tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226780972024-03-16T14:51:12.248-04:00.OPTIONS for a Better WorldInspirations kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.comBlogger1436125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-15170162657247570032024-03-08T16:06:00.001-05:002024-03-08T16:06:28.173-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vfNSxNP5XWWPNzeqwPUBHGEYuLnufzangjiwZrVdoZLWY7uqeQRoXg_4-q3zecmHol5FQ-v540TZgaX_rw414F7HhtobT_J1j37nynW-2M-s1VrTLR12r24n1OU7qnB6oRPtklZtPAKj0B_rqlsNDy58D3rJEsk3KxyGNYLY6OBur_JVjOe2/s2738/64FF84B7-FF63-4010-BF18-81F4FCB2BC23_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2292" data-original-width="2738" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vfNSxNP5XWWPNzeqwPUBHGEYuLnufzangjiwZrVdoZLWY7uqeQRoXg_4-q3zecmHol5FQ-v540TZgaX_rw414F7HhtobT_J1j37nynW-2M-s1VrTLR12r24n1OU7qnB6oRPtklZtPAKj0B_rqlsNDy58D3rJEsk3KxyGNYLY6OBur_JVjOe2/w400-h335/64FF84B7-FF63-4010-BF18-81F4FCB2BC23_1_201_a.heic" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"> I'm still doodling. This is my view from the couch. For some reason, my favorite views are through windows or doorways or secret passages. I recently read a book about past lives, and that often gets me thinking about how thin the line is between here and there. I wonder if there's a reason why I've always liked looking through and beyond. Heck, I wonder if there's a reason why it's so much easier for me to be sedentary than it is for me to hike or walk in the woods or exercise just because. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My knee rehab requires that I take walks and complete a set of exercises daily. Sometimes I don't, but usually I do. But rarely with enthusiasm! My good friends across the street are out at 6:30 am, in the rain, slugging through the sand dunes here in Provincetown. Their dog Basil is the lucky recipient of amazing free runs, chasing after seals (and always failing, thankfully) and running up and down sandy hills. Our poor Mattie, on the other hand, sits on the couch with me, as patiently as she can muster, until JB scoops her up for their daily walk. Soon, JB will have a hip replacement and I will be (have to be) mobile enough on my own to take over the walks. This is not something to complain about: Provincetown is a gorgeous spit of land, surrounding by the bay and ocean. The bay and beach is barely a block away from our home, and the sky and sunsets and low tides, with all its ripples, is magnificent.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">These days my passion is back for writing, and I'm s-l-o-w-l-y learning techniques to improve my drawings. This is all couch work, which doesn't help my activity level, but does give me a cozy sense of contentment.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The last days have been an auspicious week, at least I think so. For the first time in TWO YEARS, my days have felt 'normal.'No crisises, no one to worry about, no long traveling, no challenges. My god mother Marie fell at home two years ago, and then my cousin Maureen got her terminal diagnosis, and from there JB and I have had our hands full. But now, it looks like we may have really, truly turned the corner. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It's March, the days are longer and warmer, and my miniature irises have broken through the ground. My daughter Jess and my grandkids and my friends and family are well. Along with JB, I'm soon to be rewarded with a mini-vacation at a fancy hotel. A heated pool. A massage. Four star food. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">No complaints. Not today. I wish the same for you xoxo</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">love kj</span></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-37016738897870363672024-02-26T14:49:00.001-05:002024-02-26T14:49:17.740-05:00February<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZIe-XnND6b3GhN8M0lGwHG05OzLmEm_vp9kbn6nuL5GSE9o1cbJjSWcke4iBLXd3vfOFzTrPakrJ3tlOCcd6BMm-8UD0dv7ISvcVtOV9ZM8WxM4cxmeLKQqNuci0K0IEKyJdLhrMq-cJzpHsbR7PmfPL_bWJmbFU49shT3RKC8K7cNSuyLW8l/s4001/34F47F59-6A04-421C-93B0-3B1FE66A94FF_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2585" data-original-width="4001" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZIe-XnND6b3GhN8M0lGwHG05OzLmEm_vp9kbn6nuL5GSE9o1cbJjSWcke4iBLXd3vfOFzTrPakrJ3tlOCcd6BMm-8UD0dv7ISvcVtOV9ZM8WxM4cxmeLKQqNuci0K0IEKyJdLhrMq-cJzpHsbR7PmfPL_bWJmbFU49shT3RKC8K7cNSuyLW8l/w400-h259/34F47F59-6A04-421C-93B0-3B1FE66A94FF_1_201_a.heic" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"> This winter I've been editing three books, thinking about another, and dabbling in drawing. Since it's just about the end of February here on Cape Cod, I'm also thinking about our small garden and when and what to plant. These are all things I love to do. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The writing and editing is the hardest. And the VERY hardest is querying agents and publishers to see if they (one!) may be interested in my submission. The query is as important as the manuscript itself. It has to be impactful, well written, and concise. It has to be a page or less. It's a discouraging project, and the odds of being 'picked up' are tiny. But, I'm determined to test the market. If that doesn't work, I'll again self-publish, and that's okay too.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">This drawing reflects the mountain village in Italy where my grandfather was born and raised. I've had various feedback about what to do with the foliage and shrubs. Some folks like it as is; others, including me, think it blobs of green are too flat and blah. This drawing is on page 32 of a book that gives me a creative prompt for all 365 days of the year. I'm psyched to complete it! It will be a surprise Christmas present for my daughter, Jessica.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes I'm not sure I'm spending my time wisely. These are all activities I enjoy, a lot, and why I judge whether or not they're worthwhile is beyond me....</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">love kj</span></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-70853896988864366572024-02-02T13:24:00.000-05:002024-02-02T13:24:16.617-05:00Hello!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhDUNdFpVWLywkF8fVjBd3V806300KyceDgu1ISWrgRdYWceW9R688WNf0XL9Luk4P4IB2qpc_GoKv6dPiDvP98TKYFls5b6uWBFJ-IIRfDs6rWOZzgVlRYrEKd2tDUYU04PIHrurIdu9-7cZvXCf0UIWWaUoj-UZ9Fpw-iZgojJhjk4rHMnI/s1170/48D89C8F-274D-4B33-AE23-2AF2EAE31457_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="986" data-original-width="1170" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhDUNdFpVWLywkF8fVjBd3V806300KyceDgu1ISWrgRdYWceW9R688WNf0XL9Luk4P4IB2qpc_GoKv6dPiDvP98TKYFls5b6uWBFJ-IIRfDs6rWOZzgVlRYrEKd2tDUYU04PIHrurIdu9-7cZvXCf0UIWWaUoj-UZ9Fpw-iZgojJhjk4rHMnI/s320/48D89C8F-274D-4B33-AE23-2AF2EAE31457_1_201_a.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> I've breezed through summer, and fall, and Christmas, punctuated by the challenging homecare and sad death of my 106 year old Godmother Marie, and a new knee operation that's had too many complications. I haven't written a new word until this week, and hopefully, finally, I'm back! <p></p><p>I have a novel to edit and query, a poetry book to promote, a revised version of The Light Stays On to land somewhere, and all kinds of new ideas to ponder and write about. That's one important thing about writing: there's no need for boredom. I can always write. </p><p>This year, probably because I've been on the couch and in physical therapy rehabilitating my knee, I've also started drawing and painting. I have this book called <b>Draw & Create 365</b> that instructs me to create something every day in 2024, and I'm having a grand time doing that so far.</p><p>I chose this image today because the USA and the world is such a mess. It's a challenge to be optimistic in this time, but it's important to hope for and work for kindness, hope, community. Almost every single person I know is a good human being: that has to count,.</p><p>I yet again apologize for being absent on my blog for so long. I'm still determined to do better!</p><p>With love, kj</p><p><br /></p><p> </p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-54354757761131660722023-05-19T15:17:00.004-04:002023-05-19T15:27:30.281-04:00Thoughts on Taylor Swift<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> I’m definitely not an average fan. I ‘discovered’ Taylor Swift and her music not even a year ago, and besides that, I’m seventy-five. You won’t find me climbing up to Section H, Row 32 in any stadium. But I’m a writer, I love words that rhyme, and I like music. I’m also a counselor who senses that Taylor Swift is a nice person. At this point, I still don’t know which of her song titles go with which of her songs, but I’m learning. Her talent is amazing. It’s obvious that her sexy moves and glittered leotards are just window dressing for her incredible, multiple talents. Her song writing, her story telling, her catchy musicality, her stage presence, her physical movements, her connection with her fans—each of these are skill sets, and they’re extraordinary.</span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> That Taylor Swift is thirty-three years old with a seventeen year career is an incredible achievement. That she is filling 70,000 person stadiums night after night, presenting a forty-five song, three hour concert, on stage constantly moving and emoting and singing, without a break, is ground-breaking enough. The reviews I read and the video clips I see have catapulted her fifty-two city Eras Tour into a generational once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon. Taylor Swift has released over two hundred songs and her legion of fans know the sing-along words to all of them. </span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> I should add that her phrases and images are also extraordinary: ‘<i>They told me all my cages were mental/So I got wasted like all my potential…,’ ‘They say all’s well that ends well, but I’m in a new hell every time you double cross my mind…,From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes…,’You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath…,’ ‘You call me again just to break me like a promise…,’And if I get burned, at least we were electrified…”Cuz there were pages turned with the bridges burned, Everything you lose is a step you take…’<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">These are words from an observer and a participant in life; from someone who knows how to frame and share images that we all understand.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> ***</span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> The Eras tour began with Taylor Swift snugly in her almost seven year relationship with Joe Alwyn, or so it seemed. For all that time, this couple kept their private life and relationship private, a remarkable feat for the performer of the Century (<i>Century</i>, not decade.) The breakup, announced on the opening night of her filled stadium in Tampa, was a shock to Taylor’s fans, who were quickly concerned about how she was doing. With a thumbs up from the stage, she made it clear she’s doing fine. Word has it that 'Taylor and Joe' actually decide to move on in February, and she’s looking forward to being more open in her personal life and relationships. She’s confirmed this so far by hanging out publicly with friends in New York City, more than once, and, as of two weeks ago, enter the rocker, Matty Healy.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> I don’t know any diehard Taylor Swift fans to check with, so I only have my own opinion, but only three months after ending a seven year partnership, and dealing with all the emotional feelings and fallout in leaving someone you truly loved, and jumping quickly into another relationship, isn’t usually the healthiest or smartest thing to do. Surely Taylor Swift knows this, because she’s smart and introspective and observational. Yes? So, what’s going on?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> Certainly, I have no idea. I have no agency into the private life of Taylor Swift. But do I think there’s some cause for concern? I’d say yes to that. It doesn’t help that the press and paparazzi are all over the Taylor-Matty story. There’s good evidence that she’s keeping herself pretty busy. That’s often a good coping tool to get through a break up. But also, major life changes need time to percolate. Even when a breakup is mutual or expected or healthy, all kinds of feelings come with it: attachment/abandonment issues, loss, old wounds, triggering memories, outdated beliefs, old and new fears. A sudden jump into ‘dating’ again, and especially intimate dating, doesn’t allow time to process all this, and a guy who by all reports has been a ‘bad boy,’ who’s publicly made racist and homophobic statements, seems, well, a surprising choice. My guess is many (most?) of Taylor’s fans expected (hoped?) to witness a strong, amazingly talented woman rebuild her life as now-single and independent, with determined courage to move forward, on her own. </span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> It’s so presumptuous of me to question the decisions of a woman I have never met, and whose relationships I know nothing about. So why am I writing this? Honestly, probably because, for what it’s worth, I have (unsolicited!) advice. I’m holding up a flashing yellow slow-it-down light. It’s my experience talking, just in case. Don’t rush, Taylor Swift. Take your time, alone, and with your family and friends. Have fun. Breathe. Feel. </span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> But don’t let passion drive you, not yet. </span><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 32px; margin: 0in;"> <o:p></o:p></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-83511374735119932602023-05-10T16:10:00.001-04:002023-05-10T16:10:31.493-04:00Refining JOY<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAP5ACoqqi4HbKted34HcCi9cV--5FfWhyK23IxpGOlj3NiJGOPjcFkLMwJa2Uo6ADkqiLpk2maDOovL5bLVAnW-3ijzasokUWSO5uCYAGu9FH2qfMZbKb26UCZKnoi7zPyyd9LzW5gS_cB3v4ASlSB_yhSygEtKGclSd0zj8TOrub5AwBZA/s1170/D5D51775-70B4-4E34-B879-6C37F4A13440_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1167" data-original-width="1170" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAP5ACoqqi4HbKted34HcCi9cV--5FfWhyK23IxpGOlj3NiJGOPjcFkLMwJa2Uo6ADkqiLpk2maDOovL5bLVAnW-3ijzasokUWSO5uCYAGu9FH2qfMZbKb26UCZKnoi7zPyyd9LzW5gS_cB3v4ASlSB_yhSygEtKGclSd0zj8TOrub5AwBZA/s320/D5D51775-70B4-4E34-B879-6C37F4A13440_1_201_a.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><p style="font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></p>Lately I’ve been thinking about joy. I chose this card to enclose in our Christmas cards last year, because the unsettled times seemed to call for a reminder of how much joy matters.</span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">But I’ve been rethinking this advice. It’s not that joy doesn’t matter–it matters a boatload, but let’s face it: it’s increasingly hard to hold on to joy when there are so many worries and crisises all around us. The climate is bringing devastating floods and high winds everywhere; a political breakdown still allows automatic guns and mass murders; our schools and movie theaters and churches and shopping malls and get-togethers no longer feel safe. This is real stuff. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">I’m not an alarmist or a pessimist. I truly believe that positive energy and happy connections with ourselves and others promote a joy that is our human right. But I’ve come to believe that an emphasis on joy, contentment, self-satisfaction–without acknowledging what happening around us, doesn’t work. I think it’s time to say that out loud. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Joy lives in the little things: gatherings with family and friends, a job well done, the scent of garlic on your fingers, the sound of rain on the roof, the excitement of a blossoming garden, the passion of romance, the pride of recognition, the feeling kindness brings to the giver and recipient. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">But these days, I think it’s a mistake to pursue ‘joy’ as if it’s achievable without coming to terms with the many factors that aren’t joyful at all. Yes, it’s painful to watch the evening news. Yes, we’re in a major climate crisis. Yes, women’s rights are threatened. Yes, our kids aren’t safe in school. Yes, our government has broken down. Yes, our country and world have huge problems. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">And yes, of course joy matters. My point is this: I don’t think most of us are going to be successful if we don’t also acknowledge that there’s a canope of anxiety over us these days. The anxiety is real, and there are real reasons for it. I think it helps to recognize that. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">So, I offer some unsolicited advice: be realistic. Cherish your life and the people you love, practice gratitude, and snatch and welcome joy whenever and wherever you find it. But also, these days, be extra gentle with yourself and your hopes. These aren’t easy times. Don’t let anyone mislead you about that, or tell you that the ‘canope of anxiety’ isn’t real. No sing-songy messages are going to change that until we humans collectively change what’s happening around us. I just think it’s healthy and helpful to know that…..</span><p></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-632572222012839202022-10-14T16:27:00.002-04:002022-10-14T16:29:29.966-04:00October<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtG6b0yVBHE6OCmkAd3sbgMYDRw7UFw0Dp_F93zCzt9ppNzc2Eq6U4v0U4bY7chW2WHymkLCTqsYe5lNZFtiyiBOxwffcSmXMyTF69srYvw7FH782Bx7AAnr1cVmKwMZheDyIsmXDT5E1zjwXLU-vKOJxiNFFW6ALFwnOZD8Ocf3wgsdU2EQ/s4032/6C6362EA-D7E2-42D4-A9ED-6BA391F1F9D8.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtG6b0yVBHE6OCmkAd3sbgMYDRw7UFw0Dp_F93zCzt9ppNzc2Eq6U4v0U4bY7chW2WHymkLCTqsYe5lNZFtiyiBOxwffcSmXMyTF69srYvw7FH782Bx7AAnr1cVmKwMZheDyIsmXDT5E1zjwXLU-vKOJxiNFFW6ALFwnOZD8Ocf3wgsdU2EQ/w300-h400/6C6362EA-D7E2-42D4-A9ED-6BA391F1F9D8.heic" width="300" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">OMG I finally have a new Apple MacAir and already my inferior computer skills have become so much easier. This includes being able to post photos on my Blog without Herculean effort. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Here's home: where I'm nesting these days. It's a beautiful place to be inside and out. Our house isn't fancy but it's comfortable and welcoming. I spend a lot of time looking on this scene, from the couch, often writing. It's a big deal that I've added Microsoft Word to my laptop. It's been a foolish disadvantage I saddled myself with since every agent and publisher wants manuscripts and queries and everything in Word. So now I can stop worrying about how a document or file will look when I export it. Not to say that I know what I'm doing even on Word, but I'll learn. I'm motivated. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPx5_R3zCUbSyn3sAmIVOc1Mll2PWk3j8YjqskAyw8anEuCLUB2266rzkxRm5MErwVEI0uUbZrh5wh0t9Phsxa9o7lkNb3_hba4l3ex4IQM12kRk8_cOe99oQPUR4mC66qE_03uty6hBtx4wYDMbt252_mKjMyivvgVow0Ay-Wp7IKGgqQQ/s4032/6E152F19-A962-41CA-982B-E3A3A1A2CE06.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPx5_R3zCUbSyn3sAmIVOc1Mll2PWk3j8YjqskAyw8anEuCLUB2266rzkxRm5MErwVEI0uUbZrh5wh0t9Phsxa9o7lkNb3_hba4l3ex4IQM12kRk8_cOe99oQPUR4mC66qE_03uty6hBtx4wYDMbt252_mKjMyivvgVow0Ay-Wp7IKGgqQQ/w400-h300/6E152F19-A962-41CA-982B-E3A3A1A2CE06.heic" width="400" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The time of day and the tides here in Provincetown determine the light of scenes like these. I'm amazed every time. The third shot is just outside my front door. Sunset. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-60WCKC5RuwE7zoPA6smM3uJDF6aOZG9hpJrMga5ChylMw3pojJj9AmK8hinY9tYJLQ4YS-SfQImilLR27Ilcw2AYNN0-LFdR0NqrkHoNDKiDPcsczJOKyMA5ICJbDBj0zZmnISMYOwqKQm32TJHABPHGUA1gghuD4BBhfxAzqXJWnXU5kw/s4032/17908D6D-6439-4DC4-8FEA-DEFB4C8105C3.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-60WCKC5RuwE7zoPA6smM3uJDF6aOZG9hpJrMga5ChylMw3pojJj9AmK8hinY9tYJLQ4YS-SfQImilLR27Ilcw2AYNN0-LFdR0NqrkHoNDKiDPcsczJOKyMA5ICJbDBj0zZmnISMYOwqKQm32TJHABPHGUA1gghuD4BBhfxAzqXJWnXU5kw/w400-h300/17908D6D-6439-4DC4-8FEA-DEFB4C8105C3.heic" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In two weeks there will be mid-term elections in the United States. It's horrifying to think that people who lied and still lie about our Presidential election still have a following--and a violent following at that. It's a troubled time in the world. I don't know if I can even write about it. I keep thinking that too many people don't understand what it actually means if Democracy fails. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQNC0Y5Ueuvu5MFLnGZ8bh4yqt9FWFyYuj8BHTtRofNreUh8QKHyS6I-wDlfYflqh1zCr3Ukn9JcLnWebwKRWlI95ebsnEinWxJWwxxXhR0lPr4p_HzMzVjxmjVYMktnzeysVrASAiiLH4yXWLVDAmQZNcqsBc014_1Jb_r7L9BxtrZR_vw/s4032/B0F150B5-4B44-485D-B579-D40D133559B6.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQNC0Y5Ueuvu5MFLnGZ8bh4yqt9FWFyYuj8BHTtRofNreUh8QKHyS6I-wDlfYflqh1zCr3Ukn9JcLnWebwKRWlI95ebsnEinWxJWwxxXhR0lPr4p_HzMzVjxmjVYMktnzeysVrASAiiLH4yXWLVDAmQZNcqsBc014_1Jb_r7L9BxtrZR_vw/w300-h400/B0F150B5-4B44-485D-B579-D40D133559B6.heic" width="300" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">This glittering scene is one block from our house. It's hard to feel anything but grateful when I pass by this. I'm an optimist. I hope reality doesn't force me to reconsider. Already I'm no longer a loyal fan of the human race.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgku-T8kYDZlFptzKQ951Z1IZKHf4RSQNNwmrNN_gF2c_eSwuKddq3Vk7BlRo0QssZTdtNDYUBPlx3WZhGxi8yJdKrpU5vxBX5raYiq8IAn6zu_uu5DgFQWzwvABw5I-wzRX8Kdw99KK52kBG7Pa5yNYElJ-hofmmvDqvxlCdPRm8A3rHIV2w/s4032/B92D34A7-E4FF-4017-B036-B218FBA0490C.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgku-T8kYDZlFptzKQ951Z1IZKHf4RSQNNwmrNN_gF2c_eSwuKddq3Vk7BlRo0QssZTdtNDYUBPlx3WZhGxi8yJdKrpU5vxBX5raYiq8IAn6zu_uu5DgFQWzwvABw5I-wzRX8Kdw99KK52kBG7Pa5yNYElJ-hofmmvDqvxlCdPRm8A3rHIV2w/w300-h400/B92D34A7-E4FF-4017-B036-B218FBA0490C.heic" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> And finally today, this little tree in the front porch is my reminder that the holidays will soon begin. I'm all over that! For some reason I'm far more creative during the Christmas season. I draw more; I search for interesting presents; JB and I bake and decorate our almost-famous sugar cookies. And we have little get-togethers and pot-lucks. This time of year, I do my best to offer some much needed cheer. </span><p></p><p><br /></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-14884246074108240572022-10-10T17:00:00.003-04:002022-10-10T17:00:25.992-04:00Davoni<p><i>His name is changed but this is a true story. I was a psychotherapist some years back and I could tell you a hundred stories like this.</i> </p><p><i>The spacing didn't turn out correctly on this post but for some reason it's right as it is.</i> </p><p><br /></p><p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Davoni never answered. No matter what I asked him, he grinned and shrugged. “I don’t know,” he always </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">said. This was his response when I asked him if he missed his mother, when I asked him how he felt when his </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">foster mother told him that she didn’t want him anymore, what he thought when the new foster family shaved his </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">head and he had to he start a new school in a new home. I told Davoni that I would pay myself a nickel every </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">time he said “I don’t know.” and I’d soon be rich. “Oh another nickel—that’s fifteen cents so far today!” I joked</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and and we </span><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px; white-space: pre-wrap;">laughed</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> together, the way we sometime laughed for no reason when we walked to the little room </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">holding </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">hands and tickling each other’s palms. He’s only six and he’s been in three foster homes so far. </span></p><div class="" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Davani only cried twice in front of me, once on the last day of kindergarten, when two of his teachers kept showing him his special music award and told him how great he sang.. But later, in the school library room where we sometimes met, when I asked him about the award and, he began to cry and couldn’t stop. Finally he sobbed, “It should have been in spelling, not music. I didn’t try in music.” </span></div><div class="" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div class="" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last week he cried like that again, this time because he scratched another kid in his afterschool program and was suspended for five days. The teacher aide told me he cried so hard he couldn’t talk. She said he seemed like a good child, and smart; that she understands that he is in a new school with new teachers and a new foster family, new faces, new rooms, new rules. “But,” she said, he had to be punished. She also said he’s falling asleep in class.</span></div><div class="" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do you sleep okay in your new room?” I asked him.</span></div><div class="" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I dunno,” he said.</span></div><div class="" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span>“Oh! Another nickel!” He laughed. We laughed. </span></div><div class="" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Devoni,” I put my hands on his head and rubbed his stub of hair. “About scratching that kid at afterschool, I can teach you how to use your words instead of your hands. I think that will help a lot, what do you think?” </span></div><div class="" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He looked up.“ I dunno.” He smiled and paused. “Yes,” he said. </span></div>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-31956868117342940732022-09-20T15:24:00.000-04:002022-09-20T15:24:06.699-04:00Betty Bird<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc5hTSeIJ22sPABgOjbbkaLv6UIzaj54qeK02DJORDr0i7cT8_ndlQ-MENniCeD5-kX-yzzi0s-0uV2T-bPBXyx5eiqmrQvo3UmYYVexcB3He78KgWzJPzQdsKWCFvjZzQM1dGEr0_XURabrDhv6FfYbtig2b76Y0S4WJTaoOHSLrGGKrfpQ/s960/IMG_8861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="776" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc5hTSeIJ22sPABgOjbbkaLv6UIzaj54qeK02DJORDr0i7cT8_ndlQ-MENniCeD5-kX-yzzi0s-0uV2T-bPBXyx5eiqmrQvo3UmYYVexcB3He78KgWzJPzQdsKWCFvjZzQM1dGEr0_XURabrDhv6FfYbtig2b76Y0S4WJTaoOHSLrGGKrfpQ/w324-h400/IMG_8861.JPG" width="324" /></a></div><br /> This is Betty Bird, made by my partner JB from a piece of driftwood and embellished to her heart's content. JB is finally realizing her passion and dream as an Artist. She's in a local gallery and she's as happy as a clam. <p></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-63182821944304694472022-09-18T13:11:00.003-04:002022-09-18T13:13:56.628-04:00Time to Chill <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhLZEqSygL1j5EtjJX6FUWozcfDcUoGNNbc8VBJO91Su6lTq85fsIhpnTP_K7uvKg_BZ5TW1HUS4d5hwYAOyTNq2zgM6NNKPGhnSXYVM8b4NYf-BnJU7U934fo1Ys5gjObaUxwbzZJSdykm7iHNrBIlBSX4YEB3fz69snv24uqyiPxidRfxg/s639/snipshotev5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="639" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhLZEqSygL1j5EtjJX6FUWozcfDcUoGNNbc8VBJO91Su6lTq85fsIhpnTP_K7uvKg_BZ5TW1HUS4d5hwYAOyTNq2zgM6NNKPGhnSXYVM8b4NYf-BnJU7U934fo1Ys5gjObaUxwbzZJSdykm7iHNrBIlBSX4YEB3fz69snv24uqyiPxidRfxg/w400-h266/snipshotev5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>Hello from Sebago Lake in Maine. JB and I are here on a five day mini-escape from chores and obligations. Life is finally settling down after months of unexpected and important demands. During that time, I've done nothing to promote either of my already published books and instead, I've started a new one! I've already shared a couple of chapters of our pre-Covid Road Trip across America, but as of today, I've finished a draft one run-through and I'm beginning to edit. But the really fun part comes when I start adding photos. This will be a different kind of book for me; the pictures alone will make it different. But it's also personal, almost a memoir, and sometimes it's hard to know what to include and what to leave out. Other people and their feelings and reactions to my descriptions of them matter, but so does the honesty of my writing. And once something's in print, there it is--so I want to be extra careful about boundaries. </p><p>None of this is easy for me. My computer skills are lacking. Even the most basic formatting--setting up margins and indentations and paragraphs--is often too confusing, and sometimes I end up messing up what I already have.</p><p>But, aside from legitimate guilt in not promoting my existing books, this process of new writing is such a joy for me. I can tell that my writing has gotten tighter and more descriptive, all good, but I'm never sure whether anything I write is <i>good enough. </i>I know that's common and I know that's not a reason to avoid writing. </p><p>So here it is, fall in New England. I am currently looking out onto a vast shimmering calming lake. Around me I have my manuscript and laptop and colored pencils and a moleskin and a coloring project I just might finally finish. All good ways to spend a few days creating. Because we're on an island, JB and I have stocked up on interesting food and treats. Mattie is with us and where we are is isolated and private and beautiful. No TV, no heat. No demands! </p><p>I'm aware that this kind of 'escape' is essential from time to time. Otherwise my head fills up and my body gets depleted and I explode. Last week I got so frustrated over nothing important that I threw a coffee box and then a paper bag across the kitchen. That sounds ridiculous and harmless enough, right?--but I was mad and actually out of control. Too many problems that needed fixing were piling up and I reacted. Lucky that I didn't throw a plate or a bowl. I could have. So I'm aware that anger is too close to the surface for me, and I'm at least smart enough to know I have to break that cycle.</p><p>So here I am at Sebago Lake. It's been a brilliant decision. I wholeheartedly recommend a change of pace and a change of scenery from time to time. Especially now, with so many political and moral challenges adding to the human pot. </p><p>More to come about the road trip book. I'm excited to have the first go-round done!</p><p>Thanks always for stopping by. </p><p>love kj</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-43872294742947146862022-06-26T14:27:00.000-04:002022-06-26T14:27:26.026-04:00Two Homes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyqTOV4uaYC-lCm2fiRO63FScJCLctflwi80FXpcPaMeutudY1hdAR8sDYPVgtqVLwSaTb6vo91Wqlw9i_A-1JUXHgc8hU3vELFsqsQVo7kx8fHDZq8SI8r0Q34fNl6Xo7dG0RMP59gVpgpsxOobRsJfaVcVL5FHgTm6n7yljHnKtF5PRkA/s3264/fullsizeoutput_6ab.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyqTOV4uaYC-lCm2fiRO63FScJCLctflwi80FXpcPaMeutudY1hdAR8sDYPVgtqVLwSaTb6vo91Wqlw9i_A-1JUXHgc8hU3vELFsqsQVo7kx8fHDZq8SI8r0Q34fNl6Xo7dG0RMP59gVpgpsxOobRsJfaVcVL5FHgTm6n7yljHnKtF5PRkA/w400-h300/fullsizeoutput_6ab.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I currently live in Provincetown, at the very tip of Massachusetts, where the bay and ocean is barely a block from home. Before that, for more than a decade, JB and I lived in Western Massachusetts, in farm country that also had the benefit and vibe of six local colleges. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I don't think I'll have to tell you which photo is from which location. What I will say is that the Universe has blessed me with wonderful homes. I love having the sea a part of my daily life--JB and I check the tides every day--and at the same time I miss the farm stand that was barely a mile from our house, where we bought just picked strawberries and just picked peaches and just picked corn on the cob, all of this following the rhythm of the farm seasons. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My life here is Provincetown is a new chapter for me. I've 'retired' from my paid consulting work, although my 'volunteer' schedule is still pretty busy. I have the skills to help people get through tough times, and I can't (yet) justify not jumping in to help when the need is right in front of me. In any case, 'retired' isn't the right word. I write now: I've published two books and am working on two, maybe three more. I garden, sometimes I cook and bake, I have more local friends than ever before in my life, and I have a precious family--my Jessica and her husband and four awesome kids, and our extended family, and JB, my loved and loving partner of how long is it?--37 years? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here are some random photos of my life in both places. You'll know which is where.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3YC0NLnacYK9LXyYwosVQnCCh-R5UH3uGKwbHurAloGAXk4nkdmu5v9vNT4QK6R5zsGeUjDTfd8_suNGitGXyzUZKRLsqcmD0c82ymOk6EwdM9ea45R4N56gEdhl3-mQOBRIXn0PO968caeCMudkMDew5wGS5AyOp_Dq7e-CTpY1RdNZjA/s2272/fullsizeoutput_d2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2272" data-original-width="1704" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3YC0NLnacYK9LXyYwosVQnCCh-R5UH3uGKwbHurAloGAXk4nkdmu5v9vNT4QK6R5zsGeUjDTfd8_suNGitGXyzUZKRLsqcmD0c82ymOk6EwdM9ea45R4N56gEdhl3-mQOBRIXn0PO968caeCMudkMDew5wGS5AyOp_Dq7e-CTpY1RdNZjA/w300-h400/fullsizeoutput_d2.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrB3vs5TDb7DWrWx1vO7nN96PxjEtZkkcEqsUuymxBR2UD1BM5urGw4bDmkkkqjD3sndeQCOZHOhq0QzAkEkFlrEAd4XEKZJ6_amLn3vu6CQ2S-noUNErs83dRAh3oioZV2wGH893o8_jYvD4EOmadJaMacXTMFKsXUmimnuxUykZM1qDoOg/s3264/fullsizeoutput_18dd.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrB3vs5TDb7DWrWx1vO7nN96PxjEtZkkcEqsUuymxBR2UD1BM5urGw4bDmkkkqjD3sndeQCOZHOhq0QzAkEkFlrEAd4XEKZJ6_amLn3vu6CQ2S-noUNErs83dRAh3oioZV2wGH893o8_jYvD4EOmadJaMacXTMFKsXUmimnuxUykZM1qDoOg/w300-h400/fullsizeoutput_18dd.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMShGa3WrfEI7ZBVFgVor_0oVIi_ZiT7UE1dZh6tb68VErpv4qRdoVO02RYlSnVlq2n97wXEy_BTACcfYaGavkSH7Pq-Y8nmDy0Ap36b0PF-Jh1n4LXAWIaCk1zTfnIf2li21yR_0TYW96zfuGfo0Gup1zw3_VkTKSP_JaSJq1URqY7WYbbw/s4320/fullsizeoutput_a37.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;">love </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">kj</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">xo</div></div><br /></div><p><br /> </p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-11539091774232178922022-06-16T20:10:00.000-04:002022-06-16T20:10:48.207-04:00Thursday 13<p><br /><br />Who remembers Thursday 13? This was a time on the blogs when every Thursday, artists, writers, photographers, nature lovers, and gentle chatterboxes (all of us!) posted 13 of whatever we felt like. If there was a theme at all, it was often snippets of our lives.</p><p>So here's my Thursday 13 this week. It's a lot random, because I'm at the mercy of bad computer skills (my own), but these photos do come from my life, one way or another. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhY4J7uxKqyPSjWHRxV1Z4kEVXHZoBVC4IEHlmhkROrV4Z_pbSjwU038mChm8MVOu1eHFVEPZXtlxpkn0hLdpRvYQs7Lvv25zmJZ5rnZ53gbVPcNstbShbyZXd0aJV9sT4hR_myRbE4-P4EamN_RPT1_I0tk472N5qiCczntnVjUm2RkZew/s1059/fullsizeoutput_57e3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="804" data-original-width="1059" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhY4J7uxKqyPSjWHRxV1Z4kEVXHZoBVC4IEHlmhkROrV4Z_pbSjwU038mChm8MVOu1eHFVEPZXtlxpkn0hLdpRvYQs7Lvv25zmJZ5rnZ53gbVPcNstbShbyZXd0aJV9sT4hR_myRbE4-P4EamN_RPT1_I0tk472N5qiCczntnVjUm2RkZew/s320/fullsizeoutput_57e3.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span> 1. This first shot is the Seagull Motel in Truro on Cape Cod, where my Godmother Marie vacationed twice a year for two weeks each time. Marie used to talk all the time about this beloved corner rental, on the Bay, where she and her 'friend'/partner Jean rode their bikes and picked blueberries and made blueberry pies for their local lucky friends.</span></p><p>Now, Marie doesn't talk as much about her time there or her many travels. She seems to be thinking more about her childhood, about her sisters, and growing up with my Father and my Grandfather, who took in and raised Marie age 12 and her four sisters when their remaining parent died.</p><p>I'm mentioning this because Marie is 105 years old and last week we managed to get her back home from a nursing home. She has a live in full time aide and she's much frailer than she was even a year ago, but she's remarkable. She's smart and observant and interesting. And she's transitioning, a respected elder, needing help in walking and self care and meals. I'm witnessing a life well lived. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzmXCq8sa6Qc4me-U1oiIQgbDnygCA4oUZuET05BwPTAK6p_-TpF8zDiPBRk436RTHFPte9r60O-W77S6kOVCyVq38pqgj-FpoSFvsCqUCwR06bngkpu_1rHiiDuV-QAO4rOLYj2nMJqPtcgkOE9F0Tf2jfV-qVHA05vCNNffIQW0lHdnVw/s552/1637439665.443842-F4F3BAD7-144B-45C7-8212-2CB27399FB2D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="552" data-original-width="415" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzmXCq8sa6Qc4me-U1oiIQgbDnygCA4oUZuET05BwPTAK6p_-TpF8zDiPBRk436RTHFPte9r60O-W77S6kOVCyVq38pqgj-FpoSFvsCqUCwR06bngkpu_1rHiiDuV-QAO4rOLYj2nMJqPtcgkOE9F0Tf2jfV-qVHA05vCNNffIQW0lHdnVw/s320/1637439665.443842-F4F3BAD7-144B-45C7-8212-2CB27399FB2D.jpeg" width="241" /></a></div></div><p>2. JB's artwork is now in a prestegious gallery. This is a dream come true for her and she can hardly believe it. She's making incredible art. No doubt about that. </p><p>3. And here I am soundly asleep and so is Mattie. HaHa. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbMOOZt2FwZ6mCfkAzTqEcH4eiLJkxh-O7cMyCx4HB-8B-Wu-Do4pQ4LFLf1VPm47JB4VrAhGMHixkRnq4PAezgv9_pj71_NK7xMtQromtnqAG7rtXEQIGRVgXsU4E7f67u2PDuOlZ0Aqa3VNGxreGhhU_UxXeAk8WCe2Q-YZ8CtX81aiFuw/s4032/IMG_7970.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbMOOZt2FwZ6mCfkAzTqEcH4eiLJkxh-O7cMyCx4HB-8B-Wu-Do4pQ4LFLf1VPm47JB4VrAhGMHixkRnq4PAezgv9_pj71_NK7xMtQromtnqAG7rtXEQIGRVgXsU4E7f67u2PDuOlZ0Aqa3VNGxreGhhU_UxXeAk8WCe2Q-YZ8CtX81aiFuw/s320/IMG_7970.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p>4. I KNOW certain people will recognize this painting right away. It graced Renee's blog, right to the end. Losing Renee to the cancer she did her best to kick around was an irreplaceable loss here on the Blogs. The way she befriended and uplifted dozens and dozens and actually hundreds of followers on her blog, as she wrote love letters to her family and wrote about the 'damn bats' that caused her relentless pain, was nothing short of amazing. Renee was a lover of life and an optimist and so much else. Her blog Circling My Head is still up. It goes back 11 years. And its worth every fantastic word.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihm-G6tNidWkEYafaASRtreip1i2Zt8T_e2GEHka2ie40zslO4QDG-7MXKBHHZXz7MK6cHoqzMLqFd0BOB5lCELMTuCMLuMF3olgG1CR5930UL69tBIeQ_WThG1cdZRzPm8DfiOyUxoKUarNTWkE259vSq3LxrYZh3-0LrS1EzXG5peN64Yg/s500/IMG_8171.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="500" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihm-G6tNidWkEYafaASRtreip1i2Zt8T_e2GEHka2ie40zslO4QDG-7MXKBHHZXz7MK6cHoqzMLqFd0BOB5lCELMTuCMLuMF3olgG1CR5930UL69tBIeQ_WThG1cdZRzPm8DfiOyUxoKUarNTWkE259vSq3LxrYZh3-0LrS1EzXG5peN64Yg/s320/IMG_8171.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9VcG6x39tO-Erq_wHvRhZ17tOGeAfFNzM68V3rnUciR3lwZt6J4a0heL2H1OvvleYpz9RQegwJXgIfuLgnEXY2UoVRqUknywfSJZiWbXTBu7mdiWg_owlvKUnpgAoNJRkK9waqlE8KBSRrcOnuu0ybnJ6YOeHQyqkt6ViV9qX4scR--0rw/s400/IMG_8968.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="289" data-original-width="400" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9VcG6x39tO-Erq_wHvRhZ17tOGeAfFNzM68V3rnUciR3lwZt6J4a0heL2H1OvvleYpz9RQegwJXgIfuLgnEXY2UoVRqUknywfSJZiWbXTBu7mdiWg_owlvKUnpgAoNJRkK9waqlE8KBSRrcOnuu0ybnJ6YOeHQyqkt6ViV9qX4scR--0rw/s320/IMG_8968.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">5. Enough said during this dark strange time. I cannot truly explain how we got here. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScq9_R36ZaCF940miYaTh_aX7tBb3E7xy55BC-m_UYdDwjFl3gGtoB9hwRXzGb4Ab3j6CghGbLMNk7Tn1vkzxSsvSCo1a7k7FD9bw0VNMyhrqIv36zjQ8N1sKh0-8Vj_JF9lMx2YLyvHsq5rekxZGqQL7BDtcS4Zc3LQckyI_JKOaLdrd8g/s640/buddha.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScq9_R36ZaCF940miYaTh_aX7tBb3E7xy55BC-m_UYdDwjFl3gGtoB9hwRXzGb4Ab3j6CghGbLMNk7Tn1vkzxSsvSCo1a7k7FD9bw0VNMyhrqIv36zjQ8N1sKh0-8Vj_JF9lMx2YLyvHsq5rekxZGqQL7BDtcS4Zc3LQckyI_JKOaLdrd8g/s320/buddha.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">5. Ahh my poor neglected poetry book. I am so thankful for so many kind reviews and kind words. I had every intention to take promoting it seriously. But in January my cousin Maureen became terminally ill and Marie fell and ended up in a nursing home, and JB and I stepped in to help both women navigate and plan. We are both exhausted even as I write this, but we are also honored and grateful. And the book, it's on Amazon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsH5sYQZnk2i4wYTupYODAHdlMO0iQNnWLdssgfQN9Ax2mqzRoWlEDUWR5KlNnP75pfSNzshctKH-41_rQJj7wUQvmzcbOdOQunCgdFcUv2abamdlXpmKCv5Y4PTsg_24uIlg_mmS7auqpB1NInxMtjDckMkpoWpAAcW_JhYEP2kZ41k5kgA/s2208/fullsizeoutput_4bd7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2208" data-original-width="1242" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsH5sYQZnk2i4wYTupYODAHdlMO0iQNnWLdssgfQN9Ax2mqzRoWlEDUWR5KlNnP75pfSNzshctKH-41_rQJj7wUQvmzcbOdOQunCgdFcUv2abamdlXpmKCv5Y4PTsg_24uIlg_mmS7auqpB1NInxMtjDckMkpoWpAAcW_JhYEP2kZ41k5kgA/s320/fullsizeoutput_4bd7.jpeg" width="180" /></a></div><br />6-10 Family xoxo<br /></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_YgvVl1KBOS5LjU-od04jffBz6c8ncMcHWsge_j9TecEQAo909s4AnMuNwi27JgXOMP28-jRiRdV7UcrdLHIovBpD3_Sm4HVepc8KYsdz0voCBqWyjpG_3sLFx0Jb9TNNwQAh5qu2G31JT8918ulIErVQ7W4_btSA2pubjQzok9rnkMvZ-w/s1242/fullsizeoutput_5387.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1242" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_YgvVl1KBOS5LjU-od04jffBz6c8ncMcHWsge_j9TecEQAo909s4AnMuNwi27JgXOMP28-jRiRdV7UcrdLHIovBpD3_Sm4HVepc8KYsdz0voCBqWyjpG_3sLFx0Jb9TNNwQAh5qu2G31JT8918ulIErVQ7W4_btSA2pubjQzok9rnkMvZ-w/s320/fullsizeoutput_5387.jpeg" width="320" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJOwbuTxkmSvt8xhfRg891zFrhhFcwIlW2u_PosMPUvrD7dKVhtWbQxM3aE3Hof9tdFJScvWJM-W7Jj9DUeUKAuAb3_VZOrHSfxXTqwybm4OdZ5xt4NQ-youhpgKQJmfTagnWe8a3P-IocDQsT6j7sn61OGinRjeokRuOnN9jZTkCOfZBxA/s3648/fullsizeoutput_6f6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="3648" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJOwbuTxkmSvt8xhfRg891zFrhhFcwIlW2u_PosMPUvrD7dKVhtWbQxM3aE3Hof9tdFJScvWJM-W7Jj9DUeUKAuAb3_VZOrHSfxXTqwybm4OdZ5xt4NQ-youhpgKQJmfTagnWe8a3P-IocDQsT6j7sn61OGinRjeokRuOnN9jZTkCOfZBxA/s320/fullsizeoutput_6f6.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwBql4yind1lfBJmw6tDOjwoziz1IKaPSVVmHodkglV6uRj4skVxJxyy-EWdkzDQvr9xg3c73BmRcPR_8Di__T1trarzlyh8dtSbW01DYBLqsEIbaW4CPRoi9DW8wL65nHYM49NV7gW3KT3TG8Pq721NSeZ4jz85ikZ9oKYIiE0jvYw52YA/s960/IMG_E4435.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="960" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwBql4yind1lfBJmw6tDOjwoziz1IKaPSVVmHodkglV6uRj4skVxJxyy-EWdkzDQvr9xg3c73BmRcPR_8Di__T1trarzlyh8dtSbW01DYBLqsEIbaW4CPRoi9DW8wL65nHYM49NV7gW3KT3TG8Pq721NSeZ4jz85ikZ9oKYIiE0jvYw52YA/s320/IMG_E4435.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">an oldie but very very goodie!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdq0Ve5U6VL_q2hsV_F_5dX_loUul6yCcIpe3GpRpqNaPE86N9g5UGFuwKhGMWa-Fu6FwO8o15oFZbh7nHxFTl8AhGbrNUb0wyjuhqyMw6v59dEyz87soCe7uIi49hpJfUQZz8Gx6APbzbW2f0YqP7OrW09_BCnPoojM6Gin-Z8t7az4Atw/s2782/fullsizeoutput_1fc6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2782" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdq0Ve5U6VL_q2hsV_F_5dX_loUul6yCcIpe3GpRpqNaPE86N9g5UGFuwKhGMWa-Fu6FwO8o15oFZbh7nHxFTl8AhGbrNUb0wyjuhqyMw6v59dEyz87soCe7uIi49hpJfUQZz8Gx6APbzbW2f0YqP7OrW09_BCnPoojM6Gin-Z8t7az4Atw/s320/fullsizeoutput_1fc6.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">11. And another book by yours truly: this one I can just about guarantee is a good summer read. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cKxaFAmLmGAbqR-KraP1ipXJxq4EQwQhvlFtmXczReqkWGnZLFFhzFzvnw5-goiIh1yGAFU-OvrIjtIFes80NB49gJz-7aJwTeLlI8auVF5A54KEvJW8hMivH74D9ptf4LHQW2WZ-xIv67_CSskrRJTrDaYlMn39hAcO93bUUhQtzPMwuw/s220/Cover%20for%20Karen%5B1%5D-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="138" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cKxaFAmLmGAbqR-KraP1ipXJxq4EQwQhvlFtmXczReqkWGnZLFFhzFzvnw5-goiIh1yGAFU-OvrIjtIFes80NB49gJz-7aJwTeLlI8auVF5A54KEvJW8hMivH74D9ptf4LHQW2WZ-xIv67_CSskrRJTrDaYlMn39hAcO93bUUhQtzPMwuw/s1600/Cover%20for%20Karen%5B1%5D-1.jpg" width="138" /></a></div></div><br /><br />12. Once there was a Magic Cottage<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6mjbXFXNYJiHPvaWaS5trzaodtAd6nyIV0ddpJ_nWRJVLrGHs678ymZuOzm6Mg7B3hFBc74A4PkRVgiB1iuu2EtbYTICODBFQMCvwZlE8YeGPCGhNwanoU_m7NbbDMEgm--PIUOThh-kUhccKHqQz9wfqSqTYaZhg8_bxRE_zQtwaNkDrg/s2272/fullsizeoutput_8c2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1704" data-original-width="2272" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6mjbXFXNYJiHPvaWaS5trzaodtAd6nyIV0ddpJ_nWRJVLrGHs678ymZuOzm6Mg7B3hFBc74A4PkRVgiB1iuu2EtbYTICODBFQMCvwZlE8YeGPCGhNwanoU_m7NbbDMEgm--PIUOThh-kUhccKHqQz9wfqSqTYaZhg8_bxRE_zQtwaNkDrg/s320/fullsizeoutput_8c2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">13. Where I happen to live: a most glorious beautiful light-filled funky town.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6-PgezLzOc73r3C-3ckKGsHNYOv06JHc9dFC4VAlgrUguGs5QgDxpoMNfmO-f3a3XzAGskuA61n5MkzFB4N6ECxYjDRx3BbLR_eJOQtLdQ_8euKa7jEnISmcfrHDOHtL_ShU0U6ZE9C0ZPc6Z164ok27ye0jaWtKyFHvkAxg0PmEPSZuImA/s4032/IMG_1374.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6-PgezLzOc73r3C-3ckKGsHNYOv06JHc9dFC4VAlgrUguGs5QgDxpoMNfmO-f3a3XzAGskuA61n5MkzFB4N6ECxYjDRx3BbLR_eJOQtLdQ_8euKa7jEnISmcfrHDOHtL_ShU0U6ZE9C0ZPc6Z164ok27ye0jaWtKyFHvkAxg0PmEPSZuImA/s320/IMG_1374.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><p></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-63310792147709328592022-05-22T12:59:00.001-04:002022-05-22T12:59:39.331-04:00Signs from the Road: Chapter 3<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;">January 24</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-518018b8-7fff-47ac-3588-863ca975ad93"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Provincetown MA</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Janet and I have decided to start our road trip today, a day early, even if all we do is drive thirty minutes to Orleans and head back home! But as of today, our kitchen is closed and we’re acting like we’re on vacation already. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">So on Day 1: </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We give the car a good cleaning.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have a burger and carrot-cashew soup at the sweet Sunbird Cafe. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And we both get pedicures and I get a manicure too.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is a painted rock was in a corner of the bathroom at lunch. It says, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our days are happier when we give people a piece of our heart instead of a piece of our mind.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I make another split-second decision to follow that advice. </span></p><br /><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 160px; overflow: hidden; width: 240px;"><img height="160" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/rQ7mF_bYegEvbSe7v0sIvzWCEMqM4Npnqmgu-sGsocrxyXVxdZjEEFqPLlXyZHUcnKNMYYGhBEBKE3oYiWKjFBnoYFvqGki3f9AM7mTv_DdymXMQKVIqJptLgqWLNC42wcy50DdZMUIxL6vf-g" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="240" /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We live at the very tip of Cape Cod, and it’s a mini-milestone when the next day we cross over the bridge and are officially off the Cape. We're headed to see our family before we head out in earnest. </span><br /></span><br />We live at the very tip of Cape Cod and it's always a big deal when we cross the bridge off Cape. </span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Especially now. <p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">January 25th</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Natick MA</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We’re giddy on our way to Jess and Mike’s house. We’ve planned a Chinese buffet dinner that includes Mike’s mother Pat and our four great grand kids. We have to soak in an extra dose of each of them, enough to last a couple of months. There is nothing especially special about our visit, but it's significant because this will be the longest time ever I've been away from Jess and the kids. <i>(Fast forward: we send a half dozen or more postcards along the way, which for some reason don't arrive until two months later, when we're back home!)</i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">January 26th</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Greenfield MA</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before we lived in Provincetown we lived in Florence, a section of Northampton, in Western Massachusetts. Greenfield is a small city about thirty minutes up Route 91, populated by gardeners and activists, and home to our friends Marsha and Norm. Both are officially retired, although Marsha is an LPN, Chair of the Building Department at her temple, Co-chair of the local Garden Club, member of a local chorus, assistant manager of the Farmer’s Market, and self proclaimed leader of her improvisation group. She can't sit still. Norm is a City Counselor and a board member of the Greenfield Food Co-operative and gardener and extraordinaire bird watcher. He moves and talks a whole lot slower than Marsha, and his day-to-day life is simpler. He's as frugal as Janet and I are impulsive. These two friends are like family: sometimes we snip at one another, usually involving our kitchens and our collective meals together, but mostly we operate like a family. A few times a year, we go to their house and they come to our house.</span><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 232px; overflow: hidden; width: 397px;"><img height="232" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/boofvfIZ1IwKEgWNVpUCprSNwf2VTc7sxbGz33Pq7UK1WZfnttYOWUPjR2O6p_Kt4FjcNjEDOm03JVyN0qMVOI31HG6GYFiwCG1gCV8wBSQefykaLvoU_hGTyUYWup6OpeTguFeho2vDQtbgRA" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="397" /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have friends to see. We four meet our mutual friends Kevin and Ginger for dinner at Hope & Olives, a local favorite restaurant. Kevin and Ginger are just over the newlywed threshold: it’s not their first rodeo. We find them over the moon excited because they’ll soon be performing a reading ofA.R Guirney’s </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love Letters</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> onstage. We won’t be around, but I make a note to remind Marsha to be sure to buy tickets. As if she needs my advice. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">January 27</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Northampton MA</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next morning, Janet and I meet our friend Lori at Jake’s Cafe in the our former very funky, very lesbian college town of Northampton. Janet and Lori worked together for a Disability Management firm until both of them broke off and started their own consulting businesses. Lori’s has grown internationally and we love hearing about her ventures and ideas and successes. She tells us to be sure to visit Cambria when we get to California. “It’s where I’d live if I could live anywhere in the world,” she says. I write this down in my appointment book.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With Mattie and her blue cloud fleece blanket comfortably settled in the back seat of our locked car, we have a wonderful breakfast. Jakes is one of those special breakfast places that local residents keep secret. There are no better giant buttermilk biscuits anywhere on the planet. We order an extra six to take back to Marsha and Norm’s. Then, with Mattie in tow, we roam around Northampton and drive the back roads of route 5-10 for hours, through the farming towns of Hadley and Sunderland and Ashfield, waving at the frozen tobacco and asparagus farms and checking out our old neighborhood, where we lived for twelve years. We leave a note for our former neighbor Lisa, hoping she’s well. At six, we meet our friends Teri and Rose at our mutual favorite Milano’s for dinner. We have met them there dozens of times, always ordering off the $10.95 special menu. Rose gets the Bella Canto pasta about as often as I get the Chicken Marsala. Rose tells us to be sure to visit Apalachicola on the Florida Panhandle. Like Lori, she tells us she could live there. I can’t pronounce Apalachicola, but I write it down in my appointment book. </span></p></span><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-4646379531695768022022-04-30T13:58:00.000-04:002022-04-30T13:58:02.699-04:00Signs from the Road Chapter 2<div class="separator"><p dir="ltr" style="clear: right; float: right; line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="clear: right; float: right; line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="clear: right; float: right; line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="clear: right; float: right; line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-c04c2b3e-7fff-10bc-1006-dfc5cc68b8a1"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: normal; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline;">Neither of us remembers how we made the decision to take a road trip. Most likely we were complaining about winter temperatures and slippery snow in our tiny coastal community of Provincetown, Massachusetts, a peninsula at the very tip of Cape Cod. Probably we were motivated by promising two friends we’d come visit. And certainly we thought about if not now, when? So we mapped out thirty stops: no snow. Warmer weather. Friends and family. Dog Parks. American cities and small towns. Meeting strangers. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; text-indent: 36pt;">Leaving vacuum cleaners and chores behind. Just Thelma, Louise, and Mattie, on the road.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where to start? </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Northern Florida serves as our starting point. It’s 1,464 miles, 22 hours driving time to St. Petersburg from Provincetown. We look at a map of the East Coast and we look at each other. Janet and I don’t do well in the car. It’s a hot spot for us. We argue about directions and I complain about her tailgating, which she denies. We also stiffen if we sit too long. So first off, we decide to limit our driving to 4 or 5 or at most 6 hours a day. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have to see our daughter and son-in-law and our grandkids, two hours away in Natick before we leave. From there we’ll drive to </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Western Massachusetts</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, to Greenfield, to stay with friends for a few days. We’ll catch up with them and several other local friends before we leave for a night in </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Philadelphia.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> And then on to </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Charleston South Carolina</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. But wait, we’re already breaking our proposed four or five or six hour driving limit, The ride from Philly to Charleston is ten-plus hours. So I look for a midpoint: according to Google, I’m not the first traveler seeking that midpoint—the question has been asked hundreds, maybe thousands of times. The definite winner is </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rocky Mount North Carolina.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Okay, that works. I book a pet-friendly hotel in Rocky Mount for a quick overnight and we’ll drive two hours the next morning to Charleston. We know very little about Charleston except for its reputation for Southern hospitality and Southern grits. (</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fast forward:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> We didn’t know then about the plantations and the international slave trade based in Charleston from 1856 to 1863. That’s a heartbreak.)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From there planning the trip gets increasingly interesting. Thanks to Janet’s fill-in part-time job at one of Provincetown’s hotels, the manager who is also a friend has gifted us with four certificates for free stays at sister hotels, each one for two nights. Tybee Island GA. San Antonio and Austin Texas. And Memphis Tennessee. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tybee Island</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is barely fifteen miles from </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Savannah</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. We’ll plan on being there three days. The place is dog friendly and right on the beach. Next, we’ll head four hours to </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Flagger Island, Florida.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Mattie has a dog friend there, a black lab named Mary Jane. Mary Jane’s owner tells us Flagger is a quaint coastal town like Provincetown, and we’ll run the dogs on the beach. T</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">hen </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>St. Petersburg. New Orleans. San Antonio, Austin. Marfa Texas. Bisbee Arizona. Tucson. Phoenix. Mexico. </b>and three stops<b> </b>in<b> California: Palm Springs, Pismo Beach, and Topanga.</b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> </span> I decide to write and revise all these stops on an 8 by 11 inch envelope. As we keep planning, I add the miles and driving time from one stop to the next and high and low temperatures. For each stop I add the miles and hours to the next stop, the average temperatures, and the dates we’ll be there. (</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fast Forward: that envelope worked like a charm, even when we changed plans.) </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiSRZwzs4OEVkFToC7zo6ouZcmaj2oPL9WAZZn7whevyVlm_lJuIFpUAVktXL_GUYrqvxRRrpLlsTrPWF5_LOupInVwv78qhV2VBApuK8FWeq5hVr9ucjAsUcFA7qXr6-r5TiKqOWW64gO6TBFjkGNtKFmo5GbOPt32uKa9nnSdjLC5_ugg/s3341/fullsizeoutput_3bdd.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3341" data-original-width="2907" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiSRZwzs4OEVkFToC7zo6ouZcmaj2oPL9WAZZn7whevyVlm_lJuIFpUAVktXL_GUYrqvxRRrpLlsTrPWF5_LOupInVwv78qhV2VBApuK8FWeq5hVr9ucjAsUcFA7qXr6-r5TiKqOWW64gO6TBFjkGNtKFmo5GbOPt32uKa9nnSdjLC5_ugg/s320/fullsizeoutput_3bdd.jpeg" width="278" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where to stay?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Neither of us are hotel chain types. We prefer quaint quirky places. But we’ve never used Airbnb and we have Mattie. As I begin googling, some things become clear: in most cases, we can find places to stay for around a hundred dollars a night. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Fast forward: not exactly.) </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I choose places that have the greatest number of positive reviews, and I look for those that include a free breakfast, not so much to save money, but so we can eat quickly and hit the road faster. The chains jump out. I choose mostly 3-star ratings, but I let a couple of 2-stars slip in because they look and sound just fine. (</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fast forward: In several cases, I’d come to regret those slips.)</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I spend about ten hours (it might have been twenty. Or thirty.) booking our stays. I make copies of each confirmation and slide them into a plastic sleeve folder. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What to pack? </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eight weeks on the road. With a dog. And a separate trip to Mexico. That feels like a lot of packing: </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> <span> </span></span>Snacks for the car</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Single bags of popcorn, Kind bars, peanut butter crackers, chocolate, oranges, pistachio nuts, breath mints. Bully sticks and other treats for Mattie. We’ll be gone almost eighty days and we’ll happily eat our meals out. But we could easily drop ten dollars a pop on quick road side stops, and maybe we wouldn’t want to take the time to stop as often as we want to munch. Plus we don’t know how leaving Mattie in the car alone in strange places will work out. Our solution is to shop at BJ’s and buy plenty of munchies. I pack a good supply in see-through plastic bag that we’ll keep up front in the car, and the rest goes in a grocery box, stuffed in a corner of the car’s way-back.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Weather appropriate clothes</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">? Figuring this part out is challenging and I feel like a genius when I come up with a plan.. The Rav has a good sized trunk area and should hold our suitcases and supplies well enough, But who wants to lug suitcases and dog supplies in and out of hotels night after night? I’m a light packer (so I thought) and Janet is not (no surprise there!) We’ll start off in cold East Coast weather and warm up in the Southern states and along the Southern border. But none of the temps are exactly sun-bathing weather, except for when we fly to Mexico. Mexico will definitely be pool ware, so we decide we’ll each pack a suitcase specifically for there and we’ll put them the furthest back in the car. We won’t have to touch those two suitcases for weeks. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For our day-to-day travels, I come up with this idea to pack each outfit separately—for example, a top, a bottom, and underwear-in a see-through plastic bag, I figure we’ll separate the plastic bags by cold weather or hot weather. So over a few days, an hour or so at a time, Janet and I pull out the clothes we want: summer, winter, sweaters, blouses, tee-shirts, pants, shorts, socks, underwear, pajamas. We sort and match them in some almost random order. Some plastic bags have long pants and long sleeves and others have capris and tee-shirts. We decide to each make a separate bag for beachwear: a bathing suit, a cover, slip flops. All in all, we end up with close to thirty see through bags. Each day, when we check into our hotel or where ever, we’ll simply pull out one bag each, along with one shared suitcase that has our nightwear and toiletries and medicine and Mattie’s blanket and food and munchies. It seems pretty efficient. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> We pack the plastic bags in grocery boxes, upright for easy identification, one box for warm weather clothes, and a second box for cold weather. We quickly realize we have four pretty good sized boxes that take up room more room than expected.They compete for space along with our three suitcases. I fail to factor in Janet’s ginormous toiletry bag—it’s the size of an adult raccoon. It’s all a tight fit but it’s workable. We put the plastic bags right in front and easy to reach; the Mexico suitcases go way in the back; Mattie’s supplies and food fits on the left side, snack replenishments fit on the right side, and my laptop and Mattie’s foldable soft crate are tucked behind the passenger seat. We make a make-shift shelf for Mattie’s food and water behind the driver’s seat. She has herself a little apartment back there: a small soft bed, a window to view the world, her food and water, and a squeaky toy and bully stick.</span></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the time we leave Provincetown the car is pretty darn pretty organized. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Fast forward: Ha!)</span></span>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-32879416071766042832022-04-19T14:22:00.007-04:002022-04-19T15:18:58.275-04:00Signs From The Road<p> <i>This is the first chapter of a nine week cross country road trip JB and I took in 2020, just before the pandemic began. God only knows when if ever this adventure will find its way to publication, but it may just find a home here on my blog. It was QUITE a trip: I recommend hitting the road 100%,</i></p><p><i>love kj</i></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-kXkttpKNjf-3iIadzBeStTGnWIwrW5Yc_mYfB46O2nFTC2kGWLYgE1hvgE0QUSNlsMkK64vm1n5Aoi7KmHxb0kVHtUIYhkgLP9tvfJQpuo_QeGcW3UYH-lde2_AwAIicmusXMw05p75mgzykO2aPoPe_gJvbBEqGyd2n6J-qilfoTurhQ/s4032/fullsizeoutput_3c21.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-kXkttpKNjf-3iIadzBeStTGnWIwrW5Yc_mYfB46O2nFTC2kGWLYgE1hvgE0QUSNlsMkK64vm1n5Aoi7KmHxb0kVHtUIYhkgLP9tvfJQpuo_QeGcW3UYH-lde2_AwAIicmusXMw05p75mgzykO2aPoPe_gJvbBEqGyd2n6J-qilfoTurhQ/s320/fullsizeoutput_3c21.jpeg" width="240" /></a></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;">Signs From The Road</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-2a20f32f-7fff-2f3c-d907-d540fe316e97"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Provincetown MA</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">March 2020: </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; white-space: pre-wrap;">My fourteen day state quarantine hadn’t even ended when I was pretty sure I had the Corona Virus.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At first I felt a heavy weight on my chest, and then a headache on my left temple. I waited it out for a few days before I called my local health center. An aide called me back, asked a half dozen questions about my symptoms, and a half hour later a clinic nurse called and asked me the same questions. As soon as I told her I’d been traveling in California, she set me up for the test the next day. I’m seventy two and I’ve had pneumonia twice. I pep-talk my lungs to stay strong. But two months after a fantastic cross country trip, I was curled up, lethargic, with a slight headache, and an on-again off-again sore chest. The little guest bedroom off the living room was black, and so were my thoughts. These were the early days of the pandemic when New York body bags were too many to store, and being paranoid, and scared, and talking to myself left me questioning if I had the courage to get through dying on a ventilator, no family allowed in my final moments, myself aware and alone. That was the Corona Virus in March 2020. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had to wait four days for my test result. Negative. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">_____</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Janet and I had rushed home, condensing a two week return trip from California to Provincetown in four days in order to stay ahead of the rumor that New York would be closing entry in order to control the already rapid spread of the virus. This rush return trip home was the exclamation point of a very worthy nine week road trip. For three wild days we drove the empty highways with our dog Mattie, fourteen wheeler truckers, and pelting rain and fog.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> </span>It was a wild end. Eight weeks, 25 cities, 20 states, 15 friends and family, 20 hotels, 8500 miles, one 2012 Toyota Rav, one good dog, and one damn pandemic. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A pandemic, like the plague of 1812.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> </span>When my partner JB and I first got the idea for a road trip, I bought a few road trip books from Amazon. We hadn’t mapped out our trip yet and mostly I wanted a sense of how to </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">think about it all--</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">how to plan and how to pack. In our case, two months on the road in our own car with our dog. We’d be gone for weeks. We’ll be in all kinds of weather and temperatures. How should we pack? How far should we drive? We’d need dog-friendly accommodations. Where should we stay? What should we see? </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The road trip books I chose disappointed me. So here I am now, based on our actual hits and misses, presumptuously writing my own travel guide for how to hit the road in your car with your dog, with all weather clothes, with snacks, and with a promise to control our frustrations and tempers. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It turns out road trips are a lot like life: it’s tricky to balance planning ahead with savoring the present. This book aims to achieve both. The chapters are organized as journal entries, by date and location, each entry dotted with practical information (planning the trip, mapping the stops, budgeting time and money,) but also with our very human and often laughable exchanges and experiences along the way. We meet a pregnant dog sprawled across two bar stools in Tybee Island, Georgia. We have ten minutes of total and misguided exhilaration thinking we won </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">$ 10,000 on a Florida lottery ticket. We sink into six inches of mud in Topanga, California (not our car, our feet!) We giggle at an electronic flashing road sign on the Sopchoppy Highway: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This Saturday: Fish Fry for Doris!’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> And I can’t even remember where this gem of a sign found us: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Fold Your Worries Into Paper Planes and Turn Them Into Flying Fucks…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So dear reader, if you’re ready to hit the road, here we go!</span></p></span><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-4547344647903696532022-04-06T15:47:00.001-04:002022-04-06T15:47:22.097-04:00Transitions<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdeE3oZkpLV3zDjeQSLFCWEMAlhq3bSfkgkCOzX3dGErYpatcdrS0rUKw9EM2sGs5OqZ-nFi22Jf_VT4e19SR5p3BE5OK0e_CjIye8hhtxXtxcpTzpVBtzFf7V9EPoYQlAS3_qR741hZX4H5WbXhlv7oPRxVPDoAzRZsonbkdduOiGo_PvxA/s1239/fullsizeoutput_55f6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1223" data-original-width="1239" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdeE3oZkpLV3zDjeQSLFCWEMAlhq3bSfkgkCOzX3dGErYpatcdrS0rUKw9EM2sGs5OqZ-nFi22Jf_VT4e19SR5p3BE5OK0e_CjIye8hhtxXtxcpTzpVBtzFf7V9EPoYQlAS3_qR741hZX4H5WbXhlv7oPRxVPDoAzRZsonbkdduOiGo_PvxA/s320/fullsizeoutput_55f6.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The last few months have been a whirlwind. Just as my favorite cousin was diagnosed with terminal cancer, my 105 year old Godmother, who lived in her house for the past 93 years, fell and ended up in a nursing home. JB and I stepped in to help both women transition, Maureen to a too-soon death two weeks ago and Marie to a profound loss of independence. <p></p><p>My cousin Maureen planned every aspect of her remaining 3 months, including her funeral services. In later life she became a Crew Mom in hot air ballooning, and her wake had miniature hot air balloons hanging from the chapel rafters, and behind her casket on the altar there were giant posters like this painting. She spoke about dying in practical and no-regret terms. Her hospice death was more difficult than she and we had hoped, but the send off was everything she wanted. </p><p>My Godmother is now in a nursing home, heavily restricted because she fell while there, for reasons still unknown. So she's gone from the isolation of 2 years of Covid to a chair alarm that alerts the nursing aides every time she stands up or moves. We are trying our best to get her back home with a live-in aide. This has meant major renovations to her house and weekly lengthy trips from my own home. I'm her primary family and I want to help her however I can. I'm increasingly confident she'll be home again. </p><p>Did I mention that at 105 years old Marie entered the nursing home on zero medications, with a pretty good working memory, and in excellent health except for a very bad knee? Amazing in every way.</p><p>So JB and I are depleted and exhausted. No regrets, but no rest. We'll be heading to a 5 day spiritual retreat in mid April, and with spring now arriving in New England, I'm looking ahead with renewed hope. Hope is in short supply in this troubled world right now: I can barely follow the tragedy for the Ukranian people and the very real threat to civility and democracy in my own country. Do tyrants always fall? I surely hope so.</p><p>No active writing for me these days, but my two books are out there, on Amazon, and my finished family saga is waiting for renewed attention. My back surgery hasn't been as successful as I hoped, but I'm better than I was and I'm ready to resume my gardening ways. I have optimistic genes. I'm thankful for that. </p><p>For the hundredth time, I'm still so sad that blogging has taken a back seat to other social media options. I miss the almost daily backs and forth so much. But I appreciate being here and I appreciate everyone who stops by. Mwah!</p><p>love kj</p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-76992924187307314152022-01-23T14:56:00.002-05:002022-01-23T14:56:28.685-05:00The Current Life of Me the Writer<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9NRGmwdvW5PZbHBBJrBhgxL3u5D0qboptcWHnMkQatVPWbMkTYYcw5JdE2p2fiXkQvIqzpAGsuvyQLvAfiLQsVB7MFor5URX2EVavQZYKo5S1x0IgyIinn4eqBjoFqh4MU0DRg_dIRnKxzTck4nJeF_WA5dtJwvxRJcHYF0XR0KQi8aq3eQ=s1278" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1278" data-original-width="1212" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9NRGmwdvW5PZbHBBJrBhgxL3u5D0qboptcWHnMkQatVPWbMkTYYcw5JdE2p2fiXkQvIqzpAGsuvyQLvAfiLQsVB7MFor5URX2EVavQZYKo5S1x0IgyIinn4eqBjoFqh4MU0DRg_dIRnKxzTck4nJeF_WA5dtJwvxRJcHYF0XR0KQi8aq3eQ=s320" width="303" /></a></div><br /> Initially I decided to self-publish both my books after learning that it would be up to me to market and promote them anyway, with little if any help from the publisher. <p></p><p><i>The Light Stays On </i>first came out in 2008. The reviews and responses were heartwarmingly good, but I did very little to publicize it. This love story was (and still is) listed on Amazon, I did a couple of book fairs, got the book into several independent book stores, and had a hilarious reading in Provincetown (me sandwiched in between two very erotic lesbian writers, one with a story about Buffy the Cheerleader and her gym coach. I crouched in embarrassment!) </p><p>I also got a nibble from a publisher I had contacted, who was interested but only if I expanded the story by 50 more pages. I didn't follow up. Fast forward to today and <i>The Light Stays On</i> is finally getting my attention. I'm always thrilled when someone says that the story of Alex and Lily meant something and touched them in some way. I've made a few small changes and have recently 'republished' the book on Amazon, also making it available as a e-book and in countries outside the USA. This time I'll be more involved. </p><p>At the same time I'm promoting my recent book of poetry, <i>Love & Other Annoyances.</i> Same deal: it's on Amazon, in a few select bookstores, and I've done a couple of book signings. What's different this time around, is that I'm also laboriously trying to learn about algorithms and meta data--the secret sauce that puts a book in front of Amazon readers instead of buried under thousands and thousands of competing titles. Learning anything about this computer-generated approach is no fun. I pretty much hate even reading the basics. </p><p>It's all harder than I expected. </p><p>I've done a bit of paid advertising on Amazon and I've nagged just about every kind person who's bought my books to leave a review on Amazon. I expected 30 reviews the first month the poetry book came out, without realizing that writing a review isn't an easy ask for many people. Reviews can help a book take off; that's for sure. So I'm still pushing and hoping, now, shooting for 50 reviews. (I'm hopelessly dogged.) But I also know this goal isn't going to move ahead without a real effort on my part. I also know I can't be nagging people!</p><p>Which brings me to my current Turtle way of life. These days I stop what I'm doing, whenever I can, when I start to lose interest or get tired or feel frustrated. So for my book promotions, this means there are many days when I do just a little. This especially means that my attempts to navigate the computer skills and knowledge I need are driving me crazy! There are some days I could throw my laptop against the nearest wall or window.</p><p>But this is also true: every single time I see a new review or there is a new sale or someone acknowledges my writing, it's gold. </p><p>Sigh. Every single time......xo</p><p>Love kj</p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-25811254526744356842022-01-15T16:13:00.004-05:002022-01-15T16:13:52.185-05:00A New Year<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi11Anj4wrufGYS7QVbhEgJV_XvHHJMwk1bICQERaegAy0yBal7DBU1s4ShKDHluxT2Te-gJgvnvQCApAcakMeltPQ9tg7z-rOzI8EQuAQ4UKPAHQKFXea2YcGM_tCxicELuYD0ZxvO8jAZJ5uHtwZG3X7ZlVzWPyl44-hYiIEPfgTTX94eZg=s1935" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1935" data-original-width="1935" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi11Anj4wrufGYS7QVbhEgJV_XvHHJMwk1bICQERaegAy0yBal7DBU1s4ShKDHluxT2Te-gJgvnvQCApAcakMeltPQ9tg7z-rOzI8EQuAQ4UKPAHQKFXea2YcGM_tCxicELuYD0ZxvO8jAZJ5uHtwZG3X7ZlVzWPyl44-hYiIEPfgTTX94eZg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's JB waving from our local beach, our dog Mattie beside her, at low tide, last summer, one of my favorite photos of all time. We are so lucky to have a bay and beach within a block of our house. Today, as I write this, the temperature outside is barely 14 degrees F, and I'm no fan of winter. Mattie and I rely on JB to brave winter with one or two walks a day, a huge gift to sedentary cozy me. </div><p></p></blockquote><p><span> <span> I love these two.....</span></span> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCTHvS3YUlqvxd4izogNCaheBY8JZVWWijSmx6qR00ziFwjaLKIbGig6F2uQCeSkdQdOK_qYbc33WxUbQKHlj7pLB9mxSUsBZoZ0hJ_NMIqCbvdwbvku5pCezKuIRS79KwhCopTDGn2JdKI54Oj68HPEDDKu9DgESqJoRxTVoqGrVbzNhRTQ=s1796" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1796" data-original-width="1241" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCTHvS3YUlqvxd4izogNCaheBY8JZVWWijSmx6qR00ziFwjaLKIbGig6F2uQCeSkdQdOK_qYbc33WxUbQKHlj7pLB9mxSUsBZoZ0hJ_NMIqCbvdwbvku5pCezKuIRS79KwhCopTDGn2JdKI54Oj68HPEDDKu9DgESqJoRxTVoqGrVbzNhRTQ=s320" width="221" /></a></div><p>It's now a new year and so far it's a terrible mess: continuing Covid and masks and social cancellations wrapped around very scary politics and a shocking decline in truth and civility and integrity. The USA and the world are in trouble. I haven't given up hope, but I'm teetering. Still, I wish each of us a good year and the ability to love and to enjoy ourselves, our work, our spaces, and the people who share our tribes. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjh-Fn6tl0wpeRdWTYXW6bDCyy4Fxiu1CnzFNHykD9kb8rG42cN6V9qacjp0yakrewJ_wSMRfehtj5mzSKSlaiw9KvmWWm3gU32afm4QprT_gPClPhMUnt-NPrk8Jm4_SXxkB74IoyqSZ9Q96AJC9LIWI21qUNWDlS37RnkGdOiZcqCnFN2eA=s1623" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1623" data-original-width="1216" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjh-Fn6tl0wpeRdWTYXW6bDCyy4Fxiu1CnzFNHykD9kb8rG42cN6V9qacjp0yakrewJ_wSMRfehtj5mzSKSlaiw9KvmWWm3gU32afm4QprT_gPClPhMUnt-NPrk8Jm4_SXxkB74IoyqSZ9Q96AJC9LIWI21qUNWDlS37RnkGdOiZcqCnFN2eA=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p>Here's JB again, another favorite. This time she's in our fabulous renovated kitchen. Not a day goes by that we don't marvel at this kitchen, with its light-filled windows and open shelving and ample room to store things properly. Only one junk drawer in the whole room!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt_o_eLynyJ-C0j2n6trEBVoOf_HQ86la5SygBeshjg1ZMuc8YRKB3SV3Az7R3tuWw7Xa1-K7Zi5wUc_eQTYCGbmbW4tYFefkeAyDrgCDpUQaAiwR87bvcQuGP29IioMj9lzQEOArZ0nes6if5JX-UurrDW2CzMwtlTSRAWg-53LIt3sIV0g=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt_o_eLynyJ-C0j2n6trEBVoOf_HQ86la5SygBeshjg1ZMuc8YRKB3SV3Az7R3tuWw7Xa1-K7Zi5wUc_eQTYCGbmbW4tYFefkeAyDrgCDpUQaAiwR87bvcQuGP29IioMj9lzQEOArZ0nes6if5JX-UurrDW2CzMwtlTSRAWg-53LIt3sIV0g=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p>And finally, here I am with my 8 year old granddaughter Miss Reesie. Not much else needs to be said, except how much I love her and her three older brothers. It's a joy to have these kids in my life. It's a joy to see my daughter as a wonderful mother. </p><p>Oh yes: A word about my books. I'm learning the commerce of promoting and selling books. <i>It's not fun.</i> Metadata, algorithms, categories, keywords, sales reports. I'm tackling all of it little by little--relying on my turtle approach--and I'm selling my books--but slowly. I didn't expect it would be so hard, for example, to accumulate reader reviews on Amazon. It's like pulling teeth. That said, every time a review appears, I'm overjoyed. (Hint Hint: If you're reading this, and you've read <i>Love & Other Annoyances</i> or <i>The Light Stays On,</i> and you haven't already: please please write a review on Amazon. I can't offer bribes but I might if I could!)</p><p>Thanks for stopping by. I hope over time to rebuild my blog here. I'm so glad you're along for the ride. </p><p>love kj</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p> <p></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-14541128591213679642021-12-07T11:20:00.004-05:002021-12-07T11:20:41.397-05:00Holidays.....<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2V9Dy6uW4byEhWicRXSiNUL-UUhH5pDx-F8hkEh9pDA976740x3kNPxruxKXUf1PXaHLeQ-MEYOV0V40E_q6vFjiOwVc-ebMATXJ00aAqQaVzlDo6Wm2WUomeehpUZ7ejIrgeVhed1ubbnZ9FvdUlhQsDI-CD47OLT2uc_IFbOeixaYFwtg=s466" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="460" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2V9Dy6uW4byEhWicRXSiNUL-UUhH5pDx-F8hkEh9pDA976740x3kNPxruxKXUf1PXaHLeQ-MEYOV0V40E_q6vFjiOwVc-ebMATXJ00aAqQaVzlDo6Wm2WUomeehpUZ7ejIrgeVhed1ubbnZ9FvdUlhQsDI-CD47OLT2uc_IFbOeixaYFwtg=s320" width="316" /></a></div><br /> I enclosed this reminder in our holiday cards last year, and this year I'm again reminded that the Christmas season and beginning of a new year can be rough and confusing for many of us. <p></p><p>Whether your memories are good or bad, I think there is often a sadness to this time of year, sometimes when we look back to what we had and sometimes when we look back to what we didn't have. </p><p>I was lucky. My Mother made Christmas look easy. She made sure my brother and I had great presents tucked under the tree and she filled our stockings with fun doodads and on any given night she effortlessly added extra plates to our dinner table. She also geared up her cooking and baking. I'm realizing that I am pretty much following her patterns; but in my own way, because I'm also following my Turtle Approach and not letting anything I love doing become a chore. I wonder if she did that too, because I never heard her complain.</p><p>This weekend JB and I are hosting our first Girlfriends' weekend in two years. (Damn Covid!) Three of our friends are staying with us in Provincetown, and on Saturday night we're having a greatly reduced version of our Holiday Potluck Open House. This means cooking and baking and drinking and socializing, all my favorites. We've put up a live Christmas tree with old fashion lights and I've made gift boxes that include our home made Kahula. Last night JB and I frosted our almost famous sugar cookies. We'll end up making four batches because our daughter and son-in-law want two batches and even then they try not to share them with their kids. (smile.)</p><p>So all this is to say I'm doing well this season. And to acknowledge that this is not the case for everyone. It's a good idea to keep an eye out and lend a hand to the people around us who would love a card or cookies or a dinner invitation or time to share and listen. And that includes ourselves.</p><p>love kj</p><p><br /></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-77817600276916293262021-11-11T15:26:00.002-05:002021-11-11T15:26:13.055-05:00Back in Time for the Holidays<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NfaL_btCX1k/YY136n4geYI/AAAAAAAAR7w/hOl6Q99VeB0k4WGEi7oRmQVlU52HP4CbwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/fullsizeoutput_50cc.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NfaL_btCX1k/YY136n4geYI/AAAAAAAAR7w/hOl6Q99VeB0k4WGEi7oRmQVlU52HP4CbwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/fullsizeoutput_50cc.jpeg" width="180" /></a></div><br /> Where have I been?<p></p><p>For starts, I haven't been able to access my photos. Just now, I figured out where they've been hidden. </p><p>I've also been successfully recovering from back surgery. I'm not healed but I'm 90% better and I'll take that.</p><p>I've had a fun rollout of my poetry book, and to my surprise, my first book, written in 2008, has had a bit of a resurgence. I've just moved it into Amazon so <i>The Light Stays On</i> can now be available in other countries and as an e-book. I have a family saga novel waiting for a publisher or for me to ultimately publish it myself, but I have more queries to send and more to learn before I decide what to do. </p><p>My time these days is balanced among learning how to promote on Amazon--no small feat with complicated metadata and keywords and advertising options; cooking and baking, with flour all over me and the kitchen; and gardening--planting and pruning and prettying up a small side yard that wants to shine. This is the life of someone who has pretty much retired and then begun a second career as a writer. I'm very grateful.</p><p>To my friends here: would you like a Holiday Card from me? Email me your address and I'll be delighted to snail mail you my best wishes. It's the least I can do to make up for all my absences on this still-beloved blog.</p><p>I've begun my Christmas holiday rituals: choosing gifts, crafting surprises, planning a pot luck party, and praying for a truly better world (no small feat these troubling days...)</p><p>I hope you are well. xoxo</p><p>love kj</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-52559200381712472112021-07-03T14:50:00.005-04:002021-07-03T14:50:36.008-04:00Hot Off The Press!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--61W8GGpdzk/YOCua6QIW2I/AAAAAAAAR2g/sdYTFSaIAFcWsgxJFECcjKal23xItgncgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1398/cover-white-3d-1000px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1398" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--61W8GGpdzk/YOCua6QIW2I/AAAAAAAAR2g/sdYTFSaIAFcWsgxJFECcjKal23xItgncgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/cover-white-3d-1000px.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">NOW AVAILABLE!</div><div style="text-align: center;">In Paperback and/or E-book</div><div style="text-align: center;">through Amazon </div><div style="text-align: center;">USA & most other countries</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"> "<i>Love & Other Annoyances: All Purpose Poems for Hard Headed & Soft Hearted Romantics </i> is Jasper’s second book, which she jokingly describes as ‘my attempt to combine Dr. Seuss and Mary Oliver. “Many of my poems rhyme in a silly way, but many others look at the natural world for an understanding and perspective being human.” </span></p><div style="text-align: center;">
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Love and Other Annoyances</i> is a celebration of love and life but according to Jasper, “I sometimes sneak in free advice on how to manage the many common events that confuse us, elevate us, make us laugh and break our hearts.” This collection of thirty-five poems focuses on Love. Family. Friendship. Work. Guilt. Chores. Passion. Betrayal. And Contentment.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">“My poems are pretty simple and straightforward,” Jasper says. </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Those poets who find meaning</i></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>In observing the natural winter life:</i></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>That is not me. I want rhymes and rhythms.</i></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>My comfort comes from underground</i></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>where roots are the flowers of the otherworld.</i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><br /></i></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> “This is an experiment on my part,” Jasper explains. “I’ve agreed to give USA and International Amazon a ninety day exclusive, hoping to reach as wide an audience as possible. But I also want to have fun sharing this book, so my first promotional event a will be silly one:*** </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; white-space: pre;"> </span></p>
</div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">***Currently, the following promotional event is available only on my blog.</span></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Buy two or more books</span></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"> and write a review</span></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">And I will write a </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">little poem for you!</span></p></div></blockquote>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-74829853297771994952021-06-14T11:55:00.001-04:002021-06-14T11:55:11.578-04:00Updates<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--5xu-18oagc/YMd4bBngYoI/AAAAAAAARzc/UYUoj47Z5vsDIwzefyWkmhvSkSdU8lQnQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_3131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--5xu-18oagc/YMd4bBngYoI/AAAAAAAARzc/UYUoj47Z5vsDIwzefyWkmhvSkSdU8lQnQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_3131.JPG" /></a></div><br /> Hello from Provincetown, where I am comfortably recuperating from major back surgery that has me hopeful and encouraged. So far I'm doing far better than expected. No gardening, no bending or twisting or lifting for another month or two, but all in all I'm doing well. I put this spinal fusion surgery off for years, hoping physical therapy or weight loss or acupuncture or chiropractic treatment etc etc would work. Now, barely three weeks post operatively, I am in far less pain than I've been in the last three years. So come what may I know I made the right decision. <p></p><p>I'm also unexpectedly readying to have a collection of my poetry published within a few weeks! This has been sweet and exciting and surprising! I took a break from querying my novel at the same time I began reviewing and cleaning up my writing files, and somehow one step has led to another. The book should be available as a paperback or e-book on Amazon sometime in early to mid-July. My feeling is 'thrilling!'</p><p>It's beautiful here on Cape Cod as spring falls into summer. JB and I rearranged our outdoor deck from just a grill and picnic table to the addition of a cozy sectional where I can stretch out and read and relax. It took me weeks to decide on the 'right' patio sectional but I lucked out with a great choice.</p><p>Wishing each of you a blessed grateful season ahead. Love kj</p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-40231377460854531532021-04-20T11:36:00.001-04:002021-04-20T11:36:09.066-04:00Help!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aQXJ6gk2Pnw/YH7yxuzGoBI/AAAAAAAARzA/bqQDRLtr9A42BEHVcmQqaogA_6FbyCE4gCLcBGAsYHQ/s719/IMG_2087.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="548" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aQXJ6gk2Pnw/YH7yxuzGoBI/AAAAAAAARzA/bqQDRLtr9A42BEHVcmQqaogA_6FbyCE4gCLcBGAsYHQ/w488-h640/IMG_2087.JPG" width="488" /></a></div><br /> You may remember this. I asked for impressions and suggestions about love and then I put the responses all together. This is one of my favorite graphics.<p></p><p>I have a feeling my blog is not allowing some or all comments. Would you kindly let me know if you're unable to leave a comment here? My email address is karenjasper@comcast.net.</p><p>Meanwhile, all is well here except I'm having long avoided back surgery in Mid-May. It's about time and I'm hopeful I'll be able to walk the beach and walk downtown and stand to my heart's content. I feel good about it, despite a longish recovery. </p><p>These days are writing days for me. I'm compiling a trade book of my poems and determining how best to publish (or self publish) my family saga novel. It's a good life here: JB goes to her studio and I write and we marvel that we're one block from the beach. We've been vaccinated. Hope floats!</p><p>love kj</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-8626243568482361272021-03-05T15:40:00.007-05:002021-03-05T15:50:29.903-05:00Rollercoasters<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pI4gbSyleBI/YEKU5WHp4bI/AAAAAAAARyI/GTbptEgkxaY3s_v1sKT1SQIvrd7CtYGRgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_1612.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="400" height="324" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pI4gbSyleBI/YEKU5WHp4bI/AAAAAAAARyI/GTbptEgkxaY3s_v1sKT1SQIvrd7CtYGRgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h324/IMG_1612.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I've begun cleaning out my computer files and I've come across a memoir I put aside a few years ago. It brought me back to probably my earliest blog post, written in 2006 at a time when I saw and experienced life a certain way. I'm still pondering what has and hasn't changed in my thinking, but I do know I still don't mind taking a risk or two. How about you? </div><p> <span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">My Blog Entry 2006</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-caef8e5f-7fff-9bce-3169-6f74b0fb5807"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whatever is exhilarating is also risky, kind of like riding a roller coaster with your hands above your head and your feet so flip-floppy they won’t help you brace, especially during that first long wild dip, when your hair flies behind you at lightning speed and you can barely hear your own screams because they are folded into the chill of the collective scream, all the way down, until you level out waiting for the next rapid rise and fall.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> <span> </span></span>True, there’s a steel bar across your lap that holds you to the seat, makes sure gravity will not pick you up and plummet you into mid air and sudden death, but let’s face it: you want to ride that roller coaster that way—reckless and reflectively—so you hand over a piece of yourself without knowing the ropes, the same as if you choose a backcountry trail without provisions or a map; you do it that way and you’re taking your chances that you'll know what to do when the danger rush comes flying at you, when there’s no time to think and certainly no time to plan.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span>You know it makes more sense to size things up, take your time and venture slowly, get familiar with what's known and what isn't. You know It’s better to not be surprised when you are not prepared, to keep the rudder steady, to drop Hansel and Gretel corn kernels behind you so the path stays familiar. But then again when you know your way, you’re not surprised, and when you’re not surprised, you’re not deep in the thrill and the rush ride that’s lost to you is not exactly small.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Isn’t that why sooner or later you come to admire people who just throw their arms up and go with it and venture forth, no map, no plan, no umbrella, no kernels of anything except the wild stallion within them, why you react with amazement when they decide to let loose, finally, fully, foolishly, yes, but who’s to say the benefit won’t be the lovely freedom of unleashed passion, newly minted wonder, a way of moving in a sometimes flat world, a level of deciding that transcends and transforms everything that’s come before it?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don’t most of us envy people like that, wish we could do it that way too, at least sometimes? Don’t you want the earth to move, the foundation to shake, the stars to explode right in front of you, to throw you off your feet and high into the air in one explosive bolt? Really now, Don’t you?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I knew a woman who traded in her compass and her raincoat for the thrill of the open road. She burned her house down and everything in it one October morning and she never looked back. When she ventured forth, she was anchorless, weightless, unencumbered, clueless, totally wide and open and fresh and full. It was like her heart had split itself down the middle, pulsating with its own raw recklessness, spilling forth love dust everywhere, no fences, no ambivalence, no back doors, not a molecule of second guessing. She slid onto that roller coaster seat and for two years she rode up the track and down, letting an unfamiliar and totally exhilarating passion slap her face, toss her from side to side, spike her right off her seat. Vibrant images and new possibilities flew by her with lightning speed, new colors and new…….</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But…</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">...That passion sometimes overtakes, not just exhilarates. Have you learned that hearts can roam free and wild for only so long, before they need to slow down, level out, open up and wide, yes, but did you know that hearts prefer a clean cut that expands and not explosives that blast?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because when your heart explodes, shards blow and fall everywhere, and you might spend years picking the blown apart pieces, trying to put them back together rightly. That is what happened to this other woman I knew. It took her a long time to stop looking to find and repair all those pieces. It took her a long time to learn about balance and safety and steady sails. But she did learn. But too, every once in a while she is back on that roller coaster, whoopy-ing her way through wild arms in the air ride, letting the wind take her again, leaving her umbrella and compass in a back room somewhere.</span></p></span><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-79134752839545638362021-02-25T13:50:00.008-05:002021-02-25T13:50:55.012-05:00Hello!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TJow5LcqX9g/YDfuNqSVRMI/AAAAAAAARxo/udSPnye-EPcemqstZD6sJhAJIvU-gZrJACLcBGAsYHQ/s960/IMG_1797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="960" height="328" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TJow5LcqX9g/YDfuNqSVRMI/AAAAAAAARxo/udSPnye-EPcemqstZD6sJhAJIvU-gZrJACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h328/IMG_1797.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> The last time I posted here, little did we know the Covid 19 virus would be so devastating. This week JB and I got our first vaccine shot and as I knew it would, it's given me some hope that this can be the beginning of the end of this world-wide tragedy; meaning it will hopefully be easier to move life in the direction of 'more normal.'</span></div><p>I've been pretty much holed up at home, but I live in such a beautiful place, with an empty winter beach one block from home. It's mostly been okay, except I miss my daughter and son-in-law and my four grandkids. But soon.... </p><p>My cooking skills have increased significantly. It's about time! These days I'm also shopping my completed family saga novel, hoping an agent will pick me up. I'm not sure if that will happen, but I'm motivated to stick with the no-fun process of sending out queries and sample chapters. </p><p>I am forever said that blogging has flickered out. I will always miss so many past blogging friends. Heck, we shared our lives almost daily. I wish those of us who remain, even periodically like me, everything good. I'll keep writing, and if and when my book get's picked up, I'll be shouting from the rooftops right here!</p><p>love kj</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqyh8A3fd5o/YDfuuq_XSGI/AAAAAAAARx0/E8ZwcBBMvI8_8SVmPWABznIj4NuKo54IwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1230/fullsizeoutput_47c4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1212" data-original-width="1230" height="394" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqyh8A3fd5o/YDfuuq_XSGI/AAAAAAAARx0/E8ZwcBBMvI8_8SVmPWABznIj4NuKo54IwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h394/fullsizeoutput_47c4.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H2FJ-PjC2Mw/YDfuuuCihCI/AAAAAAAARxw/csKhkqwEt84hlkDrG-CP2UyXw8EPHG5swCLcBGAsYHQ/s1546/fullsizeoutput_4768.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1546" data-original-width="1172" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H2FJ-PjC2Mw/YDfuuuCihCI/AAAAAAAARxw/csKhkqwEt84hlkDrG-CP2UyXw8EPHG5swCLcBGAsYHQ/w304-h400/fullsizeoutput_4768.jpeg" width="304" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22678097.post-77114764657318906882020-07-10T15:54:00.000-04:002020-07-10T15:54:07.875-04:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JB's succulent garden </td></tr>
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Hello! I've been holed up in Provincetown with few personal inconveniences but plenty of anger and push back against our current U.S. President and the shocking (uninformed?) people who continue support him.<br />
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The Corona Virus here in Provincetown has been at zero. I feel like I'm in a bubble, able to see my neighbors and friends safely, with masks, at a distance, but with the benefit of ocean breezes and mostly compliant residents. This may all change now that the tourist season is in full swing, but I live in a state with an intelligent governor so at least I can feel I'm in competent hands.<br />
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Unlike Florida, Arizona, Texas, and a shameful Federal response.<br />
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These days I am finishing up a travel memoir on our road trip across America and querying agents about my family saga, now renamed <i>Saints of the Little Things. </i>It's a gift to have writing as a life companion. I normally don't reach the outer ends of boredom or anxiety because I can write.<br />
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And I can garden. Our plot of land is small but it's so refreshing to plant something, tend to it, and watch it grow. These days I mostly write, garden, cook a little, volunteer a bit of counseling and resource help, and look for ways to be kind. JB and I have been surprising people with Saturday morning orgasmic sticky buns for the last few months. We order ten a week and just decide who's on the delivery list each week. It's been a great feeling to do this silly delivery, and it makes a sweet difference to the receivers and to us the givers.<br />
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I think there is a blanket of anxiety and unease among most of us these days. How could it be otherwise? Wearing masks in a real or imagined way separates us from other people. I may greet people with a smile but it's often not seen or understood. And for many, isolation starts to hurt. I am not seeing my beloved Jessica and my beloved grandkids in any way close to normal: that's probably my biggest loss. But in another way, I'm staying put in a way I'm not used to, and I like it. My big time prayers are aimed toward the Presidential Election in November. My country needs to heal. I find that Trump upsets me even more than fear and sadness about the virus.<br />
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I hope you are all well. I know I've not been reliable here on Blogger, but if you happen to be on Facebook or Instagram, I'm there and I'd love to follow you.<br />
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Meanwhile, stay safe and don't lose hope in humanity or the planet. Big shifts are happening, that's for sure. I hope when we land, we're the better for it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He. Will. Not. Win.</td></tr>
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Love kj</div>
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kjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15122196887043345981noreply@blogger.com8