To Vic ...

I was going through some of my writings when I found this. I do not even remember writing it so it came as a complete surprise reading it, although it is so authentically me. It was written on his first anniversary, even though I absolutely hate that particular word in this context.

It’s been one year since you closed your eyes,
Deep in sleep from which there is no wake.
A crystal tear,
The faintest of kiss is how you said good bye,
Never did I love you more. Alone, just you & I.
When the time had come, your time to go, there were no words
Between us left unsaid. So you exhaled,
A final sigh. Still your spirit filled the room.
As it fills my heart when I miss you so it hurts.
To the southwestern sky, in the dark of the night,
My eyes remain ever fixed.
The place you told me Was your home.

Night after night, I sit & stare, waiting for a sign.
Yet it’s your voice rings loud & clear.
“I am with you right now, I am here, Babydoll,
You just close your eyes.
For everything you seek, you cannot see.
It’s what you feel that’s true. I am here, beside you now,
A part of the breeze that blows.
I am a part of each gnarly limb of our beautiful oak tree,
A sentinel at your door. I am the salts in your bath,
The hanky you clutch at night when you reach out for me.
I like to think I’m what helps make you feel
Calm when you have your nightly cuppa tea.
Most of all, I live on in memories created,
A full life well lived.

A great adventure that you & I shared.
My energy is always just the merest of thoughts away.
Lonely but never alone.
With love & gratitude, peace & joy
I urge you your life to live on.”

You left a space, not to be replaced,
We all miss you so very much.
Just want you to know, you were,
You remain
The heart of our life, our family,
Our home.

.

Enter my dreams ...

'The time has come,'
the Walrus said,
'To talk of many things:
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing wax --
Of cabbages -- and kings --
And why the sea is boiling hot --
And whether pigs have wings.'

Like the walrus, I have decided that the time has indeed come to speak of other things. My whole life has & continues to change so much. A slow, constant shift has been taking place these past 16 months. I am not altogether familiar with the person who is emerging from my past but I am quite curious as to who she is & where she is going! I sense that "she" is just about to embark on the off-road journey of "our" life & I am simply trusting that this is how it is meant to be. It has always been through my writing that I learn to circumnavigate & articulate some of kaleidescopic phantasmagoria that makes up the labyrinth to which I occasionally refer as my "mind".

Sometimes, I might put up a "Dramamine alert". Other times, "Oxygen Zone." The trips through my head can be very fast, unpredictable, not for the faint of heart, narrow of mind or those with vertigo!

Who knows, after a spin inside my world, a mere splat in the blogosphere, an isolation tank might be the only antidote ...

The time has come for me to nudge the world a little more out of its comfort zone, proudly splatter vibrant hues as I joyfully color outside the lines, sing out loud, garden in the rain - naked!

Some say a prayer at the beginning of a new journey, asking for guidance & protection. Even as I write this, all I can stammer is "Higher Power. Protect me from committing, atrocities against the English language, misquoting sources, Miss Shadlock's hateful red-lining, taking self or life too seriously. Oh, one more thing, am I NUTS?"

A predictably ominous, theatrical voice responds, "Was that ever in question?

Enough! Time to "drink me" & tear off down the rabbit hole!!!

Welcome to February's full Hunger Moon ...

Although the moon won’t be full until tomorrow (Friday, February 18) at 8:36 Universal Time, it falls in the wee hours after midnight for much of North America. As seen from our part of the world, the moon will probably appear as full tonight as it will tomorrow night.

I am such a creature of the night, even though I have discovered the joys of sleep-escape therapy. If I am home & it is night, you can usually find me on the Peaceful Purple Patio which really is in it's glory at night.

Not that I subscribe to full-moon lunacy. Heck, anyone who knows me knows that I don't need a full moon or any other lunar activity to provoke questionable behavior. Last night's 98 percent full waxing moon found me in full-tilt night gardening mode.

"By the light, of the silvery moon ... " I clipped, raked, moved pots from here to there, all the while mindful of Vic's comments of yore: "each time the plants get comfortable, you move them. Then you hear them all screeching when they see you approaching them."

Probably! But last night, I stealthily skulked around trees & shrubs, nabbing the unsuspecting plants, relocating them hither or dither.

One year, a friend bought me one of those miner's forehead lights as a gag gift, a direct volley at my nocturnal horticultural antics! As it happened, I LOVED the light. Brilliant.

Just set my iAlarm for 6.55pm tonight. As a prelude to tonights Snow or Hunger Moon, the international space station will be doing a 3 minute fly by, south to east.

I am so out there!

Peace ...

Esperanza Spalding sparkles!

When I saw Esperanza covering Prince's "If I were your girlfriend" on the 2010 BET bespoke Lifetime Achievement Award, I knew this woman was S P E C I A L . His Royal Purple Prince of Funk was clearly appreciating the amazing talent honoring him.

Classically trained, Esperanza Spalding has played the White House & is diverse in both her vocal range as well as her musical abilities.

Not the best video but she is so hot & so cool at the same time that her talent transcends minutae ...

Enjoy ...

Going manic ...

In a small attempt to reenter the world of people, I became more aware than ever how very fatigued I still get.

It is remains confusing how, nearly 16 months later, I am still only just moving out of shock & numb, acceptance was never an issue. Now my eyes are beginning to open, even as my vision is still blurry.

I am starting some new experiences. I have added Qi Gong to my ever fluid exercise regime. I hate getting bored. I couldn't bring myself back to yoga as wonderful as it was for me in the past. A new & fun friend teaches two classes a week at 7.30 am which is a perfect time for me. Just after dropping off Kaelin, I go right to the gym. Somehow, within moments, the muted lights & gentle music serenely moves me & my body through space, shifting energy around, in & through me.

On the other hand, 180 degrees from that, I have started shooting lessons & I love it. Me & Mrs. Walter P22! I feel that we are going to become very close friends. I got such a huge rush when I was in the range. Headphone, feet grounded, knees slightly bent, locking, loading & shooting! 100 rounds, all in the "kill zone" of my Ronald Reagan lookalike, life size target. My furtherest shots were at 60 feet, all on target.

What a blast. I was totally buzzed. Very zen, albeit I was aiming for the dudes chest & his forehead! I was totally focused on the target, becoming one with the one, relaxing into it, feeling Mrs. WP22 becoming an extension of my own hand ...

I mentioned I was considering, only considering the possibility of flying lessons ... me, who is still terrified of heights ...

I began a 6 week class on Sunday which one of my dearest friends co-teachers. I had no idea that "Fearless Creating" would be precisely what I needed at this point in my life.

As a result of our first session, I have practically reduced my garden-of-dead-ferns to stumps, cleaned most of it out, prepped two canvases for painting, reorganized the inside patio ... 'fearlessly releasing my wildness. My creative ya yas!"

I am ending this day watching Watson, the computer, play Jeapardy against two humans. Watson has $36,000 & they hardly have a proverbial pot to pee in!

I do love quick fire games, ha, ha! Shooting, verbal, board ... la di da ... where might I be by the end of the course???

Valentine's Day 2011

I was caught completely off guard as the children gave me individual bouquets of Valentine's Day flowers last night. Very simple & eloquent. I was incredibly, giggly & nicely surprised.

Moving forward. This morning, as I was driving Kaelin into school, I stumbled on an oldies station. In magna voce, I began serenading my unfortunate daughter with my mellifluously croaky tones, going word for word with, heaven help me, Olivia Newton-John singing "Hopelessly devoted to you". I never ever realized I knew all the lyrics. Olivia Neutron-Bomb, as we used to call her. Somewhere in the middle of the chorus, right there along side Nat King Cole (what's with the names in triplicate?) ... the flood gates burst open & by the time we got to ".... the only thing, you'll ever learn, is to love & be loved in return ... " I was done.

Kaels shut the radio off. "Why do you listen to this stuff?"

Flub, flub. "I don't know."

That was that.

As I sat, waiting to give a friend a ride to the gym, I looked up in the sun-emerging sky. There, flying above the trees, trailing a long, red ribbon, a shiny, ruby red heart-shaped balloon was travelling quickly in the brisk breeze.

My spirit Valentine send me my special Valentine's Day sign ... always in the sky ...

My evening reflection made me happy. Love is all over the radio, tv, newspaper, online, FB. It's all good.

Love is love is love is love ... I love our children, my parents, my dear, dear friends, my life ...

So what is my idea of a nice Valentine's evening?

Special tea in bed, of course!

I love my tea!

My tea loves me!

Interest workshop offered in the Keys ...

Somehow I missed this one, but clearly not from the local newspaper! I never really found out what it meant but the title was interesting for a rainy, Keys afternoon.

I suspect it might have been a Freudian-based program judging by the address ... too funny! I wonder how many other wierdos put the two together? I am a group of one.

"Bridget Jones's Diary: The Senior Years"

Glorious Saturday morning. Following a glorious Friday night.

Both true. To both - NOT.

Daniel's in Orlando. Corey's at work. Kaelin's at a lacrosse retreat.

It's just Toby, Bubbles & me.

Ordinarily, I am used to it, so to speak.

Then, it happened. "Bridget Jones's Diary" is on for the umpteenth time. I am sporadically watching it, likewise, for the umpteenth time. My way of watching a movie usually involves me getting up, leaving the room, getting distracted several times, make tea, back to movie, go outside, go in to get forgotten tea, rearrange plants, go back in, back in bed, watch movie, repeat several times ... exhausting but eventually I do see the whole thing & it works for me ...

This morning, it was different. Something was different.

Oh yes, I took Toby out, freeze - it's 46 degrees this morning - made steamy-steamy tea, movie is on TV & yes, it is before 8am. Well, other than NPR, the tv makes voice sounds which I do miss at times. Even though Vic was quiet, he did speak ...

So back to Bridget & her diary.

There she is. Alone. Overweight. Pouring her heart out on paper. In her jammies. Cups of tea, all over the place. Questioning her life. Singing along to old songs from days of memories past.

Enter the very naughty, very bad boy Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant).

Enter the oh-so British, emotionally repressed Mark Darcy (Colin Firth).

Who, oh who, will Bridget pick?

Exit body. Autoscan scene.

Here I am, alone, overweight, pouring my still slightly English-accented heart out to a fluffy dog & a laptop.

This week has been confusing to me. Many things are surfacing. At "Bereavement Group" the subject of how we feel as in (still) married, widowed, single. All of them?

How do other people see me? I have not given the "single" title to myself without laughing but now it is becoming a little more real.

People have been proffering unsolicited advice as to my "situation". Someone even went so far as to tell me that what I really needed (in his opinion) was a booty call!

Huh? Really? Does something show to which I am not oblivious?

So here I am.

"Bridget Jones's Diary. The Senior Years." Twice married. Once divorced. Once widowed. Has children who are growing too fast. Sat on the PTA. Room Mom. She sits alone, usually in her room, in pj's. Overweight. Drinking tea. Reading & watching bad yet distracting bad tv. Still singing along to the same, olde, familiar songs. Pondering her life. The then. The now. The tomorrow.

Is it really time for me to come out of my seclusion? Could I start to see myself gently moving forward, away from the past?

I am quite sure there are lots of Daniel Cleaver's out there. Naughty. Fun. Dangerous. It's the Mark Darcy's that I have always liked: Different. Deep. Distant.

Flip the tv channel to morning news. The uber-happy, morning anchors are discussing a current poll which stated that men do not pay any attention to women over 50 the minute a 20-year old walks in a room.

Wow! I have lived every one of my 53 years & wouldn't want to trade with the 20 year olds ever again.

On the other hand, the guys that do pay attention to the older women (according to the poll) are not the men the 50+ group are remotely interested in!

Why on earth would I want to right out into this new, Catch-22 world!

It would just be nice just to have someone with whom to dance with once in a while, have great laughs & amazing conversations. Oh, I think Anthony Bourdain ("No Reservations") is totally hot so I am not oblivious to appreciating a handsome man & I do like grey/greying/greyish hair so toy boys, stay home with your mama!

Is that asking so much???