Show Up

And Go

From There

I have no map. I haven't been here before. I'm lost half the time.
Fear slows me down. The weather's unpredictable.
.
And yet.
If I don't believe in myself,
And I don't have faith,
And I don't trust fate,
How will I get
From here
to
there?
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Because
From here
to
there
is
exactly
where
I'm headed
.
And
where
I'm headed
is exactly
where
I'm supposed
to be.

Thursday 13: Summer Time...

The transition to summer is taking place on every level here in New England and here within myself.
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For example, this....

2. ...has become this:

3. Those rhubarb flowers that prevent the rhubarbs from healthy growth have found a decorative home at #9

The kitchen window is splashing color all over the place,

Does anyone recognize the fantastic artist who painted this sweet sentimental dog (haha)?

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5. And the garden is cleaned up and ready for six tomato plants and mounds of summer squash.
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6. Summer is my season to relax. I move into second, maybe third gear, and try to stay there. I think I wrote this poem last summer, but it could just as well been written two hours ago:

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The toilet’s fixed
The grasses cut back
The appointment’s made
The snacks are packed.
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The taxes aren’t done—
You can’t have it all—
But the trip’s been booked
& the garbage hauled.
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The work’s wrapped up
The car’s been serviced
The stoops are painted
& no one’s nervous.
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The time got spent
Finally put up the sign
Put the car in reverse
Put aside the divine.
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The garden’s weeded
New bulbs on their way
& detoured hearts
Have had their say.
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The weight’s been moved
To a straighter line
I might even be
Almost mostly fine.
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Still, I’ve got this loss
It’s a mile wide
I’m trying my best
To put it aside.
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I’m familiar with hope
I can wear it well
But do circles really close?
Only time can tell.
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7. It's no surprise that most of us have found enduring friendships through blogging. I am surprised though that most of us rarely mention our in-person, local, or long term friends. One of these days I am going to do a Thursday 13 on my friends (I'll have to include level two friends to get to 13). I'm more private than I probably sound, and I can count my close friends on one hand. Two are men. I am blessed by my friendships--they are filled with love and good people. Still, sometimes I wonder who I would call at 2 am if everything dear to me had fallen apart. I'm not sure, and I don't like how that feels.
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8. I'm not really a very neat person, but I like my kitchen to look organized. Except lately it hasn't been. Here is the freezer. If I took ten minutes I could have it stacked properly, but I don't seem to make it a priority. And that's alright with me. (See comment # 6).
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.9. I'm only including this shot of the kitchen cabinet near the stove because this post is called Thursday 13.
If it were Thursday 10, this would have been cut loose. Anyhow, I tend to keep my baking, spices and salad dressing supplies here.
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10. My little town is known for the Miss Florence Diner. The food is past prime time--I've only been once--but the neon sign is one-of-a-kind.
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.12. I remember how I felt when this picture was taken. I think my facial expression confirms I felt important and shy.

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13. I only recently discovered this pie chart on my blog's sitemeter. It shows where my friends and visitors live. Baino and Kate and Bimbimbie, look at that--12 % from Australia (did I leave any Aussies out?) I can tell you that one Australian in particular--ironically named 'Anonymous Bird' and affectionately called 'Anon' will be missed as long as I blog. She went on vacation one normal day and never returned. In my heart I believe something not-good happened because I don't think she would have just left in that fashion. And not knowing is one thing I do NOT like about the blogs. The truth is I still hope she will come back some day. And almost every day I think of her and wish her health and happiness.

Animal Wednesday:Emily Answers Questions

Hello, it's me, Emily V. V. Rabbit. I have been paid $ 10 in advance to write on kj's blog today. No, I didn't get the extra money from kj. I got it from someone I don't know and don't care about who offered me $ 10 if I would model my polka dot bikini. i told kj and she said 'forget it!' but then I told her it was a 95 year old woman who used to be a teacher and lay minister who I met at the grocery store so she said, 'oh, that's different.' I didn't tell kj that I don't know what a lay minister is: I think it's someone who sleeps a lot but I am not sure.

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kj says this is not a ladylike pose, but I am a rabbit and I do not care about any of that. I am just happy I got the money and I didn't have to do much for it.
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This week my best friend Marianne listed some questions for people to answer. I don't know why she didn't include rabbits but I think she just forgot for one minute or less. Marianne's friend Soulbrush also listed the same questions except she threw one away and added a new one. So I am doing that too.

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Here are my questions and answers:
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1)What are your current obsessions? Jellybeans, money, rolling down hills, radishes, crying, temper tantrums, laughing out loud, jellybeans and money.

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2) What are you listening to? HAHAHA. I am listening to myself. Who else would I be listening to?
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3) Which item from your wardrobe do you wear most often? HAHAHA! I like my pearl necklace.
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4.) What are you reading? 'The Days Rabbits Took Over the World and Immediately Made Jellybeans The Main Currency" by Bunny B. Good.

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5.) What’s for lunch? Jellybeans, radishes, lettuce, one hard boiled egg, and m & m's.
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6) What makes you helpless with laughter? Watching kj trying to be nice when she really wants to throw a plant across the room.
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7.) What was the last thing you bought? My bikini (see above and I'm sorry if you think I don't look ladylike. It's not my fault kj doesn't know how to draw. At least my portrait by lololo shows how cute and fun I really am.)
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8) If you were a dog, which one would you be? No offense to my best friend Marianne, but this is a very stupid question. Of course I would be a Labrador Retriever. Who wouldn't? They usually get a lot of love even though they are not the sharpest tools in the toolbox. (Rabbits do not use expressions like that, but I heard someone say that about someone named President Bush and I liked the sound of it.)

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9)Sum yourself up in a sentence. I am eight or ten years old, very cute and smart, and I am more fun than most people because I cry from my stomach, throw things when I'm mad, find interesting ways to make money, and don't worry about anything smaller than a refrigerator.
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10)What's Your Best Time of the Day? This is the question I am throwing out. Why would one time be better than another if they are all good?
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10) Do rabbits care what others think of them? Absolutely not! Except my Uncle Russell, who is insecure.

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11.) What's your greatest wish? That I could play with Marianne and lololo and Mim and Soulbrush and Debra Kay and Ms. Bella and Melissa and Milady and Chewy and Bimbimbee and Ms. Baino and Renee and Mr. Sidney Citizen and Chief Kay and Mr. Walking Man and kj's dearest HB and Sonia and Annie and Kate and Julie-Ann and Babs and some others too, because I like to see what they look like, then I'd like to touch and maybe even hug them. Ans smell everyone. Smelling is very important to rabbits.

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This is the end of my questions. I am still hoping kj decides to pay me for writing this. She is cheap and stubborn about this. I don't know why since I have not missed a week yet. But I am still behaving because she bailed me out of jail.

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Sincerely,

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Your Friend Emily R.

P.S. If you want to do this, here are the rules:
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The Rules:
Answer questions on your own blog.
Replace one question.
Add one question.
Tag some people.

Art Lesson Needed: Will Pay Handsomely

I have the good fortune to spend a goodly portion of my work time coloring with kids. Today the sweetest five year old boy and I drew our houses. Here's my rendition--not finished, not accurate, not right.

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This got me thinking. I can copy pretty well. And I think I have potential. But I haven't learned anything about drawing since fifth grade, and Lolo encourages and inspires me because she says there are tricks of the trade.

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For instance: it will be fascinating and interesting to hear what my talented blog-friends and artists have to say about the following. Advice is requested, please keep instruction and suggestions at a sixth grade level.

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1. Perspective: I know I did the roof wrong!! How do you do it right? And look at the base of that chimney. And for that matter, how do you create distance in a winding road?

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2. Shading: When, why, how? And how do you determine and consistently have all the shadows fall in the same direction?

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3. Scale: I don't even know what to ask....

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Is anybody interested in tackling this unfinished house? Coloring, adding background, finishing the yard, anything? Because if you are, I think it would be super to see what a few different people come up with, and I just might have a grand prize in store....

Memorial Day

Always in my life, Memorial Day weekend says it's summer. The danger of frost is gone, you can finally plant your tomatoes and everything else in the garden, bring out the yard furniture, and from now on stay outside after work in short sleeves and it will still be light. (I don't know if Memorial Day is an American holiday or an International one? I know I should know...)
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It's been an easy-going leisurely lovely weekend. The best part of working is appreciating these long weekends when time lets you run the show for a change. Here's a glimpse of my comings and goings:

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If you don't know already, I am not a country girl. The three years I've lived here is the only time in my life I've been around farms and small towns. I took this picture on a major road leading to the area mall. Repeat: this is not a back road or a small road. Traffic including me just waited until this tractor turned into the Bison farm. The Bison farm? That's another story.
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On Saturday I began a writing workshop that has already proved to be wonderful. I will learn about the craft of writing memoir. It wasn't that long ago that I would say, "I'm becoming a writer." But now I say I am a writer. I'm proud of that.

This is where I bought my inpatients, petunias, and marigolds for the yard and garden. The sign is made from a window shutter. I thought that was pretty cool.
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Ms. Stella has begun to enjoy her yard, meaning that for the first time she lies in the backyard grass and falls asleep. I can't tell you how happy I am that this dog has a good life. I can't imagine what she's been through, and it totally pisses me off to think that she had to endure whatever it was. But that was then. This is now.
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I have a favorite cemetery three miles up the road. It's small and sweet. Today there are flags everywhere, including on most of the graves. I have a funny relationship with the American flag. The conservative right wingers in America tend to use the flag as a symbol of their patriotism, and like to imply that liberal leaning folks are somehow less patriotic. It puzzles me how the flag came to symbolize anything but the solidarity of a nation. So let me say clearly, here and now, this is the flag of the United States of America--my flag--and I appreciate all the freedoms and opportunities it stands for.

Not even a mile from the cemetery a little town called Haydenville has this library, along with a post office and one small cafe. This library is as small as it looks.
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If I have my boundary skills right, Haydenville also has this Unitarian church.

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I'm almost home when I look to my left and see this scene. I notice the yellow strip in the middle of the road and I think it will make a great photo. My eye saw it better than the camera, but I still like it.

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And finally, Memorial Day is a time to honor those who have died. I thought about doing a post, actually, on the people I've lost, but it made me too sad to think about it. Still, this is a day I think about my father. People called him "Red" because of his red hair. He was a mason and bricklayer who with his stepbrother owned D & I Construction. It was just the two of them and together I think they built thirty or more houses. My father was damn proud of that. Here he is with his beloved granddaughter, my Jessica. I know the print quality and lighting is terrible, but I want you to see how this crusty burly man put down his cement mixer and bricks to love and laugh with a child he adored. I miss you Dad, every day. You are the best.

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Six Word Saturday

"Never cut what can be untied"
(Amen)

The Map

Blow up to enlarge (I hope) if you want to see the whole story!
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This is the first 12 years of my life. Actually 13 but that last year was actually the beginning of the next chapter. In this six block area, I spent 99% of my days.

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I made this map today because I am taking a three Saturday workshop on how to write a memoir (versus a personal essay versus an autobiography. Want to know the difference? Maybe I will write about it. )

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This is an awesome workshop: seven women, all wanting to or have begun writing "memoirs." I don't know what I will do, but it was pretty insightful to draw this map. It's my neighborhood. The house that has an 'X' on it is the house my father and his father built together, along with my Uncle Sammy, my father's construction partner and half brother.

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I lived first and foremost on "the lane". Jeannie and Janice lived across the street and we played with our Ginny dolls on their front stoop for several years. Their stepmother was a wicked witch.

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I look at this map and I am struck by the simple pleasures of my childhood: 35 cents every day of summer to buy ice cream in a cup; walking by myself to LaRosa's to buy milk for my mother; sitting in my favorite corner seat of the playground making potholders--I probably made 50 potholders one summer.

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And I see some hints at understanding the little girl who ran away and hid in the garage and waited for her mother to come and find her (she didn't); the kid who watched in disbelief when the ice cream truck backed up and ran over her bike; the not-yet-teen who joined her 12 or so 7th grade friends of boys and girls learning and practicing how to kiss eachother.
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This was a look back. It seems I haven't really done that before, at least not as a bona-fide map, and I'm pondering what I know now. It's going to fit in somewhere, I know that.

People I Know: Stacey's Story

This is another story about people I know:

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I need to be careful when I write about clients. There are ethics and confidentiality that I take very seriously. And there’s also the fact that some of the details of their lives are just not palatable for my blog friends and visitors. But as a writer it’s hard not to put some stories into form, and this is one of them.

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First a warning: I’ll avoid details, but the history is brutal.

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Stacey is now 48. Two of her siblings have committed suicide and her remaining older sister is chronically mentally ill. So is Stacey. But she’s married, mother to four sons, grandmother to the two year old light of her life.

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Stacy’s childhood was torturous, abusive, neglectful, horrible. Often I have to ask her to stop the retelling because I feel sick. We’re straddling understanding and accepting the past and replacing that story with her life today and her hopes for the future. This is not easy. Stacey’s childhood IS her story, and she’s afraid she may cease to exist if she forgets it.
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She told me she was a wreck her first day of kindergarten because she did not know the way home. She got out of school and was so afraid. And alone. No one met her or looked out for her. She was five years old and was helped by a stranger who saw her crying on the street. When she finally got home, her mother called her stupid and pathetic. No more details needed.
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Well, to make a long story shorter, Stacey and I are working on her being able to access a “safe place” when these horrible recollections and memories overtake her, which is often. We’re using this visualization I call ‘escalator’, where she closes her eyes and I count down from 10 to one, each number carrying her further down on an escalator until she steps into to a beautiful place. For Stacey (it’s different for everyone), Jesus is waiting for her and he hugs and holds her. She is safe in the light.
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So I asked Stacey if maybe the little girl that she used to be could go to the safe place with her sometime. Here’s what happened next, in Stacey’s words:

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“I went down the escalator and Jesus was holding the little girl. She ran to me and I opened my arms and told her I would protect her. She told me please don’t make her go home to that house anymore and I didn’t know what to say. My husband told me later I should have told her I’d take her for ice cream, but I didn’t know what to do. She ran away but I called to her and told her I would help her. I felt bad that she ran away from me."

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The next time I did escalator my little girl was waiting for me at the bottom. She was standing beside Jesus and she ran up to me and I hugged her tight. .I told her I would take her to school and show her the way home. I waited outside the school all day until she got out. She begged me, please, can I go home with you instead, and I told her yes, but you have to know the way to your house first so we’ll walk that way and then I’ll take you to my house. I held her hand and told her she did not have to be afraid of her mother, that I would care for her.

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Lately I’ve been thinking about things I can do with her, help her have the childhood she never had. It feels so empowering. Like I can be her mother and keep her safe.”
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This is me, kj, speaking again. You know what? We all have little kids inside us. And we can all give them what they didn’t get.

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I have to tell you that watching Stacey start this process—mothering her terrified sweet little girl--is so gratifying it’s incredible. I’m no magician, and I’m not up for counselor of the year, but this “re-creation” seems so basic. That is, if we suspend being logical and realistic and tight assed adults for long enough to let the child within be heard.

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Stacey’s going to be playing with that little girl of hers, and in the doing the most horrible sadistic mother in her past will be slowly, lovingly replaced. And even though those horrific memories can't be erased, they can be reframed and recast. Stacey's found a tool, and she's using it...

Thursday 13: Thank you for....

It's a week to be grateful. So this week's Thursday 13 is about recognizing some of many wonders in my life.
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For starts,

1. I'm blessed to have blog buddies with talent to spare. Add generosity to that talent and I become the proud and surprising recipient of gifts, mail, and all kinds of loving gestures. I am a writer: I have little to give back, but still I open my mailbox these days and there are gifts for me. My photography skills do not do justice to those gifts, but I have no doubt you'll understand.

This is from Chewy. It's called 'Magenta Crocus' and it came in a stand-alone black frame. I currently have it in front of me on my desk, after spending close to a month on my favorite table where I start my mornings and end my days. The colors are magnificent. I'm no expert but the 'form' looks perfect to me. I just love it. Chewy sent me this as a thank you for sending her a copy of my book, which she won for writing a silly poem on my blog.

. Oh, how I wish I could have properly scanned or photographed this. I tried. This is Ms. Em, a favorite of mine who inspires me to lighten up and live wide. She is the creation of Mim, who I must say I become fonder of with every passing day. Mim bought the first copy of my book. I always feel that she accepts me, supports me, likes me--no small matter, any of these. I will meet Mim and I believe we will be and stay friends.
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Another case where my photo does injustice to Marianne's mandalas. This girl is incredible. I look at these and I am inspired to paint, to draw, to reach, to pray, to fly. I should mention that for reasons I don't quite understand, Marianne is Emily Rabbit's best friend. One day I will be in Europe and I will make a special trip to meet Marianne in the Netherlands. And I will hug her the way you hug an old friend, because that's what she will be.
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Ah, this cactus. What can I say about my beloved forever friend Lolo? I put this plastic gold frame around this watercolor I so love, just for the temporary heck of it, but the presentation has grown on me. I don't know where this little painting will end up--it's currently on my mantle, but I want to be sure it's somewhere I will see it often, because with no need or desire to share the details, Lolo saved me at a time I when I was free falling. Our birthdays are one day apart and we are kindred souls. Lucky me to have a friend so talented. And so kind.
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2. My camera: I carry it everywhere these days. I still don't know how to do anything but set it to automatic, frame the shot, and click away, but I love trying to get it right. I love taking pictures. I love that I can digitally erase them and try try again. This shot comes from my trip to Seattle--it was just a shelf in a store but something about the shape and blacks and whites with a dash of reds caught my eye.
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3. The Sisterhood: It's a great time to be a woman. (I know this isn't true everywhere, and my heart hovers above my dearest friend Human Being--how I pray for her freedom to soar). I relish my relationships with fabulous, interesting, strong, opinionated, creative, sensitive, caring loving women. I would be incomplete without those relationships, and from them I've learned about deep love.
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4. JB. She brought this corner piece of a knocked down Des Moines movie theatre when she moved here 25 years ago. This woman has loved, supported, celebrated and tolerated me for all that time. She is rock steady and ornately creative. I love her.
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5. Dogs: If I had to chose just one area to devote my life's work to, helping dogs would come in either first or second. Their loyalty alone is enough reason to love them, but add the absence of moodiness and their sheer exuberance and you have a companion who's hard to equal. From what I can tell, Stella had 7 or 8 miserable restrictive years before she was abandoned on a town street and found her way to a no-kill shelter, but the wag of her tail tells me she is now safe, content, and damn appreciative. Like most dogs I have the privilege to know, she is a good good soul.
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6. These Book Reviews: Every time a new review of 'The Light Stays On' appears on Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble.com it is like winning an award. I am so damn grateful. Here are the two that showed up this week:
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Refreshing love story: Karen Jasper did what many new writers have failed to; created an original love story. Even better, the love is between two women. This is a quick read, partly because it's not too long but mostly because it's so good, and one that I would recommend for everyone regardless of who you are and who you love. I don't say that for many love stories. Published 7 days ago by C. Reed
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Posted May 13, 2009, 10:53 PM EST: It's really hard to find a good love story that hasn't been done before, but this is one of those rare gems. I would recommend to everyone. It's classy, beautiful, and original. As for the lesbian readers (like myself), fantastic. It's about time we have someone new to read.

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7. This total surprise stunningly beautiful baby quilt: It arrived yesterday. I had no idea. Except that I already knew Mim (see above) is a creative and special person. She made this quilt and chose to send it for Mr. Drew. The sweetest part of this is that Drew's room is decorated in browns and greens. My daughter Jessica will be over-the-top when she sees this. Mim, some acts of kindness just land in your heart and take residence there. That's what this is for me. Thank you so much.
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8. ThisPoem: It's only been three years since I've had writers in my life, since I've become a writer myself. And for me there is a special sub-division of us who love poems, who write poems because we have to. In Iran there is a poet named Human Being who has become my friend. She understands me and her caring surrounds me. Barely a week ago she posted this poem for me. It made me cry a bit, but it was so worth it.
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At times...
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at times
we fall down
not to be stopped from reaching
but
just to watch a little sprout
reaching out to the surface of the earth...
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at times
we are left alone
not to be stopped from saying or asking
but
just to listen to the song of a little cricket...
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at times
we fall in love
not to become one
and to say the same thing
but
just to repeat and multiply a moment of being.....
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"i wrote this originally in Persian (Farsi) about 1.5 years ago... now i put it here for my dear friend KJ... "
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9. The Back Roads: I just drive along these semi-rural roads and take in the natural scenes in front of me. I'm glad that I can SEE. And springtime is my favorite. I break through and come alive myself each spring. I've had a sad hard year (how many times have I said that? I'll know I'm on the other side when I fail to mention that. The truth is my heart got cracked open and the good news is it's going to stay that way.)

10. This Boy: He's now definitely two. He never stops, he's into everything, he can express his feelings and needs completely, and he carries a joy within him that leaves me hopeful and heartfelt for the future of the whole human race. I have seen my daughter--his mother--blossom in her love and sacrifice for him. It's all so good sometimes it makes me want to cry.

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11. Fruit: I never ate fruit as a kid, and I've had to learn to like it as an adult. But now I crave an apple or two a day, love a sliced orange with Sunday breakfast, savor fresh strawberries and blueberries in my yogurt, and appreciate the treat of a mango or honeydew melon.

12. Is it even appropriate to show a picture of my bedroom? But it's so simple and sweet I can't resist including it. No wise guy sensual-sexual remark is coming from me (okay, so it's alittle tempting): it's just a nice room and I'm thankful for it.
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13. And last, tell me now, who in their right mind would buy and eat a hot breakfast sandwich from Speedy Car Wash? My final thank you goes to myself for having a wicked good sense of humor. HAHAHA!
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Animal Wednesday: Free at Last!

Illustration by Sudio Lolo

CHARGES DROPPED AGAINST DEFIANT RABBIT

Boo-B00-Hoo-Boo-Hoo-Hoo-Boo-Hoo.

I am still crying. I'll tell you why at the end.

It pays to have friends in high places. There I was in jail crying and kicking my feet in the air and pounding my paws on the ground when kj showed up and paid $ 50 to get me out. But she gave me dirty looks all the way home and she is still complaining that I shouldn't have tried to sell my rabbit pellets at a church meeting in the first place. I think she is wrong but I didn't say anything because I felt just a little bad that she had to leave her dinner party to come to the jail to pay my bail and then she had to drive me home and pretend she was not 100% mad at me so I wouldn't cry even more.

Then Ms. Bella said I was a minor and she would tell the police I was mentally incompetent.

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And Ms. Renee said I should have told the church people I was there for a same-sex marriage (which rabbits don't ask permission about: rabbits do what they want) (at least that what my mother says).

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My best friend Marianne told me to go to San Francisco and sell my pellets to a lady with a shopping bag and sore feet, knees and back (the lady, not the shopping bag).

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Chewy said I should sue for man handling (rabbit handling) and Sonia, Deborah Kay and Babs gave me business advice about how to make money selling my pellets.

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Bimbimbie suggested I threaten that I was a rabid rabbit.

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And lololo directed me to call 1-800-bailmyass.

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All of these ideas were very nice. I didn't listen to any of them (yet) because kj said the police and the church will drop the charges if I say I am sorry and promise not to solicit in any churches anymore. I agreed to this when kj told me I would not have to pay back the $ 50 if I gave her the beautiful mandala my best friend Marianne sent me. She really likes that mandala. So I agreed and then I talked to lololo on the telephone and told her I was a happy rabbit again and she asked me how happy.

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I told her I was so happy I was jumping up and down throwing flowers in the air. lololo told me I sounded jubilant. Then she painted how I felt. After having to put up with kj's sketches of me for all these weeks, isn't this the cutest picture of me you've ever seen? Don't I look jubilant?

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Because that is why I am crying again. BOO-HOO-BOO-HOO-BOO-BOO-BOO. I am crying because that was very nice and very sweet of lololo, and I am crying because there are very nice and very sweet people on these blogs. And even though I still want to make money and definitely should be paid for writing this every week, I like knowing so many nice and sweet people. I like it so much it makes me cry.

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The next time I get in trouble, which will probably be by the 4th of July, I know I have friends in high places. So first I will cry sad tears and then I will cry glad tears.

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Sincerely yours,

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Emily V. V. Rabbit

More of My Town

I need to cheer myself up. No explanation, it's just true. So I'm shelving my own plans for this Thursday's 13 and instead posting more photos of my surroundings today. Plus I want to share this with my dear friend Human Being, who today posted one of her poems with me in mind. It was a gift, and in return I think she will like seeing more of where and how I live. Of course I hope in some small or large way it's also of general interest.

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For starts, I just love this wall in my living room. My partner JB weaved the five wall hangings, and I loved hand-selecting every book in the bookshelf. The "flowers" in the tall vase are from the backyard rhubarb, thanks to Chewy telling me to get them off the plant.


I spent a small fortune for this planter, but it should last all summer on the kitchen steps. Sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and make yourself happy. This arrangement makes me happy. I'm not apologizing.



This is my view just before I turn into the driveway. I live on a circular cul-de-sac with four houses and plenty of mature giant trees. My house is not fancy. It's a seven room ranch with a sweet four season porch and room for sleepovers, which at my age you'd think I'd have no interest in, but I love having company overnight.


So now we're leaving the cul-de-sac and driving one mile to my local cafe. This is the kind of place that has poetry slams on Wednesday nights and old couches squeezed around one long community table. Not often enough I take my laptop there and cuddle into my favorite booth by the window and I write. I like the self-that-I-am whenever I do that, and I appreciate when I am that self. (say, what?!)

A half mile down the road this sign is at the entrance to the community hospital. This is in line with a federal law that says 'drop your newborn off, no questions asked'--an alternative for desperate women who either cannot or feel they cannot keep their baby.
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And here's the town hall--in my opinion a structure that doesn't fit in with the quaintness of my town at all. But it was designed by a well known architect. Personally I think it belongs in a different continent.

The local bread store,

The local fruit store,

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A sweet restaurant that barely seats twenty people,
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a local pub that wasn't afraid to express a prevalent opinion in my town,

the local copy shop,
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and finally, every day on my way home from town, the field of the local vocational technical school, which includes agriculture in it's curriculum.
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So... for someone who lives in a nice house, and a nice town, surrounded by good and loving people, who has a wonderful job, and has published her first book to good reviews, what exactly is my problem?