.OPTIONS for a Better World

When I Was Rich....

2012-02-03T11:00:00.002-05:00

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

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

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

For example:

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

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

Unlike now.

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

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

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

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

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

End of story.

love kj

Gimme Shelter

2012-01-30T14:18:00.000-05:00

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

senior angel renee's new home

check out project pearls

I Don't Care

2012-01-29T08:55:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

Casey opens her Waterman pen:

I Don’t Care

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

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

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

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

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

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

Row Row Row Your Boat

2012-01-27T20:10:00.000-05:00

attribution unknown (sorry)

row row row your boat

gently down the stream

merrily merrily merrily merrily

life is but a dream

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

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

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

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

For example, this week:

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

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

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

Three row's and four merrily's:

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

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

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

AND..........

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

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

love kj

On The Hills

2012-01-25T20:48:00.007-05:00

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

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

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

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

Come what may.

How about you?

love kj

The Emotional Bank Account

2012-01-23T17:19:00.002-05:00

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

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

What's the difference?

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

Not so for the second person.

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

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

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

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

Love kj

Circles

2012-01-20T09:00:00.001-05:00

She was one of my very first visitors when I started my blog five, maybe even six years ago. She and I have written together for as many years, and we have had group pajama parties here at # 9. This year we saw the moon and ocean at midnight in Provincetown, she still in her pajamas, and we've written sad stories in small journals in Vermont with a very special mutual friend.

Most likely we both understand more than we wish we did about things that cannot be understood. She's a good friend, a good person, a good mother, a terrific writer. And now she is going to Jamaica to serve.

I've missed Melissa's blog since she shut it down a good while back. But she's back. Please stop by and say hello and welcome, if you don't mind. You'll find her at http://rainthatsneededfalls.blogspot.com/ I've absconded the illustration above from her first new blog post. That should tell you something about her.

HELLO MELISSA! WELCOME BACK!! i love circles that come around!

Love kj

Animal Wednesday: Emily Rabbit Solicits kj

2012-01-17T21:03:00.002-05:00

&&^%$#@@!** I received this letter from Emily today, who has not been heard from since she's been on the run for stealing avocados from the Carpinteria Avocado Festival:

dear kj,

HELP! it's me, emily. i need $ 132.32 immediately! if you don't send it i could get arrested again and i can't because i promised my friend anne in Indiana 10 dozen frozen avocados so she can throw them whenever she wants and plus i have to pay my fine to the Carpinteria police department and then i have to locate 120 avocados from someone who won't notice i took them so i can get them mailed to anne who i think already has a list of people she may want to bop.

i told her it is okay if she throws them at mean people and definitely she can aim them at any wall or garage door any time she thinks that's better than bopping someone even if they deserve it and maybe getting arrested when she really should just be relaxing on the couch.

i know you told me you are not going to give me any more bail money but this is for a good cause and it really isn't exactly for bail. the police chief said i wouldn't have to spend any time in jail if i just paid up and promised not to come back. i didn't tell him my friend lori lives in carpinteria and of course i will come back to see her of but i knew it was better to just smile and nod my head so i did and he said okay give me the money.

please wire the money right away, kj. if you need to, take up a collection for me and you can tell everyone who contributes that i will give them 1% of all the money my business manager jos and i will make selling frozen avocados and don't forget all the pits can be recycled so you get to throw them twice! the police chief in carpinteria said i am promoting violence but you know i'm not because the instructions that come with the avocados say you should only throw them at mean people.

i need you to send the money asap kj! don't forget i'm just a little rabbit and i need adult help sometimes.

love emily v. v. rabbit

Two Places and One Small Problem

2012-01-14T21:48:00.004-05:00

This is where I am this week....

My street...

And walkway....

and little space of a place....

and in contrast this is where I work....

in a struggling city with an above average crime rate....

with a neighborhood variety store offering not your run of the mill products and services (the sign is worth looking at).

I straddle different worlds and I appreciate all of it. Of course I'm thrilled to be here in the little coastal town of Provincetown relaxing and writing and enjoying time with JB, but I like my work and I like the farm and college town I live in most of the time and I love any time spent with my family and friends.

I wouldn't have a complaint in the world right now iffen my f'ing interim computer didn't decide to freeze up microsoft word on me (ah I'm writing a novel here, dammit!) AND to add insult to injury also prevent me from visiting and commenting on my favorite blogs. GGGGRRRRAAAAGH!

Sigh. I'll get over it. This too shall pass. :^) Here's wishing everyone a good weekend.

love kj

Photos From My Iphone

2012-01-13T15:00:00.000-05:00

No my laptop isn't fixed yet and yes I've finally figured out how to transfer my cell phone photos to Picasa. Last night I began to learn how to have fun with picasa. Beware: I could get carried away with silly photos. But for now, hre is a retrospective from my phone, some dating back a year or more.

For starts, this week: It snowed. The flamingos in my yard found the whole thing pretty surprising.

The sky's been radiant.

Oh dear, Mr. Sushi! You are looking at the best California rolls anywhere in the world: Mr. Sushi in Boston Massachusetts. I order these, shrimp tempura rolls, and chicken terriaki rolls (nothing raw for me) and I groan and moan as I eat each one (as in orgasmic) . Maybe you'd prefer not to meet me for dinner :^)

Cupcakes into caterpillars: how clever! (discovered at a preschool graduation)

For two years, every Tuesday at 10 am, for fifty minutes, I sat here with my five and then six year old little client, under the stairwell, in front of the library, in an old school, this corner decorated by a creative librarian. Most schools I visit don't look like this. What a difference this kind of effort makes.

hahaha, Speaking of schools, this is the sign outside the nurse's office at a local high school .

Tonight I am going to transfer photos to picasa from my old canon powershot camera, not my new camera that isn't working any better than my laptop. I am 'cleaning house' abit because JB and I are in Provincetown for four days, which right now is an empty quiet gorgeous solitude of a town in mid winter. I have time!

love

The Cry of the Unattended

2012-01-09T23:56:00.003-05:00

I started my weekly writing group last Monday and I decided I would in some part concentrate on rhyming poetry. I have a history about that: a few years ago I was accepted into a rather prestigious poetry conference (prestigious to me, anyway) and it did not go well, especially my poems that rhymed. Rhyming is apparently passe in the world of esteemed poetry. I left the conference with weakened confidence, even though on the last night I boldly read ONLY my 'passe' poems and I chuckled at the funny ones, along with everyone else.

Dr. Seuss and me. I'm not giving up.

The poem I wrote on Monday night is not funny, but it is hopeful. It was inspired by one of my clients who had a horrific horrific childhood. Sometimes I have to tell her I've heard enough: the details from her sociopathic mother are too hard to absorb sometimes.

Last week she insightfully told me, "kj, I would have had a normal life. It's not fair, I'm mentally ill but it's not my fault. I got robbed of being okay."

Many of my clients struggle with childhood trauma: abuse, neglect, abandonment. Some understand instantly and some look perplexed when I ask about their little girl, or little boy still inside them, the scared child who still hopes to be loved and cared for. We begin a process of mothering that child, of finding safe places, or providing parental care to one's self.

So this is some of this history of this here poem. xo

The child was ten
When she learned how to fend
Its’a story that’s ripe for the asking
She hid under her bed
Not a breath was then said
Til she knew that she knew about fasting

The tale started one June
With a darkening moon
In a house where whispers could shout
In her crib by the wall
With a murmur she’d call
Even then when the lights would go out.

Now don’t go to thinking
This child was sinking
Before she had learned how to speak
Because even at two
She knew who was who
And she knew that she knew how to seek

She was four when a marker
Made her coloring darker
And she learned how to read special signs
She knew when to hide, when to laugh, when to try
She learned how to fly
And she mastered genetic design

She’d lie under a tree,
Learning just how to be
Came as easy as eating a pear
She’d be white, she’d go black
Slide down a glass track
And in time She’d be here, she’d be there

When the child began
Her adult master plan
By then she expected the least
She had tried once or twice
To choose tough over nice
But she never could tame the old beast.

It would come in her dreams
A voice without seems
That hand that withheld what it could
She never gave up
Put her faith in a cup
Walked ahead as much as she could

The ghosts from back then
Wouldn’t budge in the end
She would holler and push them asunder
But they just kept returning
Her memories burning
Until on day she froze out the thunder

It’s a scared little girl
Who dances and twirls
It’s the child who parents her kin
She had learned how to give
How to hope, how to live
But not from the core of within

So one day she stood
On a terrace of wood
Raised her arms up high in the air
She murmured her name
Put aside all her shame
And she knew that she knew the right care.

love kj

A Monday Thirteen Mish Mash of Just Words

2012-01-09T15:46:00.006-05:00

Hello from New England where the temperature is almost warm and there is no snow so far this winter, for which I am happy and grateful. My camera has not been fixed, nor my laptop, so I am left in the undesirable position of not being able to post my own photos. Thank you to my inspirational friends on Facebook: I unabashedly claim their choice of photos for my own.

So here is my random mish mash:

1. Was anyone else surprised that just about nobody kisses anybody on the lips except for their partners and children? Not best friends, not close neighbors, not comfortable coworkers. No one. Why is that? I know that when these two guys I didn't know every well kissed me on the lips I pulled back. But why would I be awkward with a kiss from someone I know, cherish, care about? Is it a DNA thing? I don't think it's just cultural. I'm still curious.

2. I did not expect to be so sad about losing my dog Stella. Not this sad. I won't upset you with the gory details, but I'm certain Stella sent word last week. I live on a dead end circle with only four houses. Strange cars rarely park here. But she brought a scene in front of our house, which JB and I bought witnessed, where a horrid man got out of his car and brutalized his dog and his dog looked like Stella. I walked to the window and scowled at him. I knew confronting him would make things worse. So during the time he and his dog 'walked' into the park next door, I took a three minute shower and decided I would go outside and tell him about losing my dog and tactfully offer to buy his. I decided I would spend money JB and I do not easily have. He was obviously cruel and angry and I hoped I could sway him with money. But the car was gone. The man could not have gotten back to his car and driven away in that amount of time. I watched him walk into the park and it was not possible. But Poof. Both JB and I were astounded.

3. What do I think? I know Stella would not upset me like that for no reason, and I was very upset. I'm haunted still that I did not save that dog. I think one of three things:

--Stella wanted us to know and to thank us for what we rescued her from

--Stella wants to be sure we give a good home to another dog who deserves nothing less;

--or: we traveled in time somehow and we saw Stella's prior life.

4. Chills. I'm not embarrassed to say I am convinced the guy and his car disappeared before it was logically physically possible.

5. Change of subject: I am resuming a one night a week writing group. I don't like that I'm no longer writing short stories and my silly-serious poems because my writing time is poured into my second novel. This is no small matter for me because I don't like trekking out on cold dark winter nights.

6. Likewise for my Pilate's training. I am stretching these muscles and they are loving it. But I am overweight and it is not easy, The instructor says I am strong but not flexible. I am trying to advance to at least look like a third grade ballerina. I want to move gracefully. I have a long way to go.

7. Mr. Ryan turns five years old this week. Five years ago I had very few children in my daily life. Now I have grandsons and little clients. I sit on the floor and play "chutes and ladders" and then it's an achievement to get myself upright. :^)

8. Every time I buy groceries at Trader Joe's I bring home at least one new product. Probably I have done this a hundred times and I have been disappointed only once. My favorite finds are Milton's multigrain bread, TJ's frozen french onion soup, and milk chocolate covered cherries.

9. I am not getting tougher as I get older. I am still getting softer and more vulnerable. But I am also understanding more about what I do and don't understand. And that affords me a certain lack of confusion.

10. I have published one novel and have four manuscripts unfinished in various forms. One is a career search how to; one is about the science and practice of happiness; and one is about the tails and tales of ms. emily rabbit. Plus the novel I am working on and will indeed finish and publish. I wonder what it will take for me to focus on all of these. I wonder if I ever will.

11. I love love love love love my iphone. Love it.

12. I don't know how it is that I still feel hopeful despite the total mess and dysfunction of the political world. But I do. I proportionately know so many more good people than bad. That has to count for something important.

and finally:

13. Where would you travel to if you could go anywhere in the world? I have four priorities: Italy, Africa, France, and China. Oh and probably Bali.

Here's wishing you a good week.

love kj

On the lips

2012-01-07T00:34:00.000-05:00

I'm curious: who and how many people do you kiss on the lips?

Love

An Ode to Nutrition

2012-01-04T23:58:00.005-05:00

This is a rerun. I hope it is fun. I'm actually done,

but I did eat a ton. Now I can't bend. The end.

Pass the cake
for heaven's sake!
.
I need a donut
This very moment!
.
Please please
Where's the cheese?

Who cares for lean?
I want ice cream!

I'm ready to bite
A mocha delight!

Muffins and candy
Come in quite handy

Salads and fruit
are yuk absolute!

Look! I see licorice
inside that cute dish!

No scale for today
Instead creme brulee

Vanilla icing?
Who cares about pricing?

Portions and diets?
Don't ask me to try it!

Sweets take their toll?
I'll have two eggrolls.

So what if I'm taking
three slices of bacon?

I'd tell you to chill
If my mouth wasn't filled

Yum! Whee! Give me more
til my stomach gets sore

Unhealthy? That's right!
But what a fun night!

Happy hollidaise?
Here's brownies to praise!
.
What's that? I look ill?
I'll take a chocolate pill!!

sigh,
love kj

Kevin & Ginger

2012-01-02T15:51:00.000-05:00

It really does feel like a new year. I know it's just a date on the calendar, but sometimes a clear start and a clean heart opens the front door to a new walkway. I do have some creative hopes (not goals, nope, not going to fall for that one!):

I hope I finish this book of mine this year. Finish to the point of having the writing done, the chapters ordered, the manuscript ready to be published.

I hope I work my tail off to entice a publisher to take a chance on said book.

I hope I finally pick up a pencil, begin to sketch whatever comes out of that pencil tip, jubilantly employ my colored pencils, and maybe even learn Adobe Illustrator.

I also hope the economy and stock market stops its wild unnerving ride and JB and I can be a bit more reckless about how and when we spend money.

Because we have lost Stella, JB and I were not in the mood to celebrate New Year's Eve. We had invited a few friends here to # 9 but we canceled; then at the last minute we changed our minds again and decided on a scaled down version of food and drink and guests.

The best surprises are the ones that arrive unplanned.

Our friend Liz arrived mid afternoon on Saturday. She is as close to a sister to me as anyone could be. I'm pretty sure she and I coined the term 'sisterfriends' and I have to laugh when I see it used elsewhere on the blogs. There is no need to plan ahead with Liz: she and JB and I just fall into an easy rhythm of doing whatever we do.

We frosted cupcakes and Liz told us all about her trip to China and we exchanged the best little presents and we poured drinks and ate cheese and cried about Stella and talked about work and life and summer vacations.

At nine pm my friends Marsha and Norm arrived with their friends Kevin and Ginger. We had planned a last minute potluck. JB made shrimp feta and chili cheese cornbread, Marsha make a mushroom quiche, Norm made a salad, I made Trader Joe hot appetizers and a chocolate cream pie.

I don't know how or why we all started laughing, but we never stopped. Not until 1:30 am. JB and I didn't know Kevin and Ginger beforehand but something magic happened to all of us that night. It was as though our laughter would push us into the new year in a healthy auspicious way. We each felt that. I feel it still.

There was so much uncertainty in 2011. Scarcity. Rigidity. Disagreement. Loss. Wars and political messes.

I don't have a clue what's ahead, but I have a feeling a correction is taking place, individually and collectively. I know it is not going to help me to look for answers and certainly not guarantees. What's my alternative? Well, I guess I am going to take things as they come. I am going to trust that I am a good person with good intentions and a good mind and I am going to trust myself. I am going to try to keep my feet directly under me, not leaning into the past or into the future. I am going to let myself feel and be excited and sad and light and deep.

I did not expect to laugh my way into 2012 with Kevin and Ginger and that turned out very fine. So I'm staying open for more Kevin and Gingers, and I'm falling into the safety of my family and Liz and Marsha and Norm and some other wonderful friends, you know who you are.

Oh well.....okay. That's what I'm doing. How about you?

love kj

A Poem By Many with Words Aplenty Here for a New Year with Cheer

2011-12-31T13:56:00.000-05:00

A short while back I asked my blog friends and visitors to offer up some of their favorite words and I promised to build a poem from them. I've now done that, and I thank everyone who contributed. Just so you know where I started, here are the suggestions:

Babs: potpourri, facade, grace, freedom
Robyn: beautiful, madness, stories
Allegra: peaceful, graceful, helpful
Mim: chocolate, gifts, love
Chrisy: bliss, giggles, precious
Walking Man: credit card, environment, glutton
Suki: kindness, peace, kisses
Annie (Blissful Bohemian): askew, dazzle, sprinkle, Paris, joyous
Annie (Wine and Words): serendipitous, coincidink, fuck
Robin: Stars, glowing, chestnuts, sphere
Lo: persimmons, quietude, twinkle, gratitude, soft rain, billowy, friendship, acceptance, soft
Secret Agent: ginger, velvet, love
Anne: warmth, fulfilled, holiness, ethereal glow
Jos: joy, hug, bumblebee
Marion: patience, tweed, tussock, feisty
My own self (me): abundance, jubilant, mercurial

Here we go:

The stories I’ve heard
The chestnuts I’ve roasted
The ethereal glow
Of the patience I’ve hosted

Come along for the ride
The madness of joy
Just look at that tussock
And the grace we’ll employ

The road's built with freedom
The color of ginger
Fulfilled by bold bumblebees
And soft rain that will linger.

The stillpoint of friendship
Intersects at a giggle
Where warmth and kindness
Make a jubilant wiggle.

It’s an billowy challenge
Finding love and facades
Built with questions and quietude
Among all us bards.

You can’t stop the spheres
That soften the stars
Or the serendipitous patience
That carries you far.

It’s a fuck of a world
And a glutton of misses
But the credit card balance
Is velvet with kisses.

Go ahead—toss your faith,
Look downward askew
But don’t be surprised
To find potpourri when you do.

It’s best to be feisty,
Accept coincidink
It’ll warm your awareness
And change what you think.

Although mercurial
Love is like chocolate
You bite off a sprinkle
And you’re left to admit

That the melting's a gift
For behind the hard bliss
You’ll tumble and twinkle
Toward soft holiness.

Why not travel to Paris,
A persimmion road map in tow
On this hopeful first night
When the stars are aglow?

Let your gratitude beckon,
The environment’s right
Kindness will take you
Straight into that light.

It’ll dazzle your joy,
With tweed patterned grace
You’ll be well better off
Accepting this place

Among friends you can count on;
Their beautiful hugs
Will diminish the glutton
Of scoundrels and thugs.

Sign up for gratitude,
And acceptance ensues.
You learn that with love
You have nothing to lose.

Fail to trust if you dare
But I’m telling you straight
It’s a world of abundance
IF you don’t show up late.

Thank you! It was a blast to do this. Before I began writing I didn't know what the theme or emotion would be. Turns out this is an optimistic poem because that's what has been collectively created. That is how I feel about every friend and visitor to my blog. Blogging is one of my greatest joys. I thank you so much for all of it. I wish you the very best of a new year. Goodbye 2011, hello 2012. Be good to us all, please. Treat us kindly, let us love. Keep the joy a step ahead of the thumps and bumps and dumps and lumps. :^)
♥kj

Thinking

2011-12-28T16:21:00.000-05:00

My laptop died last week. My novel and many of my poems are backed up. But so much isn't. Maybe I will be able to retrieve and transfer my hard disc, but if not, the words and thoughts of the past four, five, years are left to dwell inside me, locked away. Good thing I know my body doesn't forget.

Whatever has been lost, so much that matters to me is here on my blog. My friend and the friend of many Renee used her blog in the last months and years of her life to be sure her family would have a history to remember her in her own words. I know my Jessica reads my blog though she rarely comments. I wonder if someday Mr. Ryan and Drew and Logan will read these posts and stare at my images and photos and know something more about their Gram-Bam.

What is it about this part of the year that invites memories and with them a sadness in looking back?

Years back I had a friend, more than a friend if truth be told, who I have now spent the last three years doing my best to remember in the way I loved her most; not in the way I too remember the worse of her. I knew there were parts that were not kind, that were intolerant and mean-spirited, but along with her wild creativity and passion I accepted those parts too. No doubt she accepted some of my not-so-great parts too. But now, from time I read or hear some of the things she has said about me and about our relationship, and I do not escape emotions I cannot find words for. I never expected in my life to be vilified by someone I loved and who loved me. I have to laugh abit as I write this because without loss and betrayal there would be not one country and western song to sing!

It was I who chose freely. The lessons are mine to learn. I ask myself if I would rather lament and feel the sadness as I do, than steel myself and never look back? I don't envy another's choice to do as they do. But this time of year, perhaps because she and I had a few Christmases together, I find myself wishing her well. Which is something that would disgust her. Which is something that will probably disgust the people who know the story and want to protect me. I don't know what that says about me, whether I show strength or weakness when I hope for the best. And you know what? I don't give a damn.

I've been deep in thought today. No car, no travels. After weeks of hussle bussle, here I am with myself, thinking back, thinking forward. I don't talk about this subject very much anymore and I write about it even less. But here I am, asking a benevolent universe to bless us all. Not just some: all. Even You with your eraser who dared to call Stella "someone's dog."

love
kj

Afterwards

2011-12-26T22:54:00.000-05:00

It's over. It's quiet. It's anticlimatic. It was good. It was fun.

My absolute favorite part was seeing my daughter and my Mother together.

My next favorite part was seeing two little guys enjoying every moment.

My favorite part after that was JB's shock when she opened an IPad (hello large screen Angry Birds)

My favorite part after that was hanging out with friends and family I love.

And my last favorite part was my own giving. I cared and I tried. I am happy about that.

Thanks to so many of you for your condolences about my dog Stella. How easy and common it is to know how it feels to lose a beloved loyal pet. I wish I knew she was okay without us. That's the hardest part about death, isn't it?--not knowing for SURE. I can only lean on FAITH. Sometimes that doesn't come easy. Please universe: take good care of Stella.

I haven't forgotten that I've promised to write a poem using favorite words. Meanwhile, I'd like to hear how you treated others during the last few days. Please take a look and if you don't mind, I'd like to know.

Happy almost new year. Fresh start, you know...love kj

Christmas Eve ♥

2011-12-24T00:27:00.000-05:00

I wish so many wonderful people here, who mean so much to me, a blessed holiday and a new year filled with love and astonishment. For some reason I've been thinking about what it means to be alone, especially on holidays earmarked for 'family.' I look to my partner JB and I know she will be here for me, and I for her, for as long as the universe and destiny allow. I have loyal friends and I am a loyal friend. I know what that means too and I take comfort in it. I have a daughter I love more than life itself, and a son-in-law and little boys I adore. But I am also alone.

We are all alone in our own way. The rooms in our heart, as my beloved Allegra called them in her amazing gift of words to me in my prior post, are occupied by people, animals, experiences that move and touch and love us, that have taken up residence to teach and guide and comfort. And some of those rooms are vacated for the same reasons.

This holiday I promised myself I would appreciate what is. No longer lament what and who isn't. When I determined I would post frequently throughout the Christmas holidays I didn't know I would be grieving the loss of my beloved dog Stella. She died yesterday morning, in front of our Christmas tree, secure on her bed, her head resting in JB's hands, our trusted vet giving her a final cookie, her body relaxing into a comfort that had been taken from her. She died at peace. There is an empty space here without her. I am crying on a dime. But too I know she lives on within me and in the world and I have not one doubt that I am and will always be the better for knowing and loving her. By example Stella taught me lessons. Patience and acceptance for starts. I will wag my loyal tail to her for the rest of my life.

Ha! I also promised myself I would write only brief short posts that could be visited in a flash in a busy time of year. But here I am without my laptop, without my photos, without my Stella. So if you've read this all the way through, here's an extra smooch and tsup! for you. ♥

About being alone. Of course carrying the chores and witnessing the big and little moments in life are made so much harder alone. I don't mean to imply otherwise when I say life waits for the taking. It might be exhilarating, it might be heartbreaking, but it's all we have. Go give what you seek. I think that is what makes things right. So I wish you Merry. Lots of Merry.

Even sadmerry, which is where I am right now.

I have a broken heart and a merry heart all rolled into one. I didn't think that was possible.

kj loves stella xoxo

Stella

2011-12-22T21:27:00.000-05:00

(this is sad)

She wouldn't make eye contact but when the shelter worker took her and us to a fenced in pen, she galloped and jumped up like a happy horse. We didn't know until later that for some reason she must have willed herself to do that, her with her broken back and still recovering from Lyme disease.

Stella was found by animal rescue on a rural street in a rural town. Most likely her owner had dropped her off somewhere around there and she had been lost for weeks, maybe several months. Before we took her home, the shelter told us she should be on a ltoeash because she was part hound, but in the seven years she has been part of our family, she has not required a leash at all. She stayed close and she obeyed when we told her to stop. She obeyed when we asked her to lie down. Or come. Or, although a bit reluctantly, to kiss.

She was around seven years old when we brought her home. She was stiff and obedient. For the first year she hid whenever she could, willing herself to be invisible. Slowly she began to let us touch her, to softly sigh when we massaged her body. Slowly she stopped being afraid of the men who came to our house, although with Jessie, our carpenter, she lay outside with him two feet from his buzzing circular saw. Maybe because she was more than likely tied outside most of the time, in her life before us, it was amazing to watch Stella listen and observe. She was quiet and patient, she did not rail against circumstance. She watched and she listened and she accepted. Slowly she came to ask for cookies and chicken and ear rubs. It took her six years, but finally she began to bark.

She perked up when we shook out sheets to fold. She loved nothing better than to be wiped down when she came in from the rain. We had bought her an orthopedic bed because of her back injury, and she settled into that bed with safe comfort. She did not know how to play with toys. She just sat in that bed and watched and listened.

We walked Stella most days in the park behind our house. She never managed the same happy horse gallop but when we reached the gate she came close. We'd walk a long mile and her tail wagged the whole way.

We learned about Stella's history from an animal psychic. She said Stella told her she was a loyal dog and she loved the man who owned her. She said she didn't know how she came to be on the streets alone. She said that was the past and she did not want sympathy. She wanted us to know it would take her some time but she hoped we would be patient because she would be a loving and playful dog.

Stella lost the ability to use her back legs about six months ago. At first she would stumble, later she would fall, and now she cannot walk unless we hold her elegant tail and accompany her outside. She's gone from shorter walks to no walks to room service meals bedside. But not just that. Her eyes are tired. She can't get comfortable. She still eats and loves her cookies and she has great joy when we rub her ears. But none of this is enough.

In a matter of hours her special vet, who will share our grief, will come to our house and we will say goodbye to our sweet Stella with her old soul and tender heart. I can't fathom it, really. All I can really know is how much we all love each other and that it is time.

I have no photo of Stella to offer up here. My laptop has died and I won't question why. I will instead tell you that this brown and black 14 year old dog with honest eyes has had half a wonderful life and she has appreciated all of it.

I want to believe that she, along with Rosie Girl, will be waiting for us in the world beyond worlds.

One more thing: it's Christmas and I am very grateful. I, whose emotions sweep me up like a high powered vacuum cleaner, want to appreciate the next few days, want to celebrate my family and the chances to love that I have been given. I love this dog and I know she loves JB and me. If I'm able, I will hold that fact very very close to my sad thankful heart.

love kj

Santa, Diamonds, & Friends with Benefits

2011-12-21T00:25:00.000-05:00

Here I am again, still posting at high frequency until the end of the year. I apologize if I come across as too intellectual and high-browed in this post, but for some reason I'm compelled to address three very timely Christmas subjects: Santa the Man, unapologetic opulence, and friends with benefits (in this case, Santa)

The finale of this post is a video, but since words are a thousand pictures, first I offer you the steamy words of a steamy song. It's okay if you find yourself breathing heavily. Just leave room to be able to then click and listen to Ms. steamy Eartha Kitt singing this Santa Baby steamy song.

But first, ahem, aha, ha, the words:

Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me
I've been an awful good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa baby, an out-of-space convertible too, light blue
I'll wait up for you dear
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Think of all the fun I've missed
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed
Next year I could be oh so good
If you'd check off my Christmas list
Boo doo bee doo

Santa honey, I wanna yacht and really that's
Not a lot
I've been an angel all year
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed
To a platinum mine
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa baby, I'm filling my stocking with a duplex, and checks
Sign your 'X' on the line
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Come and trim my Christmas tree
With some decorations bought at Tiffany's
I really do believe in you
Let's see if you believe in me
Boo doo bee doo

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring
I don't mean a phone
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight

written by J. Javits and P. Springer

Ready for part 2 with melody? Here you go....

I hope you now have your priorities in order. You're welcome. :^)

love kj

Advice

2011-12-19T23:31:00.000-05:00

It's a time of year when longings and memories and regrets can rear up and sometimes leave a trail of surprise sadness; sometimes a sadness that can't be rightly explained but there it is. I understand that. I'll bet everyone reading this understands too.

Feelings change. Relationships end. Hard winds blow. But after all, the sun always comes out again. It always does. Tonight I'm looking at a simple candle in a dark room. That is how I see hope. Even as it flickers, even unsteadily, the flame slices through the darkness.

So today, as Christmas and the beginning of a new year approaches, please accept the gift of hope. Please feel free to take as much of it as you'd like, because hope is something that multiplies every time it is accepted, and every time it is used. I know this for sure.

Love kj

Travelin'

2011-12-18T19:56:00.000-05:00

First of all, please be aware I have a special edition of my side bar until further notice. I am going to thank everyone I love and care about. As much as I can.

Secondly, I hereby announce I have maintained my record for the 25th consectutive year of having the Christmas tree lights fail within 12 hours of getting them on the tree. They are now fixed, thanks to JB, and this year at least I didn't come close(r) to throwing the whole tree out on the lawn. But jeez louise...

I traveled this weekend. First, with not enough time, I packed up a few boxes of these cookies I've been making, I wrapped ribbons around some plants and pots I put together. I wrapped a couple of gifts. I drove myself 100 miles on the Massachusetts Turnpike and I took my 95 year old Godmother to her choice of a Mexican lunch, delivering to her an Amaryllis and our homemade glazed sugar cookies; I in return being given her homemade date and nut bread. I then visited Joe at the community residence where he lives. We sat in his bedroom and he showed me some papers and some possessions he was proud of. I am his unofficial case manager and he rewards me with a $ 100 gift certificate every Christmas and we had a cup of coffee at a local diner. And then JB and I went to a holiday party. That is where the pictures above were taken, a house so beautifully decorated for Christmas.

And then, late Saturday night into Sunday, at Jess's, with my family. Today JB and I and Mr. Ryan and Drew went to the Muppets movie. This was Ryan's second movie and we were not sure Drew, who is only two, could sit still for two hours. We had a BLAST. It was great. I love these kids. Love love love love them.

This is where they live:

Drew

& Logan, welcome Mr. 4 month old ♥

I am not sitting still in my desire to have a GOOD holiday season. In the last few days I have had some pangs of longing, of missing, of piercing sadness. But that is the past and I cannot change the past or will it forward. I am more and more aware of how precious time is, my one precious life, so I am taking the very hopeful tact of appreciating. participating. accepting. noticing.

and, I remind myself:...being Astonished.

Love kj

A Little Help From My Friends

2011-12-14T19:52:00.000-05:00

I want to thank a few friends today. Some read my blog, some don't. I'm thinking of certain people tonight because I am aware of how much of my own creativity I have put into this holiday season. I have made gifts, scribbled and doodled with colored markers, decorated cookies, shopped for just the right message. I'm handing out presents that mean something to me and I'm proud to be the giver. I wouldn't be here, wouldn't feel that way if I weren't influenced and supported by the most creative energizing folks.

This list is not inclusive--there will be more--but for now, thank you, you guys, so much for igniting my passion:

Lo (Studio Lolo): I start with her because she feeds my need for security as well as my hunger for artistry. I love watching her draw, the way her hand moves. I don't tell her she is my best friend but sometimes I think it.

Heather: She's heard it all. Her way is calm and her advice is practical. If something should happen to me, it will be her who sorts through my papers and journals, making sure none of my words have the potential to hurt anyone.

Marion: My spiritual friend who speaks in a language I lost for a time when my friend Willa died. It is such a gift to understand, to be understood.

Lori: My most special friend who sees the world like no one else I know. I strive to be a better mother, a better grandmother, a better photographer, a less emotional wad because of her. I don't think she knows.

Marsha:She is there for me every time. I love that she lives nearby and I know I can count on her for anything. And I return that love and loyalty, which makes me proud of myself.

Marianne: I marvel at what she does with watercolors and circles. She is practical like Heather, steady and open and worldly. She must hold those brushes with such care and patience.

Anne: Who could resist brave uncensored spunk? Not me. Anne has found herself with a battle with %%$#@ cancer and she is approaching the challenge of it with humor and faith. I am in awe of her. She and I have a strange history and we've made lemonade from that history. ♥ Anne.

and finally:

Mr. Walking Man: I know you will be surprised to find yourself here, Mark, but your cynical observing take on things, and your insistence that life be equitable, always makes me think. Plus you make me laugh my ass off sometimes. I probably shouldn't say this, but I like to think I'm good for you.

We don't say thank you enough to the people who make life full, don't you think so? So tonight I'm saying thank you to my friends, most most sincerely.

love kj

Holiday Mish Mash

2011-12-12T21:36:00.000-05:00

The top of my Christmas Tree

My current favorite house in Provincetown.

the drag queen fundraiser (fabulous)

thank you robin, so beautiful

my thank yous to the support staff at work

i am in love with my kitchen

JB's making Christmas presents

(small enough for a cell phone and cash)

more cookies than i expected! i made them to share

but JB & i keep eating them :^)

the tree

and one more thing I am grateful for....

where would i be without my friends here?

love kj

A Lovely Holiday Story: The Courtship of Mr. Turtle and Ms. Strawberry

2011-12-10T13:46:00.000-05:00

For Marja: hee hee

As was his way, Mr. Turtle took his time strolling through the garden. When he came upon Ms. Strawberry, he knew she was the one.

"She was so soft and plump," he told his cousin Thomas, "and her scent was so sweet and intoxicating."

They fell in love immediately and within the month they were married.

They spent their wedding night under a sturdy Oak Tree, using lettuce leaves for their blanket, warm moss for their matress, and two grapes for their pillows.

"Do you mind?" Ms. Strawberry asked him: "I like it slow."

"No problem there." Mr. Turtle said confidently.

The End.

Orange It's Time?

2011-12-08T20:15:00.000-05:00

Thank you Marja

I peel off the parts that don't fit anymore

And carry them.

I might want them back some time:

maybe when the winds blow

I will want my leaden feet

to hold me in place, no cause to roam.

Maybe if the smoke alarm sounds

I will welcome the way I cover my face

and stop breathing until I'm home again.

Maybe I may even reclaim the way I shake my head

when I fail to understand, no sense of any of it.

But not now.

Now, lighter serves me better.

My skin's exposed,

I could be scorched.

But much better to be peeled from the outside

Than from within.

Work

2011-12-07T23:17:00.000-05:00

Oh the challenges of being a therapist this time of year.... :^)

love kj

Words

2011-12-06T22:11:00.000-05:00

Help!

I have a hankering to write a holiday poem but I'm looking for good words.

Not just any good words. Favorite good words.

If you will tell me three or so of your favorite words, I will do my best to weave them into a poem.

Then we can say we wrote a holiday poem together. In my mind that's a nice thing to do as one year ends and another begins.

I'll give you a start: one of my favorite words is abundance. another is jubilant. and just so you don't think I'm a goody-two-shoes, I'll add mercurial.

Share as many words as you want. In a few days I'll start writing. tralala for now.

love kj

Just in Case...

2011-12-05T11:54:00.000-05:00

attibution unknown

I'm here again, until the old year falls away.

Posting encouragement today.
I have a feeling something here
may tap your shoulder or catch your ear.
It's not the easiest time of year
for holding on to what is dear.
But here we are in early December
Ready to forget & ready to remember!
Love kj

When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on. ~Franklin D. Roosevelt

Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end. ~Author Unknown

Fall seven times, stand up eight. ~Japanese Proverb

When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn. ~Harriet Beecher Stowe

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning. ~Ivy Baker Priest

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~Henry S. Haskins

If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces, never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again. Flavia and the Dream Maker

If you're going through hell, keep going. ~Winston Churchill

The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief. ~William Shakespeare, Othello

I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much. ~Mother Teresa

We acquire the strength we have overcome. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have got it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known. ~Garrison Keillor

Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are. ~Arthur Golden

When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something's suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful. ~Barbara Bloom

I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing. ~Agatha Christie

When it is dark enough, you can see the stars. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

He who has a why to live can bear almost any how. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

When written in Chinese the word "crisis" is composed of two characters - one represents danger and the other represents opportunity. ~John F. Kennedy

Adversity has the effect of eliciting talents which, in prosperous circumstances, would have lain dormant. ~Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus), Satires

The turning point in the process of growing up is when you discover the core of strength within you that survives all hurt. ~Max Lerner

Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us. ~Rainer Maria Rilke

I have woven a parachute out of everything broken. ~William Stafford

I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind.Some come from ahead and some come from behind.But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see.Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!~Dr. Seuss

Never cut what can be untied (source unknown but kj says it all the time)
Rock bottom is good solid ground, and a dead end street is just a place to turn around. ~Buddy Buie and J.R. Cobb

Never give in... never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force... never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy. ~Winston Churchill

Well? love again, kj

Outside Myself

2011-12-03T10:19:00.000-05:00

I mentioned in my last post: I hope to post regularly this month, sometimes even daily. It will be my way of offering my colors and words, some light and some serious, in a season that already has a wide range of senses and meaning. I hope by coming here for the next few weeks you may join with me in feeling less alone and more important.

This is a fifteen minute video recommended by my friend Wieneke. Fifteen minutes during the busiest of seasons?! Yes. It is fifteen minutes that left me with a GIFT. It's easy to get absorbed by memories and traditions and regrets and families and demands during this time of year.This fifteen minutes pulled me outside myself and it is a gift I am now giving to you.

The thing is, awareness is a huge step in change. Just knowing, feeling, caring is a start. A gift to you. A gift from you.

See what you think. CLICK HERE:

http://www.volkskrant.nl/vk/nl/2726/Binnenland/video/detail/3056240/TEDx-Amsterdam-Mabel-van-Oranje.dhtml
love kj

Life

2011-12-01T20:24:00.000-05:00

This group
started here

in memory of people who have died

from AIDS ...walking along Commercial Street to the Unitarian Church where people wrote out the names of someone they had lost and hung those names on ribbons, altogether, alot of names.This is International AIDS Day and the disease has not yet been conquered, not at all. JB and I hung the name of JB's childhood friend, Doug, who was handsome and scholarly and kind and made some reckless choices.

Gosh, I feel comfortable here in Provincetown. This is a tiny community in the off season, 3000 people. I'm surprised that I go places here and someone knows me. JB and I are connecting with friends. I like it here. Taking this week off has been a godsend, a very smart idea. It is going to make a difference in how prepared I am and how I experience the holiday season.

I'm showing all these pictures to get my friends and visitors here in the mood even if you don't want to be. What the heck, come here for a minutes and pretend that you like all these lights and season festivity. What do you have to lose? Actually I'm thinking of posting frequently through Christmas and maybe New Year's. And not all photos. Sometimes just words. Deep thoughts, even, maybe. Come along with me this holiday season, if you'd like: I would like that. xoxo
There will probably be lights for the next few days. There's just so much light here to see. But don't get me wrong: there are 'darks' too, life is not always a bowl of cherries for me even if I make it look that way, but right now I'm experimenting with not giving the darks much attention. :^) Love kj

Holly Folly Provincetown

2011-11-30T17:53:00.000-05:00

The Provincetown Chamber of Commerce has urged all businesses and residents to turn on the lights for the holidays. Ptown struggles to market itself in the off seasons but it keeps trying. This weekend, called Holly Folly, many stores will open one last time until next May and there will be bargains.

JB and I are here for a long week and it is wonderful. We arrived at night and these photos of the town are posted in the order of our gallivants so far:

Now what is this, you might ask?

It's the top of the town holiday tree, made of entirely of lobster traps, crowning the entrance to McMillan Wharf.

JB wanted to draw during our vacation week, something she is not at all confident about and neither am I. So we opened a book recommended by from my dear friend Lo, called Drawing Lab: 52 Creative Exercises to Make Drawing Fun, and we started with the first exercise: Draw Thirty Cats from Your Imagination. Too funny, but we did it:

we've also been wandering

and we've been doing things we never have time for. JB is sewing.

I am writing holiday cards and drinking coffee.

And we've been looking for a twinkle star or two,

a reminder that light cannot be extinguished.

do you see it?

Love

My Town

2011-11-27T22:22:00.000-05:00

This is how I started my day: 6:15 am and I see the view from the kitchen door, above the driveway.

And during the course of my day, I meandered with JB and our good friends along the streets of Northampton, where I live. My friend who has twelve sheep and lives two thirds up a mountain along side a dilapidated barn thinks my town is affluent.

There are pockets of affluence, yes, but mostly my town has a working class feel with an intellectual bent. There is a major college here (Smith) and that brings a bit of smart and hip to the area, but mostly the houses are modest and there are surrounding farms and to me the town looks like it probably did fifty years ago.

It is a liberal progressive tolerant, diverse and alittle-'hippie-crunchy- town. There are currently three "occupy" tents on the lawn of the Unitarian Church next to the City Hall.

Panhandling is allowed here, as long as it stays civil. This is a good place to be if you're down and out: the churches are active, the community helpful, the residents respectful.

And, although I rarely walk along Main Street because I rarely shop, the quarter mile strip o down town Northampton is looking good and ready for the holidays

It's feeling festive.

JB and I are looking for old color-rich bottles to perhaps (emphasize 'perhaps') make a chandiler out of them for over the dining room table. There are several antique shops here, this one beside a new cool coffee house, where you can sit and read or write for as long as you wish.

I had a good holiday. Our friends stayed an extra day and night because we were having so much fun. I am now in Provincetown beginning a week long vacation with JB that is overdue. We have brought fabric and books and colored pens and holiday cards and we will have some time. Our dog Stella is here too and we have just learned that if he hold her tail up and firmly she can walk without falling. She can almost run. It must look so odd to passersby, holding her tail like that.

I know the holidays are not easy for most of us and for sure I have had my share of wishing they were this when they were that. But this year I'm doing my best to be with people who are important to me, to buy or make little gifts that make me happy, and to let it all be what it will be.

I'll be reporting in on my progress, right here. :^)

with love, kj

Thanksgiving in the Kitchen

2011-11-25T08:26:00.000-05:00

I made bread from scratch. I made stuffing, garlic bread, apple pie, prepared a huge turkey for a day late Thanksgiving dinner. There will be mashed potatoes and my Mother's gravy and creamed onions and green beans and butternut squash, pumpkin pie and apple pie and chocolate cheese cake. There will be the same friends we have shared Thanksgiving with for 25 years, and our niece from Boston.

My Thanksgiving is always absent one very important person: my daughter Jessica, and now her family. From the earliest age she has spent this day with her father. And now my Mother no longer comes to my house for the occasion: JB and I had dinner with her at her rest home yesterday and it was fine. And my brother and sister-in-law have given up all holidays since their only son died three years ago.

That leaves JB and me and it is not the same as my memory of family gatherings, but it is fine.

The season has begun.

this photo taken from my parent's house. This is my grandfather and my father's mother, she died when he was two. I can feel the threads of time weaving from one generation to another. We just hung this picture yesterday, to fill a spot on the wall after we moved the hutch.
Eerie seeing my grandfather here.

Table's set for dinner last night, the night before we will celebrate our turkey dinner (today) and (again) count our blessings. Friends as Family counts. It's a new and revised kitchen here at # 9. Last night I looked around and felt like I was in a cozy cabin in the snowy woods. This feels like the kitchen of my dreams. Another blessing.

Thanksgiving is an American tradition and I think it should be worldwide. It is good to stop and count blessings.

love kj

The Briefest (happy thanks-giving) Mish Mash

2011-11-23T19:18:00.000-05:00

This Thanksgiving. I am grateful and thankful and wistful and thoughtful and hopeful and cautious and enthused and insightful and astonished and confused and introspective and active. I don't like that I have friends who must wrestle illness. I do like that every day is another chance.

After my divorce, I had a brief affair with a man who never gave me the time of day in high school. I was amazed that he and I clicked as adults, and for as long as it lasted it was all good. In the darkness he would remind me to count my stars. I've never forgotten. Even the darkest sky has pathways of light.

Here are just a few reasons I am thankful:

Good to know....
the sooner the better

my great family (JB too xoxo)

young artists

(aka Mr. Ryan)

a vibrant, tender, wonderful community right here,

at my fingertips.

Thank you for caring

to come here.

Thank you for everything.

HAPPY GIVING OF THANKS

love kj

A Brief Letter to God

2011-11-18T00:27:00.000-05:00

Dear God,

I have noticed a few areas where I think you made a mistake. I don't mean to be overly critical--I know creating the world and universe was quite a feat and of course a few things might be less than perfect in such a large endeavor, but may I submit the following for possible future revision:

1. Why did you give dogs such a shorter life span than their human families? That creates a lot of sadness and very premature good byes.

2. I will try to say this next one delicately: why make the whole 'elimination' process so undesirable? Surely you could have created something more pleasant and easier on the senses.

3. I admit that perhaps conflict and maybe even war have their roles in population control, but doesn't it make sense that human beings would have learned SOMETHING by now, over all these centuries. about how to get along with one another? Letting people make the same mistakes over and over seems unrealistic and wasteful.

4. And Cancer. Goddamnit God, this is too much. It rends the heart and hurts the body and seems completely unnecessary. I am wondering if you could make an adjustment about cancer asap? Maybe just make it a temporary miserable fucking disease instead of a prolonged miserable fucking disease?

If by any chance you are working on a revised model of humankind, I hope this letter may be of value. Thank you. Please write back when you can.

Sincerely, kj

The Gateway to Kevin

2011-11-15T19:17:00.000-05:00

Mr. Ryan, who will be five in January, asked his mother what he would do if she had to go to kevin.

"What?"

"If you were in kevin, how would I get Drew to daycare? I can't drive the car."

Yesterday I took a Navy ID picture of my Father to show my Mother. She stared at it for some time, read his name out loud.

"Who is this?" she asked.

"It's Dad, Mom. You don't recognize him?"

"Not really. Who was his wife?"

This is the make or break point. I can cry or laugh.

I laugh. "Mom! YOU'RE his wife!"

She laughs too. We chuckle. "Of course. I should not look at things like this just after I wake up."

"What do you remember about Dad, Mom?"

"Not much. But I think we got along, didn't we?"

"Yes, Mom. You definitely did."

This thin line: it's easy to say life goes on after loss or death or both, but I am more and more convinced that time is not linear and relationships go on after death too.

"It's a poor memory that only works backwards." I don't know who said this but yes.

My Mother cannot remember my Father and her husband of 63 years, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't have an irreplaceable connection to him. He is part of who she is, part of her DNA hard wiring. He is real and alive in my Mother's life whether she can say so or not.

Another thing my Mother said this week:

"Do you remember how old you are, Mom?"

"Pretty old...am I 95?"

"96."

"I know I show it in some way, but, talking, it's still me.

"Mom, you are an amazing woman. I am so glad you live in an amazing place and that so many people adore who you are.

And Mr. Ryan, dear God, your Mother is not going to be any where near Kevin for many many many years. And just so you know, when the time comes that I'm in Kevin, I'll be looking down on your heart and back forever more.

(please scroll down all the way to leave a comment. I couldn't get this photo cropped but I also couldn't resist not sharing it)

Mish Mash Congruence

2011-11-11T22:59:00.000-05:00

Ahaha! Hello Social Networking! Where I can so confidently tell you I am a smooth wise attractive sensitive intelligent thin (oh even thin!) fascinating passionate beautiful and very wealthy gem of a woman

Ahaha! Isn't it great that for the most part we (each of us) know how to tell the real deal from the phony baloney. Myself, I've misjudged only one time in my relationships born from the blogs, and although it was a huge misjudgment, I can't say it wasn't meant to be.

Congruence. One of my favorite words. It means being the same on the outside as you are on the inside. I teach my clients about congruence. Being someone other than who you are is no way to love and take care of yourself or to love and build trust with others.

By the way, I am again in Provincetown for three days where autumn could not look more beautiful. I bought holiday wrapping paper today, a sure sign that my eager childish self is already planning and plotting my tra-la-la's.

I have a friend who needs prayers. Please offer them for her health.

I am writing on the days when I don't work and when I can see my way past my chores. I am writing and I love it and it is agony. At this rate this book will take me a decade to finish. But I know I should just keep chugging along at it, and I will. I comfort myself knowing I won't let it go until I am satisfied it is the very best I can write.

Best wishes for a good weekend. I will be looking for little boy pajamas on sale, ordering books from Amazon, reading my blog entries from 2007 (for the book), fine dining with JB, breathing in salt air, and walking the bay. As far as I know, I will not be complaining again until Sunday night. :^)

With love, kj

Animal Wednesday: kj fills in while Emily Rabbit is still missing...

2011-11-09T13:19:00.000-05:00

I wish I knew how to make an old post new again and not have ask you to follow a link . But so it is. I am currently revisiting my old posts, starting back in 2006, with mixed emotions and some surprises. I am doing this because blogging is becoming a part of my new book (to my surprise).

Here is one of my favorite old posts. I remember I felt so clever at the time, doing this one. That was before I became the beneficiary of so many creative people around me, who now turn me on to being creative in a zillion different ways.

Lucky Duck, I still am....

Love kj

p.s. i am high maintenance this week (ha! maybe always!) if you want to leave a comment (i love your comments!) you are going to have to return to THIS post to do that: extra work. I know someone will tell me how I could have copy pasted my old quacky post, and i will appreciate that.) ♥ http://karenjasper.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-life-as-duck.html

Back & Forth

2011-11-05T10:38:00.000-04:00

I'm forcing myself to write poetry again and I'm glad. It will take me a while to shake away old words and worlds but I'm ready. I think my specialty is sad circumstance with hopeful ending. :^) This is dedicated to four women: i hope each grins and surmises my thankfulness for the inspiration. love kj
1.
Shriveled words.
They hatched under a too hot sun
And flew past logic;
Past the carport of the unfulfilled,
Landing at the shore of something
No longer shiny but buffered
By the comfort of familiar home.
Three years.
It takes only days or weeks
For most cuts to reject
Determined infection,
But some take three years,
An enemy wriggling through incision,
Cutting deep and definite.
Once and then again.
Tell me, who’s at fault for open wounds,
The vilified or the villain?
What injured bird
Does not learn to navigate?
Aren’t flying lessons precise?
No reason not to chart a course
To safety even if tattered wings
Futter and fall, no buoy to help.
2
My daughter, my sister,
Hear me now.
You have it wrong.
Your wings, your course have no fault.
There is nothing lost,
Nothing taken
For what you long for
Nests securely within you.
Your tears are healing tears
Falling on that wound as surely as your feathers shine.
Time has its own way.
You cannot tell a river to change course
Any more than you can direct a heart
To forget what is cherished.
The wound reminds and remembers
And that is your gift:
to be assured unquestionably
that you are capable
Of such abiding love.

GRRRRRrrrr!

2011-11-03T20:10:00.000-04:00

Ode to Famish
I can’t eat I’m on edge
I’m forlorn I allege
I can’t party, no cheese
Not even a banana tease.
All night I’ll be forced
To drink liquids and worse
All night I’ll be running:
My system is cursed!
Is it heartbreak?
The Asian Flu?
A wild tornado?
A hole in my shoe?
No no it’s not one
of those all-nifty reasons
It’s just a procedure
every five seasons.
Who could be mellow
When you have to eat jello?
I’m craving spaghetti:
My day’s a travesghetti!
A hospital johnny
I completely detest;
My indulges stricken
By a stupid old test.
Come on then,
Be done so I can eat candy
Finish up, hurry up
so I can feel dandy.
footnote: it's not a big deal and it's only routine. No food. No fun. Just horrible tasting liquid for starts. And a little out-patient hospital admission tomorrow morning. No need to be graphic: I'm sure you get the idea.
Don't ask me to borrow money tonight. I'm in no mood.
love kj

Mish Mash with One Swear..

2011-11-01T23:21:00.000-04:00

Admission: I am beginning this post with this image only because I was appropriately worried about the image I really wanted to use appearing on certain very family oriented sidebars. Now that you are safely at my blog, please pretend that this post begins here instead: :^)

Some thoughts on a Tuesday night:

1. If you don't already know Renee. http://www.circlingmyhead.blogspot.com/ she is responsible my unabashed willingness to say 'fuck' on my blog. Renee elevated the word 'fuck' to a prayer, honest to god she did. And since (fucking) cancer changed her from Earth Senior Angel to Heaven Senior Angel, far too soon, in her absence so many of us who knew and will always love her now seem to have a harder time swearing and too, a harder time saying 'i love you,' without her here to lead the way. If you don't know Renee read some of her posts prior to February 2010 and you will meet a very very special human being.

2. Where is Emily Rabbit? She was last heard from during the Carpinteria Avocado Festival, preparing to launch the Avocado Shooter Company. It is not like her to be so quiet. It's possible this may have something to do with it: http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2011/10/avocado-thief-banned-from-having-more-than-10-at-a-time.html If anyone has heard from Emily (Anne?? Lori?? Jos??) please let me know.

3. Where the heck do fruit flies come from? Do they just appear from thin air when an apple or pear is sliced and left on the kitchen counter? Where were they hiding before they showed up? I think it's a mystery of life.

4. I am having trouble writing poetry again. I seem to have no difficulty when my heart is either soaring or breaking, but these days, settling into the comfort and gratitude of an easy(ier) life, I can't seem to get myself going. But I insisted I would write something to post tonight so here it is:

I really should write
A poem into the night
I really should stop start and wonder
But the joy of poe-a-tree
Is curiously lost on me
Not to mention I’ve misplaced my thunder.

5. Fuck Cancer!

By the way, I continue to love, adore, enjoy, appreciate & relish blogging. It has brought such joy to my life. Thank you so much. To me, every comment I receive is the same as a kiss.

love kj

Halloween in Provincetown (Booooo)

2011-10-30T17:58:00.000-04:00

Still Aspiring Babe kjkitten

It's been Halloween in Provincetown. In case you don't know, the residents of Provincetown, being a bit more eccentric and flamboyant than the general population, wait all year to don their costumes.

This year, bringing back a tradition from the early 1900's, the town hall hosted a Costume Ball for 700. Tickets were sold out in one day; alas, JB and I did not act that fast. But the festivity of the weekend was not lost on us and our friends Marsha and Norm. The rains pelleted and the winds roared and our umbrellas folded inside out, but that did not stop our plans or melt our makeup.

We started Friday night and wound down Sunday morning. We screamed bloody murder in the haunted house (so scary, we couldn't stop screaming); we spent hours in the West End Salon donning face makeup and hairdos; we walked Commercial Street and met all kinds of people and creatures; we fine dined, and best of all, we talked to everyone and everyone talked to us.

Ptown at its best is a no stress, have a blast kind of place:

dear JB who bet a stranger sitting near her at dinner double or nothing that he would not waddle down the aisle of the fancy restaurant quacking like a duck, and she lost that bet.

look closer:

Love: the best costume of all....

p.s. did you know that sometimes if you let yourself dress up in make believe

you may become more yourself?

lovekjbabe

A Happy Poem for Robin's Birthhday

2011-10-29T16:59:00.000-04:00

Today, Saturday, is Robin's birthday. I know she will understand this poem, written at shared times and when another friend challenged me to write a happy poem and get on with it!
Robin is going to have a good year.
Isn't that a great way to start?
I changed one word of this poem in honor of this auspcious day.

HaPPy BiRTHdaY wRobINCupCAke

love kj

If I were to write a happy poem
Who I wonder would wish to comb
Through my words and find themselves
Dancing with me like little elves?

Is determination all I need
To fill nourish and sometimes feed
The ghosts that prey upon my feet
Scaring me with tales complete

Of mean and nasty lima beans
Friends who don’t do what they mean?
Those who play at giving thanks
Without a thought to broken banks?

I have good accounts with full deposits
No miserable skeletons in my own closets.
So why the need to understand
When someone chooses not to land

In territory real and true
Why not turn the other shoe
And kick my heels toward better times
Where loving folks wait in the vines?

Where there is play and micron pens
No blemishes there from start to end.
I have enough, god knows I do
So why not look at what is true?

I can bless the rest,
I can pass the test.
I can look beyond
The saddest song.

It had the words but lacked the tune
It’s time to wander elsewhere soon
I’m moving to where life is rich

And there’s no room for stitch or bitch!

A Story of SadHappy

2011-10-26T19:05:00.000-04:00

I have written about them before. I met them three years ago when they were 2, 3, and 5 and living with their mother. Now they are 5, 6, and 8.

Scene I

I met them before 3 year old J---was kidnapped by trusted adults and horrible things happened before the police found her in another state and brought her home. Before the sheriff presented the eviction notice and everything they owned was thrown on the front lawn and they stood on the porch with their mother, until the State Department of Children and Families stepped in. Before J ---went to one foster home and her two brothers to another. Before the boys were moved from one home to another, four different famlies, four different placements in all, and and for X--, four different schools, all in just two years.

I met them before their mother abandoned them and they would not see her again. Before their illegal immigrant father pleaded for custody despite his severe poverty. Before the boys lived with him and before J--- was afraid to visit him because she was afraid he might kidnap her and before he was arrested and just three weeks ago deported.

I met them before J---'s foster mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Before X--- ended up in a hospital program because when he couldn't sit still in school it became clear that like his sister, he had been abused too.

Scene 2

Before J---'s foster mother was told that she will be able to have permanent guardianship of J---until she is 18. Before the boys were last week permanently placed with the foster parent- grandmother they have been with for the last four months, who canceled her move to New York in order to keep them with her.

Before J--- started called her foster mother 'mommy' and before her foster mother could finally stop worrying about her being taken away. Before the cancer fell into remission.

Before the boys were welcomed into a loving family.

Scene 3

I am their therapist and I can tell you clearly that never in my wildest dreams did I expect these three children to prosper. I am required to document clinical words to describe their challenges: problems with abandonment, belongingness, attachment, abuse, neglect, post traumatic stress. I have come home some nights and railed that the world is so unfair that these three darling children would have no chance.

But that is not what is happening. They are now safe and loved. They belong somewhere.

J---told her 'mommy' that she doesn't need a ther-a-pist anymore. X finally can say that he hears voices in his head from when he was locked in a closet. Now that part of him can be helped. The littlest guy isn't sucking his thumb so desperately anymore.

Yes. Of course. There will be challenges and problems ahead. This level of trauma will certainly be triggered and our bodies don't forget. But I'm here to tell you that I work with some pretty hard facts and some very unfair circumstances.....and these three little kids are no longer among them.

Thank you universe. Thank you very very much.

love kj

Back & Around

2011-10-25T21:24:00.000-04:00

My recent technology challenges (camera, printer, laptop!) have led me backwards. :^) Here, in no order are some snippets from my life, some then, some now. I'll try to be brief but I can't guarantee:

ahh--the bedroom in Provincetown

if you want quick easy beautiful verdant flowers that bloom all summer and into fall, for your yard and home, plant hydrangeas and zinnias.

Our house for 20 years: a Victorian duplex with us on the right side. three floors, 14 rooms. five doorways and 3 refrigerators in the kitchen when first seen, every room in disarray. but there was no doubt its bones were solid.

today

Do you know where this is? CS, I know you do. And Silke, I'll bet you do too.
I'll let someone other than me tell you.

This is one of my favorite views in the city where I work.

This is a poor and diverse city, not long ago in receivership.

What a day this was. Our friends have use of his old horse barn, modernized with a sink, counter, stove, refrigerator, worn couches, and pool table. We pot-lucked lunch and dinner, canoed with geese and dragonflies, willingly became dazed and impaired (hee hee, non-specific and true), and right at dusk we stood in front of the barn and from the chimney in the house across the street came hundreds of bats; one, two, three at a time out the chimney, then six, seven, eight, ten twenty. They flew within inches by and around us, unbelievable to be part of it, knowing their radar would not let them hit us.

I just wrote a post about Joey, who I help in various ways. Here he is. He socialized only with his parents until they died twelve years ago, and now he is more independent and confident than he ever thought possible. He's likable and hilarious: can't you tell?

I've probably posted this photo a hundred times already.

This is my daughter Jessica (and mr. ryan). Isn't she beautiful?

Oh dear who cares: the bedroom

The view crossing into Provincetown from Route 6

If i'm on the phone any longer than five minutes,

I must be talking to a darn good friend

I made a cake.

aaah Italy. I can't wait to go back.

My freezer when it used to be neat(er)

I would like it if every one did a post on their freezers

my friend liz and i are still laughing at this

Emily Rabbit's very first appearance

happy happybirthday wrobin.

I think it will be quite a year.

my blog friend human being sent me photos of her country, Iran.

Beautiful bamboo forests and lush and green land. human being

is not free to blog or speak or disagree openly. I think of her often.

her name is laurel gaylord and she is a first class artist.

and finally, three brothers.

Tonight, this moment, my heart is full.

love

Weary Wonderful Weekend

2011-10-23T20:57:00.000-04:00

I'm pretty sure I am thanking my friend ValGal for this photo from herFacebook, page but if not, thank you to someone else for the sheer joy of it.

I have been alone in my house since Friday morning. This is not a common event. Occasionally JB is away but never my dog Stella at the same time. I am not accustomed to time alone like this and I find more and more I want it and I need it. It's been very nice, sometimes lonely, but very nice.

I like knowing who I am when I am alone. I am neater than I would expect, I am more comfortable with myself than I would expect. I've had a nice balance of keeping my own company, enjoying friends, and joyfully and painfully learning more about the craft of writing.

Last night I went to a Peace concert by Holy Near; today I had 85 pages of my book reviewed by my two writing buddies and one experienced teacher. This was not easy. I expected a full array of compliments and instead I have been given the directive and means to dig deeper and write truer. That is often excruciating for a writer because it mean you have to write what you know is true, even when it hurts. You can make up a story, invent characters and scenes, but you have to let yourself feel it all and you have to be real about it in the most vulnerable way.

I think it was Norman Mailer who said another part of him died every time he wrote. I understand that.

I am also coming to terms with the fact that I don't seem to be able to shake off the past. It's time and I'm actually too healthy not to, but I don't. I carry a regret that should now be a lesson I understand, but I don't. Perhaps I am too impatient. Certainly I have grown.

And, in getting feedback about my main character, Casey, it seems her childhood was harder than she knew. I am going to have to face that, because if I don't I won't be able to understand why she does what she does. It turns out art is life. Probably no surprise there.

I spent time with two good friends last night, a married couple. We have been friends for years. We had a pot luck dinner at my house and then went to the concert. Last night I realized they both love me. That sounds funny and I don't mean to be vain in saying that. It just got through how much they individually care about me. It is easy with such knowledge to give that love back.

Does anyone remember Holly Near? She was a folksinger in the 60's and her music inspired me then. She inspired me again last night. My friend Marion, so wise here in these blogs, reminds me that the earth is rebalancing itself; all these crazy disasters and wars. I know it is up to me to do what I can., to live as I wish the world to be. I can do that. I'm glad I know that.
I should tell you my camera is not working right, my laptop is full, and my printer died yesterday. This means I am blogging differently, at least for now. This probably means having to put up with reflective thoughts and rambling posts like this one. I hope you don't mind.

Be well, with love, kj

Mash Mash Friday

2011-10-21T23:38:00.000-04:00

My solution: Take time. Make time. Rhyme time. Even Cookie & Cake time. Keep Writing time.

Plant the rose bushtime. Sing peace songs time. Count my stars time. Be fine time.

I am finishing up a whirlwind few weeks. I have dragged my way through some of it, work included, but I have no real complaints. Important chores and demands have been taken care of, finally.

On Monday, I picked up a 67 year old mentally challenged man named Joey (who throughout my childhood lived next door to my parents) and brought him to my house overnight He and I needed to attend his annual financial review the next day. I am his 'trustee', responsible for making sure the money his parents left for him will be managed wisely so he can continue to live in the supervised apartment program that has been so wonderful for him.

Joey did not stop talking for 14 hours straight. He is like Rain Man: he remembers every day and every date since 1941 and he told me one story after another: about his parents, about his relatives, about his daily 4 am trips to Dunkin Donuts, about his car, about his new wallet.

I gave Joey a clean bath towel and he told me it was too bad he had to use it because he only needed half of it. And after he used half of it he put his used towel on top of my towel. Joey calls me his 'sister' and I know he does that so I won't abandon him and I tell him he doesn't need to because I won't. He paid for breakfast and lunch and gas and besides for the fact that he didn't stop talking he was appropriate and appreciative.

Joey's visit followed the heels of a mad dash to finish my 2010 income taxes. Yes, 2010. What a chore, what a relief. Please may I learn my lesson.

And on Sunday I will meet with my writing group where I will get feedback on the first 75 pages of my manuscript. Good or bad, that is gold to me. I am writing whenever I can these days: the passion to write is so strong and I am grateful to feel that way.

And autumn has a way of making me want to cook and bake. And start thinking about the holidays, which I most often love.

Meanwhile, today my printer died and my camera isn't working and my laptop has no more memory. When I will have and when I will take the time to address each of these not-so-tiny challenges is presently unknown.

There is no theme to this post! So following that fact, I will close with a photo I hope you find delightful. I admit I am still wondering if its' authentic or photoshopped. Either way, it's sweet, yes?

Happy weekend, always with love, kj

The Content Of Your Character

2011-10-14T11:30:00.001-04:00

'The content of your character'....I saw this sign on the wall of an elementary school yesterday, and it got me thinking about character.

I was brought up never to lie, cheat, steal, or be pretentious. My father was a proud bricklayer who with his brother built and sold a grand total of thirty nine houses before he stopped working. I remember when a woman he had sold a house to two years before called and told him her stove wasn't working. I could hear my father grumble about his integrity. "I won't have her thinking I installed a bad stove. I'll replace it if I can't fix it." End of story. He did not have to. He bought her a new stove.

That night at dinner my father reminded me that 'a person's good name can be lost in a reckless minute. All you have is your good name,' he told me. "Always protect it."

Sometimes I think my standards are too high and sometimes I think I fold when I should stand my ground. I'm not always sure. I know of an instance when I've leaned toward forgiveness when people who love me tell me I'm nuts. But I can't help it. If I love someone I don't do very well unloving. I end up just not understanding and my heart suffers. This is part of my character. I'm not a wimp, and just watch me reclassify someone who treats me or someone else badly, but I carry a loyalty that makes it hard to say goodbye, even when I should know better. I take pride in teaching my clients about 'positive terminations' and I know full well how important it is to end a relationship well if the relationship has to end, but the truth is I don't like the ending part much at all. I think most people do it with alot more grace and acceptance than I am able to muster.

So as I'm thinking about issues of character--my own in particular--my scientist brother sends me some examples, from author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia:

1. A four-year-old child, whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife: Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's' yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy just said, 'Nothing, I just helped him cry.'

2. "On my way home one day, I stopped watch a Little League base ball game that was being played in a park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the first base line, I asked one of the boys what the score was. 'We're behind 14 to nothing,' he answered with a smile. 'Really,' I said. 'I have to say you don't look very discouraged.''Discouraged?', the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face. 'Why should we be discouraged? We haven't been up to bat yet."

3. Jamie was trying out for a part in the school play. His mother knew that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen. On the day the parts were awarded she collected him after school and he rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement..'Guess what, Mom,' he shouted, 'I've been chosen to clap and cheer!'

You don't need me to spell out the lessons here. Most likely you already know them well. But a reminder never hurts. ♥

Love kj

Animal Wednesday & Emily Rabbit: See For Yourself

2011-10-13T00:13:00.000-04:00

Dear Ms. Rabbit:

You are in violation of General Law No. 207-334-27-331. Possession of sling shots in the state of Massachusetts is punishable by a minimum of thirty days of community service and the selling of sling shots is punishable by that plus a very large fine. You are ordered to cease and desist immediately.

Officially, O. W. Stopnow

Dear General Whirl and Ms. Emily Rabbit:

The United States and England do not have a trade agreement that will allow the General to serve as business manager to the Green & Mean Shooter Company unless you are able to produce evidence that this business will serve the common good. Relief of stress, anxiety, worry, resentment, and retribution will qualify.

Sincerely, The United Nations

Dear Emily Rabbit:

You are hereby ordered to produce the full name and address of one said "Anne" for her solicitation and endorsement of the use of liquid nitrogen. We have checked our records and she does not have a permit for that.

Sincerely, The Department of Homeland Security

Dear General Whirl:

We are fascinated that you are managing the business affairs of a young rabbit, especially with your background as a Commissioned Officer. We think this is worthy of a feature story. Please contact us.

Sincerely, Esquire Magazine

Dear Ms. Graham:

Your name has been given as a possible poster of bail for one Emily V. V Rabbit who was taken into custody on Sunday last for removing a case of very expensive wine without payment from a local establishment and soliciting that wine for the purpose of purchasing avocados in bulk. Please be aware that there are additional damage charges due to Ms. Rabbit's unprovoked temper tantrum while resisting arrest. Sincerely, Your Carpinteria Police Chief

Dear Hospital Adminstrator:

As a concerned citizen and volunteer, I noticed an ususual number of emergency room admissions this week due to head bumps as well as several other body part bumps and/or lumps. Is there a public safety issue that is being kept from the public?

Sincerely, Prissy Lamont

Family

2011-10-10T20:59:00.000-04:00

savor savor savor this the McGhee Family & their cute Sextuplets

(thanks to my friend Susan)

Tonight if I had my way this post would have photos of my own family this weekend, my daughter Jess, me as Mom-Gram-Bam, a sleepy infant named Logan, and two little boys, Mr. Ryan and No Longer Baby Drew, all of us delightfully lost in a huge corn field maze today, then staring down a smiling buck tooth llama, riding a sweet easy pony, & lapping up ice cream cones dripping every which way.

My ancient laptop is full up and doggedly refuses to upload from this little camera of mine, so here is an image of the bonds of family that reflects my own.

Bless our families. They don't have to be blood families, that's for sure, but bless anyone who has the good fortune to be a part of people and pets who love one another, no holds barred.

Want to know how I feel about my own family?

Just Like This.

And The Most Important Thing About Love?

Don't Hold Back.

♥

IMPORTANT IMPORTANT IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Emily Rabbit's Mean & Green Shooter Company

2011-10-07T08:00:00.000-04:00

Hello everyone, it's me, Emily. You are looking at my new business! I'm going to call it the Mean & Green Shooter Company and I know you are going to be impressed when I tell you the details, which I haven't discussed yet with my business manager Jos but I am I am sure she is going to be really excited because I think we are both going to be very rich, which for me means all the jellybeans I will ever want in my whole life.

As you hopefully know I think it is very healthy and sometimes essential that you throw something as hard as you can when someone hurts your feelings or is mean to you or even when you are sad. If the situation is medium serious you should throw frozen peas and if it is really really serious, you can also through frozen brussel sprouts.

But now: I am introducing frozen avocados!! They fit perfectly in your hand and their shape makes them travel like a small rocket if you need to really really really make a point with someone who deserves it, or even if you just want to get mad or sad by yourself and throw frozen avocados at the back of someone's garage.

I know what you're thinking. Frozen avocados are a dime a dozen and why buy them from me and Jos if you can just go to the grocery store and get them there?

HA! This is where the Mean & Green comes in! The Mean & Green Shooter company includes a SLINGSHOT and you will be able to recycle the avocado pit after you are done throwing the frozen avocado and pull out the pit and you won't believe how far it will travel when you shoot it with the slingshot. If you need to see an example here is one I drew myself:

I have to admit that I got the idea of the pit and the slingshot from Anne and kj says that it is really her idea so I will need to pay her some percentage of the profits.

Imagine how easily you can bop someone on the head with an avocado pit and you'll be far enough away that you won't even get caught, but you have to remember to hide the slingshot because that might give it away.

Even kj says she can think of at least three people she would aim the avocado pit at.

Are you really really impressed?

But I still have a few things to think about:

1. How much do I have to pay Anne for her slingshot idea?

2. Do I need to worry about getting sued?

3. Is it a problem that the average avocado will thaw within an hour?

4. Is it a good idea to include examples of when you should use the Mean and Green Shooter?

5. How much can I charge for two avocados and one slingshot?

My Uncle Bunny, who don't forget was Janis Joplin's road manager, is going to be very proud of me, don't you think so?

I may give a discount to certain people....

Most Sincerely, Emily V.V. Rabbit, Proprietor

Beware of Blogging! :^)

2011-10-03T23:16:00.000-04:00

For a long time and sometimes even now, I am cautioned to be cautious about what I reveal and share on my blog. Do you hear cautionary advice too? To be careful because you don't really know a person if you haven't actually met her or him? Or that there are lurkers out there ready to steal your identity or worse?

Yesterday I spent a wonderful afternoon with three women I met from blogging who are now real friends in the real world. I don't think about who I can trust and who I can't anymore and I'll bet you don't either. We know who is the real deal and who isn't. Plus, I don't mind taking my time before I privately or publicly acknowledge familiarity has become true blue affection.

Anyway, in my earlier days of blogging, when I couldn't for the life of me convince the non-bloggers in my life of the fantastic people/visitors/friends I had met, I wrote this silly little Twilight Zone pilot about blogging. tada:

The Blogger

They'll track you down in your own backyard--pirates who have stalked you from another continent,following your weekend restaurants and family reunions.

They'll break in through the basement on Sunday night and tie you to the bedpost while they open drawers and carry your television into the rented van.

They'll use your credit cards, cash your bank accounts, and make a few smooth moves so your hairstyle is theirs.

All because you have posted your entire life on the internet.

Because your e-mails and blogs have found their way to Mad Max in Memphis and a 68 year old trucker in Kalamazoo.

They'll open your refrigerator and pull out the special mozzarella from the second shelf rear

And marvel at the Indian place mats with the Mexican colors.

Then pull the red rickety chair up to the little round table, commenting, by the way, that your dining room looks exactly like you described it.

That will be bad enough.

But when they ask you to sit down and break bread--one friend to another--or carry the suitcase to the familiar guestroom, when that happens, I will say the same words with great syllabic pronunciation and emphasis.

I will lecture and cajole and implore and direct while your furniture is carried out the back door.

And you--you will politely and impatiently wait until the commotion dies down so you can get on-line and share this fascinating adrenalin-shaking event.

"Dear friends," you will say to your pals online, "You won't believe who I met today!"

:^)

One Weekend

2011-10-02T01:12:00.000-04:00

Actually, two. Last weekend I was back in Provincetown, falling into fall.

This weekend two friends are here and we have talked non-stop from 11:30 am until bed time at 1 am. I am writing this at 1:45 am when the house and I are quiet/ I learned all about Morocco tonight. We sat at the new table and ate my very tasty salad, my very tasty garlic bread, my surprisingly good shrimp jambalaya, and jb's very tasty apple crisp. We kept talking and talking.

Tomorrow I am going to see three wonderful friends from these here blogs. That is, after my friends and I here have breakfast and talk some more.

I'm finding that I've become a better listener.

Which is good because Mr. Ryan's mother has told him since he was three that bad listeners don't have friends... :^)

happy weekend, love kj

Astonishment

2011-09-28T17:55:00.001-04:00

For my beloved friend Lori on the loss of her beloved Mother:

Astonishment

If I were dying tonight,
Lying in my bed with plastic tubes and half-filled bottles
on the small table nearby
and bedpans and oxygen there to diminish any shame,
Perhaps forcing my breaths
with the strength of a desperate parent
who implausibly and frantically lifts two tons
of mangled steel off a broken daughter—
If I were dying tonight and I wished to tell you
What will astonish you,
I would tell you this:

Be sure to notice white flowers in the moonlight,
Because the softened glow is like no other.

Appreciate the lingering scent of garlic on your fingers,
Because healing is possible from that alone.

Tell the truth when it matters least
Because then you will be sure there is another honest person in the world.

Always spend the extra money for dimmers
Because light that builds in intensity and then gently fades is
good for your spirit.

Over and over, ask yourself, “What is the lesson here?”
Because then you will forever be a student and never a victim.

Never believe for a moment that the world is going to hell
Because you only need to love outside yourself to know better.

If I were dying tonight, I would tell you all this
Because astonishment is brethren to curiosity,
Which leads to observation,
And dedication,
And finally appreciation.

If I were dying tonight, perhaps there would only be minutes,
Perhaps only seconds,
To tell you that I will leave with all the love
I have ever felt, and ever given.
I will take it all with me, tucked under my angel wing—
The accumulation of grace from every breath I have ever taken.

Here’s what’s astonishing: I will also leave all that love behind,
It will be imbedded in my daughter’s stunning light and my partner’s quiet
courage,
It will guide my friends and coworkers when the layoff comes.
My brother will remember how I tried to do my share
And Joey will find someone else like me to help him tame his fears.
Even the woman at the grocery store that day I let her go ahead of me—
will remember how we were both comforted from that simple act.

If I were dying tonight, I would also tell you
That within, under, because of, and from the little moments
Comes all the wonder and astonishment you could ever hope for.
The little moments that aren’t so little.
I would tell you to let those moments astonish you.
I would tell you this because it is all you need to know.

Brothers

2011-09-26T21:18:00.000-04:00

(even better if you click to enlarge)

At a time when my internet is iffy and my laptop is sputtering, all I can offer is a picture that is worth a thousand words.

This must be how love looks at the beginning of time. How fortunate for me that I have a role in such a love story.

♥

Reckless

2011-09-21T22:15:00.000-04:00

I'm not a very courageous person physically. I'm afraid of heights, I don't ski, I can't imagine myself camping or hiking alone, I get nervous even thinking about rollerskating or god forbid bungee jumping. :^)

But I do think I have emotional courage. I rail at injustice and speak my mind when something seems unfair. I've given speeches in front of hundreds of people and I've made presentations even with my knees knocking. I can sit with and help people who are in pain and who have experienced tremendous loss. I usually let people I care about know if I'm upset or concerned about something and I don't use email when I know a face to face talk is needed.

I welcome adventure and change even when I don't want it.

But, In the last several years, I learned that there is a line where adventure can become recklessness. I'm still trying to figure out some of my decisions, ones where I gambled most of my emotional poker chips and perhaps risked too much.

Have you made choices that bordered on reckless and if so why did you? I'd like to know I'm not alone and I'm fascinated by what makes a person step out and go for broke without a safety net.

And while we're on this subject, if you have the interest or time, more from my new novel:

It had been a little slice of danger from the start. Whatever is exhilarating is also risky, kind of like riding a roller coaster with your hands above your head and your feet so casually placed they won’t help you brace, especially during that first long wild dip, when your hair flies behind you at lightening speed and you can barely hear your own screams because they are folded into the thrill of the collective scream, all the way down, until you level out waiting for the next rapid rise and fall.

True, there is a steel bar across your lap that holds you to the seat, makes sure gravity will not pick you up and throw you into mid air and sudden death, but let’s face it: you want to ride that roller coaster that way—reckless and reflectively—and you hand over a piece of yourself without knowing the ropes, the same as if you choose a back country 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.

You know in general, it makes more sense to size things up, take your time and venture slowly, get familiar with what you know and what you don’t. You know it’s better to not be surprised when you are not prepared, to keep the rope tight, 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 when that happens the rush of the ride that’s lost to you is not exactly small.

Thursday 13 on Monday

2011-09-19T20:11:00.000-04:00

I haven't posted a Thursday 13 in months and years. If you like this idea, please consider doing one of your own.

1. I have just spent three days and nights alone writing ten hours a day and loving every minute of it. I have 300 pages of a first draft, much in one paragraph snippet form, and all of it will be edited, condensed, some sections deleted. This is an activity and a process I love.

2. I know the season here in New England has changed because I'm wearing socks again.

3. Soon the field up the street from me will look like this. It is a most beautiful time of year here. The farm stands are selling apples and pumpkins and mums and I'm thinking of warm fruit cobblers.

4. Is it bad of me that I am rooting for bigmouth attorney Nancy Grace on Dancing with the Stars?

5. Are introverts more comfortable being alone with themselves than extroverts? I'm the latter, mostly, but you have to be alone in order to write. And as I get older, I find I want more time alone. That's a change for me.

6. No matter what I do I cannot take proper care of my jewelry. I misplace my favorite earrings and my bracelets, I break my necklaces, I get things tangled up. I have no excuse.

7. This is the entry way of the house JB and Jessica and I lived in for twenty years. This picture was taken after everything was moved out but I still think the beauty and charm of this Queen Anne Victorian shows.

8. I wouldn't change how emotional I am, but I wish I had tougher skin.

9. If I had to choose one thing to dedicate my life to, I think it would be rescuing dogs, especially older ones like Stella, and finding them good homes.

10. When I started my blog I had no idea I would treasure the whole experience of it as I do. My creativity and appreciation levels are off the charts when scroll down my blog list, and every comment left for me is honest to god a little hersey's kiss to my heart.

11. If I took the time to learn to crop photos, I certainly would not allow this extra wide shot of me. Actually I blame the camera to at least some degree. (grin) But who wouldn't want to have a darling baby sleeping on your chest?

12. I try to be a good listener. "Seek to understand before seeking to be understood." Steven Covey said this, and I've found it to be very wise advice.

and.....

13. Here is an tiny excerpt from my new book:

Casey Mango was born in a working class industrial town where Waltham Watches were manufactured and where the mill workers lived in a slice of row houses extending two long blocks and dating back to the early 1800’s, just above the location of the Penny Pool on Willow Street where a hundred years later eleven year old Casey and her penny would independently pay her way into the girls’ locker room, squirm in and out of her first cold shower, and then emerge full steam into the bright sunlight and into the warm deep end of the city pool.

Love

Free

2011-09-16T19:07:00.000-04:00

My dog Stella and I have come to Provincetown for the weekend, I with a promise to myself to work two long days on my novel . This is not easy writing: the characters are flawed and the story line is at its essence sad. But I LOVE this writing life. When I have time like this, which is so rare, I can't believe my good fortune!

Which leads me to do this show-and-tell mishmash of joys that are free:

JB cut some of our hydrangeas and zinnias and put them in water in our front yard. Here they are a week later, turning their fall color, still looking gorgeous.

I have planted one fruit tree in my life and I'll be damned!--it grew! We told two of our friends to help themselves to all the peaches they wanted and they stripped the tree bare. Last week they arrived at my kitchen door to generously share the bounty they created: jars and jars of peach chutney, ginger peach jam, peach raspberry preserves.

Oh jeez, be still my expanding heart. My daughter Jess tells me that Mr. Ryan asks to hold his baby brother every night. I think it's obvious how tender is. And his four year old legs and feet: could they be any cuter? I'm sorry to say that two year old no-longer-baby Drew was kidnapped by an alien mouse. Thank god he's been returned safely.

Many of my friends have talents that are remarkable. Buffy, thank you so much for everything. And Mim, I paid twenty dollars for this painting at YART last year but it is worth a zillion dollars, so in my book that makes it free.

That many years ago JB and I bought a small place at the land's end in Provincetown will never ever be commonplace. It is a sanctuary of the highest order. When I write here, the words slide out like hot butter. And to live by the sea is priceless.

Lights

LightsLightsAnd maybe an idea to mix and don't match lights over our dining room table

and secret flowers

I can't say I think the world is an easy place these days. I can't even say I think even good relationships are easy, including the one I have with myself. It helps when I remind myself that there are many reasons to see and acknowledge and appreciate. Thanks for coming along.

Love kj

Emily Rabbit's Advice on Bowling

2011-09-14T18:16:00.001-04:00

First of all, it was NOT my fault that I was asked to leave the bowling alley. Nor was it my fault that the police were called when I refused to leave, because why should I have to leave when there I was enjoying myself, using my already accurate skills throwing frozen peas and frozen brussel sprouts to throw the bowling balls, and was it even my fault that a few times the balls ended up in another alley and okay one ball hit someone on the foot who was a cry baby and complained to the big ball manager?

Of course not! But I am starting to think that there is discrimination against rabbits and for that matter maybe even against hairy people because wouldn't you agree that I had every right to throw the bowling balls even though those green and red shoes didn't really fit me but the big ball manager said I had to wear them so I did but really I do think it made it harder for me to hop and then to aim, which is why I think one of my balls hit the Budweiser sign and the broken glass fell on top of a pool table which of course was not my fault either.

Anyway, I was NOT arrested because what would I be charged with? Disturbing the man with the big balls?

If you haven't bowled in a while I think you should, especially if you are mad at someone because you can really throw those balls and pretend you are trying to knock down some mean person or even a whole group of mean people.

This week I am offering some advice about how to be a good bowler. I hope kj understands that I should be paid for this.

1. Stick some chewing gum inside one or more of the holes in the big balls. Then when you throw it the ball with stick to your fingers longer and maybe that will help it go straighter.

2. It is not a good idea to throw the ball so high that it makes a giant crash on the alley because the big ball manager will blame you for cracking the wood, which I did NOT do but he said I could even when I told him I wouldn't he still said I shouldn't.

3. If you can't lift the ball, you can try to kick it, or better yet bend over and push it with your two hands (or paws, for my rabbit readers) from between your legs. Don't get discouraged if it wobbles because you never know.

4. If you should happen to let go of the ball and it flies behind you somewhere, it is best to look very sorry and maybe even apologize, because that could be another reason you would be asked to leave the bowling alley so why not just look innocent and sorry?

and finally,

5. If you keep throwing balls and they don't knock down any pins, run all the way down the alley FAST and knock ALL of them down yourself. The score thingy won't know the difference and you can end up with a much better score.

I think September is not only Animal Bowling Month but also People Big Ball Month so I encourage you to visit your local bowling alley. If you happen to hit someone or break a sign or worse of all crack the alley, my advice is to leave on your own before the police even come.

Sincerely

Emily Rabbit

September 11th

2011-09-10T21:43:00.000-04:00

I lived in a 3 floor 13 room queen Anne Victorian duplex and the men who boarded the plane from Boston and rammed it into the first tower slept not even a mile from my house the night before.

I turned on my television and saw that plane crash into the first tower. I called my daughter Jessica at work. "Jess, something terrible just happened." I didn't know when I said that that another plane would crash into the second tower minutes later.

"I know Mom. They're calling us to the lobby to tell us what's happening. Seven of our people are on that plane to Los Angeles. They're going to tell us who."

I followed those seven people for days and weeks and months. I followed how many children they had, the messages they left their families from their cell phones, their parents trying to describe the pain. Most were barely 30 years old, except for their supervisor named Sue and later I wrote a short story about her.

There are few people in all of America and in the world who don't remember the details of the morning those planes crashed into the towers, and the U.S. pentagon and a fourth in a Pennsylvania field.

But for me living in Boston, so many Bostonians were on the first plane that crashed and disintegrated into grey matter, for me it was incredibly close to home.

This means my hairdresser lost her friend and her friend's two year old daughter and when I looked at their photos at the counter I already knew their names.

The owner of the north end shop where I was browsing started crying, talking about her best friend, and I cried with her.

I wonder if my daughter thinks it could have been her, with a slightly different decision here or there, it could have been her.

This means I know the ins and outs of the airport area these guys boarded.

This means I had muslim clients who feared for the safety of their children.

That just about everyone I know knew someone who was killed.

This means that I could not forget no matter how hard I may ever try.

All week I've found myself choking up and starting to cry at some mention on the radio or from a photograph or from someone's memory.

This means I pray for peace deeper and harder than ever.

For god sake's: that morning was horrific. Unimaginable.

What few in all the world could not grieve the loss of a child, parent, spouse, cousin, friend, neighbor, into thin air? Eye to eye, not from a faceless distance, who would see it otherwise?

9-11 is about the value of human life and the humanly wretched depths of love and hate. I know where I stand.

Thank god I know where I stand.

Love

September 11th

2011-09-09T01:58:00.000-04:00

I don't know how to properly set up this video, but if you watch it you will understand all you need to know and it will soothe your heart.

http://espn.go.com/video/clip?id=6929979

love
kj

Differences

2011-09-07T18:00:00.000-04:00

I’m glad to hear that she is okay, and I hope that she returns to blogging one day. I have to admit, lately it was difficult to read her blog and her comments on other blogs due to the volatile nature of her words. I was wondering if I should even continue reading her blog, or take a break for a bit, because I was shocked and offended and hurt by the blurb about "dysfunctional, perverted and arrogant" liberals she has on the main page of her blog. I kept thinking, "Does she realize she's talking about me when she says these things?" It has been hard for me to separate that from her gorgeous artwork and wonderful smile and personality, which is really too bad. I've so enjoyed reading her blog and seeing her incredible talent. But, part of my hope for both sides of the aisle after this election is that we'll come together ... and instead of focusing on differences, focus on acceptance, so I do my best to accept and love her for all of her. :) I know how very close you are to her and I hope your friendship mends. I know you must be hurting over it and I send my love."

This email came without blame, without judgement. At the time it was clear that one friend had hurt another. It wasn't until last weekend, three maybe four years later, in a cleaning frenzy of ancient emails, that it also became clear that one friend's attempt to be gentle in her tone, in explaining her hurt and need to protect herself, masked the deep and dangerous reality of another.

My friend was justifiably hurt and at the time I made excuses and covered for the person who hurt her because I loved that other person. I knew she had a problem with empathy and compassion: I knew that all along but I made excuses and ignored her hostility toward others until I understood her hostility full force myself. And even then, I didn't want to see.

These days I wonder how the world is going to right itself: so many fractions and warring sides and disdain for opinions that do not match one's own. For a long time I prided myself in being able to accept the position of someone who sounded too much like Rush Limbaugh, who didn't hesitate to degrade or denounce the very beliefs I and others hold high.

I didn't understand the real damage of the degradation and denunciation until I had some distance, finally, to see that a mean streak and intolerance sooner or later overtakes charm and talent. It's hard to face, but even now, I wish for peace in a cold heart.

Looking back, I'm sorry I let my friend be hurt by another's words simply because I was too smitten to protect the people callously misalligned or insulted. I will always be someone who appreciates opinions different from my own: there is much to be learned that way. But name calling and vehemence is not the way to heal oneself or one's planet. I think it's safe to say I won't be overlooking mean spirited rhetoric again. It has to start with me, everytime.

In my email clearing frenzy, I also came across a quick response from my friend Renee, a blogger known to many, who would die only months after she wrote this:

kj, For so many they see a way to change and get what they want and have needed all their lives. For me it is so different, because I have always had what I want. I have always seen the birds sing and have stated my truth. Does that make sense to you?

Yes, Renee. It makes total sense. Why does the scarcity of what one wants and need in life lead a person to hate and vilify the differences of others? And why is this so for some and not others?

Love kj

Fair

2011-09-04T23:19:00.000-04:00

Here I am again talking about my family. From the beginning the purpose of my blog has been to paint pictures, mostly with words. But this time I am pleased to introduce a newcomer to the art world: Mr. Ryan, age 4.

These are removable stickers that are presently all over my wall. Each was colored, embellished, and thoughtfully positioned by the artist, who proudly announced that his Mother and Father were going to be shocked and excited when they returned from dinner and witnessed the Big Reveal.

Please note that Mr. Ryan's grandparents must be flexible and goofy to allow Mr. Ryan's expansive art piece to enhance their current home design :^)

And speaking of Mr. Ryan, he slept with Scooby Doo last night, and also with a Big Soft Yellow Banana with dreadlocks.

Four adults and three very small children spent the day at the Northampton Tri-County Fair this weekend. I will refrain from complaining about how expensive the kiddie games and rides were. Instead I will say we had a very good time and I am appreciating my increasing ability to appreciate.

Zoom Zoom Rides....

Happy Smiles.....

New Friends....

Needed Sleep.....

oh, and did I mention a new baby with ten precious toes that if necessary could contribute to World Peace.

My current strategy in life is to spend as much time as possible with kind and loving and inspiring people and to run not walk from any one and anything toxic. There is so much I can't control, but I can steer my way to the people i love.

I'll say this: when it's clear that light is stronger than any darkness, the contrast can set things pretty right pretty fast.

Love

Mom

2011-09-03T00:26:00.000-04:00

This photo is not now. She's not in the hospital; actually she spent tonight eating homemade pizza with me and 29 other residents at the rest home where she lives.

But I think this photo says so much about my Mother. She had fallen and broken her arm when this was taken, the call reached me as I pulled into my friend Mim's driveway saying that she had likely had a stroke, that she might die. I was 90 minutes away and my partner JB rushed from work to be with her in the emergency room. And there she was, smiling, asking a hundred times what happened, hearing a hundred times that she fainted, forgetting the answer a hundred times and just smiling her happy smile.

I have come to respect my Mother in ways that astonish me. "I don't complain, do I?" she asks me. When I tell her no, you don't Mom, she says, "Good, because I don't think I have anything to complain about."

She is 95 and a half years old and can't remember what happened two minutes ago. "I don't give a damn!" she says. "I still have my mind." And she does. In the present moment, my Mother is lucid and sharp and competent. I don't worry about her. She doesn't worry either.

My Mother somehow has ended up in an old fashioned rest home ten minutes from me, in her own private room with a bathroom across the hall, with a staff that quietly sets out her clothes each morning and brings her ginger ale and a cookie after dinner so they can subtly help her ready for bed, with home cooking that all thirty residents rave about, and so do JB and I when we show up for Thanksgiving dinner and have turkey and all the fixings and baked stuffed shrimp and fresh apple pie with our coffee.

There is no question that my Mother lucked out when one vacant room next to the little kitchen became available three years ago. And there is no question that my Mother deserves every good moment. There are frequent deaths in this rest home. The residents are old, or their bodies are weary, and statistically the death rate is high. It is unnerving and in that sense it is good that my Mother does not remember, with a few lovely exceptions, who's who.

But I can finally say I hope my Mother will be lucky enough to die there. In her bed. Maybe even with that look of contentment that perfectly matches her green eyes.

There is one more part of my love affair with my Mother you might be interested in. She and I did not talk to one another for almost nine years. It still surprises me to say that is ancient history. I remind her of that only rarely and she grins at me: "I must have been wrong. Who could stay mad at a daughter like you?"

Love

Emily Rabbit's One Tough Chick Award

2011-09-01T06:00:00.000-04:00

graphics for this award provided by Ms. Robin Lilac by way of kj's birthday present which was really for me. kj added the scythe and I made it polka dot because even a scythe should be designer fun, don't you think?

Hello everyone, it's me Emily Rabbit, writing today to share some very very prestigious news. As you might know I gave some very good advice on preparing for a hurricane and kj did not pay me for it and until today I have been very under-appreciated which is not fair but I try to be brave about it even though I threw frozen peas at kj while she was sleeping on the couch.

BUT!!! Wild Wonderful Wacky Anne of http://elmilagrostudio.blogspot.com/ has presented me with very first Scythe Woman's One Tough Chick Award. The recipient is tough and prepared and able to control temper tantrums at least some of the time. In Anne's words:

Emily, I want to congratulate you on being so prepared for the hurricane and sharing it with everyone else in a very interesting blog post. You proved that you were quite tough by preparing and riding things out, and by not throwing a fit when NO ONE e-mailed a thank you, but were polite in bringing it to our attention.

In the future, you have all the rights and privileges associated with being "ONE TOUGH CHICK!" like getting leather chaps and using a scythe like Scythe Woman does. (it would cut flowers faster--heck, it cuts everything faster!)

Also, since you had a safety pin in your illustration of how to fix things after the earthquake, I am assuming you're a Punk Rabbit too, so you have the right to wear a Misfits hat like mine. Only TOUGH CHICKS wear those.Now, you'll probably have to make some mischief so you can post this on KJs blog before she knows what you're up to, so I recommend running around fast throwing frozen peas and screaming and knocking things over, then hurry to the computer while everything gets cleaned up.

It is always nice to be so understood.

So in honor of my award I am going to award this award out to certain spunky, brave, competent and maybe even patient people. They don't have to be women, even Mr. Snowbrush and silly Walking Man can be included.

So far only one person I am giving the award to is my best friend Marianne. But I want you to to nominate some people and I will give the award to anyone that anyone else nominates. I don't think you should nominate yourself though but maybe you could pay someone to nominate you even if they don't think you deserve it.

Tell me who you think deserves the One Tough Chick Award and explain why. I will then bestow this very wonderful honor to that person or persons. Later you can give the award to anyone yourself but since I'm the first to get it, I want to give it out myself first so please cooperate.

If you are wondering why this is a One Tough Chick Award and not a One Clever Rabbit Award, you will have to ask Anne but personally I think you should just accept her decision because she knows what she is talking about and really she is one tough chick not one clever rabbit so that may have something to do with it.

Sincerely

Emily V.V. Rabbit

Time to Rhyme

2011-08-29T22:32:00.001-04:00

Ta Da! Time to Rhyme

I think it’s time
I returned to rhyme
Forget that I’m still bemoaning
The toss of my will
& the loss of the thrill
It’s time to cool down the groaning.

If John Dunne can write
With a meter in sight
I can surely let loose and start playing
Let the words rock and roll
Far into my soul
And let it be my way of praying

I’m told to remember
From June to September
That poems should never be dire.
They must dance the two step
Bounce with grace and adept
To nuance and rhythm and fire.

I stopped for a while
My heart raced a far mile.
I lost all the fancy and fun
Of choosing the words
That together are heard
With a twinkle and wink of the sun.

How does one become
So stuck and so glum
That silliness goes out of season?
Is living so tough
When the going gets rough
That a poet stops rhyme without reason?

No, No, I will say
I won’t have it that way
Any longer, any deeper, any how
I’m a fool starting fresh
Confused with the best
And I’ll start with the rhythm of now.

I admit it. I have become self conscious. Writing is in many ways is different than painting or illustration or photography because it requires more from a viewer. For one thing, it's most often not a quick hit: it takes time to read a poem or a story.

I hereby announce I want my spark back for the sheer fun of poetry. Even agonizing poems can be fun to write.

So here I am, posting this poem, letting it serve as an introduction that it's time for me to rhyme again, time to write poems again.

Now where IS that poetry muse? She's opinionated and a tough nut to crack, but I kind of like having her around.

Love

Just-in-Case Hurricane Planning

2011-08-27T21:40:00.000-04:00

Hello everyone, it's me, Emily Rabbit. kj told me that she has received several emails and messages hoping she is okay in the hurricane that is supposed to swish and blow in Sunday morning and she said it is so nice to hear from friends here and there and everywhere and of course I agree even though no one wrote to me specifically and no one sent me jelly beans for comfort in case we lose electricity but I am not complaining because I made my own arrangements.

Anyway, yesterday kj and JB walked around the yard and moved anything that could fly and they put things into the garage and this got me thinking about what to do in a hurricane and I have advice which I am providing as public service and I won't charge money for it this one time.

1. Since the wind is probably going to knock everything around anyway, cut as many flowers as you want and spread them all over your house:

2. Take some money from somebody's wallet if you don't have your own and buy two pounds of multicolored jelly beans. Then hide one pound under a sandbag in your yard and hide one pound inside a winter coat if it is summer or one pound inside a bathing suit if it is winter. That way no one else will find them but you and besides for having an emergency supply, you won't have to share.

3. Don't think about jumping off a roof and hoping the wind will let you fly like a bird because it won't work.

4. A hurricane is a good time to have hot biscuits with raspberry jam for breakfast.

5. Oh and kj is like a broken record about having a flashlight and batteries and water and peanut butter just in case. I don't agree with those priorities but I didn't say anything since I am not worried because my jellybeans are safe.
kj says the the weather reports say that it will rain alot for 24 hours and the winds will be very pushy. She is not very worried about a tree falling on the house, she is only alittle worried about losing electricity, and she is not one bit worried about herself and her family and her friends. I told her she is smart not to worry because really, anyway, why worry until you have to worry and right now there is no hurricane and only a little rain and there are all these flowers in the house and some of them look like they're dancing. Plus I know kj has asked someone she calls a higher power (is that a big chandelier in the ceiling maybe?) to watch over certain people on the east coast and in New York and in Rhode Island and Maryland and New Hampshire and at Mr. Ryan's house and of course here at # 9 too just in case.

Sincerely Yours,

Emily V.V. Rabbit

26 years

2011-08-23T22:21:00.000-04:00

Today is our 26th anniversary. It could just as well have been May 3rd when we threw a weekend celebration in honor of ourselves for 45 of our friends and family. It also could have been a date in September neither of us can remember, when we two women became the 1006th couple in Provincetown to legally marry one another, finally, because we could.

Together we have lived in three houses in three places, one affluent, one ocean side, one rural. We have raised a phenomenal and vibrant daughter even though sometimes we were all more triangles than circles. We've loved three dogs and two cats and one white bird. We've lived apart and commuted to and from Maine and Massachusetts every week for five years and we grown into ourselves and with each other over the years, together, separate, together. I have always felt loved. There was a time now five years ago when I was sure that love could multiply and when I found that could not be, it was she who told me it was not my fault, she who had been hurt the most, who stood to protect me when arrows broke my skin.

I found a card leaning against the coffee pot this morning. Inside it said, "I am not always perfect in my love for you--but always know that I love you dearly and always will." She will be embarrassed and maybe even upset that I have shared something so intimate on my blog. But it says so much about her.

Tomorrow night we will dine at a rare elegant restaurant and include dessert. Chances are we will toss our heads back, laughing and remembering when we first met, when we first knew, why we still honor this day as the first day. I don't thank her enough. I hope she knows.

Happy Anniversary JB Ms. Petunia.

♥

Thoughts on the End of Summer

2011-08-22T21:19:00.000-04:00

In less than a week, the air in the Pioneer Valley where I live has changed. It's become crisp and breezy, still August warm, but summer is making way for another season

New Englanders begin to lament the loss of summer the day after the 4th of July. By now we are actively thinking ahead to September. The leaves will turn from green to red and yellow and orange and then the trees will be bare, the ground will harden, the temperatures will drop.

But I'm in no rush. I'm still appreciating. I've figured a few things out this summer, returned to Cape Cod and my ocean, let go and leaned into the life I have and the life I want. Soon I will be writing poems again and polishing new and old words and spending time in the magic land of small children. I will do all this while I begin my escalating grumble about the winter and snow to come.

But now I'm reminiscing: here, some snippets, my summer, 2011.

Madly in love with my new kitchenA child and a dog madly in love with each other
a return to Provincetown after five years of only visiting

good goofy times with good goofy friends

a new love: photo of four day old Logan James taken by aspiring photographer, all by himself, Mr. Ryan, age 4

and last weekend, as evidence of another season, a visit to a local orchard

and finally, two little boys meet their brother:

Dear god, let me be giddy. (a pilfered word from a dear giddy friend). I've reread the poem in my last post several times now. I know that my own vow is that I not waste my life wishing for different or clinging to then. My own vow is that I not waste my life, period. If you ask me I will tell you this should be easier than it often is, although I can't tell you why. But I know this: I am damned and determined to wear myself out. In time. No rush.

love

All the True Vows

2011-08-19T15:00:00.000-04:00

I only needed to read the first four lines of this poem by David Whyte. How much time and how many years might a person spend, hoping for someone else's approval, seeking evidence and confirmation that what is felt, what is known, what is honored is good and right if only because it belongs only to the one who owns it?

I am a strong and reasonably healthy person. I'm not perfect, but I know how to live and I don't hold back love. And yet, that is my public self. That is how I try to be, how I want to be seen.

This poem pushes and prods me to face and be sure how I see myself. What could be more important?

I offer it to you for the same purpose. I hope you will find it well worth the read.

love
kj

All the true vows
are secret vows
the ones we speak out loud
are the ones we break.

There is only one life
you can call your own
and a thousand others
you can call by any name you want.

Hold to the truth you make
every day with your own body,
don't turn your face away.

Hold to your own truth
at the center of the image
you were born with.

Those who do not understand
their destiny will never understand
the friends they have made
nor the work they have chosen

nor the one life that waits
beyond all the others.

By the lake in the wood
in the shadows
you can
whisper that truth
to the quiet reflection
you see in the water.

Whatever you hear from
the water, remember,

it wants you to carry
the sound of its truth on your lips.

Remember,
in this place
no one can hear you

and out of the silence
you can make a promise
it will kill you to break,

that way you'll find
what is real and what is not.

I know what I am saying.
Time almost forsook me
and I looked again.

Seeing my reflection
I broke a promise
and spoke
for the first time
after all these years

in my own voice,

before it was too late
to turn my face again.
♥

"All the True Vows" from The House of Belonging by David Whyte. �Copyright © 1997, 2004 by David Whyte.

Firsts

2011-08-17T21:59:00.000-04:00

This week is an auspicious week in every way.

May I first introduce Logan James, my third grandson, born to my favorite son-in-law and my daughter Jessica , for whom I would face the fiercest dragon, walk a mile on hot coals, even pass up a free meal at my beloved Mr. Sushi.

Logan was born barely hours after I returned from an exhausting exciting weekend trip to Provincetown with two of my writer-friends. It was a trip that had been planned for months, we three traveling from different states, and I had been nervous about canceling at the last moment. The universe saw fit to make it all work. I had been home again only hours when I heard my daughter say the contractions were serious, and moments later I knew a healthy baby had been born to a healthy Mother. Another person I will commit to, easily, and love for all of my life.

My trip to Ptown included a six hour drive when it should have only been four. Cape Cod August traffic is painful. But that didn't deter us. We pulled on the main road in favor of back roads and in the doing I found myself taking my friends to a place visited long ago. We walked through a shady grove until we came to a rope bridge. My friend Melissa had brought Chester Miller with her and throughout the weekend he would be photographed in all kinds of places and spaces.

The bridge required that we cross one at a time, holding tightly to its side ropes as it swung up and down and side to side with every step.

At the end we found ourselves in an open field, quietly watching the herons and cormorants and one agile hawk, who did not mind us intruding as long as we respectfully understood we were visitors.

That night we watched the moon paint silver lines on the ocean waves at Herring Cove just before midnight. Actually, only Lora and I walked along the sand: Melissa elected to stay back and shower. But as soon as we arrived we decided this was something she should not miss so we drove back and kidnapped her, in her pajamas. We then woke ourselves up at 5 am and headed out to watch the sun rise at Race Point.

I am exhausted. In less than a week, I have been in the splendid company of the most creative friends (and JB), I have along with JB cared for two special little boys, I have kissed the softest baby skin and toes, I have watched my daughter and son-in-law deliver and cherish their third son, I have seen the moon glow and the sun rise, I have written along side two esteemed writers. I have laughed until it hurt, I have driven in pelting rain.

And for the first time in my entire life I have slipped on a banana peel. I'll be damned, they really are slippery! I'm glad for the experience.

Love

Lucky

2011-08-12T22:32:00.000-04:00

This weekend, starting last night, I am in the company of friends who create and paint and write and see. All day today we played art. and tomorrow, two of my big yellow writer friends and i will head to provincetown for the weekend. they won't mind hearing me read parts of my book in progress and i will love to hear theirs. We will also walk the beach and see sunrise at race point. and swim and talk.

And ahhh today:

Today JB and I had the most perfect guests: good friends. friends from the blogs. friends who mingled so effortlessly and joyfully. we dabbled and sculpted and ate lobster rolls and cupcakes and just delighted.

JB had a zillion doodads to share. She provided empty plastic boxes and said take what you want. This is suki's. i marvel at her design sense even in filling this box.

And this is lo's. i wonder what she will make from this stash.

Mim taught me how to make a bowl using paper clay. I added lichen to the bottom and I will varnish it before i paint it, if i even paint it. that is seran wrap you see to make the bowl crinkle and it all sits inside a real bowl to give it its shape.

this is mim's bowl. I learned alot from her today. ♥

lo brought cupcakes to celebrate our birthdays

mim and I bought a dozen super large sunflowers and at the end of the day we each had three.

suki

mim

Don't be telling me it's not possible to make true blue friendships from blogging (i know you won't be telling me that). I have friends in my life, I had friends before i started blogging. but these guys are keeper friends. we have so much fun together.

and to my partner JB: so so glad to share this with you ♥

I Spy With My Little Eye...

2011-08-09T22:53:00.000-04:00

I celebrated a birthday this week. JB told me a week ago to leave all day and night Monday open. I knew that meant she made special plans. She scattered mysterious envelopes around the house and one by one I discovered we would walk out the door and not return for a fun filled twelve hours. This was an absolute act of love and I knew it.

On this day I was also given gifts in plain sight. All I had to do was look:

Last weekend Mr. Ryan saw an audio greeting card at the grocery store and wanted it badly. There were four superheroes inside, each mumbling a happy birthday in some macho way. I told Ryan I would buy him this card for my birthday.

"No Gram! I don't get a present for YOUR birthday!"

"Yes you do, Ryan. I'm sending you this card for my birthday."

When the card was ready to mail, I told him it would arrive in a yellow envelope. He was so excited he asked his Mother if he could wear a matching yellow shirt when it arrived.

I sent his brother Drew a card too: monkeys who turn into kittens and meow the entire verse of 'happy birthday to you". I have decided from now on I am going to give the boys a present every year for my birthday.

Made by my Grandfather. I can feel his energy in the cement.

I planted this climbing hydrangea two years ago and it has rewarded me with wide spreading vines and delicate pink flowers. I find this amazing.

When I die, I'd like to be remembered with pink zinnias. They are my favorite of all flowers. Lately my dog Stella tries to eat them and I knock knock on the kitchen window shooing her away. I consider myself the temporary guardian of the zinnia patch.

It was a mess of weeds and now it is a neat space of orderly mulch. With an obvious exception, this is the area in the back of my house that I use as a holding area for plants I don't know what to do with yet. I live in a valley and my yard is one third of what used to be a working farm. The soil is unbelievably rich. Things GROW here, even me.

One lonely tomato from the garden for my birthday. I just said things grow but not my tomatoes this year. I can't say why, but it might be the lack of attention while I have been gallivanting in Provincetown. In any case, eating this tomato, salted, was.....orgasmic :^)

And finally, every year I get a sign from my Father. He died twelve years ago but he never fails to assure a flower or plant growing where there should not be one. This year, on my birthday, he sent a chipmunk. We share the yard with a very active family of chipmunks. They scurry from one place to another all day. One day I came home to find one on the kitchen steps holding a cherry tomato with both paws and chomping away. It was a sight that will make me smile always. But this year a chipmunk appeared at the kitchen window and turned straight to me when I appeared. Eye to eye. For a long time.

And then, when I went outside, there he/she was again, greeting me again, staring head on for as long as I stared back. Not a usual occurrence by any means, and I actually think related to my Dad's way of wishing me a good day.

I had a good birthday. I am very thankful, very grateful, very hopeful.

The world is a mess, that's for sure. But I have a small world too, and this week it offered me its very best.

love

mish mash saturday

2011-08-06T22:04:00.000-04:00

Thank you for your comments on my last post. I thought about whether or not it was healthy to give airspace to a person and a relationship that was so difficult and I decided to go with my overall approach to keep it real. The week was a milestone of sorts and I wanted to acknowledge that.

I'm back home for a couple of weeks, missing the ocean and Provincetown but glad to enjoy my yard and flowers. I weeded and mulched today for several hours. I love how easy it is to see progress in a task like that. It's a mess: then it looks good!

Please help. The porch has yet to find its style. JB and I have decided to paint it white, paint the shades white, give it a kind of beach feel.

But... what do we do with this beautiful wainscoting ceiling? Keep this dark wood stain? Paint it white also? Paint it a light aqua that matches the two outside doors? I am going to try to set up a widget poll on my sidebar. Please weigh in, if you don't mind, here or there.

I love this shot of Mr. Ryan. This was taken before he slipped while balancing on a series of rocks and fell into the bay, cut and crying. Blood looks AWFUL in the ocean. He was scared and brave. I over reacted and JB under reacted, not our finest moment as Team Grand but we all survived. I was scared and not as brave.

Nothing much better than summertime eating in the back yard with a special friend whose birthday is tomorrow!

Remember Formica? This is my Mother's kitchen table from the 50's

It's me, Francine (hello pam,enjoying the view and accumulating plenty of household gossip. Can you even believe that kj and JB jitterbug together sometimes while they are making dinner?

P.S. This is not the best time to be writing or reading long posts. Many of us are busy living our lives especially if like me it happens to be summer where you live. I like this summer and I don't want it to end. But we are expecting a new baby in a couple of weeks and soon it will be Fall. Life is nothing if not transitions. Please wish my Jessica a safe smooth delivery. And please have some fun. Soon.

love

three years

2011-08-05T14:00:00.000-04:00

this is a question that lingers for no good, toward no good, because of no good. and yet there are some answers seeped in micron pens and bristol boards, wrapped around hidden objects and fastened with abandon shaped by jiggles and squiggles. one woman regrets, the other vilifies. some questions must be asked and accepted as is. the heart decides whether the give and take is a gift or a transaction. one woman chooses the gift. not a bad thing to know.
♥kj

Favs

2011-07-29T01:00:00.000-04:00

i have a very good friend, i won't say her name because i know she'll be embarrassed, who is the best photographer maybe ever! i strive to be half as good as she isand i'll spend my lifetime trying, no way! but i love walking through life with my camera. even and especially when i feel blue or lost, the lens reminds me that i live in a beautiful world, that it is up to me to see.

here are some of my photo snippets along the way, in no order, in no specific season or year. just people and places i am blessed to know

vegas

#9, the magic cottage

the house my father and grandfather built. my parents

lived there for 59 years

my street in ptown

the bay at low tide

my mom in the emergency room

look! my book!

I wish you a good weekend ♥

i recommend you keep your eyes open

we need to find the starfish even if its

covered by seaweed.

love

Tough Times?

2011-07-27T22:24:00.000-04:00

Tough times? Is this so?

I am am mostly an optimist. But I no longer try to convince myself that something bad will be something good for me in time. And I complain and whine with the best of them.

But mostly, I believe people are good, relationships and connections are just about everything, passion and commitment matter, and karma keeps things balanced. This is what I believe.

But I have to say times feel tough. In America, a congress has fallen apart and there is not much mention of abundance anywhere. The weather is weird and worrisome. And there is weariness.

I say all this at the same time I am having my best summer in four years. I like my work, I'm so psyched writing my book, I'm working out (finally), I love my family, my friends, my garden, my house, Provincetown, the weather.

But I believe the planet is shaky. There is something not healthy and it festers.

I'd like to be wrong. Do you think I am?

What do you think is going on? Do you feel a general of vague sense of worry, of discontent?

How come?

Thinking out loud, with love

Tessa & Her Give-a-Way

2011-07-24T01:27:00.001-04:00

In December 2010 Tessa Edwards died.
.
To many of her friends here in the blogs, and probably in all parts of her life, Tessa being terminally sick was a fact that defied her elegant beauty and international sophistication
.
She was a South Afrikaner relocated to England, always a colorful South African exquisite painter, an intelligent writer, a humanitarian, a mother and wife., a woman any other woman would be proud to call her friend.
.
I always thought I would meet Tessa one day. She was deeply involved in helping in Swaziland along with dr. Maithri, and I thought I would somehow volunteer with them for 2, 3 weeks.
.
Tessa was probably already sick when I first told her about this intention. It was not possible to know that because, unlike our beloved mutual friend Renee, Tessa did not talk much about her illness until near the end of her life. And when she died, it was a shock.
.
Just weeks before, she sent me a lithograph she made for some of us. She called it “Friendship.” I think she did that to be remembered by, to confirm the permanent bonds of friendship, a reminder that death doesn’t end that.
.
A few nights ago, my partner JB presented me with a collage she created from Tessa’s paintings, from Tessa’s women. JB is a sometimes reluctant and very talented artist herself and I am close to tears looking at this gift she has given me. She has honored Tessa and captured her vibrant legacy. I will frame this piece and I expect I will always keep it near.
.
If you knew Tessa, or if you look at this collage and can just tell how special she was, would you like a copy of this original? I will have three (3) good quality prints made and will ask Emily Rabbit to draw three names. The only requirement for you to be eligible for this drawing is that you have to say one way that one person can make the life of another person better. (We are all better when we share things like this.)
.
One thing about blog relationships: you can’t grieve losses in the same way. Renee died and then Tessa died. I didn’t know their families, their friends, I didn’t get to say my best goodbye. But that doesn’t change the fact that something permanent, something good, has been imprinted and will remain in my heart, always.
.
P.S. I will never forget you, Tessa. I hope you like what JB has done with your work. I know you do. Please give Renee a long kiss from me. Take care of one another. Together Strong.
.
Love
kj

Untitled on a Summer's Night

2011-07-21T23:27:00.000-04:00

This is the Provincetown Monument. Many people including me see Donald Duck when they look at the Monument head on. JB and many others see nothing and have stopped trying. I offer you your own peek.

I wrote a post but just deleted it. I didn't like it. I will leave the photos and instead say thank you for your friendships and visits and comments. Some friendships will be life long. I cannot find the right words to express how much our collective blogging experience means to me. I am inspired here.

My beloved Jessica turned 34 this week. She will have her third child within the month. ♥ to you Jess.
love
kj

Rest in Peace DB

2011-07-20T23:59:00.000-04:00

Please join me in remembering YET ANOTHER great icon of the entertainment community. The Pillsbury Dough Boy died yesterday of a yeast infection and traumatic complications from repeated pokes to the belly. He was 71. Dough Boy is survived by his wife Play Dough, three children, John Dough, Jane Dough, and Dill Dough, plus they had one in the Oven. Services were held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes

thanks to Laura at my workplace for sharing the news

I hope you can't help but smile

love