Renee

I will never ever forget her.

Renee died three years ago this week. I have written about her before but in no way can I convey her uniqueness. She had dozens of us proclaiming love for each other and for her on her blog. She wrote about living with cancer and the bats in her stomach in the most honest and heartwarming way. 

Do yourself a favor and spend some time at  Circling My Head. Go back to 2009 and hear Renee herself waxing about life and love and family and art and forshitsakes. She will make you laugh and make you cry.

Everyday I love her deeply. Renee is one of a kind. 

This was one of her favorite poems. No wonder.

love

kj

 Here is Mayfly,
It is her first day on earth.
It is also her last.
Mayflies only live for one day.
But is she sad?
Not at all.
She is happy to be alive!

This isn't any old day.
This is the best of days.
She lives for each moment.
She sees the world begin,
She hears the crack of dawn.
And bathes in its golden glow.
A billion buds burst open.
All for her!

She tastes her honey.

Mayfly sees eggs hatch.
Babies born.
Lambs learning to stand.
The business of ants.
The dizziness of children...
The loveliness of things.

She feels the sun's warm hug.
The kiss of summer rain.
The magic of the rainbow.

It is her wedding day.
Trees throw confetti.
There are games on the lawn.
Breezes blow, bells chime.
Birds sing!
She dancesto the music of the universe.

Mayfly lays her eggs.
It is a peaceful night.
The best of nights.

She makes one last wish:
'Little ones, may all your tomorrows be as perfect as my yesterday!'
Mayfly watches the moon come up and the stars go out.
And is thankful for her wonderful life

Where I've Been

Strange times. Faces in trees. Sad moments. Great joy. This has been my last few weeks. 

I have traveled to Arizona for the memorial of a father, a brother-in-law, a professor, a good man, a quiet man with a mile wide smile. 

 He was an Iowa farm boy with a gift of brilliance; 'Doctor' to his university students who came to the church by the dozens, on a Saturday afternoon when there were so many other places they could have been.   I sat behind his daughters, who in this same church a decade ago mourned the loss of his wife, their Mother. And I sat beside my partner JB, saying goodbye to a man she had known as a teenager, heartbroken for herself and for her family. 

 It takes a long day to travel from New England to Arizona. So we stayed on after the memorial, a few days on the road, to a spa, to unwind, to catch our breath. Change is underfoot and it is both uncertain and predestined. It is too soon to speak in detail, maybe even too soon to even know what all the details are. But JB and I are in a whirlwind. If you know me and know some of what I refer to, please: Ssssh. Not yet. 

a new definition of on line.....

We headed for the Camel Back Inn in Scottsdale. Wow.

I average one massage a year. This time I had two. And a manicure and a pedicure. It was indulgence without caution. It was wonderful. 

 And chocolate fondue for lunch. In our spa robes. 

And mile high guacamole. 

So now I am back home. For the first time, today my Mother didn't recognize me. She was sure I am her sister. She is not the same as a month ago. I worry. I miss her.  But too: I have reason to be thankful. There are new possibilities. I am lucky to be able to chase them. My knees may knock but JB and I chase anyway. We're a good team like that. 

Life is hard. But not just.

love

kj

A Brief Love Letter

I could not find words to say this better. 

Thank you so much for the excitement and joy and support you bring to my life.

happy V day!

love

kj

Ode to a Snow Day

Mr Ryan, Drew, and Logan

Three little boys 

sliding on a sled

One was glad

He wasn't in bed

Until he fell off 

and then he said

Just two little boys

sliding on a sled

Two little boys

sliding on a sled

Slippin and grippin

and shaking their head

Whee they screamed

quite giddily led

Until one little boy

fell over instead

One little boy

sliding on a sled

Looking at his brothers

holding cookies instead

Help! he called

and then he said
Wait! I'm coming!

Cookies in bed! 

with proper thanks to Five Little Monkeys, which I have read aloud no less than one zillion times.

love kj

Whirlwind

I don't know why. I'm in spot where much is happening though not so obvious to the eye. For one thing, I am changing/reconfiguring/decreasing/leaving/re-evaluating my work. I am staring hard into the eyes of practicality and money and insisting that they and I look at now, and a year from now: so what if it's at the expense of life at ninety? 

Also, my Mother has had a small stroke. She leans to the left and is weak. For a number of days her green eyes, those eyes I will always see and love, seemed vacant, to varying degrees. (My Mother is now 97. She has broken her hip, her shoulder, her arm and her finger, all separately. She was in bed honestly dying for three months last winter. So I and everyone who knows her is not counting her out. ) What I am doing is treasuring this remarkable woman I have come to know, adult to adult, daughter to Mother.

And JB had a big round number birthday this week. I made her a cake, we took the day off and went to lunch and then to see Argo at an afternoon matinee.  We had plans to spend Friday night in Boston at the Elliot Hotel but instead we have stacked firewood on the porch and are watching a blizzard unfold that is predicted to drop 12-24 inches of snow. Two feet is alot of snow. 

We are not in Boston going to museums and acting sophisticated. Instead, we are home quietly and consistently eating birthday cake. :^)

Soon I am going to do a post on this poster.  

One definite thing about predicted snow storms in New England is that people (over) prepare. We have flashlights and candles and batteries and food. I spent the morning casually and happily cooking. I made spaghetti sauce, my Father's recipe. I'm making beef stew in the crock pot. I may bake bread. 

Like a Senior Squirrel Girl Scout, I want to be prepared if we lose our electrical power. Food. Fireplace. Light. I remember my parents planning for storms like this when I was a little girl. I remember how great it felt to lose power and glow in the dark. I remember I had a pretty happy childhood.

Here he is: Mr. Chase. He is getting abit softer. However, he howls in the middle of the night (like a wolf), he will not pee no way on a leash, he declines to come when he's called. And his seizure medications are too expensive. 

That said, I'm glad for him. Today he we took him  into Look Park as some serious snow and little wind gusts hit us. It was entirely new for him. He had on his fleece overcoat that greyhounds need in winter because their skin is thinner than a baby's. He liked it. 

Chase is not always this relaxed. We think sometimes he has baby seizures and then his face is tighter. But all in all I think he is going to have a good life here. 

Hmmm, now who is this?

the little speck of a yellow house is mine

JB and I are settled home until this blizzard ends sometime tomorrow night. I might get up at 3 am tonight just to see the height of the wind and drifts.

I am now finished with this post and I've ended up not writing about the whirlwind of my life currently.  Instead, I've focused on a snapshot of a day or two, with good reasons to be thankful. I am thankful. But don't go thinking I'm at the place of peace where I want to be, and I want to stay, because I'm not there.

Happy weekend

with love

kj

What I Can Say About Writing a Novel

First, I am writing this on my iPhone so I am forced to be brief.

I hit a milestone last week. I finished reading 400 double spaced pages of a first draft of a novel about love and obsession. I edited and made marks and comments. I printed out every chapter separately and stabled each chapter together. I have three stacks: a beginning, a middle, and an end, sort of.

Now I am ready to:

--think about the best order of the chapters (this is VERY hard)
--see where there are gaps or omissions or overkill and write at least a few 'bridge' chapters and probably chop out some sections
--get rid of all unnecessary wordiness
--change some names and some locations and some descriptions so no one I care about gets hurt or mad at me
-- check the verbs and make sure they are as strong as possible
--reread it all and judge it: is it any good?  Is the character Casey transformed? What's the lesson?

I would have given examples but I'm posting on my cellphone for the first time ever. Forgive my typos.

The stage I am at now with this novel is a lot of fun.

:-)

Love
kj
   

Thoughts on a Quiet Night

Do you believe in coincidence? Or more to the point, do you believe in synchronicity? 

One by one I took the bulbs, the ornaments, the lights off this Christmas tree. I checked and double checked. It was not until JB arrived home that night that she pointed to this one tin heart. How could I have possibly missed it? And what did it mean, of all the ornaments on the tree, that this one, this little  heart, was hidden to me and then lickity-split in plain view?

JB has a new friend. Her name is Peaches and she dances. She also steals cookies. If you don't know already, there is this remarkable talented woman named Pam who also goes by the name of Yoborobo --whose plushies like Peaches make a person sing. Ms. Yoborobo has become a dear friend to me and many, with damn good reason.

JB lost her sister twelve years ago to $#@*& cancer. This week her brother-in-law died too. Unexpected and so sad, we traveled to the desert, arriving no more than forty minutes before he died, at home, aided and cared for by his two daughters. To be orphaned before you turn thirty years old? What universe dares to think that is fair? I look at this chair and I am reminded how fleeting and fragile life is. 

Don't Postpone Joy. I know this is trite and it is also true. He could be sitting in this chair. Two weeks ago he was. The line is so thin. Be kind, yes, but while you can, be outrageous too. Love outrageously. That's my free advice.

What incredible patterns in the land below. Where do all these squares and circles come from? I can't fathom it.

The Arizona desert is so different from my New England. There is a stark simplicity to it all. 

And there is authentic Mexican food. My heart flutters. There is no meal I like more. Except my orgasmic Mr. Sushi. 

I traveled home alone. JB has stayed another week to help her nieces. The day after Christmas, I got sick and I stayed sick for two plus weeks. Before that the holidays were lovely and hectic. So here I am now, home alone, gratefully, in a quiet place, just our dog and me. It is a silence I have needed. I've been able to write, to fall in and out of bed when I wish. I made beef stew in the crock pot. I've watched the Presidential Inauguration. I called friends. Wrote some cards. Prayed that fucking cancer starts losing the battle every time.

I've been thinking. It's taken me four years to get over a hurt that I couldn't seem to let go of. Four years; it might even be five. I wonder what that says about me? Here's one conclusion I've come to: there's no helpful fault line. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm not perfect, but I lean on the side of kind and vibrant. I like me that way, Maybe I chose the wrong person, maybe I had some lessons to learn. Maybe even some gifts were given and taken. Maybe whatever happened happened because kicking and screaming I've been enriched by it. 

Our human condition... 

Don't Postpone Joy.

love

kj

Little Man

Little Man

I will not know your children; 

And even if that may not be so

they will not know me

As I run to you,

holding your hand

walking beside you with the camera

we bought for you on my birthday.

They will not know how content

when I rub your head and back,

Mr. video child who colors in the lines

as calm as a baby bird,

patient and prepared

with intensity that wraps around resilience.

I told your mother

I could not love her children 

as much as I loved her;

then, I couldn’t imagine anyone able to stretch love

beyond that loyal vast place. 

I was right but also wrong

because the lives I will lie down for--

your father and brothers too--

I would not equivocate, 

my clear decision so all of you

may all hold steady.

In the kitchen 

just before we reached the table

you came quickly, and wrapped your arms around my legs 

from nowhere, and we acknowledged. 

I will remember that moment that cannot be altered, 

our affirmation to the last breath.

I tell you I love you

and you tell me you know. 

I tell you it’s okay

and you tell me no:

you should have known the ornament was glass,

you say, not the wood you expected when you bit into it.

I tell you six years is not long enough

to know all that 

but I stop from adding that even sixty years

is sometimes not long enough.

Even Adam bit the wrong apple 

And even your Grandmother's lost a gamble.

I can’t protect you, little man.

But I will be your audience forever 

and I will applaud every achievement,

every misstep, every mistake.

I will hold you in my arms even when 

embrace is at a distance.

It means everything to come first sometimes

and I and your family will show you that.

You are six years old today; 

You, a poet, a gamer, a Patriot, a colorer, 

a child who will watch me age,

understanding how easily I bend 

to love all that you love too. 

Happy Birthday Ryan,

love Gram

Big Deal

Hard to explain,

Harder still to make sense

Some things go wrong

Want a wing, get a fence.

World's a mess

Yes I know

I can see

What is so.

But I can't bring myself

To neglect all this shine

People and places

That make my life mine

I don't know why I find myself creating this gooey post. I could be sad about many things beyond my control. But I was carrying my apple laptop into the living room today--I get such joy from it--remembering that it took me almost a year to finally decide to buy it, and I started thinking about little deals that are big deals. 

If I died tomorrow, honest to god, I don't think I would have regrets. I'm surprised by that, and even thinking it  is one big deal.

Rotterdam Germany. I've stood here (thanks joss)

 Sedona Arizona. I've stood here too

 My parents' yard for 63 years

Back of an elementary school stage when I counseled a little boy

when Mr. Ryan was born 

 New York with my two brightest stars

Mr. Sushi (orgasm)

97 years old this week

barely a two hour trip to the city that never sleeps

breakfasts (lo! marianne! lori!)

after 100 begs,  a friend relinquishes this special box

to be able to love animals

my father's popsicle rocking chair

You must have some big deals too, yes?...

Love

kj

Whoa!

I am too busy to take the time. I am not unkind, but if I try to work out a wrong, yours or mine, and you skate away on thin ice, I won't stand there freezing by myself; for what purpose?

I wasn't always like this. For many years I worked hard, very hard, to be liked, to charm, to nuzzle in. Hell, I was voted Personality Plus in my high school of 660 kids. That took work on my part. Only once did I clearly screw up: I made a joke in history class that embarrassed Ingrid I don't remember her last name, because she was overweight and I called attention to that. No, I screwed up a second time too: I hurt my fragile friend because I wanted her to work harder but in the end I suffered because she said no and goodbye. I miss her to this day.

I am seeing all kinds of words and resolutions and affirmations for the new year. Maybe because I've welcomed the new year with the grumble of a temperature and a cough, but I can't seem to box myself in that way, even if it might inspire me. Because I think it won't.

This is going to be a transition year for me. I am going to stop working the way I've worked for my whole adult career. I am going to have and use time differently. I think too my heart, which has suffered for what I must face as unworthy reasons, may finally flutter free; and if I'm lucky, maybe even with no twinge of anything bitter. And I will know children: four who look to me in an inner circle they and I  know is family.

There are parts of my life that are so uncomplicated even my breathing has the right rhythm. My daughter for one: how much I love her. How easily I would sacrifice for her. How proud I am to witness who she is, what she does, how she lives. She is a Mother now. She loves her husband. I am in awe of her. How could anything feel better than that?

And JB. She is making me cappuccino right now. We have one more house in us, I tell her. I may have one more job in me, perhaps, not counting writing which has transcended work and is just what I do, what I have to do, what I am privileged to do.

A word for the new year? I have no idea. Oh, maybe this: don't expect me to waste my time. I want no false friends and I will step away from them. I carry no false pride and I am comfortably defiant. I will not tolerate and I will rail against abuse of animals or children or a mean spiritedness by politicians who should know better. Some things I'm just clear about. 

No bullshit. Not this year. That's it! That's my word!

love

kj

Old poem, same perspective

 I used to write a poem or two a week. Now my thoughts seem too private. I hope that will change sooner than later.

This one I liked it then and I like now. I like what it reminds me.

Happy New Year,

love

kj

Cooking Up Trouble

Sneaking up the walkway

And through the back door

Carrying a recipe filled with lessons

From the great books, 

You mix together ingredients

That can be separated

Only once

And even then you take your chances.

You start with young hope

Sifted through intent and 

Measured nicely by honest hands

Hoping that alone will suffice.

But of course it can’t.

So from the back cabinet

You reach for promises

Waiting to be made and kept

And add them with fanfare,

Simply because they must be mixed

With integrity

Otherwise they curdle at the first neglect.

This bowl can hold whatever you throw at it,

But not neglect. 

And that is because some recipes

When they’re fudged or forsaken

Fall into a million pieces

So even the great godess cannot reconstruct them,

And least of all you with your limited skills.. 

Better to take your time and measure 

Well enough, really well enough

So that when the rising’s done

You become whole

From those ingredients 

You cooked up yourself. 

Advice for the New Year

Be Yourself. No one else can be you as well as you can.

Happy happy new year.

Sincerely,

Emily Plush

Fiona (Emily Rabbit's stuck up cousin)

& 

Francine

& 

kj