Wait to Worry

This is almost three year old Logan looking at the world through the New England Aquarium.  You can see the wonder. It's right there. 

This is a good way to see the world. 

I"ve been looking back at my blog, 2007, 2008, when I wrote a lot more poetry than I do now. This one, I must have had a certain way of letting life happen--just going with it. That was a good time even though I suffered from it later. Still, I read this poem tonight and I like what it tells me. 

Relax. In Due Time. Let It Be. Keep It Simple.

I heard this phrase "wait to worry" this month for the first time. It's a good idea. If I wait, it may turn out there is no need for worry. 

So even though this poem is a little gooey, I offer it up as a message to take care of the chores but don't get in the habit of not having fun. 

love

kj

Untitled

The toilet’s fixed

The grasses cut back

The appointment’s made

The snacks are packed.

The taxes aren’t done—

You can’t have it all—

But the trip’s been booked

& the garbage hauled.

The work’s wrapped up

The car’s been serviced

The stoops are painted

& no one’s nervous.

The time got spent

Finally put up the sign

Put the car in reverse

Put aside the divine.

The garden’s weeded

New bulbs on their way

& detoured hearts

Have had their say.

The weight’s been moved

To a straighter line

I might even be

okay to fine.

Still, I’m dealing with less

It’s a good mile wide

I’m trying my best

To put it aside.

I’m familiar with hope

I wear it quite well

But after the finish?

Only time will quite tell

On The Road

I've been on the road and home and on the road again. There is not an accurate chronological order to this post, but I blame that on blogger; well, actually, my arranging these photos incorrectly. But in any case. I've been seeing a lot of wonderful sights... 

…starting in Provincetown with the addition of a wood screen door that I keep swooning over. It is so reassuring that this is beachy Cape Cod. I'm here for a few days by myself to write and organize our house for its summer rentals.

And behind of our house in Ptown, because I am uncharacteristically on the side of the house where a bike rack will go,  I finally notice this darling house. I cannot believe JB and I have a place on this beautiful cape.

Unexpectedly, JB and I are traveling through Boston (Allston) on our way to Maine for the funeral of our friend's father. RIP. At a traffic light is this painted building.

We stop at a rest area in beautiful Maine with purple irises.

 I have lunch with Jessica and get caught up on what the kids are up to. I could listen all day. (This is Logan and Reese; photo taken by Jess)

I bring a new chair to Ptown for the upstairs bedroom. It is a 1950's chair from my parents' basement and JB and I have bought new cushions for it at Target. It looks perfect when I put it here.

When I leave Ptown, I drive along 6A and see either low tide or high tide.

I return to home sweet home here in Western Massachusetts.

Yesterday JB and I go to a very fun wedding in Hartford Connecticut.

And today we drive 90 minutes have lunch and celebrate our niece's 31st birthday.  We end the afternoon back home with soft serve ice cream.

I've left out things like shopping for sheets, mowing the grass, paying some bills, visiting my Mother, and bring out the hammock from the basement.

This is  a little too much action at one time. But it's summer and that means one day of longer sun light feels almost like two. I will slow myself down. I will. But for now I'm happy I'll get a good night's sleep tonight.  I hope for a good summer. I do.

love
kj

A Snippet...

A novel is taking shape in my head. I have characters--a family--and I like what's happening so far. I'm still only writing an hour here and an hour there, but I'm thinking and pondering. I'm glad about it.

Here is a snippet.  Your comments and criticisms are welcomed.

love

kj

The phone is silent for what seems like minutes. That’s how it used to be at the dinner table sometimes, until my mother started either laughing or clapping. She would throw her head back in sheer delight. 

“Kids," she’d say to the four of us, “never let too much time pass without reading a poem outloud. It will keep you grounded. If somebody says you’re ugly, read a poem. If somebody steals your money, read a poem. And for god sakes, when you get your heart broken, read a poem. You’ll be surprised.”

I didn’t stay in journalism. My mother died the night Providence won the State Championships and twenty minutes after the game ended, after I emailed  the story to my editior,  I was on my way to the TF Greene Airport, praying I’d make it back home so she could see me, so I could hold her hand, so I could maybe read her her favorite poem of all, The Country by Billy Collins, about a mouse running too fast with  a wooden matchstick in his mouth who burns down this guys’ girlfriend’s house. My mother folded over whenever  she heard that poem. Even when my younger brother totaled her car, the night before her road trip to see my Aunt Louise, she buckled with laughter when he told her he was so repetent he would recite The Country for her every night for six months. 

“You’re on, son,” she said, “but you still have to pay the deductible..”

I didn’t make it home before my mother died. Ryan said her last words were “Poets in heaven”. Can you believe that? My mother was nothing if not consistent. 

Hmmmmm

I have a dilemma. 

I am forty pages into writing a new book. Two of the characters especially--Claudia who dresses in various disguises for meet ups with a married man, and her Mother, who is still nameless, who has taught her four children that poetry solves anything and everything and who adores John Denver like a religion, has had a bad childhood that she's transformed into a passion for life.  They are both spunky and heroic and yes too, tragic. 

So I'm working my way through some kind of a schedule where I write reliably and I'm excited by this story--Claudia and her Mother and her brother Cole and sister Emily and the affair with Mr. Bigshot and his betrayal of his good and kind wife. It's already all a tangled mess and I love it.

But.

This week I received a response from a reputable publisher to whom I had on a whim submitted a query for my first book, one I self published and haven't given it the chance it deserves. The response was no, the book's not right for us because it would need to be longer--more words and pages-before we can consider it. I have the feeling that if I lengthen the story, The Light Stays On may well get picked up by this publisher. I would of course LOVE that.

So what would you do? Providing back story about the characters and introducing more about place(s) and complexities is, I think, doable.  But I don't think I can work on two books at the same time. 

I'd love your advice. Help!

love

kj

What's Going On with Me

1. Friends: I think this is corny but I keep going back to read it because there is something pretty great about having a friend like this. I have friends, good friends. I'm also presently doing some weeding (and being weeded). I don't like short term friendships; I prefer long and loyal. And I want real. And, to be honest, although not tit for tat, I like reciprocal too. One way friendships (one person's energy) are not for me.

I've notieed I'm more willing to cut loose on certain people. I have a preference to hold on so this is a change for me. I want to hold myself to being kind and interesting and loving, but I am working willingly on not caring if someone doesn't like me. I want to say I'm sorry when I should, but it's okay if I don't care enough to hold on.

I have a good friend who is having a terrible time. It hurts me. Someitmes I think I advise when I should just listen. I just hope I help.

2. Last year I neglected my yard all spring and summer because I had a knee replacement. This year I am back to my turtle approach to gardening and yard work: I do it because I want to and I don't let myself get overwhelmed. I just do the best I can. So today JB and I finished the circle around the front yard tree and it is a beauty. Took about 20 wheelbarrows of mulch. Next comes the front of the house, still turtle style. And then, hopefully, the garden.

3. I write about Provinctown a lot because JB and I  now try to spend two long weekends a month there. But I live in a ranch style house with a nice yard and great trees. People tell us that our house is comfy and cozy and it definitely that for me. I love it here especially this time of year. The yard and I are friends. Birds splash in the bird bath. The colors of the blue sky and green trees together just about make me sing.I'll soon have pink zinnias.

This is Memorial Day weekend and that means the kick-off of summer. I want it to be a good one.  Yesterday I read THIS about people who are happy and I'm inspired to be myself.

How about you?

love

kj

Thursday 13

I used to do Thursday 13 just about every week and I've made up a reason to do it this week. My reason is simple--here's what I've been up to:

1. Where I live in Western Massachusetts is farmland all around with a good douse of culture (five colleges) and great little restaurants. This is my new favorite for lunch: fantastic home made biscuits and the heck with everything else :^)

 2. This is Jess and Mike's front door in their new house. I was there for a few days when Mike was out of town. I love seeing Jess and the kids living their lives.

3. This is the moors in Provincetown, at dusk.

4. My Mother's nursing home has chosen her for a bulletin board of 'this is your life.' My brother and I have given them photos and it has been humbling to tell the story of my Mother. Here she is with my brother, well before I was born.

5. I am now looking for and greeting birds every morning, outside my kitchen window. I can't yet get my camera to focus well, but what a tweet.

6. My friend Hells and I met on the blogs six years ago. She lives in Sydney Australia and we know some of each other's secrets.  Last weekend we met--very wonderful. We drove the back roads with JB and found ourselves at an old mill with an old real deal bookstore.

7. Here we are: two good friends.

8. I have had my first lobster roll. It is finally May and summer is coming. 

9. I never thought I would have four little ones in my life now but here they are. Lucky lucky me.

10.  I love this graphic. 

11.This is the Blue Bonnet Diner.  Another real deal.

12. Morning light in May? Perfection.

13. And here is our tiny water view in Provincetown (altered in Waterlogue). We have successfully rented out our place for 8 one week stays. It should be sad we won't be there much of the summer but it's quite good that we will have money for repairs and upgrades. Slowly and surely we will make this house shine.

If you would like to do a Thursday 13 on any day, please do. It's pretty fun.

love
kj

Anne This Spring

Anne and I had a friendship, then for a time we didn’t, then, thankfully, certainly, we did again, and we kept it that way.  We met on the blogs, we talked on the phone, we passed along emails, shared colors and words and advice, and laughed hilariously about the follies of friends and foes and all the world.  When she lambasted some injustice, always with cause, I listened, but often with the sneaky goal of saying something I hoped would lower her temperature. When I complained, she offered solutions--good solutions. Anne knew alot about alot. Anything she told me I knew I could take to the bank.

I won’t say Anne was a martyr about this damn cancer, but she came close. She never complained. Even when the medical problems kept piling on, she was feisty and matter of fact and always her take-no-prisoners-grateful self. I knew when Anne stopped eating that she had decided enough was enough, because I knew Anne would handle her passing the way she wanted and the way she thought was best for Gary.

Anne loved her husband. She told me a hundred times that she wanted to know he would be okay when she was gone and she’s done her best to hope and plan for that. I imagine any home would have a deep and painful silence when a beloved voice is no longer heard, but I think the absence of Anne’s voice will be unique in all the world. It is the sound of her  voice I want to remember most.  She could elevate irritation to an art form, but there was never a meanness to it. Most of the time she just knew what was right and what wasn’t. 

 I always hoped Anne and my Emily Rabbit would write a book together. Anne’s poems to Emily were magnificent. She was as smart and talented as anyone I will ever know. And, she was my great friend. I will miss her like nobody’s business. 

Fly well, Anne. I know there are gardens and art studios in heaven. There may even be tractors and designer shoes. There is definitely no cancer. Thank you for being my friend. Your spunk lives in my heart and always will. 

________________________________________________________________________

Damn I miss her. We had fun.

Anne was friend to the mischievous incorrigible Emily Rabbit. Here is a poem she wrote in response to Emily's criminal scheme to start an avocado business.

Here--give a high five to Heaven-Rebel-Rouser Anne yourself:

love
kj

Anne Huskey-Lockard10 May, 2012 12:43

EMILY!!!

Emily dear,
I am at a loss,
A perfect adventure
Where you are the boss,

And then here comes KJ~~
Donned in wet-blanket
To try and discourage
the cash you'd be bankin'.

I'm thinking that maybe,
the great time is near,
when YOU have your own blog
And leave KJ here. (just sayin'....she's really cramping your style...)

You know that we'd follow,
And there would be more
Awaiting your wisdom
Awaiting your store

For selling the mean green
and getting revenge,
served up COLD and quite HARD
~~that's soooo good in the end! >:-}

And just to assure you
of profits quite grand
I'd be the first order;
Cold cash in my hand!

For probably a dozen
(and bazooka gun too)
As I need them to fly
Quite a ways from Peru!

So sneak right on out,
(wait till KJ's in slumber)
And you and I, Bunn-friend,
Will cut quite a number!!!

Your loyal poet~~Anne

Am I?

Am I old?

I am overweight and my back hurts. I have a titanium knee and I've lost stamina.

But am I old?

My friends are raising the subject more than I'm used to. I hear wisdom cautioning that time is precious. I hear concern that anything can happen.

I can't keep up with my grand kids. I have to brace myself to hop up from a seated position.

I worry that I might not wake up from anesthesia.

I like to cook more than ever and I like to cook most for my family. I'm pulling my papers together just in case.

Does any of this make me old?

I will turn sixty-seven in August. That is three short of seventy. Seventy is old. Isn't it?

I only work at what I choose. I worry less.

Am I old?

Am I or am I not?

Here I am and the time is now. Here. And Now.

I have goals.

Write this book. Get it published.  Acclaim.

Write another book. Same thing.

Influence my grand kids to be astonished. To notice. To be kind.

Stand in front of a moving train for my Jessica.

Smile in the morning: Hello dear JB. How did you sleep? Let's have a good day today!

Teach. Workshops. Develop my own. In Provincetown. By the sea.

Hold tight to my sexual sensual self. Passion. Wild passion for years ahead.

Landscape another yard. In Provincetown.

Back to Italy. Back to France. Forward to Elsewhere.

Does this sound like I am old?

And

Does it even matter?

love
kj

Easter Musings

It began when Jessica was three. She's spent every Christmas Eve and Easter Day with her father. 

For the first time, this morning, I've regretted that early decision to equally share our daughter on those holidays. I hope my regret is temporary, fueled by the fact that I am alone today. JB is in Provincetown gaining some well needed rest from a recent illness. Jess and her family are at their home two hours a way. I was there yesterday and I know all is well in their household, which means the world to me. 

Today I am here alone at my home where I have looked forward to a several days on my own and where I will write and garden.

I didn't know I would feel lonely. 

And I want that feeling to be okay. I'm not quite there being content in my aloneness but I want to be.

This is not to say that I have not celebrated the coming of Easter and finally Spring. 

Mr. Ryan and his brother Drew left yesterday after two jam-packed sleep-over days and nights with me, their Gram. It is a role I find delightful and invigorating and exhausting. :^)

We walked to the park and fed the goats.

 We visited a scary Easter Bunny who didn't talk but nodded. Mr. Ryan asked how he (she?) managed to get entry into people's houses on Easter morning. Did the parents open the door? Nod No. Did he (she) use the chimney? Nod No. Did he (she) get in through the garage door code? Nod Yes. Personally I did not think that was a good answer. 

We explored.

And relaxed.

We colored eggs.

We bowled. Candlepins. This was a discovery: a local bowling alley in existence for 56 years where you kept score the old fashioned way on a sheet of paper and had the benefit of no electronics except the pin setter.

We ate spaghetti. (This is Drew.)

I am alone and I belong to a family and both of these facts are one true thing. Today is not my childhood memory of a new Easter hat and coat, patterned leather shiny shoes, and my Mother's honey ham and scalloped potatoes. Today is a day when the people I love are happy and content and the sun is bright and the rest is up to me.

Happy Easter if you happen to be celebrating. And happy Spring if you happen to be on this side of the continent. I hope you belong somewhere, and I hope the people you love are well.

Love,

kj

Designs

JB and I are having our fill of fun decorating our Provincetown house. We bought this wooden screen for cheaps and took a chance it would make a fine bedpost. We bought the bed covering at the same discount store and we are giggling over how classy clever it all looks.

 The kitchen is another matter. The ceiling is low and there is nothing short of a serious rehab that will make it what we envision. So that means time to save money for remodeling. Probably two years worth of time. But that's alright. 

We will (must) be renting the house out for multiple weeks this summer and preparing for that is (mostly) fun too. We're shooting for cozy comfort with a touch of seaside whimsy. 

I know full well we are lucky lucky ducks to have this house. It's a block from the ocean and it's cute.

And we've just begun. 

Happy Spring in this part of the world. What are you up to? I'd like to know. 

love

kj

Ulingan in the Philippines

I've known about Ulingan for several years. To live there is to live in squalor and poverty with pretty much no way out. There is no economy, no jobs. 

This is a description from National Geographic:

Thousands of urban slum dwellers including these in the Ulingan community in the Philippines capital of Manila (map) live amid filth and swirls of toxic smoke as they eke out a living making charcoal from wood scavenged from nearby garbage dumps and construction sites.

The conditions of slums near Manila Bay are unhealthy enough—the Ulingans live next to a rubbish dump. But the rudimentary process of making charcoal in open pits exposes the squatters to harmful emissions such as as carbon monoxide, nitrous oxide, and soot, as well as chemicals when burning treated wood. The result is a myriad of respiratory illnesses and heart disease.

Of the hundreds of pictures I've seen of Ulingan, almost every one shows the effects of charcoal everywhere: on feet and bodies and clothes, everywhere on the ground. There is nothing green. Nothing.

I learned about this community from Sidney Shoeck, a photojournalist of the highest caliber and integrity who is dedicated to the Philippines. (see my sidebar for his blog). 

Through him I have also learned about Project Pearls, a non profit organization doing everything it can to help the children of Ulingan have access to education and to help the families of Ulingan have access to basic needs.

These are not people who feel sorry for themselves. Like most Filipinos, they are a proud  people doing their best.

Sidney is currently doing a series on his blog that highlights 50 mothers. I've taken the liberty of sharing some of his photos because I know he won't mind.

If you're looking for a cause to support through money or prayers, Ulingan is damn worthy. Google it and understand what it's like to live there, what it would take to thrive there. Believe me, these photos are not selected as the worse. Every inch looks like this. And I've not included the charcoal smoke that permeates the air. 

Why am I introducing you to Ulingan?

You know why...

love

kj

Rambles

1. No Spring yet. No sun, no warmth, no seedlings breaking through a very wet ground. But one of these days it will be 60 degrees here and I will be reclaiming my yard and planting lettuce and petunias in my half circle garden. My loves: family, friends, writing, camera, Provincetown, gardening. The future is bright.

2. Has anyone else checked out the iPhone app "Waterlogue? This is what it does to regular photos: makes them into watercolors. The app cost is $ 2.99 and I think it's the deal of the century because it is super simple and super fun. And speaking of deals, I'm also loving my monthly Groovebook. For the same cost of $ 2.99 a month, up to 100 photos from my iPhone each month are printed and bound into a photo book, then mailed to me. If you go on line and put in the code JASPER16 you'll get a book for free. No mailing costs ever. It's pretty cool.

3. I am writing and sending out queries to agents and publishers. I have been languishing on my second book for going on three years now, maybe more, and there are legitimate reasons why I don't bring myself to finish it. SO! I've put it aside and have begun a new novel--four siblings and their mother. My favorite character is the oldest sister, Claudia, who maintains her affair with a married man by donning costumes and wigs. I am fired up to write again. It's a great thing for me.

4. I thought this brief essay might be a blog post but it doesn't feel okay to let it stand by itself. So here it is tucked in to other rambles. Has this ever happened to you? 

Have you ever loved anyone who hated you? It's an odd awful thing.

There is no way around it; no minds to change, no errors to mend.  The light of it is well in the past and so it will stay. But every once in a while my senses viscerally remember how deeply and mutually love and whimsy and creativity was given and shared.  But--we were both obsessed. Even with full good lives we couldn't keep a distance.  There was no solution. 

At any point, even through a bad ending,  I was not prepared for hatred. Even now I rail against such an ending.  I became villain and vilified and that was that. My friends told me this was someone without a conscience. I knew some of that was true. But I went too far, myself--I romanticized what was not and I failed to settle for something less. My part was not good. 

Even so, something dormant inside me became alive and has stayed alive and now the  barbs and bitterness no longer reach me and they likely are no longer even formed into thought. 

Still, it is somehow not right to be hated by someone you loved.

5. What the heck is the right and best balance for an unbridled creative life that is also responsible and steady? This image, posted on Facebook by my friend Lo, is pretty telling. This explains why I hate the chores!

                                 (click on the image to enlarge)

Enough rambles for today. Slowly and surely I am going to be blogging more often and I am so glad.  

Love

kj