Proof that New York is a BIG City

I'm posting for the second time today because I can't head to bed knowing I left my whiny grouchy first post still open for business.:^) So here is a fill in substitute.

I love New York City. It is a short two hours from me and I don't get there enough. These photos from around Times Square show how massive a city it is, but the real secret is that much, even most, of the city is comprised of charming neighborhoods.

For now, however, here's a quick peek at the city that never sleeps. In all its massive glory.

Start spreading the news....

New York, New York!

If you have the chance, it's a city not to be missed. Even if you hate big cities, I think you'll be delightfully delighted.

love kj

Better Said Than Done

I'm in no mood.

I've been sick for two weeks. Here I am in Provincetown for five days with ample time to write and relax and I'm prone on the couch, almost too weak to growl. Please, no sympathy comments. I have a respiratory virus and it will pass and meanwhile I'm in no mood.

From which I just thought, "better not post when I'm like this," followed by "I wonder how ornery I'd let myself be?"

Well:

Blah blah blah about friends. In my world, they're the best but sometimes the worse. They disappoint. They come and go. They fail to follow through and they disappear and they draw lines and sometimes they miss the point.

Blah blah blah also about love. Love heals but it also leaves scars. Those people who retreat and vow to never love again? They may have a point. I'm not one of those people, which may or may not work in my favor.

Blah blah blah about science and medicine. Gee whiz WTF doc, you can't tell me more than rest and drink fluids? I had to wait a week for a physician assistant to tell me to do myself a favor and breathe over a steaming kettle?

A zillion blah blah blahs for anyone who hurts an animal. This includes the ritualistic religious brutalization of pigs and horses, a recent scene from which I am destined to recall all too clearly for far too long.

I should include blah blah blah for a lack of gratitude, impatience with the flaws of others, rushes to judgement, and endless complaining, but that would unfortunately clearly implicate myself and at the moment I'm in no mood.

I will end this by saying yay for me for writing this and thank you for you for reading it. Now again, no get well wishes please. I'd rather you let off your own steam instead. The universal blah blah blah personhood might even appreciate hearing from you.

ah, love kj

When I Was Rich....

Nobody talks about her/his financial situation on the blogs. I don't either, but I have no doubt there are times when alittle or alot of money makes life easier and fun and not enough brings challenges and stress.

I am lucky to have bathed in abundant waters for a brief awesome time. Just about six years ago JB and I sold the house we had lived in for twenty years. It was a magficent pink and grey Victorian duplex with three floors and 14 rooms. When we bought it the kitchen was home to three rusty refrigerators, the elegant pocket doors were used for dart practice, and some of the rooms were so cluttered that it was not possible to enter them.

The place was in bad shape but it had solid bones. Slowly, year by year we made improvements.
We sold our house at the height of a housing boom and with the knowledge that one hour later we could never afford to buy it back. We then bought #9, a modest seven room executive ranch house in the Pioneer Valley and for the first six months we were very rich. By very rich I mean we were able to fix up this new house all at once and in some cases splurge without any hint of normal caution.

For example:

we remodeled an old three season porch and made it super cozy
we bought an outdoor hot tub and put it just outside the cozy porch
we installed recessed lighting in the living room complete with 4 sets of dimmers
& garage doors that open and close when you push a clicker
We put a ceiling fan in the bathroom that has a heater for when we get out of the shower,
fenced in our property so we no longer feel like we're on a main street
took a trip to Italy
insulated and painted the shed in the yard and created JB's Magic Cottage Studio
chose new lighting for every room
refinished the floors, &
paid someone else to dig up and till my garden space

There was more. We weren't totally reckless with this cash windfall but we weren't confined either. We made our selections and choices with tasteful, creative, and fabulous abandon.

Unlike now.

Last month I pulled out the bills and the checkbook and set about the task of making do with less. JB has deservedly cut her work hours back and if we don't figure out how to manage what we have now, we'll be risking and having problems in our future.

Money is such a personal and challenging issue for most people. It's a fact that when you have more you will spend more and where ever you fall on the continuum between reckless and miserly will remain the same. My own view is that I wish to be generous with myself and others, but I don't want to drag along debt and worry I can't control. Thus my effort and attention to not to spend a whole lot more than we have.

I also know that it is ludicrous to think of being rich in terms of money. Family, friends, health, purpose, passion: that is the currency I covet. In any situation, whenever I can, I choose abundance.

The heyday of a monetary windfall is likely over for me. (Maybe not, you never know) (grin). I'm back to weighing priorities, saving for the fun stuff, being sure we have an emergency reserve when not if the unexpected happens.

But I'm still rich. I know what feeds me.

End of story.

love kj

Gimme Shelter

It's been so long since I've posted my photos. I blame it on my electrical problems (that's another story.) So in the spirit of honoring all kinds of shelters, and with two obvious exceptions, here's a mishmash of places I've been and shelters I've seen. ♥

senior angel renee's new home

check out project pearls

I Don't Care

Last night I accidentally hit 'publish' as I was beginning this post in edit mode. This morning I had several most loving emails checking in to be sure I was alright. I am.

This is a personal poem and it is after all a sad poem, But it's also one of my favorites and I think one of my best. I wrote it about three years ago, at the time of a very complicated relationship. I was reminded about this and that after reading "The History of Love," a novel gifted to me by a very dear friend. I was reminded that love in all its forms settles itself in the heart and the memories are pretty dodged about remaining, even when the circumstances warrant otherwise, even when denial and self protection take over.

This old poem is currently folded into the novel I am currently writing:

Casey opens her Waterman pen:

I Don’t Care

I don’t care if the distance spans the decades
And the patterns never form,
If I never understand the photos
Where we look straight into the camera
your arm hanging over my shoulder,
cradling my cracked smile,
The one I tried so hard
To keep it together
Even when the fragments flew.

I don’t care if the bluebirds turn around and
Head back to what was never home,
That place we began but never finished,
That corner where we tried to intersect
But instead fell apart
in just that broken moment
When I told you I would endure
And you told me that was worthless.

I don’t care that I am baking pies today,
My senses somersaulting from the memory
Of my mother’s hands,
Moving back and forth
Kneading back and forth,
Following a rhythm I never learned—
A rhythm I think about at midnight
When my dreams will not keep still.

I would watch her dice and slice
Those moments so skillfully
I did not know my childhood was over
Until the day I left home,
Until the day you left.
Until this day,
When all I can do
Is roll out the dough
And try to rise along with it,
Even when I know so well
I will clearly fall again.

I don’t care that I cannot maintain
Hope that cannot be sifted
In any form but by its splendid grief.
If I thought it was enough
To carry those ten wands to town,
Just to hold them and push forward,
I would do that.
Gladly.
I would open your garden gate
And ring your bell
And wait in place
Until the door opened
And there you were,
Scowling at my folly
To dare to come at all.

I would try to tell you
That somewhere so deep
I have never found my way,
That I believe there is a rising rhythm
That makes things right.
I would offer you my wands
And then I would put my arms
Behind my back, barely moving,
Clenching with a driving hope
That you would know that
I don’t care
Really means
I never learned
Not to.

Row Row Row Your Boat

attribution unknown (sorry)

row row row your boat

gently down the stream

merrily merrily merrily merrily

life is but a dream

This is a math question: what do you notice about this children's song, written in 1853?

Strictly speaking, based on simple math, here is the answer: You get four merrily's for every three row's.

Which is to say, four rewards for every three efforts.

Now what are the implications of such a simple message, one we so effortlessly sing to our children? And is this something I might consider and use as a construct for my own efforts?

For example, this week:

Row #1: It's been a bear of a week (no offense, rob-bear). I've been sick, a stubborn virus that's had me miss work, miss my writing group, miss pilates, miss everything. Plus, I have not just this one but three unexpected medical problems. No long term worries, but I feel sick and I feel vulnerable.

Row #2: Money's tight. Tighter than it has been.

Row #3: I have an incredibly hard job. I hear and see things that cause me pain: the first hand effects of poverty and culuration and neglect and abuse that have happened to adults when they were children and children who are still children.

Three row's and four merrily's:

Merrily # 1: I'm sick but nothing's life threatening and I don't live in an oppressive country like Iran. Surely these are merrily's.

Merrily # 2: JB has cut back her work hours but in doing so she will be able to spend welcomed and deserved time in her studio. I welcome the challenge of making money stretch. We're still better off than so many, and tight doesn't mean scarce.

Merrily #3: My clients have serious circumstances but I have seen changes and successes and effort and growth. Slowly, sometimes in the smallest ways with the smallest steps, but I've had a part in this and it feels great. And what I have learned is irreplaceable.

AND..........

An extra # 4 merrily! A free merrily for my efforts. Now what might that be? Well, for starts, I get to be a writer. I get to write a novel and this blog and silly poems and heartfelt stories. You don't worry so much about being bored or alone when you are a writer or a painter or a photographer or a jeweler because you have something to keep you company and to bring you to timeless passion. That's a definite 'merrily', my fourth and free one.

You get 4 merrily's for every three row's. Worth remembering? I think so.

love kj

On The Hills

This reminds me of a Bette Midler concert when she zipped on stage as a mermaid in an electric wheelchair. "I've always loved everything about the sea," she said. "Sea horses, seascapes, C minus."

Life happens on the hills. This is a new thought for me, but it makes sense. For someone who resists change and likes security, I don't live that way. Often, I take my chances. I've been noticing that many of my friends and fellow bloggers have chosen one word as a guidepost for the new year. Good words like Believe. Hope. Kindness. Today I thought about what my word would be and I drew a blank.

Blank. That's it! The truth is I have no idea what's ahead. I have some preferences: certainly I have a novel to finish writing and a family and children to love and care for, friends to enjoy and frolic with, a second home in Provincetown to reclaim, a garden to cultivate, a body to tend to. But I'm not looking for a road map and I don't enjoy endless flat highways. Blank sound good. Light. Unknown. Surprising.

Heck, why not? I have it on good word that the view from the hill is worth the climb. So I am herein this moment announcing that I kj am rejecting 'flat' and embracing 'blank.'

Come what may.

How about you?

love kj

The Emotional Bank Account

Has anyone ever asked you for a favor and you immediately feel resentful, as if they have a nerve even asking?

And yet someone else could ask you for the same favor and you don't hesitate. You might even feel privileged that they asked.

What's the difference?

In the first instance, someone is trying to make a withdrawal from your emotional bank account without having made sufficient deposits.

Not so for the second person.

Emotional deposits don't have to be numerous. One simple act, one word even, can represent a huge deposit. But when someone tries to withdraw and there are insufficient funds, that's when resentment takes over.

JB and I took our dog Stella for acupuncture for several years, often twice a month. The receptionist Jamie at the animal clinic was often not friendly. She did not greet us as if she knew us and she did not make it easy for me to hold on to Stella, who was ready to leave, while I was trying to write out a check. I just had this feeling she didn't care one way or another.

It's been one month since Stella died. Two days ago we received a small package from Jamie. In it was a clay paw print of Stella's elegant foot and includedthis note:

We cried. Jamie made a huge deposit to our emotional bank account. I will from now on view her differently, will make allowances for her personal style, will greet her warmly with with real affection. All this reaffirms my belief in the emotional bank account. Got to make some deposits at least some of the time. Otherwise, it doesn't balance. And sometimes one small act is so big a deposit that it allows a lot of slack for a long long time.

Love kj