) and slowly grazes throughout the day. This is the woman who is active and more alert than me; she'll be 89 in September. My Dad, on the other hand, was overweight for as long as I can remember. He developed diabetes – mostly because of his weight and unhealthy eating habits – and lived his last 20 years dealing with the consequences of that disease.

But I remember how my Mom struggled to get him to eat healthier and how he resisted. All the arguing. All the trips Dad made to the kitchen as soon as Mom went to bed to raid whatever cookies or cakes happened to be hiding. Yes, she hid them. Because Mom’s true love was baking. And she was very good at it. It was her way of relaxing after a day of raising five kids and working nights as a nurse. But she knew portion size before the media ever termed it that. Dad didn’t.

So although I never felt any real pressure growing up to watch my weight or eat healthy, I was very aware of food. And unlike my Dad, I watch the scale religiously. And I get blood tests every year to be sure my glucose level is in line. Because I have seen what it’s like to live with diabetes and insulin shots and I don’t ever want to go there.

That being said, I feel as though I’m postponing my life. I do love good food and I love the socialization that quite often goes with that. I feel as though I’m constantly depriving myself. I project my apprehensions and concerns about food and weight onto those around me. And that just leads to confrontations and bad feelings; or I end up harbouring those feelings and that’s not good either.

I am ruled by numbers ~ those numbers on the scale. And although my head knows it’s not about the numbers, it’s about just living a healthy life ~ I can’t seem to get past the numbers. And I know it’s not healthy ~ mentally or physically. And I just keep wondering… what will it take to shake me out of this mindset??

And wrapping it all up in a neat bow, I reflect on the Food Network stars I enjoy ~ Ina Garten and Paula Deen spring to mind; Nigella’s got beautiful curves, too. Why do I like them? Because they laugh all the time. They seem to literally and figuratively take a big bite out of life and just love every minute of it. They all have loving families and friends and spouses. They are all hugely successful doing what they love. And guess what? None of them are a perfect size 8.

Is there a lesson there? Or am I looking for excuses? Why do I think I should weigh the same as I did at 25? Or am I looking for excuses?

Distant Seas Are Calling Me

2007-03-20T20:41:00.000-06:00

Today is the first day I’ve felt somewhat normal (I realize that is a relative term) and less “pressurized” in probably a month. We’ve done all we need to do as far as taking steps into our future (house-wise, etc.). Now it’s just a waiting game. Which in itself can be a certain torture. I’m ready to hang my next show tomorrow. At least I hope it’ll be tomorrow. All the marketing/supporting materials are printed. I even found myself w/some extra time today to do more than I had expected.

I miss having my head free. Free to shoot what presents itself (and not forcing it); free to write what drifts into my mind (and not force it). I think I’ve decided I’m a free spirit and the details that life forces me to address are a huge distraction to what I really want to – need to – be doing. I long to travel… the road and the seas are calling me. That is what fuels my creative fires. And is becoming increasingly apparent to me ~

I need a wife.

It's All Good

2007-03-12T22:59:00.000-06:00

I feel as though I’m living in some parallel universe. Things I have wanted for so long are finally, maybe, hopefully coming to fruition. Part of me thinks I don’t deserve the good things coming my way; part of me tells myself that patience and hard work and endurance pay off. Its kharma, dude. And then there’s that other part of me that whispers nothing’s over until it’s over.

Echoes of the past tell me to not get cocky; don’t get a big head; keep a low profile; don’t count your chickens; stay under the radar. So many voices ~ some I respect, some not so much.

It kind of freaks me out to see for sale signs on my house. But in the same thought, it makes me smile. It really makes me smile having a super clean house. But then it freaks me out keeping it that way 24/7. I’m starting to pack up my beloved books and cameras and the memories I want to carry forward. And it is finally time to say goodbye to some of the past. Yesterday found me tearing up divorce papers from another lifetime. Bags are being unpacked in the same breath as the bags are being packed. It’s time. It’s all good.

Well, all good except for the hot flashes and the heart palpitations that invade my sleep almost every morning around 4:00. I thought it was anxiety attacks. Well, some of them are, but not all. May be TMI for the guys, but the gals will understand. After my surgery 3 years ago (wow, I just realized almost exactly three years ago to the day), I was given a magic little blue pill that saved me from the grips of menopause. I floated thru the next couple of years feeling as free as a bird ~ what’s all this brouhaha about menopause? That was until I saw my doctor the other day. We discussed the controversy surrounding HRT recently and decided that we would cut my already extremely low dosage in half; which is almost like taking nothing, but better than going cold turkey. I’m not sure better for whom, but not me.

But, again - in a way - I feel like I haven’t been paying my dues and I should. It’s not fatal; just a little uncomfortable for a little while. And now that I’ve realized the heart palpitations are most likely not an impending heart attack, I think I’ll have fewer of them. The mind can do wondrous things…

The Art of Being Kind

2007-03-08T21:40:00.000-07:00

My Mom’s brother died yesterday. She lost two brothers previously. One was injured in a car accident as a youth and, with a broken back, went on to live a productive life from his wheelchair. The other died at age 17 when he fell from a barn and broke his neck. She also lost two sisters ~ one from cancer who died in her 70’s. The other who, after surviving the death of two children and her husband, went on to live a productive and independent life ~ with a great sense of humour ~ even after a sudden onset of blindness in her 70’s, died at age 93 in the arms of hospice.

My Mom is 88 years old and the epitome of health and positive attitude. She has survived all those losses, as well as the passing of her husband of 62 years. How does one do that and still remain positive?? She is my role model and my hero. When I spoke with her and she shared the news of Uncle Art’s passing, I remarked, “Wow… It’s you and Myrt now (her only remaining sibling); hang on to each other!”

I get so caught up in my own little life and all that I have going on… when something like this comes into it I have to give pause. Pause for where I came from. Pause for what good people I grew up amongst. No, they weren’t talkative folks. Nor were they affectionate folks. No, they didn’t cure cancer. They were hard working, god fearing, good people. If sociologists were to look at my life they would say I came from “good stock.”

That came home to me so strongly tonight when my Mom called me to let me know about Uncle Art’s death. She never calls me; I call her. Mom grew up in the Great Depression. Phone calls are a luxury. She was the original recycler. She could teach the so-called “Green People” a thing or two. She knows everything about how to conserve, recycle and make the most of what you’ve got. So ~ making a long distance call is a luxury; not how we look at it today.

So when Mom calls I know someone has died. Seriously. But when she called tonight to tell me of Uncle Art’s passing, it wasn’t her usual 5 minute conversation. We talked for 20 minutes. I knew she needed to talk and she knew she did, too.

And it brought it all home to me. What is important in life. Yes, we just put an offer on a house. Yes, we just put ours on the market and we have a thousand things to do. Yes the kids are getting married in a few months and excitement and anticipation abounds.

But a life of a good and decent and sweet and honorable man has passed. And that needs to be recognized. It’s not always about me.

Here’s to you, Uncle Art ~ I will remember you always as the gentle, smiling, reverent, sweet person that you were. You were so much like my Grandpa John, your Dad ~ a quiet soul who brought so much beauty into this world. I can’t pass a marigold without thinking of Grandpa John…

Kind is a word one doesn’t hear much anymore, let alone being put into practice. It just doesn’t come up in conversation. Kindness may be a lost “art.” But that it is how I will remember you, Uncle Art ~ as a kind and gentle soul. God bless you.

Gearing Up

2007-03-04T19:27:00.000-07:00

I realized tonight that I don’t write much on the weekends. And it’s not that the weekends are really any different than the weekdays for me; so I’m not sure why. Today was certainly a do nothing day for me. One of the laziest Sundays I’ve had in a long time. I did make yummy breakfast burritos (I’m totally hooked on fat free tortillas ~ they come in all sizes and you can do so much with them!); and I actually prepared dinner, too – a weight watchers’ chicken pot pie which is in the oven right now.

I think my subconscious is working for me. Somewhere in this scattered brain of mine (see previous post; sheesh.) I know I need to start stock-piling energy for the months ahead. I’m going to need to go into “training” of sorts to be ready to operate at my highest functionality possible, and soon. We’re honing in on a new house and if things work out, my life is going to get very, very busy very, very quickly. And five months from today one of the happiest days of my life will occur – my son and his beautiful fiancé will be married. Even though they are planning their wedding with minimal help from Mom and Dad, there’s much to think about between then and now.

The saving grace? Everything that lies ahead is bursting with excitement, unmitigated joy and new beginnings. And I know that is where I’ll find my energy to do all that will be required of me.

But for now, I’m putting my feet up and vegging. O, and surfing the net and buying toy cameras that I hope do what they say they'll do... like I'll have time to experiment in the next few months... what am i thinking?

It's Age

2007-03-02T11:23:00.000-07:00

I am the luckiest person ever because after years and years of working in jobs just to buy groceries (meaning they were for the most part ordinary and mundane), I was able to stop workin’ for the man and pursue my own interests on my own time. Which means I am in charge of my schedule each day. And that is the greatest gift anyone could give me because I am not exactly a morning person (unfortunately a trait I think I passed on to my children…).

So even though my days start fairly early, I approach them at my own pace. For instance – it is 9:50 am as I’m writing this and I’m still in my walking sweats. I woke up at 6:00. Watched the news from bed for 30 minutes while chatting up the mister. Spent some time reviewing emails; posted a couple of photos to Flickr; walked the dog (or should I say slid the dog). Came home and swore a little because it’s snowing again and wasn’t supposed to and I’m really sick of winter. Ran downstairs to start the laundry (biggest thing I’m looking forward to in a new house? Laundry facilities on the main or second level!). Ate a weight watcher type grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast ~ there are ways to make it low cal, low fat. I was super hungry because I didn’t eat much last night. Listened to the Today Show for awhile; switched over to Rachel Ray for awhile. Chastised the dog for eating the cat’s catfood again. I got them both new food – chicken flavored Iams and Simba was quite taken with hers until she tasted A-choo’s. Now she prefers A-choo’s. *sigh*

So, you get the drift of how my mornings begin. Yesterday went much the same ~ with one exception… I was happily emailing a friend in California, still in my walking (sliding) sweats after folding some laundry (yes, it is a never-ending task) when my little date reminder in Outlook popped up saying I had an appointment in 10 minutes. With my Doctor. Who charges $50 if you miss an appointment. Omg I absolutely panicked. My heart literally picked up an alarming pace… I clicked into the message and had a slight, very slight, relief when I saw that I had built in a 30 minute cushion ~ the appointment wasn’t at 10:30, but at 11:00. But it was 10:25 and I needed to shower and dress and drive to the office.

My problem? I had thought all week that my appointment was Friday. Nope. It was Thursday. Long story short, I made it on time (thank goodness the office is only about 7 minutes from the house). But I did have to explain the baseball cap – no time to wash my hair. Scary-looking hair. So as I was explaining to the Doc (whom I’ve been seeing for 20 years) why the baseball cap, he said, “So you were planning to come in on Saturday?”

I just looked at him.

He stopped for a second and said, “See, now you’ve got me doing it. You know what they call that? Age.”

And then he gave me grief for not getting the colonoscopy he’s been telling me to get for the last two years.

Talk about age!

A-choo! Bless You!

2007-02-28T10:53:00.000-07:00

If you’ve never been owned by a cat (and they do own you; it’s not the other way around) you probably won’t get this and might as well stop reading right here.

I’ve had cats in my life for over 30 years. They’ve come and gone and moved on; but I’ve always, always got one in my life. It started way back with Luigi (she was a beautiful long-haired girl – yes, girl). In keeping with the ethnic names Pedro came into my life, then Cisco, Fritz, Max (we had a German theme going for awhile); enter Spider, Babette, Cheetah (they were gorgeous long-haired white cats, brother and sister; Babette had blue eyes ~ Cheetah had one blue eye and one green), Pepper, Ames and A-choo. I may have missed someone in there ~ there have been so many. And in fairness to the other loves in my life – my dogs – I’ve had the pleasure of knowing Ginger, Jack, Dolly (by marriage) and Simba. My dogs are the reason I’ve stayed reasonably in shape with all that hiking.

But the dogs will be a story for another day. Today I’m thinking about my cats. The cats I have known have run the gambit from cuddly to aloof; funny to just plain odd. I’ve known some that are very smart and some that are about half a bubble off. And I’ve always had them in pairs ~ to keep each other company. Only once in my life did I have a solo cat, Pepper, and that was only for a short time before Ames came along.

Until now that is. When our beloved Ames lost his battle with cancer 8 months ago, A-choo, our 12 year old long-haired bundle of fur became an only cat. (Her name btw came from the fact that when we first met her at the Denver Dumb Friends League and subsequently adopted her – she sneezed a lot.) After time for grieving Ames' passing, we began to think about adopting a little buddy for A-choo. We were traveling a lot and she was being left at home alone (Simba stays with “Grandpa and Grandma”). And although “Grandpa” came by every day to visit with her, we were feeling bad that she was, for the most part, alone.

Once we were home for more than 5 minutes, I noticed A-choo was “talking” to me a lot. I started listening to her. And I began to hear her saying she was kind of liking this being the only cat in the house thing. She was feelin’ the love. She was, at long last, the Princess she was destined to be. And I noticed something else. She’s really funny. She has a great personality – charming and cuddly (on her terms, of course) and holy moly, what a talker! She chirps and squeaks and purrs incessantly. She follows me around all day and sits next to my desk when I'm working. When we come home she runs to the door (as only a dog would do) and launches into her monologue recounting everything that happened while we were gone. No doubt, tattling on Simba for the most part.

So we have decided to let her have her moment in the sun ~ however long that moment may last. She will remain an only cat in all her glory for the rest of her days ~ or until she tells me she’s ready for a buddy. Until then, I am her BFF. And I’m feelin’ the love, too.

'Tis Good for the Soul

2007-02-26T16:21:00.000-07:00

Children can be so cruel.

After a hike in the snow this morning (well, it’s melting, but it’s still there and it’s still February) I came home to download my photographic gems. As they were slowly making their way into my files, I noticed an incoming email fading into the corner of my screen. My son had spent the weekend researching various honeymoon locales in Hawaii and was sending me a link to photographs of the condo they are considering leasing for a week. You know ~ the one on the beach with the ocean view. Yup, there’s the ocean alright. It’s as aquamarine as ever. As seen from the balcony with two cozy chairs and umbrella drinks on the railing. And there’s the cute little kitchen, the warm and inviting living room and the gorgeous bedroom with those plantation type shutters.

And if that wasn’t enough, the next link led me to a Google satellite view of everything near the condo. Yup, there’s the ocean. Aquamarine as ever. Just shoot me now. I replied to his email saying I’ll be at the other end of the complex and promise I won’t bother them.

Nah. I wouldn’t do that.

But I am ready for the ocean again. And it’s only been 3 months since I had my fix (although those two weeks were nonstop and there was little time to just be with the sea). Same son (who btw i think missed his calling; he is one helluva' travel planner!) knows that I am a collector of quotes and passed this one on to me not long ago:

“Travel is the best investment you can make in yourself.” Dave Letterman

I concur. And I’m ready. Nothing more profound to say than that. I’m just ready.

Stuck in the Middle With Me

2007-02-24T14:50:00.000-07:00

Recently I read an interview with Pulitzer Prize-winning author, Richard Ford, and was struck by something he said.

“Anybody can be good in a crisis. It’s after the climactic has happened that you have to be pretty determined. Most of life is spent in the after part. That’s when we have to be good humans. Where there’s no great drama is where we have to live."

I found that as simple as that statement is, it’s a good reminder to appreciate every moment. We do spend most of our time in the day-to-day ordinary and routine. Each day contains some of the boring and mundane. We seem to just drift thru our days, calling for weekend dinner reservations, planning the trip to Hawaii six months away -- always waiting for something more exciting to happen than anything that is going on now. I’ll be happy when…

Which brought to mind another inspiration I picked up along the way. As a photographer one of my favorite places to roam are old cemeteries. Wandering the rows of stone, I am intrigued by the stories that lie behind those messages literally etched in stone ~ all the history of lives lived and loved. I reflect on what kind of people they may have been… did they have happy lives? Were they loved? Did they love back? Did they enjoy what they did each day? How did they live their dash?

Most headstones carry the date a person is born and the date they die. The two are connected by a dash. So, you’re born, you die; but how did you live your dash? How did you spend your days? It was an idea presented in a eulogy I heard once. It caught my attention and I’ve never forgotten it. My dash certainly won’t be declared in stone as the dates will be. After I’m gone will anyone remember my dash?

So we live in the ordinary ~ in the here and now ~ the present. I used to think that I had to do something grand and flamboyant to be remembered. I needed to be famous to be someone. I constantly felt inadequate, was constantly striving for more. But I’m learning there is much to be said for just living in the middle ~ in the dash if you will. As Mr. Ford said, “That’s when we have to be good humans.” And maybe that’s enough ~ to live a good and decent life. Yup, I think being in the middle is where I’m meant to be. I’m trying it on for size and it’s feeling pretty comfortable.

And the bonus? I truly believe that when you accept who you are and become satisfied, content and happy with yourself and you don't need a single thing to make you complete ~ you’re enough just the way you are ~~~ that’s when great things happen.

Sex, Drugs and No Rock 'n Roll

2007-02-22T09:28:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make; and please don’t think less of me for it...

I’m addicted to the whole Anna Nicole “how did she really die/where should she be buried/who’s the daddy” saga. I know. Sick, right? Back in the day the mister was obsessed with the OJ Simpson trial (that was after being glued to the Ollie North scandal). He worked in sales at the time so would conveniently arrange his schedule around afternoons with Court TV. I didn’t get it at all. I mean that trial was very serious stuff, and I didn’t see the entertainment value in it. It was an appalling event.

Well, Anna Nicole is my OJ Simpson. It’s a train wreck and I can’t stop looking. I’m not saying her story isn’t horrendous; her son died suddenly and far too young. She died suddenly and far too young. Her life was one big cry for attention and her death appears to be the same. She led a troubled life and that didn’t stop with her death. It’s all sad ~ very sad.

But it’s also a soap opera observing the hearing deciding where she should be buried play out on national television. It’s like The Anna Nicole Show never got cancelled. The judge is hoot ~ a New Yorker in Florida with a laid back manner, a quirky sense of humour (he calls the lawyer for Anna’s Mom “Texas”) and yet surprising humanity (he makes a point of picking up the pace as the afternoon wanes on because people in the court have families to get home to). The lawyers are cutthroat and crafty. The players – and they are players – each have their own version of what happened and what should happen and what she would want. Intrigue enters in as bank accounts and sex and drugs all become part of the narrative. All that’s missing is the rock ‘n roll ~ although Anna’s biological father does kind of have Elvis hair… What’s interesting is that they have wandered so far afield you forget that the only issue that should be decided here is just where this poor soul should be put to rest. And in the big scheme of things – does it really matter? She’s gone.

I think the next chapter will be the important one (with probably even more craziness) ~ who is going to raise that poor orphaned little girl? And although, television only serves as the background to my day (really – I’m not sitting and staring at the tube, hanging on every word), I have a feeling I’ll be tuning into the cable news networks in the afternoon to see if Zsa Zsa’s husband really is the father…

Just Like That...

2007-02-21T11:19:00.000-07:00

November 10, 2006 Frank Bingham’s life was changed in an instant and forever. Frank and his wife, Becca, were crossing a downtown Denver street with their two young children, Macie and Garrison, when a drunk driver ran a red light, struck the family and fled the scene.

Becca, Macie and Garrison died at the scene; Frank was injured, but survived. God’s hand in this? The license plate fell off the death weapon that was the pick-up truck and police were able to trace it to the driver. His blood alcohol level was nearly twice the legal limit. He is awaiting trial now.

Frank Bingham granted his first interview with a local news reporter the other night and I sat in awe of him. He’s trying to find the good in the situation. He’s grateful for the time he had with his loving wife and his beautiful children. Of course he misses them desperately, but he is finding a way to get out of bed each day and honor their memories. He can’t let himself think about the senseless, violent way they died or about the man at whose hand they died. Not yet. But he is hoping that eventually – someday – he will be able to forgive. Because he knows that living a life of vengefulness and hate will only serve to destroy him.

Forgive? Wow. None of us knows what we would do should something as horrible as this happen to us. To quote James Arthur Ray: “Not forgiving is like drinking poison and hoping the other person will die.” True. But it certainly would be difficult to put into practice if you saw your whole life disappear before your eyes.

Frank went on to say that he has received so many kind letters and cards ~ people telling him how his tragic story has made them rethink their lives. Knowing that your life can change in a brief moment – and these things DO happen – makes us realize what is important, what we should pay attention to while we can. There are so many lessons in Frank’s story ~ his story is so heart-wrenching I cry every time I think about it. The lessons? Don’t drink and drive; hold your loved ones close while you can; don’t let those little things bug you; rejoice in every minute you have on this planet. Because you never know when a truck is going to come around the corner and change your life in an instant. Just like that…

Read Frank’s story in his own words
http://www.9news.com/rss/article.aspx?storyid=65120

It Was A Holiday!!

2007-02-20T19:14:00.000-07:00

You know what I don’t get? Ice fishing. What would possess a person to walk out on ice that may or may not hold your body weight (let alone your cooler full of beer), drill a hole in said ice, sit on an orange plastic bucket from Home Depot, drop a line down said hole and sit for hours? I seriously don’t get it.

The park was full of ice fisher-guys yesterday because it was one of those faux holidays (President’s Day). I had even forgotten that it was a “holiday” because all of my days run into one another and it really doesn’t matter what day it is (unless I have a dentist appointment or a haircut scheduled – two important dates on my calendar). But I was reminded in grand fashion as I was sitting on one of my favorite benches gazing out across the frozen lake to Mt. Evans. The sun gave me a smooch; the sky was that brilliant blinding Colorado blue. What a perfect time and place to let my thoughts wander, then get my head together. In that order. My tranquility was shattered as two SUV’s pulled up about 100 yards from me (I say that like I know – I’m rolling my eyes here. My estimation of distances is as poor as my sense of direction. Let’s just say they were close.) One fisher-fella’ jumped out of each vehicle. Here’s the conversation that set me back on the path real quick.

“Look at you. Are you drinkin’ a beer already? Look at you!”

“Hell yea! It’s a holiday.”

“Well then you should be drinkin’ whiskey!”

Note: It was 9:15 am. AM. As in morning. I hadn’t had breakfast yet. And the fellow drinking the beer didn’t just pop one open as he exited his truck… He hopped out of the truck, took one last swig and tossed the can in the trash dumpster. He had consumed the beer on the road on the way to the park.

Holy moly. I mean I don’t begrudge someone having a beer – God knows I like my wine - but 9:15 in the morning? And in the car?

That little exchange set fido and I on the trail real fast. I thought about that fisher-guy last night as I watched an interview on our local NBC affiliate with a gentleman from Denver – and he is a gentle man – I’ll tell you his story tomorrow. Let’s just say it is one that would make anyone think twice about drinking and driving… maybe even fisher-guy.

Your Thoughts Will Direct Your Life

2007-02-19T17:47:00.000-07:00

Or at least your morning…

I drove into the park today (YAY! Finally!) and smiling past the deer lounging under the grove of trees near the entrance, thoughts of magpies drifted into my head. (I told you it’s a tangled mess of useless knowledge, jumbled images and scattered thoughts up there.) Why magpies? Because every time I enter the park I hear my fabulous friend/writing partner/sister in law’s voice in my ear, “Could you maybe get a better shot of a magpie to match up with that last poem (“Flight of the Magpie”)? Thanks, sweetie! I love you!” Like it’s really easy to catch a magpie in flight… or even just sitting in a tree long enough for me to focus my telephoto lens (hand-held no less), reel in the dog who is chasing a squirrel down the path and get the perfect shot. (Me rolling my eyes; it’s a good thing I love her, too.) “Sis” and I have been collaborating on a book of poetry and photographs for awhile now. Actually we’re done; we just keep tweaking it to avoid the task of marketing it. (“You do it.” “No, you do it.”)

What I really wanted to find in the park today (after an absence of two months OMG!) was an eagle or two. A couple of years ago, when I first discovered bald eagles actually visited our park for a few months each winter and all I had was my little Olympus point and shoot, I saw tons of them. Every single time - two or three would pose patiently for me. Problem was - my camera didn’t have the telephoto power to draw them in close. But, aha! Now I’m armed with a super duper telephoto lens and a better camera and I’m ready to meet the eagles!

So, of course I saw none today. Naughta. Zip. Nothin’. I got nothin’. (as my friend Paul would say.)

But what do you think I did see? Yup. Magpies. A ton of them. It was like a magpie convention. Everywhere I hiked, everywhere I drove – magpie after magpie after magpie. And when I didn’t see them, they literally called to me. I was almost back to the car, the dog was feeling extra frisky and running back and forth (yanking my camera-holding hand) and I hear a sweet birdcall I’ve never heard before. And it just kept calling. I look up and there’s a magpie, just looking at me, posing. Certainly not sounding like any magpie I’ve heard before. I was able to get off a couple of quick shots. (They still weren’t perfect and I'm still tweaking them; which is why I didn’t include one here, but rather a feeble attempt at a hawk shot.)

The moral of the story – and I not only find great irony here but a message. The law of attraction. No matter how badly I wanted to score an eagle, my first thought on entering the park was magpie. And I just couldn’t get it out of my head. Call me crazy (“You’re crazy, lady!”) but I really feel like I invited all those magpies into my life today. I’ve been looking for a decent shot of a magpie for – seriously – a year or more. I just had to work for it a little and be patient.

Aha! I think the message is – set my goals; invite what I want into my life and be tenacious about it. Work for it (there’s that nasty W word… that’s the bummer part – you’ve got to work for it) and it will happen.

“What you focus on expands.” ~~ Oprah

I wonder if that applies to losing weight…

Inside My Head Today

2007-02-18T16:12:00.000-07:00

I wanted to go to the park today but my bones wouldn’t carry me farther than my balcony. Airbourne and I are combining efforts and putting up our dukes to fend off those nasty cold germs attempting to stage a coup. Such a shame, too… on a day filled with sunshine and soft breezes. What’s left of my mind drifted back to the last time I sat in the sun. Nope. Escapes me. It was that long ago.

My head fell back as that magnet that is my face locked into the sun. (And, yes, I hit my head on the metal bar on the top of the chair. Dammit.) What I saw behind those snugly closed eyelids was nothing. Pink, to hot pink, to red, to white. Nothing. I tried desperately to make my brain match my eyes. Nothing. I was in search of nothing. And the harder I searched the more it eluded me. I’m not good at nothing. (And it pains my grammar-purist head to even write that.)

So, I opened my eyes and looked at the sky. The clouds were high and feathery and light. I stroked my dog’s head as she fulfilled her duty of anxiously watching - and emitting sufficient low rumbling growls – toward the neighbor’s cat sashaying down the sidewalk. The neighbors’ cats love to taunt my dog; she’s such an easy mark. She’s got some deep-seated insecurities, but that’s a topic for another time. I picked up my camera and took a couple of shots of the sky. I retrieved my Polaroid and took a couple more. I watched the clouds change and become more dense, wondering if it would be a good sunset.

That cup of hot ‘n sour soup I had for lunch wasn’t going to hold me till dinner, so I ducked into the kitchen and made a peanut butter sandwich. When was the last time I had a peanut butter sandwich? Nope. Escapes me.

A nice little break and I feel somewhat rejuvenated with a refueling – fuel for the spirit and fuel for the body. Baby steps. I’m learning to relax. But I have to approach this new concept with baby steps. Who knows? Maybe tonight I’ll go crazy and pick up a magazine.

I Know Me.

2007-02-16T12:40:00.000-07:00

Like I said… I don’t really believe in horoscopes, but they show up on my Google home page every morning and I read them for fun. This is my horoscope for today. If you read my blog entry yesterday, you’ll probably shake your head like I did…

You might seek out extra private time today and the quiet solace can do you a world of good. Unexpected visitors or a change in your schedule can increase your anxiety level, so it's important to do whatever is necessary to replenish your energy. Don't be afraid of turning off your computer and pulling the plug on your phone. If at all possible, get out and enjoy the comfort and beauty offered by nature.
Friday, February 16, 2007

‘Nuf said. I do think the Universe wants me to take a break; or at least do something I delight in for the next couple of days. O that I could spend some time in nature… I think I’m in dire need. I was surprised on our morning walk to feel milder temperatures ~ it’s only noon and it’s almost 50 degrees! But, as predicted, the wind is picking up and we most likely get gusts of 60-100 mph as the day progresses. Bummer. But this weekend looks good – it’s forecasted to be almost 60 degrees by Sunday, so there just may be a long, long Sunday stroll in store for me and the pooch (and maybe the mister). Now that’s something to be happy about! It’s the little things, ya’ know?

I’m seeing that my two creative loves don’t like to share the stage. Those of you who know me from Flickr (which is probably about 98% of my readers!) will see that I’m not posting a lot of photos there when I’m writing. I don’t think it’s that I can’t do both; it’s just that right now the writing is giving me more satisfaction. I feel more of an urge to communicate with words rather than images. Words have always been my salvation. A couple of years ago they became too difficult and I retreated into the world of images ~ it was just easier. But I missed writing desperately and am so happy to be luxuriating in the sea of words again…

Words. I actually did spend some time last night with a new book “for one more day” by Mitch Albom. He’s the guy who wrote “Tuesdays with Morrie” ~ a book that really impacted me. Morrie’s story was one that made me really think and really appreciate how precious life is and to be grateful for every day. One of the most treasured compliments I ever received was when a writing teacher compared my writing style to his (Mitch’s). I don’t think I’ll ever come close, but I was so humbly grateful for such kind words.

So, I’ll try – really try – not to notice the mess that is my basement or spend time obsessing with the house hunt (I spent about 4 hours online yesterday researching and printing out possible homes). It’ll all be there when I decide to return. And for sure I’m making time this afternoon to watch Oprah as they review “The Secret” once more. *wink*

But I know me (I’ve lived with me all my life) ~ time spent quietly will without a doubt present about 20 things I’ll want to write about. I’ll probably have three entries a day this weekend. I’m already thinking about my Dad and a few things I’ve written about him in the past (an unresolved relationship). I’m thinking about a Flickr friend whose beautiful golden retriever is dying. I’m thinking about writing a piece on aging parents and sending it to NBC Nightly News as they are doing a big segment this week and next on “Trading Places” – all about my generation caring for our parents in their final years. I’m thinking about that August wedding and how I will officially be a mother-in-law and how that will change my life. Or not.

That’s how my head works… I think writing is a form of meditation for me. When I open my mind and clear it of all the clutter and obligations, thoughts and ideas and emotions flood that space above my neck and they just have to come out thru my fingers.

I know me. I’ve lived with me all my life.

Deciphering Messages

2007-02-15T18:28:00.000-07:00

I feel stuck and it’s frustrating. I don’t do stuck well. Stuck literally and figuratively and creatively. It happens. Especially this time of year and especially in this unusual winter in which we find ourselves living. So I’m trying to figure out the message this quandary is wearing as it reaches out its hand out to me to pull me out of this rut. I have every reason to be happy and focused on the future. Hopefully the new house will present itself soon and we can begin preparing for a move. Believe me ~ when that happens, I won’t have time to be in a rut. And we’ve got a very special wedding on the horizon ~ only 5 ½ months away now. Every reason to be happy and excited.

But what do I do in the meantime? The day to day remains and I just can’t seem to get motivated. I know for sure I’m missing starting my days seeped deep in nature as opposed to a quick ice-skate around the neighborhood. I don’t even carry my camera for fear of falling and smacking it on the ice! (I've already fished one out of a snowbank.) The message I keep coming up with (of all things…) is to relax ~ consciously take some time off from the routine and the expectations I place on myself (reference past postings re: brow-beating…). I need something to kick start my energy and especially my creativity. I’ll repeat the words of my writing teacher: “When creative people aren’t creating, they need therapy. When they’re creating; they don’t.”

I made a feeble – very feeble - attempt to be productive today. I stood in the basement w/a half full box destined for Goodwill for five minutes this morning. I turned in a circle amongst the stacks of computer disks (who uses disks???) and the hubby’s grandfather’s “horse’s arse” metal bottle opener and an empty box for the oak toilet seat the previous owner installed about 15 years ago. And about 3,000 other treasures. I couldn’t handle it; I wasn’t mentally ready; especially knowing that I had made such good progress a year ago. A year ago I spent an hour a day in the basement (I timed it) with a little TV on in the background to keep me company. (Have I mentioned I’m addicted to TV?) Every day I would have a stack of bags and boxes at the bottom of the stairs destined for Goodwill. Every morning, the mister would haul them up the stairs, load them in the Jeep and drop them off at Goodwill. I even documented my progress every day with my camera. It was incentive. Things were looking pretty good until my sweet darling head (that’s our term of endearment for each other ~ “darling head”) sold his businesses and emptied his office in the basement. So much for my efforts…

So feeling very overwhelmed this morning, I compromised by dragging my feet up two flights of stairs, going thru a 10” stack of papers hidden in a desk drawer in my office and organizing them in files.

I’m feeling the need to step back from everything – computers and the internet and the outside world and just relax. Actually sit down and read a book before 11 pm (maybe I could read more than a chapter!) or watch a couple of movies I’ve never seen. All that philosophical banter I spew about just being in the moment… perhaps I should practice what I preach, if only for a couple of days. The weekend’s coming up; maybe it’s a good time.

We’ll see. I’m not too good at relaxing…

My parting words tonight ~ be sure to check your peanut butter in the pantry. I’m a Jif girl myself, but the mister is a Peter Pan guy (o, the irony...) and sure enough, the brand new jar of Peter Pan on the shelf had a number that started with 2111 stamped on the lid. In the el trasho. And once you’ve trashed the peanut butter, if you’re interested at all in “The Secret” I wrote about earlier here, you might want to tune into Oprah tomorrow. The show will be devoted to the overwhelming response they received from viewers after last week’s show discussing “The Secret.”

Be safe and be healthy. Peace out.

Wanderlust

2007-02-14T08:17:00.000-07:00

Planning for the next phase of one’s life is exhausting. And by that I mean searching out neighborhoods and homes. The one in our hands down favorite first choice neighborhood didn’t materialize; it was mysteriously taken off the market last week. So for whatever reason - and I do believe things happen for a reason - that wasn’t our house.

I’m staying positive; I’m just tired and feeling terribly behind on projects because this has all become a second job. It’s a matter of prioritizing and relocating is a priority right now. I’ve lived in the same neighborhood for 14 years; the same house for 10. It is the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere in my adult life.

When I look back on my roots I can’t figure out where this wanderlust came from. I grew up in a small farming community in the Midwest. My mom (at age 88) has never lived farther than 10 miles from where she was born. That holds true for almost everyone I knew growing up. So why was I chomping at the bit to leave home at 19 and not look back? I still smile thinking about my late Dad – he was sure I’d “come home” eventually. When I went thru my divorce at 35 and started my single life with two teenage boys he was really sure I’d “come home.” Nope. At 46 I did come home for three weeks when he was dying in hospice. But at the end of that saga I couldn’t wait to hit the road and return to my adopted home.

I’ve lived in (or at least near) the mountains and loved them for a long time. Someday before this journey ends I will live by the sea. I have to. Or I will consider it an unfinished life.

But until then I just need to find a house in my hands down favorite first choice neighborhood. And I will; I’m sure of it. Because 14 years is far too long to be in one place. I’m opening my mind and my heart and keeping my eyes wide open for any flying bricks coming my way.

The Extraordinary Art of Just "Being"

2007-02-13T06:43:00.000-07:00

Unless I’m planning to live to 104, more than half my life is over. I’m not being a downer; it’s just a fact. But it does give one pause… And maybe that’s why occasionally waking up at 4:30 am isn’t so bad. Some days I like to pack more in than others. Some days I relish starting the day snuggled under the down comforter, peeking out at the black as the snow drifts down and playing with words or images on this magic little machine called a laptop. It’s the best of both worlds ~ being awake and creatively producing, but never having to leave the comfort of the comforter. Working in ‘jammies was always a goal in my life and to have actually seen that come to fruition is, indeed, rewarding. Add in a snoring cat or dog curled up next to me and I’m one happy camper.

I’ve heard talk here and there lately (in the media mostly) about “Life Lists” – things people want to do before they die. I compiled lists like that for years, most often in the Januarys of my life. In the beginning they were called “new year’s resolutions;” now, if I do them at all I coin them as “goals” or more likely “dreams.” I think I stopped making those lists because I felt like such a failure if I didn’t fulfill them. And sometimes they just got boring because I had the same things listed every year… “lose weight; exercise more; quit smoking” – well, two out of three ain’t bad.

Age can be eye-opening. My way of thinking now is: if I didn’t complete something on my [life] list perhaps I didn’t really want to do it. Or I was just too lazy to follow thru. And I’m not a loser because I didn’t. Ask anyone who really knows me and they will confirm the fact that over the years I have been the Queen of Brow-beating, my own Worst Enemy, The Mistress of Self Deprecation. So to make a list every year which would just seem to reinforce the fact that I’m a loser eventually lost its charm.

I do sometimes think at the end of the day ~ what the hell did I do all day? But I am finally allowing myself to have days like that. Days when I’ve just had fun playing – or doing nothing. It took me a long time to give myself permission to have days like that. On other days (and I really try not to have too many of these) I do feel a sense of time running out – and there’s so much to be seen and done before I say goodbye.

But for now I’ll linger just a bit longer in the warmth of my blankets, savor the quiet as I gaze out at winter’s ballet and be grateful for slowly unfolding days like this.

I've Got a New Attitude!

2007-02-11T08:03:00.000-07:00

[Let me preface this posting w/a warning. It’s a long one. I’ve wanted to write this for a few days now and haven’t had time; but it’s a hypothesis I’m very excited about. So grab a cup of coffee or a glass of vino (depending on the time of day you’re reading), put your feet up and sit back. Here we go…]

I don’t really believe in horoscopes, but I do have them pop up on my home page every day. I read them for fun. They are almost always quite broad in scope and could definitely apply to anyone’s day. I rank their viability right up there w/fortune cookies; but I do enjoy a good cookie. About a month ago my morning prediction made me stop and read it twice. I even printed it out (and, of course, in the mess that is my desk I can’t find it now.) It read something like, “keep an open mind; someone is going to come into your life/or present you with an idea that could hold promise of positive change.” Or something to that effect. What I do remember is that it impacted me enough to actually print it out for later review.

About three days after the intriguing words from the world of predictions, I was having a conversation with a dear friend. She was excited about the possibility of something good happening that seemed to just have appeared in her life out of nowhere. I remarked on what a coincidence it was that this was happening. She said, “No. No coincidence. It’s because I’ve invited this into my life now. It’s the ol’ ‘law of attraction.’ Because this is something I really want, I have attracted it to me by thinking about it and thinking positively and being aware when the opportunity presented itself.”

Bells went off in my head. Fireworks exploded in front of my eyes. I just stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights. She looked at me. “What?” I told her about my horoscope. She told me about a book she’s reading about just that very thing – “the law of attraction.” I was so intrigued I asked if I could borrow it; she was still reading it so offered me its predecessor. She warned me that it’s a little strange in the beginning, but stick with it – the message is good.

So, if you follow my blog you know I’m not exactly a speed-reader. And, yes, the beginning was a little strange, so it’s taking me awhile to get thru this book. And it’s deep; so I’m (of course) taking my time with it. But the message is good and positive and I do think I’m getting something out of it. So I’m reading a few pages a day and keeping this theory in the back of my mind as I go about my daily routine.

As part of that daily routine, 4:00 is kind of my “take a break” time of day. I tune into our local CBS affiliate to see if Oprah has anything interesting to say. If she does, I’ll actually stop what I’m doing and watch. If it’s mildly entertaining I’ll keep working and have her in the background. Lately I’ve been interested in what she presents. Well, the other day I hear the tease and it’s all about “The Secret.” “Do you know the secret to a happy life? Tune in!”

I’ll try to make this brief… I tune in at 4:00 and who do I see sitting next to Oprah, but Jack Canfield. I’m sure you’ve heard of the “Chicken Soup for the Soul” series of books. Jack Canfield, with his partner Mark Hansen, had the idea for the books and after many, many rejections finally published the first one and – well, the rest is history. Several years ago I attended a seminar held by Jack and Mark and had the pleasure of meeting them. They signed my books and we chatted a bit. I told Jack I write a bit and he invited me to send him “my stuff.” It took a few weeks to muster the courage, but I finally sent him some “stuff.” A couple of weeks later I received a hand-written note from Jack (it’s in a box somewhere and I’m going to search for it!). He said something to the effect of, “I really enjoyed reading your stuff. Keep going! You’ll find a publisher!” Of course I never really pursued it, but I was thrilled that he had responded so positively.

So, that’s my background with Jack. Now I see him sitting next to Oprah with a panel of four other people. And the subject of the show “The Secret” is a DVD film they have put together all about “the laws of attraction.” OMG. The message seems so simplistic, but how many of us actually put it into practice? To think positively in every situation, to put that positive energy into action (translation – work hard); and most of all, to be grateful. Be grateful for everything in your life, every situation, every person, every blessing. Even when things seem to be going badly, stop and ask yourself, “What am I supposed to learn from this?”

And as if it weren’t enough to once again hear “the law of attraction” and to see Jack Canfield and learn about “The Secret” – one of the women in the DVD is one of the authors of the book I was loaned. (BTW – the book is “Ask and It Is Given” by Esther and Jerry Hicks.) Enough common threads to make me sit up and take notice for sure. I do believe the Universe has gone beyond tapping me on the shoulder and whispering in my ear. It is now throwing bricks at my head.

And now (I promise I’ll wrap this up shortly) I’ve had the opportunity to apply this to my own life. We’ve done some intense house-hunting in the last two days. Last year at this time we were concentrating on a neighborhood which is hands down our favorite and first choice. We discovered it was a little more than the average person (and we’re average people) could afford. So we shifted our dreams back into reality and this year began looking in two other neighborhoods which we felt could work. After looking in both of them this week and not finding anything that would fit our bill, I felt myself becoming frustrated and very disappointed. But before I could spiral completely down I stopped myself and thought “What is the reason we’re not finding anything?” I said out loud to the mister, “Maybe we’re not supposed to be there.” I had to repeat it a couple of times and I started believing it. He agreed and suggested another neighborhood we hadn’t checked in a long time. I perked up.

When we arrived home, I went online to begin the search for the neighborhood he had suggested. Guess what popped up the first time out? A home in our hands down favorite and first choice neighborhood – the one we had deemed out of reach a year ago. Even stranger – it’s in our price range and seems to have all the amenities we’re looking for. Not the least of which is being located in our hands down favorite and first choice neighborhood. We’re taking a drive later… It may not be “the” home, but it has opened our minds up to the possibilities that maybe there is still a chance to be where we really wanted to be in the first place.

So, as Patti LaBelle would say -- I’ve got a new attitude. And at the very least – staying positive makes for a much happier life. I’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Open yourself to the Universe and the Universe will open up to you. Even if it has to throw a few bricks in your direction to get your attention.

A New Day

2007-02-08T07:43:00.000-07:00

Well, I did it. Four and half hours later I have no ducks waddling around the top of my living room walls. Once I got started and got a rhythm going it really wasn’t that hard. And I must say that with each section that came off my sense of satisfaction grew. I really hadn’t intended to do it all in one day, but as I grew closer to the end I would tell myself, “just one more” as if I was eating potato chips (or more likely in my case truffles). Before I knew it I was done. The room looks cleaner and even a little larger. So now I’m definitely inspired to bang out the dining room border – it’s much smaller.

I truly had forgotten how satisfying it is to take on a task I knew nothing about, see it thru to fruition and see it well done at that. Factor in that I thrive on change and I haven’t made any changes to my environment in a long time – I do believe I’ve been in a rut in that respect. And ironically just as I was finishing up yesterday and sat down for the first time all day, what’s the subject of Oprah’s Wednesday show? How your environment [your home] affects your life and your well-being. The timing couldn’t have been better. It dealt a lot with clutter in your home and how that clutters your mind and your mood and your effectiveness as a human being. I’ve known that for a long time and at times it really has inspired me to de-clutter. But I have never done it to the point of it being life changing. That’s because I always quit before the clutter was completely gone.

I feel inspired now, though, to really follow thru. To really rid myself – and my home – of things I don’t need. They are just things! I realize I do spend a lot of energy dreading, thinking about, procrastinating about getting the clutter out of my life. I want to spend my energy on things that will lift me up, not drag me down. And in that respect I realize, too, that I think I’ve been in a rut. I’ve been carrying the weight of this clutter on my shoulders and in my head for years! (Yes, that can be interpreted metaphorically, too.) And I am SO ready for a new and fresh perspective!

It just makes so much sense. If your environment is free, your spirit will be as well. Housecleaning translates to head-cleaning. It’s time. It’s finally time. I finally see that doing this is not a burden, it’s not a chore, it’s nothing to feel resentful about – it’s a gift to myself.

The sun is peeking over the horizon and I am ready for the day to begin. Because I’m one step closer to being free.

Today is Tomorrow

2007-02-07T10:54:00.000-07:00

So for all my talk about living life fully and being content with what I have and not wanting more… well, I really do want that new house. It’s been a long time, long term goal of ours and it is finally within reach. I just wish I had someone to take down the wallpaper, clean up the clutter and paint the walls for me. O, and pack the kitchen and the china cabinet and the closets when the time comes. But, alas, it falls to me. And, being the Master Procrastinator that I am, it’s so easy to do my best Scarlett imitation and declare, “I’ll worry about that tomorrow…” (back of my hand on my brow)

Well, sooner or later (and it’s usually sooner) tomorrow comes and I don’t like being caught unprepared. Unlike someone in my family, I don’t work well under pressure. I really wasn’t one of those kids who put off homework till Sunday night. But I did wait till Sunday afternoon. And thus began my dread of Sundays which carried well into my adult life.

I don’t want to live my days over the next few very busy months as one eternal Sunday. Discipline, as much as I need it now, is escaping me. And that old resentment is rearing its ugly head. But before I travel too far down that road I have to stop the car. That kind of thinking will get me nowhere but in the ditch, frustrated and anxious. Because, as a very wise man once told me and it will always hold true: “What is… is.” Such wisdom in three little words. Kind of like a Reader's Digest version of the Serenity Prayer.

So, what I need to do is find a way to find joy and fulfillment in the tasks (no matter how mundane) that lie ahead. Keep my eye on the prize, so to speak; I will have my new house at the end of the day. (I wish it was today, but I have to earn it.) And find satisfaction every step of the way in knowing that I did it!

That’s the ticket. And now I’m off to Target. Just kidding. I’m off to the living room to start soaking a wallpaper border. And for every section that peels (or pulls) off the wall, I’ll celebrate my accomplishments with great pride.

And a glass of wine at 5:30. *wink*

Free Spirit

2007-02-05T15:41:00.000-07:00

I had good intentions this morning – well, intentions anyway – of beginning the task of peeling wallpaper borders off the dining and living room walls. They’re stuck on there pretty well. They’ve been up for about 7 years (although it seems like I just put them up and painted the walls green). Even if we weren’t planning to put the house on the market soon, I would be taking them down. I’m over the whole Eddie Bauer décor – ducks and bears and pinecones. I love art deco and retro styles, but that probably would be a bit over the top (even for me). So, don’t know how the next house will be decorated, but I do know it’ll be fresh and new. I have a feeling the influence may come from beaches I love so much…

But for now I have to revamp the old and make it insipidly neutral. I don’t have to, but I’m work off the advice of a wise former realtor as to various ways to make a house sell quickly. One of the standards (typically) is – don’t assume everyone (or anyone) looking at your house will have your tastes. Not everyone adores color like I do. And (typically) off-white/neutral rooms appear larger.

So, anyhoo, I know I have my work cut out for me (and that doesn’t count cleaning the basement) – especially if we want to make this happen in the next few months (which I certainly do).

So, of course, I have spent the day doing a series of still photo shoots (which have been well received and I forgot how much I enjoy doing them – change of pace, I guess). Downloading, minimal tweaking, some flickr uploads, more shooting, trying to get my damn Epson to print (grrrr), eating the mini cupcake I was using for the shoot, perusing blogs and my flickr contacts photostreams, writing a couple of thank you notes and now I’m writing this. Ellen’s on and Oprah will follow and then the Mr. and I may go out for a light dinner to catch up on the weekend as he was in Texas and I was here.

I think I need a deadline.

Boys and Girls

2007-02-04T14:39:00.000-07:00

When I was about 27 and my little guys were 3 and 6 I wrote a little story about being the mother of boys. I entitled it something like “What Would I Do With a Girl Anyway??” I wrote about how much these little guys had taught me. I learned from them daily. One was an expert in dinosaur-ese and the other was fearless (and had the scars to prove it). I was their hero when I smushed (their word, not mine) a scorpion in the kitchen with a TV Guide. They thought that was very cool. They brought home baby turtles and “special” rocks and a tick or two that followed them in from the woods. They were raised on peanut butter sandwiches (no jelly) and spent their days chasing Ginger the dog up the mountain. Plaid flannel shirts and overalls and baseball caps were the uniform of the day. I pitched endless whiffle balls to them in the front yard (such as it was sitting on the side of a mountain…). The three of us planted a huge garden one year on the whiffle ball field and we ate peas fresh off the vine. Over the years I sat on the sidelines and cheered on more Little League games than I can count.

I was quite content living in the rough and tumble world of little boys. I really didn’t know what I would do with a girl.

Life is funny, though. Little boys grow up to be men and with that comes love. Now I find myself with two girls. Two beautiful girls – inside and out. Two loving and giving and sweet souls.

And I didn’t know what I was missing. We go shopping and talk about fashion. We go to lunch and split a salad because we can’t eat the whole thing. We laugh and roll our eyes over men. We have slumber parties and talk into the wee hours, solving the world’s problems (but mostly talking about fashion and celebrities and shopping and diets and men). *wink* We talk about art and flowers and beaches we've seen. We even got tattoos together.

The best part? Seeing how happy they make my boys. Seeing how their lives are complete now. Seeing how they truly have found their missing piece – their other half. And knowing that when I’m gone, a mother’s love will continue thru them…

My work is done. The torch has been passed.

Hot Chocolate Thoughts on a -16 Degree Morning

2007-02-02T08:01:00.000-07:00

As I stood over the stove stirring the peppermint chocolate shavings into the warming milk early on this -16 degree morning, I wondered… if I knew I had three months to live what would I do? What would be the most important things to do, see, accomplish?

An interesting phenomena I’ve experienced lately… when I free my mind of worries and schedules thoughts like that blossom in my head. I know mortality is not a new concept, but it is the first time in my life I’ve ever really considered it on a personal level – what would I do if I knew the clock was ticking? Besides being devastated knowing that I would be leaving those I love and not being able to participate in their lives any longer, where would my thoughts take me? Would I change my life? Would I suddenly take to jumping out of airplanes and climbing all the fourteeners in Colorado? Would I regret I hadn’t done more with my life – been more accomplished?

If I knew I had three months left, I don’t think I would do or feel any of those things. I think I would hold my husband's hand a little more tightly. I would say “I love you” more often. I would make the hugs I give my kids last about 30 seconds longer. I would take my dog to the park four times a week instead of once. I would engage in “kitty conversation” with my cat daily (she does love to “talk”). I’d call my Mom more than every ten days.

I would breathe more deeply; linger in the sunshine a bit longer. I wouldn’t worry about the boxes in the basement or the clutter in the closet. And those 10 pounds I’ve been trying to lose for the last five years? A non-problem. I would write more about my charmed life and the people in it and the funny and wondrous things that happen in everyday life. I would step out from behind the lens more often and just BE. And when I really think about it – the clock is ticking. None of us knows what the day will bring.

So I’m learning that little moments spent standing over a stove stirring peppermint chocolate shavings into warming milk on a -16 degree morning can be treasured. I don’t need to be recognized or accomplished or “leave my mark on the world.” All that matters is hands are meant to be held tightly and kids were meant to be hugged and love should be expressed.

A few years ago a friend shared the most wonderful piece of advice I’ve ever heard. When facing a big life decision, her priest told her, “Take time and think things thru. If you feel a sense of relief when you’ve made your decision, you know you’ve made the right decision.” Those words have carried me thru many a decision.

And so it seems to apply here. Not that I'm making a decision about my mortality; more, I'm making a decision about how to live my life. And I feel a sense of relief! I don’t have to be famous. I don’t have to be financially successful. I don’t have to be the best at everything I do. I don’t have to be somebody. I don't have to prove myself! I can simply BE. I can just breathe. I can smile. I can relax. I can love my family, my friends, my animals, my planet and do all I can to make life happy. That's all.

All I have to do is keep being me; but just a little bit more. I can do that. I do me pretty well.

The Up Side of Winter (or I Will Stay Positive! I Will Stay Positive!)

2007-01-31T13:57:00.000-07:00

Here’s a news flash. It’s snowing today. Seven weeks in a row of snowing. It’s just flurries for now, but the weather gods predict 2-4 inches by the end of the day. That’s on top of the 312 inches we already have on the ground. Well, I might be exaggerating a tad – we’ve probably got a good 12-15 inches depending on where you look. And it has looked that way since the middle of December.

But I am determined to stay positive. It is January, after all. Albeit a very unusual January for Colorado, but January nonetheless. And the good news is that tomorrow will be February and we are one month closer to June. Winter will be winter no matter what we do so we might as well sit back and enjoy the ride. Or at least tolerate the ride and divert our attention with other things.

And it is at times like this that I am grateful my interests are many and varied. I know how to make lemonade. *wink*

Play Nice.

2007-01-29T19:00:00.000-07:00

The lessons continue…

Thru simple and steady observation last week I saw a reflection of someone I don't want to be and I came to an important decision. I decided right then and there to wake up every morning and make a concerted effort to be nice to my husband. That’s all – just be nice. And when I told him, “I’ve decided I’m going to be nicer to you,” the expression of relief and happiness on his face almost made me cry. Had I really been that bad?

His face said that I had.

It is surprising how when you’re together a long time, one can slide into a rhythm of short words and short tempers and “I know best and it must be done my way.” That kind of attitude with the one you’re supposed to love the most. The one who in the beginning made your heart flutter at the sound of his voice. You couldn’t sleep for thinking about his eyes. The touch of his hand made you feel weak. The day he proposed and you shared the news with his parents you drank too many margaritas and got sick. O, wait, maybe that was just me…

My point is this – why and how do we lose sight of all that compassion? Why would you ever want to be mean to that person – the one you cherish more than anyone on Earth? I’ve heard it said, “You only hurt the one you love,” but I’ll tell you what – that’s changing in my house. Kindness begets Kindness. Treat others the way you would like to be treated. All of those trite statements hold a lot of truth.

Life is too short. Remember the joy. Remember why you fell in love.

And play nice.

Angel Whispers

2007-01-27T13:38:00.000-07:00

For four days in a row my head didn’t see my pillow before 3 am - Vegas and business and friends and Secret Service retirement parties will do that to a person. What a whirlwind. I didn’t get to shoot like I usually do and like I really wanted to, but this trip wasn’t about me. (Even though I tried to make a point by wearing my “It’s All About Me” pants at night in the suite.)

This trip, instead, was about others. Much to my surprise, it brought some remarkable new people into my life – people I can learn from and network with and just enjoy. It came complete with incredible events I will never forget. I laughed harder than I have in a long time. I shed a tear or two over encounters that touched me in ways I never expected to be touched. It was a trip full of surprises and revelation with the promise of more exciting times to come.

I think the lesson hidden in all those tornado-force days and sleepless night is this: sometimes it can be gratifying to step back, relax and just go with the flow. Let others’ needs go before yours. What you will learn is that the reward lies in the giving. Open yourself to the Universe and the Universe will open up to you.

I feel a tap, tap, tap on my shoulder. I do believe an angel is about to whisper…

Observations

2007-01-26T11:44:00.000-07:00

It really does take all kinds. What an interesting few days. What an interesting array of personalities and viewpoints. As a writer and photographer my favorite spot is in the back of the room, observing. In that respect I do better in a crowd than one on one. I had a bit of both this week.

I prefer sitting in the back of the room.

Blessed

2007-01-24T12:07:00.000-07:00

Blessed.

Perhaps I should refer to my life as blessed not charmed. Blessed.

It occurred to me as I was watching the shadow puppet portion of “Ka” last night (that’s my favorite part). Tears welled up and I wasn’t sure why. Thoughts drifted to my kids, my Charlie, my travels, my health, my opportunities… my blessings. Warmth rained down. Peace took a seat next to me.

And for that moment all was well with the world.

In the Air Again

2007-01-20T22:49:00.000-07:00

Soon to be broadcasting from Sin City. Because what happens in Vegas doesn't necessarily stay in Vegas... *wink*

RE: Breathing

2007-01-20T11:33:00.000-07:00

Re: breathing in and out.

A couple of years ago I had some rather major surgery. Everything’s fine now, but it wasn’t fun at the time. I was on self-administered morphine - that was a trip until I realized if I pushed the button too many times I’d pay for it with nausea. I was also on oxygen for the first few hours. I kept drifting off to sleep and the alarm on the oxygen machine would start buzzing because I wasn’t breathing. Charlie was by my side the whole time. He would give me a gentle nudge and whisper, “Cindi. Breathe.”

It’s good to have people in your life to remind you to breathe. Thanks.

Breathe. Just Breathe.

2007-01-19T10:14:00.000-07:00

Breathe. Just breathe. Like the Anna Nalick song says.

Life can really throw challenges in the mix on a whim, can’t it? Especially when it seems everything is just fine, all is well, just a bowl of cherries. But, o no, things are too happy, too smooth, too easy… Here come the challenges, the doubts, the fears, the worries, the anxieties. And then my breathing becomes erratic. As does my heart. And then my head throbs. And it all spirals down.

I have to consciously and deliberately stop. Stop and breathe. Stop and write it out – its how I learned to process my thoughts long ago. Stop and breathe some more. Have a cup of mint tea. Break it down and handle one thing at a time. One thing at a time. And just breathe.

I’m a visual person, so seeing my thoughts on paper makes them easier to handle. A therapist once told me, too, that I do fine when I have information. Withhold information from me – tell a little white lie – leave a little of the facts out – say something just to appease me -- and my breathing becomes erratic.

One thing at a time. One challenge at a time.

And breathe. Just breathe.

Adrift

2007-01-18T06:06:00.000-07:00

In the wee small hours of the morning I stood on the balcony of the ship and watched as we passed thru seemingly endless rain showers. Fog drifted in and out on an eerie carpet that was the grey ocean below. Grey everywhere. Although it was lonely and a little frightening standing there alone, it was where I belonged. The fog was the cloak I should be wearing that morning. Its heaviness suited me.

I was disoriented and lost – as lost as the tall ship drifting in and out of the clouds. What was it doing out here on this vast emptiness? Where had it come from? Where was it going? Watching the sails argue with the wind, I realized I was the ship and the ocean she sailed upon was my life. Drifting. Always drifting. With no direction, no compass, no land in sight.

This morning I awoke at sea yet again. Pre-dawn and it is grey. The fog has embraced me like an old friend. And here I am once more, drifting in and out of softly falling rain. Disoriented, the horizon is a blur. The guiding stars are gone. Haze obscures the view. The land that is the future is nowhere to be found. And something is haunting me...

Drifting. Just drifting. With no direction, no compass and no land in sight.

Procrastination

2007-01-17T11:22:00.000-07:00

Procrastination - the deferment or avoidance of an action or task; often linked to perfectionism.

Hmmm… perfectionism? Never looked at it that way before. I just thought it meant I suffer bouts of laziness. Things I procrastinate the most about are laundry and packing. Both of which I need to do in the next couple of days. I don’t even mind laundry that much – it’s just going up and down two flights of stairs to do it. So, as we embark on our annual house-hunting adventures once more (this time we’re serious) the deal breaker is “where is the laundry?” If it’s in the basement, we move on to the next house.

And then there’s packing for a trip… I’d pay someone to do it for me. Somewhere along the way I not only took on the job of packing for myself, but also the Mister. I think that happened when he was so wrapped up in his career that the only trip-related thing he had time for was getting in the car and driving to the airport. It was kind of a compromise. I got to get up each day and do whatever I wanted to do (hence the charmed life...); he worked his butt off. But in the last year his time has become more his own, so on the last trip he [attempted to] pack for himself. That was interesting… I truly think it’s just easier for me to do it rather than answer endless questions. “Do you know where my travel toothbrush is?” “What shirt goes with this sweater?” “Did you wash my Gap jeans?” “What’s the weather going to be like?” "Where's my sports coat?"

Aghhhhh! I’ll just pack for him.

And the goal has always been to travel light. Ha! “Light” really doesn’t fit into our vocabulary when it comes to traveling. We each need a laptop, cameras (we each travel with 2 - 3 if you count the camera phones, but sometimes I've got 4 with me), cables, extension cord, power strip (yes, we travel with a power strip), chargers, IPods, speakers and an external hard drive (yes, we travel with an external hard drive – after my laptop crashed and I lost about 300 travel photos). And all of that translates to one heavy bag. And I haven’t even packed the clothes yet.

So, I’ve sufficiently procrastinated now for about 30 minutes (between writing and talking to my son). Think I’ll go download some photos from this morning. And then do the laundry. Maybe.

So here's today's question:
"What do you procrastinate about?"

Frustration

2007-01-14T18:27:00.000-07:00

Frustration would be the word for the day, I guess.

Frustrated that we are mid-calf deep in snow and sub-zero temperatures for the 4th week in a row. It snowed all day. Mr. Man and I ventured out to the grocery and that was an adventure on ice buried below snow-packed roads. Thank God the store is only 10 minutes away. Even the dog is sick of the weather. I caught her staring blissfully (rather snow-blinded, I’m sure) out the window today and sighing. Honest to God, sighing. She thinks (as I’m beginning to) that it’s going to be like this forever. And ever and ever. Friday we had a reprieve from the snow falling, but the temperatures were in the deep freeze. When I looked out the window Friday night around 10 pm and saw the snowflakes coming down large and furious I sighed and thought, “Nothing surprises me anymore…”

Frustrated because my Photoshop – which is where I download and organize all my photos - keeps freezing up on me and telling me things that I absolutely know are not true. And I dislike the fact that I depend on it so much…

Frustrated that I’ve got a kazillion television channels and there’s still nothing on!

But I’m safe and warm and have food and “Little Miss Sunshine” to watch and make me laugh (again). So I’m lucky.

Just a little frustrated.

What Is Your Feather?

2007-01-12T11:38:00.000-07:00

I heard a story once about a woman who had recently lost her husband to cancer. He was taken suddenly and much too young; she was devastated when he passed. But in the short time they had leading up to his death they had deep discussions about her future and the future of their little daughter. He told her, “Believe me ~ I will always be with you both.”

Weeks after his death, still griped in sorrow, she and her daughter were walking down the city street on their way home when a feather drifted down and landed at their feet. They instantly felt his presence. They lovingly swept up the feather, carried it home and placed it in a prominent place. Passing that feather each day they gained strength and truly felt he was with them. He was telling them to honor his life by getting up each day, breathing in and out and eventually living happy lives themselves.

After hearing that story I have never looked at a feather in quite the same way ... And it got me thinking. What, in my life, symbolizes something that means everything to me? As corny as it may sound ~ my wedding ring. It is a trillium (a triangle). To me that symbolizes my children, my husband and me. All add up to my life. My older son designed my ring, making it special. Last year after 12 years of marriage we added a "wedding" band to my diamond ~ thus really sealing the deal. My ring is very special to me and stands for all that we are and all we've been thru...

But I'm wondering... what is your feather?

Lesson One - Make Time

2007-01-11T10:18:00.000-07:00

Remember how I never seem to find time to read? Well, wish me luck because I’m going to try to find time to read. I’ve had this book for several months now and I’m certain I could learn quite a bit from it. (Thank you, Bonnie, for recommending Scott Kelby!) If you’re not familiar with Mr. Kelby’s work, well speaking as someone who absolutely abhors manuals and technical anything, he makes learning somewhat less painful. Fun, in fact.

So, in between doing some still life shoots today ~ although my natural light has literally gone out the window as it is cloudy today and about to snow for the next four days ~ and doing a bit of cleaning (it’s Thursday) and catching up on Season 6 of The Gilmore Girls so I can pass it on to Amber for the snowy weekend and researching a new Denver neighborhood I'm quite excited about (and possibly - dare I say it? - that new house?!!) ~~ I’m going to read.

Hope I have time…