Finding Joy and Creativity in the Exercise of Writing

I have grown to love writing in the morning and am so glad that I began this exercise. I never dreamed how helpful it would be. 

It was an agonizing beginning. It felt as if I had to fumble around in my brain for something to say and then P-U-L-L out those resistive, reluctant words that grabbed on to the edges of my mind and refused to come out. 

I wrote anyway. 

Stupid, inane, vacuous words that seemed pointless. 

But once I chipped away at the barrier of the perceived barrenness, I found thoughts that had been slumbering under the everyday. As I wrote and peeled away the layers of the day to day routine, laying it down on paper and freeing it from the cycles of the thought processes, I found there was room for deeper, obscured thoughts to rise to the surface. Undiscovered treasures that I have been mining each morning. 

I've discovered that if I don't practice the discipline of slowing my thinking to the pace of writing, the fingers of my brain simply rifle through my thoughts, lightly touching the surface of them, flitting and flickering; dancing and darting, but not taking the time to probe to any depth. 

This longhand scribbling every morning demands my brain to slow it's pace reaching into depths I didn't acknowledge in my mad scramble to "fix" puzzling problems. I can obsess over the little snags and tangles that come from living life, leaving myself confused and frustrated. Setting down these things on paper helps me work out the snarls of thought and oftimes work out a solution. That had been waiting in the wings the while time. 

Much to my surprise, I've fallen in love with this process. I've had freedom to explore my musings, opinions, feelings, desires about myself-of who I am, and who I'd like to be. 

Creativity. Ideas. Personal expression. Expressing my individuality with playful abandon. 

And it has been there all the time. 

Hidden in the labyrinth of my thoughts. 

Finding a Full {aka Messy} Life

This morning, in an effort to seek out the sensation of being "fully alive", I walked outside into the brisk cool of a fall morning; not with a warm bowl of oatmeal or piping hot cup of coffee as immunity against the chill, but a frozen glassful of a chocolate/peanut butter protein shake. (I firmly believe in dessert for breakfast.) Not seeking comfort from the cold, I seek it out, wearing shorts, but as a concession to prudence, also a flannel shirt. 

I welcome the tingle of cold air on my skin, bringing all my senses to full alert. Savoring this moment of life, being completely aware of my Self and drinking in the ache of the cold glass in my hand as I embrace this heightened awareness of beauty in pain. 

I feel the sticky ooze of chocolate around my mouth and like a kid, I giggle a little at the thought of running into a neighbor and imagine their thoughts at the sight of a grown (crone) woman wearing the mouth of a child. 

I suddenly realize that I want to more fully wrap myself in this grimy, grubby, unkempt chaos of this life that is mine. 

I recognized this morning with a new clarity that a messy life is a life that is Fully Alive. 

May I Introduce My(newfound)Self

I have, in the last two months begun writing Morning Pages; a writing exercise done first thing in the morning before distractions set in. The writing is spontaneous and free flowing. Handwritten in an 8 1/2 X 11" notebook, ideally, three pages, but because I can't have rules for such things, (I will get angsty quickly if I don't meet the "rule") I write what comes. Half a page, one page, four pages....I just write.

This has been an excellent practice for me, because it helps me solve problems --sometimes the answers come as I write. I get practice at using and choosing words. I vent, I ponder, I wail, I wonder. And yesterday, as I took a walk and conjured a scathing book club review in my head, I realized with sudden clarity that ---I AM A WRITER. I may not be a known, or even noted writer, but I love words and the process of finding The Right One and finding an atypical word to convey my thoughts. I've never considered myself a true writer because words don't just flow continually from me. I don't have stories living inside of me that I have to get out, as other writers have described. My writing is slowly deliberate, coming in fits and spurts as inspiration ebbs and flows.

I have begun, in the last couple of years, to "wake up to myself". I am 48 this month and am wondering if it takes everyone this long to come to and see themselves for who they really are. Do you spend the first half of your life growing your body--all the energies are preoccupied with the development of the body that the spirit and soul are in hibernation; and once body development is complete, the spirit/soul begin their growth? That's certainly how it seems for me.

And what aspect of yourself grows to the place that it activates your brave? What mechanism clicks into place so that your realize you want to incorporate ______ into your person? What part of my psyche opened up and revealed itself to say, "Here is who I REALLY am, and I'm not at all who you or I or anyone else thought I was. Even *I* am amazed at the person I'm discovering myself to be.

I am giddy with delight of discovery and surprised at the secretive places that I harbor. 

But every day, my brave gets bigger and I attempt to be more true and authentic to myself  as I uncover me.

Altered Otterbox

Sunday, it was raining and I went outside to take some photos with my phone. After I came back inside, my daughter was fiddling with my phone and said that a part of the screen wasn't working. It had JUST worked fine 2 seconds ago, so I panicked and took the protective case off and started investigating. 

I needed to change the protective screen film anyway. 

Sure enough, some raindrops had worked their way under the screen. I dried it up and it was good as gold. 

Then I looked at the case. 

You know how I hate "normal". And my Otterbox, while pink in color, looks JUST LIKE everyone else's pink Otterbox. 

I've used Sharpies and added some designs on the case before, but they wore off with use. 

So I decided I wanted to take it a step further in personalization, so I pulled out the paint. 

It's happier already! But I doodled some more...

I love a paint pen. 

I love this because it's cute. 

I love this because it is uniquely mine now. 

I love this because I overcame my reluctance of "ruining" or "devaluing" something that was perfectly good just the way it was. 

Art is good therapy!

A Door Makeover

I don't make NewYear Resolutions. I just feel like it sets me up for failure.  But this year, I decided to release myself from the self-imposed creative boundaries I had set up. Boundaries that stifled my creativity in decorating my house because I'm worried about what people "MIGHT" be thinking about my choices--- to be fair, my choices are non-traditional. Colorful. Eye catching.

Eyesore may be the word that comes to mind for many.

I'm over it.

I have a yearning to make my home uniquely mine. I certainly don't want it to look like anyone else's. A challenge since I live in a 30ish year old ranch. A box of boxes. Oh, how I strongly dislike this house. 

So on Sunday, I looked at my bedroom door. 

(Yes, those are Christmas stockings on the wall. My husband has a very strong love for Christmas and would keep all the decorations up all year long. One day, he hopes to have a Christmas room so he can enjoy it all year long. Until then bits and pieces will hang in the hall.)

I saw a blank canvas.
I spent all afternoon on my creative endeavor. I felt much like a high school decorator again. I was so absorbed in my project, I remembered to eat lunch around 4 in the afternoon.



This was the result.

 This is my favorite section. I began with the large orange poppy flower and used other clippings that echoed the colors as a border around it.
I also snuck in some turquoise to round out my favorite color combo.

 I used the sticky putty that teachers use to adhere it to the door. I've seen projects where the whole project was decoupaged, but I wasn't sure I wanted it to be THAT permanent as I tend to be a creative meanderer.
Also, the panels in the door would have been and issue.

This is the first project, in a reeeeeaaallly long time, that I've really been excited about!

Exploring New Facets of Creativity

Sometimes, I wander through the internet looking for quotes. The ones that always catch my eye are graphics like this.

 

I've always wondered how people create these cool bits and pieces and thought I would ever in a million years be able to make something like that since I have absolutely no background or knowledge if graphic design. 

Enter my new favorite person in the while wide world: Rhonna

The story goes like this:

I was scrolling through Instagram one morning and came across a lovely graphic with the cutest font I have ever seen. I fell fast and hard and asked the person who posted it if she knew the name of the font. She didn't, but told me it was an app called "Rhonna". 

Well, I hustled on over to iTunes and found it! After installing the app, (first time I have EVER paid for an app!) and a little digging, I discover that my new favorite font was included and called "Clean and Clear". I immediately had to try my hand at creating something...

Isn't that font the best?!

I am in heaven. 

I'm excited about the new facet of creativity that I can explore through this app! 

What would you make with it?

Tshirt to tunic

I was so excited to finish this shirt early this morning. (Thank you, sweet dog, for your 4:30 wake up calls.)

I'm a person who can't go back to sleep (easily) once I'm awakened. And anything after 4am, I don't even try. I know it's useless. 

So I sew. 

(See what I did there?)

I didn't take a before pic of this because, sometimes I just look at something, get inspired and go to it. Can you relate?

I took a man's large tshirt and cut off the sleeves, cut the shoulders open, and cut off the ribbed collar. I placed it on my dress form, sliding the shirt down midway and suddenly visualized straps. 

Then I took the ribbed waist/hem from this yellow shirt and trimmed it to size to make shoulder straps. 

It's now a loose, comfy tunic. 

Which brings is back to this morning. I was anticipating wearing it to work over some skinny jeans. 

I WAS GOING TO BE SO CUTE!

Then I looked at the weather. 

Rain. All day. High of 48. 

Insert bipolar weather remark here. 

So. I have to delay my gratification, and content myself with sharing it here with you. 

That helped. 

Thanks. 

Improvise Freely

Yesterday was such a wonderful day. 

I have no idea why, since Monday is notoriously rocky.

Nevertheless, I had a sunny disposition. Likely tied to the weather which was also sunny for a change. I think my soul is just so relieved to see the sun and feel it's warmth after so many days of colder than usual temperatures. Don't get me wrong, I love a rainy day. Love. It. It appeals to the introvert in me. There's nothing I like better than pulling myself into my shell and quietly observing the soft patter of rain from behind a book. Or sewing machine. Or easel. 

But it was Monday. 

I was relieved to find my appointment book full of clients who needed beautifying and I was one of them. But I didn't beautify myself. I leave that to the other professionals. Cause there's nothing worse than thinking you can do your own hair; I don't care how long you've been a hairstylist.

This is probably another clue to my good mood. Every woman has more spring in her step on a day she knows she has a hair appointment! {Can I get a witness?!}

As if just having maintenance on my hair was not enough, I decided to pump it up a notch and do something I've been wanting to do for awhile.

My inspiration is Victoria Mackenzie-Childs

Now, I would love to have the guts and presence to carry off rainbow colored hair, but my lifestyle (conservative town, clientele, etc.) does not support it. Bah. Maybe one day I won't care at all, but until that day comes, I'll stick to just purple.

I'm sure I'll add other colors to the mix along and along, but I'll always leave most of my hair in the mix. 

I think.

Today, anyway...

Equilibrium

A winter storm visited our area this week.
Two weeks ago we had some ice accumulation as well. Depending on where you are from, this would barely register as a blip on the radar.
The South, however, goes six shades of crazy at a possible hint of extreme (to us) wintery weather. We live in an area on the freeze line, so weather could go either way for us. Thankfully, it wasn't too bad.

Tuesday, we waited with nervous anticipation to see if we were frozen over on Wednesday. It rained and rained on Wednesday, but I'm so grateful that the temps hovered just above freezing so ice was mostly in the tops of trees and not on the ground. Since I live in town, I don't drive over any bridges, so my life went on as usual.

Well, sort of. We lost power like many did. It does something to my psyche by throwing me off balance. I realize just how dependent I am on electricity and how I have to think really hard to figure out how to adapt. It was unsettling.

The irony is, I have half a dream that involves living off the grid. Which really means not being beholden to anyone for my electricity and comforts while still having all those comforts.

I was so puzzled by why so many lost power when, 2 weeks ago, it seemed that we got more ice, but few lost power. This time, there was lots of rain, little ice but power went out all over town. Businesses, homes, traffic lights...crazy. And lots of traffic! I'm grateful that we were without power for only 6ish hours. Others are still without power and it's been over 30 hours. There are predictions of it lasting 3 days or more.

The positive thing for me is that it helped us make a list of things we need for an emergency situation like this. An alternate source of heat is one. I'm looking at woodstoves and fireplaces. We have GOT to learn to be more self-sufficient. And teach our daughter too.

I'd love to hear your ideas!

Gluten Free Chocolate Chip Cookies

My big dilemma on Sunday is Sunday night supper. 

We attend church in the evening and the timing of it makes it too late to start supper, but it's to early to have supper before we go. We could have lunch leftovers, but we're not inclined to eat the same meal that close together. I know--Wah-wah-wah. Here's where the challenge of clean/no processed foods kills me. 

Although I cooked a good lunch, the thoughts of dredging up another meal for supper is more than I can bear; so I told my sweet man that we were having cookies for dinner. 

Nothing I say surprises him anymore.

 

Now, I'm not recommending that cookies as a main course is part of a balanced diet,* but if I could say a cookie was a relatively healthy option, this would be the one I would choose. 

Chocolate Chip Cookies

Ingredients:

1/2 cup almond butter

7 Tb butter

1/3 cup honey

1 lg egg

1 tsp vanilla

1 1/2 cups Pamela's Baking & Pancake       Mix

1 - 1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350

Cream butter, almond butter, and honey. Add vanilla and egg; then baking mix. Mix well. Add chocolate chips. 

Drop by tablespoon onto parchment covered baking sheet. 

Bake approximately 12 minutes. 

Let cool slightly. If you can...

*disclaimer*

If having only cookies for supper is more than your over responsible brain can handle, accompany several cookies with a raw veggie of your choice.

Today is the Day...

...that I drag this blog up from the depths.

I may have unintentionally set the record for how long one goes without posting on a blog.

Over 2 years.

Anyone want to check the Guiness Book of World Records for me?

Ah, well. Water under the bridge.

As I've considered whether or not to begin blogging again, I've done a bit of introspection and found how much I've changed in the last 2 years. Or maybe not exactly changed, but refined. I think I still have the same interests, especially in the creative arts and natural health; but I feel my interests have/are becoming more specific.

For instance:
 I am passionate about herbal medicine. I seek out alternative methods for treating sickness for our family, choosing to try natural remedies.
I was introduce to Young Living essential oils in May of 2012 and began using them for our family in June of 2013. I love essential oils because they are the strongest concentration of the plant form and therefore, extremely effective and versatile in application.

Regarding the creative arts, I still have far more interests than I have time to engage; and as seems to be my way, I get super into something and can't get enough of it for a spell, then I move onto something else. Never dropping it completely, but my obsession waxes and wanes.

Currently I am trying my hand at refashioning/altering clothing.  Love, LOVE, LOVE doing this.

In other news, we've been trying to incorporate a cleaner eating lifestyle since August of 2013.

We've gone gluten free and have cut out processed foods and refined sugar. We've definitely had many health benefits as a result; the largest being, weight loss and reduction of inflammation in the body. Win. Win.

I decided to blog again, not because I want to be popular or even noticed particularly. This go 'round, I'm doing this for me. To chronicle my interests. To journal. To have a holding place for my projects and interests. 

This I do for me.

Come along, if you like.

I Was Framed, I Tell Ya!

My local MDA did a lock up fundraiser and one of my clients volunteered me. I've never done anything like this before, so in the spirit of goodwill, I agreed.

I thought it would be easy. Overall, it was, but due to a postal snafu, I didn't receive my info packet until about 3 weeks before the event and then began raising bail in earnest. Imagine my amazement when I raised about $537.00! I definitely hate raising money and kind of "softballed" it by sending out occasional emails and posting link info for online donations on FB. When I remembered, I mentioned it to clients. I might consider doing it again, if for no other reason, because I feel I'd go into it with a better plan of action next time.

When I arrived at "lock up" they took my photo. Thought I'd share for kicks and giggles...

Liz Owen's My (not so) Storybook Life

My fellow blogger (am I considered a fellow blogger if I haven't blogged in a month? Ahem.), Liz, over at Mabel's House has done something that I am, thus far, only dreaming of doing.

She has written AND published a book!

I read the excerpt on her blog today and I kept scrolling down and suddenly, it  stopped. I mean, how rude! I wasn't finished reading! In fact, I was just getting started!

Here:

Once one has breathed in the deep pungent aroma of sewage, you never again forget the nose-hair singeing, eye clawing, throat gagging experience. It comes over you slowly. You begin to feel like a character in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest as your muscles involuntarily jerk and you run screaming and blowing raspberries. Anything to get away from the mind-numbing stench.

But let me explain.

It was 6:30 a.m. I was standing in my retro pink tiled bathroom trying to open my bleary eyes and ready myself for work. As I stood there, peering into the mirror and wondering what demented nighttime fairy had planted four new wrinkles on my face, I paused and sniffed.

“Matt… what’s that smell?”

Matt staggered from the bedroom in his underwear, eyes half shut. “I don’t smell anything.”

I pointed my nose into the air like a hunting dog. “Seriously? You can’t smell that? Did you go to the bathroom in here earlier? I told you to use the room spray when you do things like that.”

Matt puffed out his bare chest and gathered his pride as best a man can with sleep in his eyes and a small hole in the side of his underwear. “I just woke up!”

I frowned, catching a glimpse of my makeup-less hot-rollers-in-hair state and tried not to think about the fact that I looked fifty instead of twenty-nine. “Well, help me figure this out. Because something smells ripe.”

We sniffed the sink drain and ruled it out as a suspect.

“Is it coming from the toilet?” Matt asked, examining it from top to bottom.

“No, that’s not it,” I snapped. I’m not known for my milk of human kindness in a disaster. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a survivor. I plan on eating my radish like Scarlet and clawing my way out of the nuclear dust while dragging my loved ones with me. But I won’t be doing it with positive phrases and a smile.

“Hon, I just don’t know. We’ll call a plumber after work, maybe it’s coming from under the house.” Matt staggered a little, trying to get past me and out of our tiny bathroom.

“Well, that’s just great,” I moved aside and pulled the shower curtain back so I could perch on the side of the tub and give Matt room to move out the door.

That’s when the full brunt of nastiness filled the air around us, a swirling mix of excrement and acrid stench that would have brought the sewer dwelling Ninja Turtles to their knees. Where the normally slightly-clean-with-a-hint-of-soap-scum bottom of the tub should have been, there sloshed gallons and gallons of brown sewage.

I clutched the front of my sweatshirt and held my breath. Matt began to dry heave.

“Get out and shut the door!” I screamed as we bumbled into the hallway.

“I’ll deal with this,” Matt grabbed my shoulders, trying to talk and hold his breath at the same time.

I could feel my eyes glaze over, the horrors of typhoid and hepatitis in our bathtub filling my mind. But more importantly, I could envision our evaporated savings account. In my mind’s eye I could see the long, gray hallway at the bank. A worker shrouded in a black suit pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlatched a small locker labeled “Owen Bank Account.” Inside were two small stacks of quarters and a few crumpled dollar bills. It was bleak, not only because the banker with an unimaginative wardrobe gazed at me with an expression that could only be interpreted as “You’re a Big Fat Loser,” but also there was a very definite possibility we wouldn’t be able to pay for a plumber.

I wasn’t necessarily a spend thrift. In fact, I was downright frugal when it came to decorating with thrift store furniture and rewired vintage lamps. But the fact was, we were poor. We were starting out at starter jobs with starter salaries. We were starter adults with a starter bank account.

“Okay,” I nodded numbly, thankful that Matt was taking the lead on such a disastrous biohazard. “But make sure the plumber is super cheap. We don’t have much money!”

I left for work like a wino stumbling through a fog, not really remembering my commute, not really doing any work as I sipped my coffee and stared blankly at the computer screen. A disaster of such gargantuan proportions had previously been unthinkable in my life, and now I found myself attempting to push the image of a vast sea of bathtub poop from my mind. But I was sure of one thing: Anne Shirley never had to get ready for work while breathing raw sewage.

See? Don't you want to keep reading?

But. Liz, in all her graciousness is holding a drawing for her book and I aim to enter it.

But you know what? If I don't win a copy, I'm going to my local or semi-local bookstore and hunt down my very own copy.

ASAP.

The Edge of Light

I find myself at the edge of the light on either side of the day.

Hours,

they were but moments,

passed in between.

I teeter on this edge

before falling into the abyss of sleep.

Swimming across

to reach an identical edge in the obverse.

This half light

half drapes objects

in a murky, milky mist

before dropping a

complete cover of darkness

erasing all lines.

Light unzips the night

like a movie running backwards

I watch

as dark reverses to light.

When I stop looking--

Suddenly,

I can see.

Half a Day Mayhem

Morning.

Thinking I have to be at work later.

Finding out I have to be there earlier.

Discovering a deluge of rain has begun.

Remembering the umbrella is at work.

Thankful for rain boots as I RUN two blocks through the rain.

Saying an unexpected hello to the State Board Inspector.

Ditto to the expired license. (Whoops.)

Telling a client they can't have the appointment they want because it's in my lunch hour.

Realizing lunch hour can be shifted.

Making a client very happy once brain kicks into gear.

What a crazy morning!

The Next Adventure

I survived another school year.

Which is a good thing, because I had run out of school lunch combinations. (Would you like crackers or cheese with that PB&J?)

Our daughter has attended a small Christian school the last 2 years. We have loved it. Fantastic teachers, fun & educational field tri

ps, an overall well-rounded education.... What's not to love?

Well, tuition comes to mind.

Actually, we felt it was money well spent. We received an excellent return on our investment. But it became a bit of a stretch for us financially.

So a germ of an idea began to grow.....

HOMESCHOOL.

The more we thought about it (and we REALLY thought about it, because we were really looking forward to the 2nd grade teacher.), the more excited we became with the possibilities. We found that it became less about the lack of finances and more about customizing our girl's education.

As I considered it, here are the conclusions I came to:

1. Ultimately, the responsibility to educate our child is up to us, the parents. As Christians, we feel this strongly and find instruction for this in the Bible. (Deuteronomy 6:6,7; Deuteronomy 11:19; Proverbs 22:6 and Ephesians 6:4) I do not feel that others cannot teach my child, but the main responsibility lies with us.
2. By homeschooling, we will be able to customize our daughter's education. In a traditional classroom, students are "contained" at their grade level. I've found that students tend to be at different places in their learning journey and by homeschooling, I can meet my daughter where she is in any subject and nurture any specific interest that grows along the way.
3. It will help to nurture our family as a whole. Our extended families are about 8 hours in either direction. When in school, we are locked into traveling only when school is out for holidays (if the holiday is long enough and coincides with a weekend.) This greatly limits visits with family and opportunities to travel together on personal family trips.
4. We just love our girl and enjoy being with her! I realize daily that she is growing up soooo quickly and want to take advantage of every moment we can spend with her.

I realize that not everyone can homeschool or even wants to. It is not my intent to become a crusader and evangelize everyone to the homeschooling method.

But that day may come.... :-D

When the Motivation and a Weekend Get Married

Spring seems to bring out my inner motivation.

Well, for a couple of days, at least.

And if I can line up my motivation with my weekend and a few spare minutes, sometimes a little creative magic happens.

I got stupid excited over this little ensemble. It's a clay pot that I set on top of a column of pots that are glued together. It was meant to be a birth bath that my father-in-law created, but the saucer that made the "bath" fell off, so I was left with the column. It is sitting on top of a concrete paver that has cut outs and wasn't too steady, so I scrounged up a random floor tile (being junky has *some* advantages, I guess!) and it fit perfectly to add stability. I had planted several perennials and this vertical placement added some interest. I just l-o-v-e it!

Here's a closer look at how they are glued together:
My husband did me a "favor" and planted some honeysuckle in the front yard....
I'm not complaining toooo much. It smells deeee-vine!!
My rose bush was my biggest surprise. (This is my favorite photo of my roses.)
I counted over a dozen blooms on one bush! (My husband's sure fire way to make sure I get a dozen roses every now and again, I guess!)
Close your eyes and breathe deeply.

Can't you just smell it?

The Gift of Friendship...No Matter How Brief

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.
Joseph Roux

I knew her 3 weeks and 4 days and then she was gone. Taken by a rare form of thyroid cancer. Although I physically only spent time with her twice, I feel as devastated by her death as if she'd been a lifetime friend.

I met Mary Ann in NYC March 5th. She was at Hope Lodge for cancer treatment. I was traveling with someone who knew her and worked with her. Although she is from my town, I didn't know her so I went along to visit her as a nice gesture.

She appeared, looking the very picture of NY chic in her knee high riding boots and flowing coral cardigan. She gave us a tour of the Hope House, (that is, the areas where visitors are allowed) which gave the sense of a home-like hotel. An institution that offers many lovely home-like touches, but is still way to perfect to be home.

We then took a walk to get water at the corner store, which led to an amble through the streets. We visited a vintage shop, Saks, she lit a candle at St. Patrick's Cathedral, we watched the skaters glide across the ice at Rockefeller Center, and shared a hot dog from a street vendor.

Nothing remarkable, but it changed everything.

It was one of two life changing meetings that happened to me that weekend.

About a week after returning home, I received news that she was returning home for terminal care. The cancer had taken over and there was nothing to be done. I was anxious to see her and prayed that I might. My friend called me and said that she was given 3-10 days to live...and that she wanted a haircut.

For pity's sake...a haircut?

This I could do.

We arranged the time for Saturday after I finished a wedding and went to Mary Ann's house. She was considerably weaker in that short 3 weeks; tan from jaundice and a bit wobbly on her feet. The cancer, which had now spread to the brain, left her momentarily foggy when searching for words, but I could still see the woman who captured my heart.

We spent a wonderful 2 hours visiting, hugging, crying and laughing. It was wonderful, but I was achingly aware that I had most likely given her her last haircut. (And she rocked it!)

The following Tuesday, I received a call at work telling me that she was in Hospice. As soon as I finished work, I went over. I doubt she knew I was there, but I met her sister and visited with her husband (of 30+ years) who touched my heart as he tenderly attended to Mary Ann's needs.

The call came the next day that she had died at 2:45 am Wednesday morning.

I've been amazed at how deeply her death has affected me since I've knew her for such a short time. I feel I almost don't have a right to grieve her as deeply as I do.

But in spite of the pain, I am grateful for the gift of her life which touched mine, no matter how briefly.

Life Changing Meet-Ups (Take II)

I had no idea that this trip to NYC would prove to be so unforgettable.

For the first time, I hadn't planned everywhere I wanted to go. I didn't have a list a mile long of stores and museums to visit. I had no agenda.

Unheard of, for me. Especially, in NYC.

I mean, this is a mecca for someone like me! Craft, hobby, art stores, book and magazine shops, museums, libraries, gardens.... I can easily find more to do than I have time for.

But this trip, I saved room for a little "Que Sera Sera".

I traveled with my business partner, to attend a hair show and her sister and her daughter tagged along to see NYC. Sis is in education and was telling us that her school nurse was in NYC for specialized treatment for a rare form of cancer and that she really wanted to visit her, did we want to come along? D and I looked at each other. Well....that could be awkward, but it would be a nice gesture, since she was so far from home.

So we went.

Have you ever met someone for the first time and found that, before you knew it, they had completely captured your heart?

I felt a connection to her right away. As we chatted, I found her so approachable.

We visited a vintage clothing store where we gasped at the price tags and the clothes of yesteryear. We tried on hats and held up ridiculous purple dresses (trimmed in fur!) and mused about their former life.

Later, all of us strolled through Saks and when she spotted a dog (in. the. store.), she walked over to give it a pat while the rest of us were numbing our olfactory organ by sniffing perfume.

We came across St. Patrick's Cathedral and walked in to the breathtaking interior.

Then, I got the best souvenir of the entire trip:

I don't know why it never occurred to me to have a photo of the two of us taken together. Maybe because I didn't feel I had a right. Me, a virtual stranger...

So instead, I sneaked one.

I showed her the photo and told her how special it was to me.

We continued our walk for a bit and then she had to catch the bus back.

It was a tearful "so long" for all of us.

But now, I look forward to the day she's back home, where she belongs.

And until then, I'll be praying.

Serendipity, Soakings and Starbucks

So, it's taken a week to slow down my cosmopolitan lifestyle long enough to stop and blog about it.

At this time last Sunday, I was at the International Beauty Show in New York City on a rainy day that would last The. Entire. Day.

Despite the Day of Deluge, it was the best trip to NYC I think I've ever had.

I love NYC. There's an energy there that you will find no other place on earth. When I arrive, I seem to find a piece of myself there...waiting.

After visiting several times now, I feel pretty comfortable traversing the city and I felt no pressure to "see" everything.

That left plenty of room for serendipity which I enjoyed in full measure. I just never fully grasped how this trip would change my life forever.

My virtual, online life and my "real" life collided.

hippychick_ hippychick

I'm going to NYC next wknd. Any must see suggestions?

23 Feb Unfavorite Reply Delete

in reply to ↑

@TanyaDennisTanya Dennis

@hippychick_ Do I count as a "must-see"? ;) My NYC faves are the MET, people-watching in any park, and, if you see a show: "The Lion King."

24 Feb via web Unfavorite Retweet Reply

...and so it began...

I didn't see the MET, the park OR Lion King, but I DID see this sweet face:

Tanya was/is SUCH a gift. She drove into the city from the 'burbs in the POURING rain, JUST to see ME!

You know how there's that awkward moment when you first meet someone as you wonder where do we go from here?

None of that happened. We hugged as if we'd been reunited instead of meeting for the first time.

We went for a "modestly priced" (the concierge needs to be educated on the meaning of the word "modest"--ACK) Italian dinner around the corner, chosen mostly for it's location because of the rain. Fortunately, it was delicious, and because we both LOVE food, well, that was a WIN.

Discovering we both love coffee, (WIN WIN) we decided it wasn't a big deal to walk in the pouring rain to find a good cup o' joe over which to chat. We figured there would be a Starbucks on a nearby corner and when we saw a man walking down the sidewalk hunched over a Starbucks cup, we simultaneously accosted him.

Poor guy.

After he pointed to the building right in front of us, he scurried off. ( I swear, he looked over his shoulder to make sure we didn't have designs on HIS Starbucks score.)

Although we succeeded in capturing our own cups of coffee, the chat would have to adjourn to the hotel lobby as Starbucks was closing. (RUDE.)

We talked of everything friends talk about. And I'm sure we could have talked all.night.long. because we had only got started it seemed, when she ruefully looked at her watch and had to start home.

Another hug, and she was off.

I went smiling up to my room and looked at my phone when it hit me...

After all that and WE DIDN'T TAKE A SINGLE PHOTO.

(What kind of bloggers meet and don't take photos? The kind who forget their cameras. *sheepish grin*)

So I called her and found she had just arrived at her car. She drove around the block, parked in front of the hotel, jumped out and we shot our pic in 5 seconds flat.

As I've smiled at the memories we made that night, I've marveled that such a feeling of closeness could be cultivated in such a short time.

Like I said,

A gift.