home again

I've been vacationing in Maine. It's been good. I swam in Sebago Lake 2 or 3 times a day. I read Julia Cameron's book The Right to Write and then I introduced myself as " a becoming writer" all week. I'm excited to catch up with everybody's blogs. It's good to be home.

Thursday 13 for Jessica

Last week was Jessica's 29th birthday. But not just that: we now know she is safely 13 weeks pregnant. We will welcome and love another treasured person in our family. Wow. I imagine I will be a playful vibrant grandmother: I certainly know there is plenty of wonder and mystery to share and discover.

In honor of Jess' birthday, here's a Thursday 13 for her:

1. 15 minutes after Jess was born, I ate a ham and cheese sandwich and could have eaten another.

2. When Jess was 14 I made her get a summer job, thinking the value of work and her own spending money was a good thing. She and her friend Annie found work in a shoe factory. After resisting the whole idea, she came home the first day with a new found enthusiasm. "it's really cool, mom. They'll pay you in shoes instead of money."

3. Jess could be a top notch detective. When Charles Stewart murdered his wife, she was weeks ahead of anyone else in saying he did it.

4. Jess could also be an attorney. At the youngest age she could persuade you her made-up words for scrabble were real.

5. Jess could also be a professional shopper. Nobody finds bargains like this girl.

6. She and I took a 3 week trip to the West Coast when she was 12. We started in Berkeley, drove down Highway 1 to LA and Disneyland,then San Diego, then drove across the Red Desert (?)through Utah to the Grand Canyon, where we rode mules half way down and my fear of heights just about had a heart attack.

7. I could tell Jess loved Mike the first time I saw them together.

8. Their wedding last September is a permanent best-memory: I can still remember every detail. They couldn't stop laughing through most of the solemn ceremony and that made the priest and minister laugh too.

9. The wedding party and parents, all formally dolled up, were trollied to the 3 pm tour of Fenway Park, before the 6 pm wedding in downtown Boston. The pictures of us all in the bleachers are priceless.

10. There is nothing worse than seeing your little child's feelings hurt by her friends: you'd like to beat them up for being mean, but of course, alas, you've got to choose a more non-confrontational path.

11. Jess has held on to almost all her friends from junior high, high school, and college.

12. I can't explain what makes Jess so funny, but you just have to listen to her for a few minutes and you know that she has a cynical and unique wit and way of seeing that no one else does.

13. I would absolutely positively run right into any burning house to rescue this daughter of mine. And knowing that, since the day she was born, has made me a better and better person.

Happy Birthday, Jess. Here's to everything ahead. Love Mom

Thursday Thirteen

1. I had a parakeet named Chris who died upright on his perch. I couldn't believe it.

2. I'm in physical therapy to take care of my termpermental back and it's almost like going for a massage.

3. I love to stay up late-late and get up early-early.

4. I love this quiet time: sometimes I watch late night tv, sometimes I write, sometimes I read, sometimes I fall asleep on the couch.

5. Besides pizza and bread, I'm pretty fond of Dunkin Donuts boston cream donuts. I haven't had one in about 6 months...

6. My daughter Jessica is funnier than anyone else I know

7. jb taught me the value of good shoes.

8. We just painted our kitchen/den/dining room (small rooms) green/yellow on the top walls and orange on the bottom (with cream trim) and it came out fantastic. We were holding our breath after the first coat

9. I read tarot cards. The first deck I ever had was a James Bond set my mother gave me for Christmas. I don't really tell details about the future but the counselor in me gives a pretty good read.

10. I wish I could volunteer more for the Red Cross but I never seem to be free when they call me.

11. jb and I had a cookout last weekend in our "new" backyard. Our neighbors and friends came and jb, her sister cindy,I, and several friends cooked and prepared a good spread of appetizers, burgers and goodies.

12. I'm following the seasons here in Western Massachusetts: blueberries, cherries,unbelievable corn on the cob, and peaches are currently in.

13. Some day I plan to pull a police car over for speeding on the highway--my version of a citizen's arrest.

Not Ready to Make Nice

"I'm through with doubt.
There's nothing left for me to figure out.
I've paid a price.
And I'll keep paying.
I'm not ready to make nice.
I'm not ready to back down.
I'm still mad as hell and
I don't have time to go round and round and round.
It's too late to make it right.
I probably wouldn't if I could.
Cause I'm mad as hell.
Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should."
The Dixie Chicks

A few years ago the country-singing Dixie Chicks publicly criticized President Bush's actions in Iraq. They were effectively blackballed throughout country music and their song play and careers came to an abrupt halt.

It's not my intent or style to use this blog to advance my political opinion, or anybody else's. But taking this stand took courage and I admire that.

The Dixie Chicks are back with a new cd called "Taking the Long Way". And in that cd is a song called "Not Ready to Make Nice". Without knowing in advance how they and their music would be received, they made another decision to stand by what they believe in. You might not agree with them, but I for one admire their courage yet again.

And it's gotten me thinking about courage and conviction. I like the clarity and firmness of "not ready to make nice". It's clean and honest. It's realistic about consequences. And it's free of guilt. In this teetering time of nuclear weapons and tough guy approaches, I vote for more not less courage and conviction. And on a more mundane level, following the recent writing prompt on "guilt", I find it refreshing to be so clear and firm. No late night tossing and turning about something you believe is right, and that's a good thing.

"Taking the Long Way" is a really fine album. The Dixie Chicks have had their comeback tour cancelled in some states and venues due lack of support or concerns about safety. While there's still plenty of fans, I encourage you to buy the cd, enjoy it, and support these 3 women for speaking their minds and exercising their backbone.

Not ready to make nice is the opposite of numb, and I'm for more of that too.

The Thursday Thirteen

1. I have a master's degree in rehab. counseling

2. The best hot chocolate I've ever had was at Angelina's cafe in Paris

3. I know how to use an electric screwdriver

4. But I don't know how to change a flat tire (and probably never will)

5. I went to a butterfly sanctuary today and was afraid of the butterflies (they flew all over the place)

6. I eat red meat 2-3 times a year

7. I eat chocolate 2-3 times a week

8. I like grocery shopping and paying bills but I hate doing laundry and vacuuming

9. My 2 week stint with the Red Cross in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina changed who I am--for the better

10. I stash away 20 dollar bills a couple of times a month and one time I accumulated over a thousand dollars that way

11. The funniest movie I've ever seen is "Sordid Lives"--I've seen it 3 times

12. I don't accessorize very well

13. When I come across a joke I like, I'll tell it to someone else every chance I get

A Zen-ie Thought for the Day

A man walks into a diner. When the waitress comes to take his order, he asks her:

"Did you see me come in?"

"Yes", she said.

"Have you ever seen me before?"

"No", she said.

"Then how did you know it was me?"

Thoughts about Blogging

I'm starting to wonder about connections and friendships from blogging. It's weird to share, to learn about someone, let alone care about them, without knowing them in some other context, or perhaps never meeting, seeing their face, hearing their voice, knowing where and how they live. One of the contributors to Illustration Friday has "disappeared"--she hasn't made an entry in weeks, and I find myself worrying about her, wondering what happened. It feels oddly strange that I'd like to know she's ok.

For a couple of years I was part of a dog group: we'd meet in the middle of a park every day with our dogs; we'd talk, laugh, catch up, philosophize--all this on a first name basis but not much else. Ususually we didn't know eachother's last names,about our work selves, homes, kids, backgrounds etc. But we knew what was happening day to day, as we shared stories about the best shoes for sub zero (ughs), places to take our dogs, the murder of sharon's beloved son, and the rearranging of jonatha's music and career. I remember thinking how lovely it was to have relationships based so fully and soley in the present moment.

Is blogging the same kind of connection? Can you really come to know someone in this way? How are personal boundaries different, if at all? How can you be who you are and yet be discreet in what you share about yourself?

These are my thoughts on this fine Thursday night. Any comments?

Thursday Thirteen

1. I would drive all day to have lunch or dinner at Mr. Sushi in Brookline. I order the california rolls, chicken terraki rolls and shrimp tempura rolls--no raw fish for me--these three are a piece of heaven.

2. The first time I remember deeply crying was when i read Nobody's Boy. I was probably 1o and it was the first book i ever checked out of the library

3. I was cast as Aida in a Neil Coward play my senior high school school and during a few performances I made up my own lines a couple of times, to the pleasure of the audience and to the dismay of the lead actress

4. I can uncover or create any resource for any occasion. I'm just persistent.

5. I love playing slot machines even though I lose every time

6. Two of my best friends were killed in accidents before they turned 30

7. I love Paris for reasons I don't understand but I could live there

8. I'm a good counselor

9. My first car was an Austin my father rebuilt for me. It had little hands that stuck out for directionals and I was only allowed to drive it two miles to the busstop and back. He later rebuilt a Metropolitan for me, which was probably the smallest car ever made. It had a little bench for the back seat.

10. For the first time in my life I have a yard with full sun. I am a squealing-with-delight gardener these days.

11. I am re-inventing myself as a writer. When my first publication occurs, I plan to celebrate with a hot fudge sundae,and then a trip to mr. sushi.

12. I love my laptop computer more than I ever dreamed I would.

13. I'm 58 (wow!)but feel alot younger: I'm pretty satisfied with my life these days.

ps A: this is for you. I was arrested for breaking and entering at age 13 because i and 2 of my friends happily met three boys we liked for a little get together in the woods of a private boarded up estate. one of us got the idea to open a window and check out the estate. first we stood on a little table and broke it, then an alarm went off, then the car wouldn't start, and then appeared two policemen who actually surrounded us. it took a week for them to call my parents about it and my father brought me to the policestation and volunteered me to pick up leaves as a punishment. I was mortified, and by the way, none of the three of us ended up with any of the guys. such is the life of a 13 year old...

The Prompt that Preferred Summer Lounging

Since I suggested this prompt, here it is, but be forewarned: I'm imaginatively floating in an imaginary pool, readying for an imaginary margarita.

The Road Not Taken

I took a left instead of right
And followed an unlikely sight.
Up ahead beneath a tree
Was someone looking just like me.

She quinched her eyes
She looked surprised
She shook her head
And finally said,

“Because I’m here
I’m never there.
I may look lost
But that’s the cost

Of being me and never you
I recommend it through and through”

Thursday Thirteen

1. I got several D's in conduct--I think in 9th and 10th grade

2. I can't stand coke and most sodas

3. On my couch sit Esther and Mildred, two (cloth) witches who have now moved three times with us, and insist on prominence in the family

4. I loved playing hopscotch as a kid, especially throwing the rock in the square(?)

5. One of my proudest accomplishments was being the Project Director of a Spinal Cord Injury Resource Directory

6. My jewelry is all over the place

7. I usually have a back-up plan

8. People who know me would be surprised that I make true friends very slowly

9. I regularly make up songs that rhyme and sing them outloud (I can't sing)

10. I've lived in two states (Mass. and Oklahoma) and one other country (Germany)

11. Pizza is my # 2 weakness in life and bread of any kind is my # 3

12. I am not eating much of either because I am losing weight

13. I've had (& loved)a parakeet named Crystal Starlight ("Chris"); dogs named Sniffy, Scottie, Mitch, Nicky, Rosie, and now Stella; two cats Alice and Max; a fish named Tillie (she came when I called), a hampster named Faye-Faye and a squirrel named Henrietta Mooney

A Giraffe On Roller-skates

"She’s a fun girl who loves life! Her hobbies include running,
jumping and sniffing. She has a medical condition called
spondylosis which means that parts of her spinal cord
are changing. This should be able to be managed with
the help of your veterinarian." (Petfinder.com)

The medical piece was no small deal. Spondylosis a condition where bones are dangerously fragile, and for this “fun girl” both her back and neck were affected. Also, on the day we first saw her, she was just finishing treatment for lyme disease and she had some additional stomach problems due to the scavenger food she must have eaten while a stray on the streets. We didn’t know it at the time, but to top it off her bladder leaks. It’s controllable with medication but not enough to spare her from the indignity of another diagnosis: “inappropriate urination”.

Can’t have you pissing in the house, Scout. You gotta go—I can’t keep
up with your problems.

She wouldn’t make eye contact. You couldn’t hold her head in your hands even when you tried. And for the first few days you couldn’t touch her feet, not even to affectionately hold a paw. She would stretch forward with those long graceful legs and those salon quality toenails, then drop her front and then her back end, perfectly keeping her head and upper torso gracefully balanced. She’d stay in that posture-perfect position for hours, staring ahead with sad eyes, quietly watching, quietly listening.

We bought her an $80 orthopedic bed. Basically it was just a four layer egg foam and not worth the cost, but it was well worth the benefit. She knew it was hers. Most of the time she would lie on its firm plaid mattress, her deep brown eyes staring as if she were searching for something or someone familiar. Sometimes she looked like she was relaxed and resting but more often she looked sad, lost,longing.

She didn’t pay us much attention but she tried. She was appreciative, and she was obedient--so obedient that she did not move or peep in the morning until we called to her. She would wag her tail when expected but just as often she kept it partially between her legs, hanging there looking lost. And she immediately crouched out of the room as soon as we sat down for dinner--or breakfast or lunch. At first we didn’t catch the significance of that, not until she began to slowly return as we cleaned up and put the food away. And--this one’s the hardest—she reflectively dropped her head whenever we tried to pet her; the movement was sudden, efficient, routine. It was not quite a wince—she was too obedient for that—but she prepared herself, just in case.

Get out of here now or I’ll drag you outside with my bare hands.

This dog was rescued somewhere in Sturbridge. She was malnourished and in severe abdominal pain at the time, and she growled—only once—and yelped in pain until the shelter took her to a local vet.

Get out of the truck, you good-for-nothing dog. Find somebody else to put up with your constant problems.

She had been in the shelter for two months, sick, crated, and cared for by the volunteer angels of animal rescue. They said she was sweet. The two women we met there seemed to like her. She was a difficult adoption because of her medical condition—which was at risk of re-injury from normal activity. Probably for that reason alone, people hesitated to take her home.

You’ve been a pretty good dog Scout. You’re sweet to the wife and kids but bottom line you’re a wimp. You walk like an old lady sometimes and you can hardly keep up with me. I need a “man’s dog”, not a sissy”.

It seemed true enough that she liked to play, sniff and jump. We took her out to the shelter’s fenced-in area and she seemed fairly animated and agile. We took her home because Janet liked her immediately, especially her long lanky body with German Shepard black and brown coloring and a Hound’s floppy ears and inquizitive nose. She had beautiful brown eyes. Compared to our beloved springer spaniel, who died almost two years ago, she was a giant. She was clumsy when she walked, even clumsier when she tried to run or jump, and even today we still marvel when her long wag of a tail bangs against walls and furniture, which it does often.

It’s too bad because the guys like you, Scout. You look tough the way a dog should. It’s too bad, but I can’t keep you no longer. That’s the way it is.

The shelter said she was 3 or 4 years old and she would need some training. No one could predict how severe her medical condition would get. We bought her a red leash and a red collar named her Stella .

It was clear within the first few days that this dog loved someone else—maybe even a whole family. You had the sense she was mourning the loss of her life.

Sometimes you get to me because you’re sweet and you’ll do anything I tell you to. But you’re too much trouble. And I ain’t spending my money on vet bills.

She was polite but distant. Mostly she listened and watched. She especially liked men with tools, Without a trace of fear, she was content to lie within three feet of Jessie’s buzzing power saw as he rebuilt our porch. And when our tall and lanky fence guy Paul, came in the yard through the back gate, carrying his tool box, she jumped up, estastic, rushing to him, running in between his legs and walking beside him in a bouncy sort of way--as though her owner had returned for her.

Get in the truck. You can come to the worksite with me but you better stay where I tell you. Don’t bother me and don’t expect me to take care of you. If you get in somebody’s way and you get hurt that’s your problem.

Stella approached some men with care and fear. She growled at our gentle friend Jonathan, and slinked to him, low to the ground, when he extended his hand and called to her. Her tail wagged tucked between her legs, and you could see her trying to be compliant, to be accepted, but you could also see her preparing for the worse.

You’re too damn nervous Scout. Why don’t you stand up for yourself when Ben starts pushing you around? Ever since him and me got in that fistfight, at least now you growl when you first see him but then you turn into a wimp again. Stop taking shit from him.

In the beginning of her new life, her back legs were stiff every morning, She’d do a half stretch trying to limber up, and she improved as the day went on. Sometimes she looks like a puppy and other times like she’s very old. She’s not 3 or 4: the vet says she’s probably 7 or 8 —“a mature girl” he calls her, He guesses the spondlyosis probably came from an injury. She is now helped by a low dose of remadyl, and she moves like she has a new body after the doggie acupuncture she gets once a month.

If you can’t figure out how to ride in the back of my truck, you can stay home. You hurt your back because you were stupid and lost your balance. You just lay in the garage for almost a month before you could walk ok again.

It’s been 8 weeks in our household we and she have developed a modest routine. She is antsy at 8 am but in this neck of the woods we’re barely having the first cup of coffee. We manage to head into Look Park almost every afternoon and take a 1.2 mile walk around. Stella sniffs everything twice, does pretty well on leash, sits with ease as she follows movements and sounds while I read and relax, and she goes crazy--her tail awagging every which way--when she sees little dogs.

Pokey will miss you Scout. He’ll hate to sleep without you. But if he was pissing in the house, he’d be gone too.

It took five minutes and three walkthroughs to teach her to walk around the garden. She learned to pee in a designated area in a couple of weeks. You can tell her to lie down and she’ll stay there for you. She understands and follows all the basic commands: sit, stay, paw, no, leave it. She stays close by us in the yard, without a leash, and comes when called. When she comes in from the rain, she knows to wait until I wipe her paws. She loves riding in the car. She does all these things correctly and without hesitation: she is perfectly trained and perfectly wonderful, except there is one problem. Sometimes she is afraid--other times terrified--of not doing it all right.

You’ve got to the count of 3 or I’ll beat the shit out of you. You stay here and don’t move until I tell you. Do you understand?

She doesn’t ask for much. She looks depressed about half the time. Heading into month three, she still lies motionless sometimes, with her eyes open—(my guess) remembering and mourning the life she had. One night when Janet was shaking out and folding our clean sheets, from nowhere she darted up and playfully jumped in and danced under the sheets and into the frey. What was familiar to her was unmistakable.

This is a dog who has learned to take care of herself. But things are looking up. She now asks for her favorite pig ears at designated times. She dances wildly, her legs aimed every which way in the air when we bring out her leash, She lets us know she prefers it when we’re around. She likes our friends and family and wags her tail when we walk by. And she softly sighs and pushes her head closer when we lie with her cheek to cheek.

It’s hard to figure why Stella was left in Sturbridge MA. She’s too sweet for that. My guess is her owner was a strict and macho son-of-a bitch. But my guess is that she loved him and she tried her best. Because she is such a great dog, I wouldn’t be surprised if in some misguided way he loved her too.

I ain’t looking back. I did what had to be done. But it’s weird without you.
I’m not thinkin about it too much, but I didn’t know I’d miss you.

Prompt # 3

How's this for a new prompt?:

The Road Not Taken

It's been pulling at my shoulder for a couple of weeks so with thanks to Robert Frost, how about it?

The Thursday Thirteen Written Between Sunday & Monday

Late but not forgotten: A's Thursday Thirteen. 13 little known facts and quirks about me:

1. I love the smell of wood
2. My mother is 90 years old and lives alone in the house my father built
3. I lose my wallet, credit card or car keys at least once a day
4. I am seriously afraid of heights and couldn't sky dive for a million dollars.
5. I lived in Germany for 2 years in an apartment heated by a coal stove in only the livingroom(brrrrr)
6. I've learned to pretty much keep my promises
7. When I breath the sea air in Provincetown and the Outer Cape, I believe I can do anything
8. I'm overweight but in my head still imagine my skinnier self
9. I lent a friend money years back and haven't forgotten that she never paid me back
10. I was voted "Personality Plus" my senior year in high school
11. I develop and present fantastic workshops but have "stage fright" for days beforehand
12. I was arrested for breaking and entering when I was 13
13. Nothing comes close to pizza for the sheer love of it.

hmmm

Here's my horoscope today:

Repression is a funny thing. Denying your feelings only gives them greater power. Just remember that feeling your emotions and acting on them are two entirely different things. Practice the former right now.

Given the recent big yellow "guilt" prompt, I'm reminded that I am responsible for controlling my actions but not my feelings. Feelings are simply feelings. Whatever your astrological sign and whatever the circumstance, I'm passing this on as a wise tid-bit for the day.

jb's studio

i'm still experimenting with photos through flickr.

this is jb's provincetown studio. these are the fabrics she gleefully bought in montmartre in paris. they are hanging on her loom. this studio is long gone--it's been replaced by the magic cottage, which is in our backyard and fabulous.

jb is a fiber artist. these days she finds twigs, rusted metal and run-over bottle caps, combines them with anything, and makes collages. when jb does this, she looks like she is 6 years old having the time of her life.

new orleans

here's my first attempt at adding photos to commentary.

jb and i spent two weeks in new orleans with the red cross last october. it was a life changing experience:
--for miles and miles and miles, the damage was indescribable
--the lack of response and help from the government was shocking
--the people in new orleans and throughout the state were stunned, homeless, and brave.
--the red cross volunteers confirmed that people, not politicians, really come through

jb and i were assigned to a mental health unit. we saw families returning to their destroyed homes for the first time, others sleeping in their cars, dogs still panicked on the streets of saint bernard county, six weeks later, and rooftop holes where people had cut through their attics to keep from drowning.

i'm told alot of the devastation we saw in october is still untouched.
i'd go back in a minute. it changed me forever, and i am grateful.

Guilt

Writing this was quick and fun.

Guilt

Toss it in the wastebasket
Like it never existed
Hide it under your winter sweaters
And hope it smothers
Take it for a ride and toss it out the window
At 40 miles an hour
Bury it beneath the porch
And let the ants feast on it
Lock it in the closet
Until it shrivels
Put it in the washing machine
And start the rinse cycle on high

You see, it hasn’t done a thing for you.
And it hasn’t done a thing for anyone else either.
It hasn’t clarified or enlightened or solved or absolved.
It hangs in your heart as an “I wish” or “I should”
But without change or action.
It just sits there, taking up space
Until you do something.
And when you do something,
It’s not guilt anymore.
It’s worthless.
It’s a junior league emotion
Trying to make the team.
Do yourself a favor
And let it find someone else
To hassle and diminish.
Screw you, guilt.
I fed you, gave you a home
Respected your purpose
And in return you did nothing
Zero.
Zilch.
Jeez.

Is It True??

I want this not to be true. Help!

No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver, or purple.

Where Land Meets Sea

Tiny coastal Provincetown lies at the very tip of Cape Cod and the Massachusetts boot, home to 3500 year round residents and 20,000 summer tourists. Affectionately called Ptown, it's inhabitants tend to be artists, Portuguese families with long relationships with the sea, small business owners, and gay and lesbian folks who arrive and live as finally themselves.

jb and I went back to Ptown this weekend. We lived there for two years in our little 3 room condo one block from the bay. It was the best and the worse: it might be the incredible light that bounces off the ocean peninsula, or the fact that the winters are hauntingly isolated, or maybe those of us who find our way to Provincetown tend to come from extremes--we can be uniquely creative, or surprisingly dysfunctional, sometimes with little daylight in between. In any case, during my two years as a "townie", I started a little consulting business, worked on my first book, and developed both an Artisan Cooperative and an independent movie theatre. But I also had the worse work assignment and the worse colleagues of my life.

Our place is now rented and this weekend we arrive as visitors. It is a drenching wet Saturday, and yet the two mile stretch of Commercial Street is busier than it should have been. We are thrilled to see our good friends, we visit the cooperative, breath the ocean air, notice the new landscaping and businesses in town. We pass Miss Ellie singing her familiar songs in front of the Crown and Anchor. She/he is 74 years old with killer legs and a shaky voice. We order a lobster roll on the ride down cape and reunite with Fanizzi's solid Sunday brunch. There is creativity everywhere we turn. This is Provincetown, like no other place. I can feel the flow of creative energy dancing in my head. I am inspired, motivated, eager to notice, ready to participate.

I'm not sure jb and I will ever return to Provincetown for more than vacations. Real estate is high and the drive off Cape Cod is endless. But it's in my blood forever. I've met dozens and dozens of people who salivate when I've told them I live there. When I worked for the movie theatre, it was all-too-easy to get directors and actors and playwrights to accept a summer engagement there. The place is magical. It changes, it bickers, it is downright petty sometimes. But it is always magical.

If you come to Provincetown, you may find an unfamiliar artistry within yourself. Or you may find a simple peace that comes from the sea. You might even relax alittle about who you are and the outrageous quirks that makeyou unique. It's a place not to be missed if you can help it.