Mish Mash in a New Year

The moment I read this I understood the change that's taken place and is shaping me again. I've always been an optimist but in the last few years I've had challenges that have tossed me every which way. Even now things are not quite balanced in my world. But I read this and I knew that I am back to the  me who pushes through and appreciates. Time can heal. Hearts can bounce. 

 The last month has been a whirlwind. I am writing this from Colorado but I started in Florida at Disney. My last post was all about that trip, but this post is so much about transition that it's fitting to begin with these children, minus Reese who was so scared of these giant mice that there was no way she could endure this picture. 

I love these children. When the oldest, Ryan, was born, I told my daughter Jessica I would love him, of course, but never as much as I loved her. She smiled then and said, "That's okay." In that moment we both understood and exalted the unconditional love of a parent.

Now I know there are different kinds of love, each deep and true. It's still true that I love Jess so much  I can't imagine anything competing with that. But my heart's expanded. There's plenty of room in there.

So what does a new year mean? Especially a new year where I'm eager to be astonished and productive? I've moved to a new town, surrounded by a bay and ocean, where the way light bounces off the sea is astonishing.

I'm determined to finish my book this year, to shop it around to agents and publishers and I dream of it in print by the end of the year.  And if nobody nibbles, I will publish it myself. I have more to learn about the matriarch of my novel: she is gutsy and resilient, that's for sure. But does she crack and fold too? I don't know that yet. But I will. 

A week after I got home from Disney, JB and I were on a plane to Colorado to help her sister through knee replacement surgery. The plan was for me to stay a week and JB five weeks. I was sure I'd use the month JB was gone to write and possibly finish this slippery book. But I'm not home yet: complications and an extended hospital stay and now an East Coast winter storm. I'm heading home on Tuesday to my own version of snow. 

 Colorado is beautiful and here in Colorado Springs, the Rocky Mountains are everywhere. The singer songwriter John Denver has a prominent role in my new novel and as soon as I remembered that, I've been looking at "Rocky Mountain High" with new awe.  Many men here wear leather cowboy hats and look weathered and almost everyone is polite and helpful. The Springs is a very conservative area, very unlike my own politics, but I'm easily avoiding that fact.

I found this on Facebook and I think it's just adorable. HAHAHAHA. 

Mr. Ryan had his ninth birthday before we left and I put into action something I've told him a hundred times. About money. "Ryan," I say, when you get money for a present or you earn money, keep a third for yourself to spend however you want, save a third, and give a third to someone or some cause that will help others." 

JB and I put a $ 20 bill in each envelope and put the three envelopes in a shiny new metal pencil case. Jess sent me this photo a few days ago and it made me glow.

 Here I am these days.

Colorado is a legal marijuana state. Some cities regulate sales by limiting it to "medicinal sales,", but there are also retail shops every where. In our common spirit of adventure, JB and I walked in to this store, Emerald Lakes, were asked to show identification, and were escorted into a large room with tables displaying and demonstrating all kinds and all prices of choices. I asked the young woman orienting us if this was a transition job for her and what she hoped for ahead. She said, "I want to grow marijuana. I need $ 15,000 to start off and I don't have it. But I know from working here how much money you can make growing it."

It might have been her glassy eyes, but I felt sad seeing and hearing her. I wondered how her parents in Ohio felt. 

Because we've spent a good deal of time hospital visiting and helping out, JB and I have eaten out often here in Colorado. This is a french cafe, charming in every way. We met an older couple here who couldn't figure out our relationship. The gentleman first asked if we were sisters. No, we said. A few minutes later he asked again. "Friends or business partners?" Even five years ago I might have hesitated. But I said, "We're partners. Been together thirty years." And for good measure I added, "We're a couple…"

He was taken back but gracious. He had grown up in Massachusetts and we told them we were from Boston, and now Cape Cod. So after they left the waiter told us they came every week for dinner and we asked if we could buy them a drink in advance. "Sure,' the waiter said, "But she doesn't drink."

So with good wishes "from the girls from Boston," these folks will have one martini on the rocks and one velvet cupcake on us. I'm pretty sure they'll enjoy it all as much as we've enjoyed the giving part.

And finally, in a few days I'll head back to Provincetown. A great local photographer named Sue Ballard took this photo, a common scene of the Provincelands. This is the magic I will return to.

I should add that American politics are absolutely scary nuts and the world is in turmoil. I'm well aware of that and I'm very distressed by it. But finally, I'm back on my hopeful grateful feet. I hope this is true for you too.

love

kj

Winnie Poopie and Taco Bell

I'll start with the cookies. Every year JB and I make and decorate these sugar cookies and every year my health-conscious daughter and son-in-law beg for more and only minimally share them with their kids.  They were quite gone on Christmas Day when fifteen of us headed for Disneyworld in Florida.

How to describe being there from Christmas Day through New Year's Eve? Crowded, Hot, Expensive, Chaotic, and Heartwarming. My grand kids are 8, 6, 4, and 2. We had adventures.

I can't answer why 100,000 people at a time would stand in line for up to 90 minutes for one ride or one experience. But I'll say that Disney has class. This is a quick still shot of a very animated almost five minute ride that called "it's a small world" and it was a feast for the eyes and ears. Color, music, animation, splendored imagination.

Here's the crew of us. Disney has photographers at key locations everywhere and for a prepaid price, they snap away and then in all of five seconds they transfer the shots from their camera into your Disney rubber wristband. Just like that. (Looking for me? Lime green and white blouse, orange red hair).

Every night the castle at the Magic Kingdom turns to ice with fireworks in the background (aka their hit movie "Frozen'.)

There are several different parks at Disney, each with its own theme. This is from a safari ride at the Animal Kingdom. I'm not sure if I approve since I'm opposed to animals in captivity and I don't (yet) know if this qualifies as a bona fide sanctuary. But I was there and here are termite hills. They are here and there along the 20 minutes or so jeep-like ride, in all heights and shapes.

Plenty of flamingos…

My god, lions are majestic…

And the kids played games and won giant stuffed colorful dragons. The carnival section was classy, much like I remember carnivals years ago.

This is 4 year old Logan being hugged by Winnie the Pooh, otherwise called Winnie Poopie by Logan's sister, 2 year old Reese.

The Muppets did their own thing...

and two of the boys underwent Jedi Training, including a light saber face-to-face, one-on-one with Darth Vader, all in front of an audience who clapped them on. I don't know if they'll remember this as they grow up, but I have to say the experience seemed pretty special for two 4 and 8 year old little boys.

My just about favorite experience was an interactive theatre presentation by and about bugs. With the audience wearing 3-D glasses, all kinds of bugs just about sat on your nose, nipped at your feet, buzzed around your head, and stung your back. It was awesome. Later in the day, this bug found us strolling outside and made Logan's day.

I also shot through space at 300 miles an hour in a star wars spaceship, or so it seemed, watched the musical of Nemo finding his father and the extravaganza of the Lion King, rode a wild roller coaster through Thunder Mountain, took target practice in neon black tunnels with Buzz Lightyear, ate at a bona fide 50's diner, sang along with Elsa (Let It Go!) while snow fell on my head, and marveled when one of the kids talked about meeting Taco Belle (aka Tinker Bell).

What else can I tell you? This: we were out the door by 6:30 or so every morning and I walked about six miles a day. Holy Moly. That's what I said already: Crowded, Hot, Chaotic, and Heartwarming.

Happy New Year!

love

kj

Happy Everything xoxo

I'm off to Disneyworld and breakfasts with Mickey Mouse and a dozen of my family. Things are much improved here. It is my great hope all is well with my dear and talented blog friends and visitors. Thank you for your friendship.

As of 2016, my prayer machine is in 5th gear.

Love always,
kj

Cookies!

Trust me: here is the BEST sugar cookie recipe in the entire world, guaranteed. You will probably thank me! If you make them, I'd love to know if you agree. This recipe long ago compliments of my friend Barbara Bendix, who knows her cookies :^)

For cookies:
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 and 1/2 cups sugar
2 eggs
3 tsp vanilla
3 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt

For icing:
1/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 pound confectioner's sugar, sifted
1 tablespoon vanilla
milk

Prepare cookies: in a mixing bowl, cream the butter with an electric mixer. Add sugar and beat until mixture is light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time. Add vanilla and beat until incorporated.

Sift together the remaining ingredients; stir them into the creamed mixture and mix well. Wrap dough in plastic (sedan) wrap and refrigerate for at least 3 hours or overnight.

On a lightly floured surface roll portions of dough out to about 1/4 inch thick--I say the thicker the better! Cut out cookies with cookie cutters. Place cookies on a lightly greased cookie sheet and bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for about 8 minutes, maybe 10 until edges of the cookies look slightly golden. (Don't overcook!) Cool cookies on wire racks until ready to decorate.

Prepare icing: In a bowl cream together butter, confectioner's sugar and vanilla. Add enough milk to allow icing to hold its shape but still move easily when you stir it. Test consistency: if icing is too dense, add more milk; if too runny, add more confectioner's sugar. Ice cookies with a knife or pastry bag and add whatever sprinkles you want. Place cookies separately until icing hardens. (We separate the icing in bowls and add coloring so we have green, pink-red, and white cookies.) Makes about 4 dozen cookies.

Happy Holidays my friends. Things are looking up in my small corner of the world.

love

kj

What I Do

"Hello…it's Me." Here's my report from a place of maybe not thriving, but thankfully surviving.

Normally I'd be all about the holidays. All my senses appreciate Christmas: the scent of balsam, candle lights, my amazing frosted sugar cookie recipe, the voices of old friends, the feel of it all. I'm not in that space this year because as I've said JB is sick and our current days are a bit quiet and a lot solitary. (Update: there is progress.)

Still, something stirs for me this time of year. I give my Mother credit for creating the wonder of the season for me. She baked apple pies and filled our stockings and set extra plates at the table. If money was tight, which it was, I was not privy to that part. 

I have my own traditions. Even now, this year scaled down, I make sure I comfort my deep sense of tradition and charm and gratitude. This is how I do it:   

-Red Poinsettias and scented pine cones throughout the house

-Baked sugar cookies frosted and decorated, one by one, enough to box up and share with whomever I happen to come across

--Holiday cards of my own design and embellished in my turtle pace of writing my hellos and good wishes and updates, one by one

--Finding just the right books and presents for my four precious grandkids, ages 2, 4, 6, and 8; and for my precious daughter who, let it be known, I would readily give both my eyes to (poor JB--I know for sure I would give her at least one)

--Outside lights on the front of the house, this year these cool red and green laser dots (www.starshower.com) that I think of as a gift to my neighborhood

--Listening to Adele. Funny that I've only just discovered her for myself. Hello..It's me…  :^)

That's enough. My point is that this holiday season will be a different and tough one for me but not to the point of sacrificing a spirit that rejoices within me.

Oh, one last thing: On Christmas Day, I and JB and our family--fourteen of us in all--are scheduled to fly to Disneyworld in Florida for a full week of fantasy and wild fun. We've planned it for months. But JB can't come. And I'm not yet sure she'll be well enough for me to leave her. I hope so but I'm waiting to worry: it's too soon to know but I hope I can go and I hope by Christmas Day JB is feeling more like herself. 

A final thing: I'm happy for my life. Even like now. 

Happy Holidays and The Best of Tidings to my friends here. Tsup & Mwah. 

Love love

kj

This Time of Year...

 It's about time to stop being cryptic. I've been cautious to admit that my JB is sick, that despite enough doctors and tests to fill a hospital we don't yet know why, and it's been tough and sad and sometimes scary. 

Normally I'm a fan of fall-turned-winter and the upcoming holidays. I nest, I bake, I give presents, I plan visits, I light candles, I give thanks. I'm also a natural optimist and a controlling problem-solver, so it's not easy for me to fess up to feeling lost and nervous. But there you have it: JB is sick. I believe we will step by step figure out what's wrong and I believe in time she'll be okay, but in the meantime I'm sad and worried and my heart breaks for her and I've lost my day-to-day best buddy. 

Not to mention this week my patience with right wing misinformation about Syrian refugees--after everything they've been through, rejecting them as if they're terrorists--my patience is gone. All the real fear about the brutality of ISIS must be addressed and minimized, but please let us be intelligent enough not to blame the people who have actually suffered what we most fear.

With that out of the way, of course life still offers grace and fun. Here's my update on that part:

1. My friend Hells (blog name: Baino's Banter) came visiting from Australia, along with her friend Jeff from LA. We had a grand few days as good friends do. First time in Provincetown and Hells and Jeff: come back anytime. 

 2. It's been a real concern to move to a small town by the sea where the nearest hospital is an hour away. But I've been pleasantly surprised by the health center here. JB and I have found a very good primary care doctor and I can tell he is going to help JB sort out what's wrong, test by test, specialist by specialist. Plus there's something to be said for artwork in the exam rooms...

3. This is no more and no less a normal view from the parking lot of the grocery store. The sunrises and sunsets here in Provincetown are unbelievably beautiful. Sometimes the sky is orange and some sometimes pink. Every day around four thirty the gulls fly overhead, in unison, back to the wharf for their dinner. Last week I saw a hawk perched on an arbor. Families of foxes move around yards and side streets freely. It's nice to have moved here: stilted and punctuated for the time being, but all this natural beauty helps.

4. More beauty: low tide.

 5. And our house. I swear it was the only house in town we could afford but we could tell it had good bones. Little by little we've come to this: a fence, an arbor, new shingling, clam shells in the driveway, repair of the brick steps.  The house is nothing fancy and without JB's presence, the inside is only semi- cozy, but this Thanksgivin I'll be saying an extra thank you if only for this part.

6. Damn my iPhone. I used to keep my Canon camera nearby most of the time, and now I lazily rely on my phone. But every so often it lets me capture a shot like this: an elderly couple in the doctor's waiting room.

 7. And finally, my high school reunion--the first one I've ever gone to. These are my friends from junior high school and you know what?--after forty plus years of little or no contact, we are as warm and comfortable with one another as if no time has passed.  Roots.

I've noticed in the last week or two some of us bloggers are talking about why we are or aren't blogging as we used to. I know I haven't made the same depth of friendships as I did years back. But there are exceptions  (8, you know xo.) I'm not going anywhere--I love the blogs! 

Please wish JB well and send a blessing her way. 

Love

kj

Hello

It's not easy but I'm going to keep believing that human kindness and civility will balance things out. What a crazy scary world.

I have a challenge here in this beautiful place I've moved to. I think it's temporary but it's the reason I haven't been blogging: just haven't had the spirit. I'm working, writing, cooking, driving, grandparenting, puttering, planting, and half the time feeling sorry for myself.

But. I'm still a lucky duck and hope definitely floats.

With love
kj

Settling In

Hello from Provincetown! We are 95% moved in and the autumn seascape could not be more beautiful. I am still hibernating but I know rustles of activity are beginning to surface. I may walk down the street to ask a B & B if they'd like to offer workshops with me; I may take a writing course; I may join a town committee. But not yet. First I need to keep moving slowly.

    

Last weekend I went to my first and only high school reunion. With the exception of this crew--all of us friends since I was barely out of elementary school--I hadn't seen most of my classmates in fifty years. I was popular in high school and at the time I worked hard for that to be so. I was also kind, and that was re-enforced by the several 'loner' kids who sought me out fifty years later to say hello. I was also irreverent and funny and not beyond time in after-school detention. I straightened out my senior year so I could go to college, but barely. Since then, I've somehow become smarter. And still irreverent.

I have some impressions about people my age fifty years later. Less tolerance for b.s. More appreciation  of time and family. Calmer. Settled. But still traveling.

My heart hasn't let go of the farms and back roads I've left. I insisted on bring orchard apples back to the ocean with me and I think I will head back to those farms at least once or twice a year. I'm in search of locally grown fruit and vegetables and I think that search won't be easy. This is Lookout Farm in South Natick, Mass. Those are pumpkins in the foreground, there for the picking. I brought home a peck of apples and I'm ready to make apple crisp. And buttermilk biscuits too. And then, in time, apple pies and holiday cookies and chocolate cupcakes. I'm a sap for holidays.

My daughter Jess has four children and she calls the two youngest 'the littles.' Ages 4 and 2, Here are the littles. This is a huge delight in my life--these four fascinating kids. They are wild and entertaining and wonderful and exhausting. They call me Gram, except 2 year old Reese, who calls me BB by mistake. Which I don't mind….

This is the scene up the street. The bay sparkles like this almost every day. Sometimes people ride horses on this beach, and sometimes you can see seals playing in the background. Often this is a place to calmly walk and breathe in ocean air that surely must heal and help. I'm grateful to be here. It's been a bitch of a move but we're here and the house is nice and the bay is a block away and winter will be desolate and I just may finish this book of mine sometime soon.

love

kj

Passion for Sale

I wrote this a while back and I'm sharing now because it's time I've reclaimed my writing self on my blog. I got the idea for this story from a sign in an art gallery. If you have the time to read it, I hope you like it and I'd like to know either way.

Love

kj

Passion For Sale

It was unusual to hear her alarm: the first time she’d set it since she moved to Bangor. But she was going to be there when the doors opened, so there would be no chance of missing out.

     She chose a purple lightweight top that matched her fitted jeans. She wiggled into the sandals she had bought in Harwich the last day of the trip, just before Brady left for grad school. She decided upon the slightest mascara and a satin plum blush, not something she normally wore, but she wanted to look long and slim and shimmered today. 

     She arrived at the market at 10:03 am and was surprised that there was no line. She was not sure whether to go directly to customer service or to the cashier line, but instead she stopped the lanky teenager in the grocery section, stacking avocados just so.

     “Excuse me,” she said. “Where do I find the passion special? I’d like three pounds.”

     The boy nodded. “Oh the passion on sale for $ 4.99 a pound? It’s not us. It’s Bernasky’s Market down the street. Just a block from here.”

She was chagrined. So much for a reliable alarm clock when she had the address wrong. She walked to the swinging doors and on to the sidewalk where the sun was strong. 

     “Oh damn,” she thought. She hurried her pace until she reached Bernasky’s and sure enough, there was a line. Five people ahead of her, four women and one man who looked to be in his early 30’s, John Lennon glasses and a neatly trimmed beard not quite hiding the nervous twitch of his upper lip. 

     Most of the women were her age, except for the one who looked like a plus sized Joni Mitchell. Bigger Joni stood in line, holding her purse in front of her with both hands, her legs swaying softly to keep her nervousness in check. 

     The line moved quickly and before she knew it she was sitting across from  a woman with grey wild hair and kind eyes and a clipboard. 

     “Are you here for the passion special? she asked.

     “Yes, I’d like three pounds.”

     “Oh dear, I’m sorry. We have a limit of two pounds per customer.” The woman smiled at her. “But that’s okay. Two pounds won’t last you as long but it’s just as potent.” Then the woman looked at the clipboard. “I have to screen you before we can sell you the passion at the sale price. State law.”

     “That’s okay,” she said. She knew this part already.

“There are five questions. Don’t worry about the perfect answer. It’s not really a test.”

     She nodded. 

     “The first question: do you have experience with astonishment?”

     How should I answer? she thought. Should I just say, ‘yes’ or does she want to know specifics? Keep it simple, Brady had told her so many times. 

     “Yes,” she said. “Quite a bit.”

     “Good,” the woman said. "That is a definite prerequisite. If you don’t know how to be astonished, the passion won’t work. We have people come back looking for refunds even though we told them upfront no refunds. We want to make sure about the astonishment.”

     She nodded.

     “Next, do you have any physical limitations?”

     Oh dear, she thought. What does she mean? Should I tell her that sometimes I am frozen in place or that when it’s the best I cry? 

     “Do you mean am I healthy?” she asked.

     “Well, kind of. Passion is powerful and it moves quickly. We want to be sure you your body will hold up.”

     “Oh yes,” she answered. “I’m more than fine.” She almost laughed out loud at that. My body is definitely more than fine, she thought. In fact,  passion makes me stronger. 

    “Okay, good.” The woman leaned forward, just a little.

      “Question 3: Do you understand that passion is a natural resource and must be handled with reverence?"

     This question caught her off guard. She had spent what seemed like all of her life seeking answers to so many questions and never once had she trounced on reverence. She was upset with herself that her hunger too often governed her choices, true, but she knew reverence.

     “Yes I understand,” she said. Her voice dropped and the woman noticed.

     “This makes you sad? the woman asked.

     “Yes,” she answered. Oh what the hell, she thought. Why not say. 

     “I’m here because I’ve been unable to afford passion. When I saw it was on sale today I couldn’t pass it up. It’s awful to live without it. It’s one thing to never have it because then you probably don’t know. But to have passion, to feel it overtake you  and then lose it, that is very difficult.”

     The woman with the grey hair let go of her pen and put her hand over the clipboard. 

“Honey, I wish I could give you three pounds. But I can’t. I can only give you two. It should be enough. I have some concern that your sadness might dilute what you hope for. This is not a guaranteed product. It requires abandon, in a way. You know?”

     “Yes, I know,” she said. She looked directly at the woman. Wild grey hair and kind eyes. “Is this organic passion?” she asked her.

     “Yes, the woman said. “I’ve used it for many years. It’s never let me down. But when you’re not sure I’ve found it’s best to start with a small dose and let it build up.”

     “How so?” she asked.

     “Well,” the woman said, “Obviously, the recipe for physical passion is the best. Oh my god. Pity anyone who has not felt that.” She smiled. “At first I didn’t know about other passions. Marshes with ponds and cattails. Foxes at the horizon. The right kind of telephone ring. You’ll only need two tablespoons to get to that kind of passion. That’s what I mean. Two pounds will last you.”

"But I don’t recommend starting with fireworks, if you know what I mean. That can take up to a cup and if you choose the wrong person, that could even void the sale. And we can’t give refunds.”

     She nodded. Thank you,” she said.

     “Two more questions, honey.”

     “Sure,” she said.

     “What do you know about astral projection?”

It was her turn to smile. “I know where you’re going with that question. Out of body, definitely. I treasure that. I could be swept up and tossed into the middle of the universe and my last feeling would be total mindful peace. But I know how to come back too.”

     “Oh that’s important. To come back. God is in the details.”

The woman leaned toward her again. “Last question. Do you know the policy on sharing?”

     “Yes. No passion without sharing.”

     “That’s right. And that seems to be tricky for a lot of people. Passion is such a private thing, after all. But a conscious attempt to keep it to yourself doesn’t work. There is some community required. Otherwise, it’s just a transaction. Do you understand?”

     “Yes,” she said. 

     “Okay, take this receipt to register number four. Oh wait, they'll ask you paper or plastic. Say paper.”

Finally confident that two pounds on passion at the sale price of $ 4.99 pound was now hers, she spread her arms and grinned wider than she had since Brady went to grad school.

     Ma'am,” she said. “Neither. I’ll tuck that passion under my breastbone and I’ll carry it with me right now, past the broken fire hydrant across the street, past the snow cap hydrangea in front of the fire station, past the little dog with one eye who wags when he sees me. I”ll carry my passion with me under my breast bone and I will use it freely. Even though I’ll save some for the earth to move right under me.”

     “I know you will, honey. I can tell it’s working for you already.”

     “Yes,” she said. “That could be the sixth question: “Do you know it kicks in as soon as you are ready?”

     “Have an astonishing day," the woman with the wild grey hair told her.

Oh yes, she said. Oh yes oh yes oh yes. 

Sunday Morning

Here's a first world problem: I'm here, this very place is barely a block away from where I sit now, I work very part-time in a lucrative job I quite enjoy, I have time to create a landscape and garden in my new tiny yard, I have a family I would easily die for, I'm 250 pages into the writing of a novel that excites and pleases me, I have enough money to fill the refrigerator and fill my fancies.

It's not all rosy: my back and hips and knees are an orthopedic mess. Much of the time I pretend I will lose weight and commit to the gym and then I will be able to walk a mile, or two or three, as I used to, but really, today, I limp when I walk and I walk less than ever. I've called the gym and I will go again, but I don't like the intrusion of it. I'm a sedentary person, a writer, a counselor, happy on the couch.

Besides that sometimes I'm lost, as in unrooted. JB is having her own hard time and though we try to help one another, that old adage that  you have to know how to swim before you can rescue someone else applies here. My biggest problem--the one that gnaws at me--is that I am too far from my daughter and her children--my grandchildren--to be woven into their daily life and daily needs--a ride to soccer practice, an early morning fill in because one of the kids is sick and there's a big work presentation required. My feelings vacillate between sadness for not moving right next door ("No, Mom, I don't think that would work; you should move where you want, really") and worrying that more and more I will become less and less prominent in my family's fabric ("Don't take this the wrong way, Mom, we're fine.")

I told you this was first world stuff. I won't prolong this post by daring to compare my actual status to the families and tragedies in Syria or to the heartless appearance of a lost job or a relentless cancer cell. I know better; I know good fortune when I see it. But yes I'm melancholy. I think (hope) it's temporary--so many changes and challenges in the past year. Now from this small beautiful land surrounded by the sea, how I figure out (try) how to walk well again and how I make certain I connect enough and well with my beloved family: these are my thoughts this Sunday morning, the kindest breeze coming through the window next to me.

Working on what matters by thinking. And not thinking. 

(nice to be blogging again)

love

kj

Cape Cod USA and Two New Arrivals :^)

Well, this is not entirely true. I love fancy meals and I'll spend my last dime on books and anything for the garden. But the last year has been one of paring down: clothes, thoughts, priorities, possessions. I want a mind without clutter and a heart with plenty of room.  

So it is that JB and I have sold our house and three weeks ago moved into a smaller version inside and out. By the sea. At the land's end. To a peninsula with 20.000 summer people and maybe 700 winter people. This is a place where I will finish my second novel and hope it's as fine as I think it might be.

And JB has her own studio 'downtown,' at Whaler's Wharf. Here's her collage work on metal. She's talented. Not yet confident, but talented. 

Here it is! This is low tide a block from our house. Provincetown Massachusetts, at the tip of Cape Cod, home to crabs and seagulls and cormorants and seals and whales sharks and shells and wavy sand. And now home to us too.

This is a typical view when strolling along Commercial Street, a three mile main street from the east end to the west end. It's so calm, walking along and seeing this. Can you tell?

And these are the Flower Cottages, one after another, booked by returning families years in advance. Tiny. Simple. Charming.

 This is how I want to approach life and this is how I want to feel most of the time. It's not how I feel now but I'm facing that there are reasons for that. Transitions take time.

One huge transition: my Mom died. She somehow managed to tell us--one by one-- that she loved us and she died with the same grace and dignity that filled her life. I won't stop missing her. I love you, Mom.

Provincetown is known for the amazing way light bounces off the water. I doubt this photo has been photoshopped. There are times when the sky and bay look exactly like this. I've seen it.

And OMG. Gay marriage became the law of the land. In my lifetime! I used to stutter over the use of pronouns: not daring to say 'she' when 'she' was the right word. No more. Still need to be vigilant and aware of safety in many parts of the world, but legal equality and public affirmation feels AWESOME.

For what I hope will continue for years ahead, my daughter and family come to the Cape each summer for a week's vacation. This was the summer that baby Reese became a toddler and not-so-brave Logan stopped being afraid of the pool. Enlarge this shot of him, please. His joy is so darling.

How about this bay view at lunch? Ross' Grill. Terrific. 

And finally, two boxes of books are unpacked and have a home. Early mornings I find myself sitting on the futon in the little blue room and just staring at them. I don't know why but I find contentment in these books. 

There. That's what I'm up to. They'll be more photos coming and more about life on Cape Cod. And life with four wild and wonderful grand kids. And life as a writer and a counselor and wouldn't it be nice if I took up kayaking? And watched a storm heading in over the bay in December? And wouldn't it be nice if I could just take a breath and settle down? Not yet. I'm here and it's nice and surely that will be enough. Soon I hope. Once I calm down and settle in. :^)

love 

kj

Here. I. Am.

Well: we're here. JB and I arrived in Provincetown 10 days ago, followed by a 35 foot moving truck 3 days after that. It's been STRESSFUL and EXHAUSTING--what seems like months of packing and sorting and planning and scheduling….and feeling. Possessions aren't just things: they're memories. I've cried a bit packing those boxes. It's been hard to downsize--books, clothes, papers and pens--but I did it and I'm doing it and I'm glad.

Moving to Provincetown feels almost perfect except for the fact that my daughter and SIL and 4 precious fascinating grandchildren are two hours away. Maybe that doesn't sound like much of a distance, and it isn't, but it's far enough that I wasn't there to hear about the first day of school and I can't spontaneously take them to my new beach. Still, on Monday we traveled that 2 hours and took the two older boys to play miniature golf and then games at the arcade, and then lunch at Pizzeria Uno. And afterwards, JB and I took these two 'littles'--shown here--out for ice cream and chased them in the park across the street. 

Simple good times that embed simple good memories. That is how I want these kids to remember me. And how I want them to know how much I love them.

JB has a studio at Whalers' Wharf, located on the third floor of an open air building that is just fantastic. She is excited in an extraordinary way and that makes me excited too. As for me, this 1400 square foot house is feeling good and so is the small areas of our small yard. I will take my turtle time and landscape each. 

I am also getting ready to write again, to return to my almost finished novel; first draft finished, not yet edited or shopped around. I will need a routine here and I don't have it yet, which is fine with me.

It's been pretty emotional moving. My Mother died where I have moved from and even irrationally I feel like I've left her alone. Too, I will miss the farms and fresh fruit and vegetable stands and some friends and the house. The new owners are painting all the walls white: I'm hoping the house won't mind….

If you are still reading this, please excuse the fact that this is all about me and says very little; just a broad update on my comings but beneath it all a wish for a happy life here for JB and me. I think we have a good shot at that. I wouldn't presume or dare ask for more than hope. 

I think I'll be back to blogging soon. I miss it here. Meanwhile, I'll be catching up on your blogs and sending waves of gratitude and abundance into the universe. Life is hard but damn sometimes it glimmers.

love

kj