The Crone Ranger

today's facebook posting ...

2012-01-23T10:54:00.000-05:00

"The reality is that it is 2 yrs 3 mos ... I still have not opened all the condolence cards & letters as it hurts too much ... I still have clothes in the closet that I just hold & smell ... how does one mend a very broken heart? Thank goodness breathing is a reflex".

End of posting.

Listening to Steely Dan on Spotify. It's been a while. It still works upon me as a musical balsam.

So, yes, it is still very much about the grief. I gave up several dedicated years of anti-depressants & anti-anxiety meds just in time for the holidays. Timing sucked but all my reading has made the distinction between grief and depression very, very clear. Grief cannot be treated with anti-ds.

If that was the case, why put my body through all the additional stress of processing unnecessary drugs?

Accupuncture has been working very nicely for my migraines. They are now less the norm than they were, a predictable and unwanted, painful presence just the turn of my head away.

Jon has been working on accupuncture detox points as well. Perhaps they are helping. I certainly did not go into full blown withdrawals, which was anticipated. Far from it, much to my doctor's great surprise. I will give 50% credit to Jon's healing needles & 50% to the power of my will.

Or won't. As in "I won't have a problem", "I won't give in".

It is hard enough to experience the death of a loved one, a spouse, but painful issues like single parenthood, financial insecurity, isolation, all becomes dominant players in the grieving process.

I know they are with me ...

Something about Vic's passing has overly sensitized me to people's pain & suffering, particularly the illness of cancer & all that it entails ...

Reading that Joe Paterno's family were making a decision about his ventilator threw me into a mini breakdown. It reminded me so vividly that my last decision made on Vic's behalf was not to put him on a ventilator as I was advised that once on it, he would never come off.

So to have him hooked up to a breathing machine, to feed him through a tube in his stomach ... not an option he would have wanted anymore as the quality of his life would have been completely compromised & he would have been helpless & dependent, two things that were unacceptable.

I miss him ...

Moving out

2012-01-17T16:51:00.000-05:00

For the best part of the past two years, I spent my home time in my room with ventures into the kitchen for sustenance & into the den to keep the bills paid.

Actually, that has since changed as I finally discovered online banking! Now the den really serves as the custodian of the family paper trail, the bane of my organizational existence.

When Vic died, I made a couple of very subtle changes to the bedroom, a place where so much time was spent during his illness ... the changes included emptying out his bedside table drawers, moving my "stuff" over to his drawers in the bathroom, strange things like that. I had given Shay & Angie a lot of his clothing immediately upon his death so I took over more closet space even though there remains a number of Vic's items that I cannot touch, move, look at still. I want them there, I just want them there.

My room has served as my womb room, the place I feel most connected, most protected, most safe, most detached from the world.

I have everything I personally need within a few feet of my bed, which serves as my hq. Comfortable beyond belief, totally inspired by the incredibly luxurious bedding in Miraval, my room is often referred to as my own hotel suite.

My room has nursed & nurtured all my emotions these past years have evoked. My billowy pillows are piled high, downy & soft. I have buried my face in them, the sheets over my head, more times that I care to admit, let alone share.

I have candles of all types everywhere, mainly inside an assortment of crystals, salt lights, etc. I have a lifetime of photos in multiple photo frames & I like to look at them.

Some people tell me I should not have them around. That's it is not good for me to keep looking at the past.

But I like it. It gives me great comfort. It reminds me of just how fleeting life is & how many wonderful moment we all shared.

Our living room is the central point of our house. A large, high ceiling, you walk through it to get to all rooms. It's a fabulous room, focal point being the fireplace that we all love.

But it is a room that I rarely frequent. It is the place where the Xbox was played, where football games and "Hillbilly Fishing" is watched. It is not a room that I use or have ever used, to be frank.

The only time I really come out of my room is to enjoy the fire but that was always quite short lived. For some reason, I always liked it most when everyone was sleeping & it was just me, the sound of the wood charring & the smell of oak burning.

Here it is winter again and the fire has been roaring away.

There have been small, almost imperceptible changes that have been insinuating themselves into my life.

One of them has been a very conscious effort on my part to spend more time in the living room, in the center of my home as opposed to sequestered in my "suite".

Those friends who come over all "get" why we always end up in my room. It has a really, really good, soothing vibe.

However, the seguaying into the living room is quite symbolic for me.

It represents a part of me that is getting ready to come back into the world ... it is a very slow process for me.

I have finally made the distinction between being depressed and the state of grief.

I am very jealous of those people for whom the grief process was a one, two, three event. I am more curious than envious about those people who became widowed who are right there, wham bam, back in the game.

I am questioning as to when I go from being "widowed" to being "single" ... being widowed still makes me feel connected to the relationship, as in we didn't want it to end. Being single seems overwhelming to me as I really never expected I would be that again. Even as we learned the true nature of Vic's illness ... death was not an option for him & we operated from that mind set ALL THE TIME.

I am thinking that the word "solo" does not present me with such angst, like I am "out there" ...

So there it is.

No rush. No pressure. No hurry.

And ...

Moving out of the bedroom into the living room.

Moving out of widowed into solo thinking.

From my heart to G-d's ears ...

Le roi est mort ...

2012-01-02T17:12:00.000-05:00

Vive le roi. "Le roi" being the old.

"The (olde) year is dead. Long live the year".

I gave up on resolutions many lifetimes ago. They just set me up for failure as I simply put too ridiculously much on myself.

Now, decades later, I am happy to say that I have simply resolved to keep moving forward.

That's it. Just keep moving onwards.

The past couple of months, although at times
rocky, have all brought me to what I am perceiving as a new state. A new stage of my life.

One of my favorite Van Morrison songs ended with the haunting line, "the best is yet to come".

May it be so.

Standing in a store ...

2011-12-31T14:21:00.000-05:00

while my dad was sitting on a bench outside, a song which I have heard so many times before began to play on the radio. Suddenly the lyrics just jumped out at me. Not a huge fan of Celine Dion but I swear, SWEAR, this was directed right to me.

I have been fumbling for the right words to describe the place Vic had in my life, what he meant to me, how I felt when I was with him ... our relationship had MORE than it's fair and unfair share of ups and downs. I am not waxing lyrical on a life of perfect bliss.

Not at all. There are not many people whose relationship went from the alpha to the omega of life ... million dollar lifestyle to crushing bankruptcy, repleven, repos, eviction, and the list keeps going.

However, through all of it, Vic did lift me up, he did give me hope (even through his illness) and he told me every single day that we were together that I was the highlight of his life ...

I am working so very hard to move on. I am not stuck in wishing him back - I am not that far gone. I just wish that I could be happy as he would have wished.

I was watching one of my/our favorite movies, "Something's gotta give.". Diane Keaton, mid-fifties, divorced ergo "single" and her sister makes the following remark:

"A man in his fifties who is (still) single, is called "elusive", "hard to get", a "catch". A single woman in the same demographic is about as fucked as it gets".

Oy vey.

Very encouraging!

Anyway, onward into 2012 I go, the past slipping gently into precious memories with a hope for the future.

"For all those times you stood by me
For all the truth that you made me see
For all the joy you brought to my life
For all the wrong that you made right
For every dream you made come true
For all the love I found in you
I'll be forever thankful baby
You're the one who held me up
And never let me fall
You're the one who saw me through, through it all

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn't speak
You were my eyes when I couldn't see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
You gave me faith 'cause you believed
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

You gave me wings and made me fly
You touched my hand I could touch the sky
I lost my faith, you gave it back to me
You said no star was out of reach
You stood by me and I stood tall
I had your love I had it all
I'm grateful for each day you gave me
Maybe I don't know that much
But I know this much is true
I was blessed because I was loved by you

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn't speak
You were my eyes when I couldn't see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
You gave me faith 'cause you believed
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

You were always there for me
The tender wind that carried me
The light in the dark shining your love into my life
You've been my inspiration
Through the lies you were the truth
My world is a better place because of you

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn't speak
You were my eyes when I couldn't see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
You gave me faith 'cause you believed
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn't speak
You were my eyes when I couldn't see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
You gave me faith 'cause you believed
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

I'm everything I am
Because you loved me."

On shopping & the real reason for the season ...

2011-12-18T13:10:00.000-05:00

I'm done! Hooray!

This year, I made it easy.

"Tell me 3 (reasonable) things that you want. I will take it from there."

Whoop! Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanza!!!"

This year, I finally learned. I shopped smarter. I let my fingers do the clicking. It was good. Now it's up to the assorted shipping companies to deliver ... holla!

Always at the back of my mind I remind myself that it is NOT about the presents, the knocking yourself out figuring out how to top last year's gifts, fighting the crowds, killing yourself.

To me, what this time of the years has a simple meaning ... it's about family, a time of gratitude, a time to reach out to others less fortunate.

Kaelin has a part time job as a hostess at a nice, beachside restaurant steak house. She came home the other day, sad. The pecking order of payment is such that the busboys get paid last. Apparently, one of them is very young with a 3 year old son. Times being tough, he told Kaelin how he was so low on money that he might not be able to get his son a gift, let alone gifts.

Kaelin was deeply saddened by this. She could not stand the idea of the little boy waking up to an empty holiday. How can you teach someone to have empathy? Kaelin feels pain for suffering in the world. She wants to make it better.

She wants the child to be happy. She wants the child to have a present to unwrap. She wants to make a difference.

Nothing anyone can give me is more meaningful than to have a child who cares from the bottom of her heart and feels deeply.

Kaelin is a beautiful, deep, old, old soul who has a mission on life ...

I will remember this as the year that Kaelin "got" it!

Now, THAT is a beautiful gift.

On partying the season away ...

2011-12-18T11:18:00.001-05:00

Oh boy. How do you turn a homebody into a party animal? Ok, forget the animal bit. How do you turn a homebody into a party person?

It is very hard to change but I am trying.

Not working too well. I much prefer the company of a few friends. More intimate. Not comfortable in the crowd of many. Particularly strangers.

I went out for dinner with some friends last night. Nice, cozy, easy.

Then I went onto the annual open house of a very dear friend of mine. I adore her - a soul sister from many lifetimes. She is such an amazing human being, so talented, so generous, so compassionate. I love her & really wanted to make the effort to show up.

I went. Lots of peeps, the house was overflowing with representation of all ages. The house was magnificent. Glorious. Linda has such an incredible sense of style. The garden was all illuminated, totally magnificent. Totally rivaled our local botanical gardens on Christmas display.

I really wanted to "belong" and luckily I saw a couple of my close friends.

For a few minutes, I felt safe, ok. They had to leave and there I was. Alone. Alone in the crowd.

Couples everywhere. Holding hands. Laughing. Hugging. Kissing.

I miss Vic so much. Who holds my hand? Who hugs me? Who kisses me?

It's two years and somehow, it is not getting easier.

I never, ever expected that Vic's passing would push me deep, deep underground.

I am still there, surfacing every so often but the world looks very formidable from my vantage view ...

Still giving it a good shot, even if I did slip away from Linda & Ron's fest quietly into the dark night ...

On people past ...

2011-12-16T22:00:00.001-05:00

It's that time of the year again. Time to open up the bureau that belonged to my grandfather & grandmother. Time to get out my aging address books. Time to find the aging annual holiday card lists.

Time to write the holiday cards.

Little did I know as I opened up at "A", the first name dropped off the list.

My grandmother, Cecilia "Mimi" Abraham.

Gone.

That was the beginning.

Through "B", onto "C" - all the way through.

What a harsh realization it was. In some cases, both the husband & wife were gone.

I could not cross through the names. That seemed too harsh. I just left them all there, a timeline for the last 30 years of my life. People who live on in memories.

I shared this with a friend of mine. She said she did not cross out the names. Instead, she would simply write in the date they passed.

Maybe next year ...

Of showers that never were ...

2011-12-14T16:36:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine was telling me about her niece's pending baby shower.

For some strange reason, I was totally taken aback by the realization that I had never had one.

Despite the fact that I delivered 3 good sized, healthy babies all by myself, Kaelin at home with a mid-wife, not one shower.

Not even the hint of one!

As my friend continued to tell me of the numerous showers she had attended over the course of her life, I started mourning the 3 showers that never were.

Yet another rite of passage that sailed right past me.

The games, the silliness.

I found myself lamenting until I realized.

I wouldn't have wanted one even if the opportunity had presented itself.

What a strange amble my mind went on today!

Meno-rantings: an homage to bio identical hormones

2011-11-30T22:51:00.000-05:00

OK, so I've been feeling like shit for a couple of weeks again.

Thwack! Right in the middle of my head. In mean, deep in the middle of my head. The 'blahs'. No, worse.

The pre-holiday angst. The day after Thanksgiving, I began crying as neighbor after neighbor began decorating their houses.

Everything was making me cry.

My poor kids. Poor mama, boo hoo.

And the funk just kept funking.

A huge battle of ego versus spirit.

Oy vey.

I needed this on top of taking care of my Dad?

I think not.

But how to mentally & physically drag myself out of this deep abyss of holiday seasonitis horibillis?

Nothing worked.

And then it happened. Between my handfuls of vitamins & prescriptions it seems that I forgot one non-descript vial.

The vial that delivers.

I had forgotten my hormones for over 2 weeks. Could that possibly have been what was fucking me over and over and over???

You bet your bippy it was!

From the first schmear, oy, such a difference.

So please, if I find myself slidding down my slippery slope, you have permission to ask if I've taken my hormones lately!

I LOVE THEM.

A schmear & a smile!

And I am out of here.

So glad October is going bye-bye!

2011-10-31T18:30:00.000-04:00

I am very glad it is Halloween.

It is not a holiday to which I hold particular attachment, safe some very demented memories of Vic & I dressed in black, hiding on a darkened door step in Ft.Lauderdale back in the day ...

The rest of the month of October is chock full of traumatic memories, beginning with the first of the month, the middle being both Vic & my grandmother's anniversaries 2 days apart, culmination with Halloween, 2009, the day after Vic's memorial service, which coincided with what would have been his 65th birthday.

"Don't think about the bad things" my Mother loving profers.

"Don't have a choice. Like having events recreating inside my head, except I have the awareness of the observer. I find myself deep inside the experiences of Vic's slow death, unable as I was at the time to feel it, helping him fight off grim reaper who, unbeknownst to us, was already lurking around the corner".

Waiting.

Just waiting.

I wonder when all of this will end?

Does it end? Or does one just learn to adapt?

I am well beyond the stage of wishing Vic back to life. I quite accept what happened.

I think I am just still traumaticized by the denouement that is death & dying.

Vic's death & dying ...

2 years today ...

2011-10-18T18:10:00.000-04:00

Victor Carl Mantell III
October 30, 1944 - October 19, 2009

"If I could have a lifetime wish
a dream that would come true
I'd pray to God with all my heart
for yesterday and you.
A thousand words can't bring you back
I know because I've tried
And neither will a million tears
I know because I've cried.
You left behind my broken heart
and happy memories too
I never wanted memories...
I only wanted you."

Always in our hearts ... love never dies ...

SEMPER FIDELIS

Culture in London

2011-10-17T17:54:00.000-04:00

Well, I finally got internet connection. Hooray. I was beginning to have communication withdrawals. I searched and I fiddled and I hunted and finally found connection.

I spent my first day in London catching up on much needed sleep. I was not sleeping well prior to my departure and despite the fact that I had a real bed on the plane (major luxury complete with fluffy pillows and a cozy comforter), I slept no more than one hour!

At least I was able to rest laying down with eyes closed, even if I did not sleep.

This evening, Peter, Mummy and I went to see the actor Edward Fox reciting T.S. Elliot's "Four Quartets."

It was quite amazing as he declaimed all four lengthy tomes by heart, no reading from a book.

It is so funny how my sons think I am such a nerd for a) going to a poetry evening and b) actually enjoying it.

I have my first boyfriend, Martin Bergman, to thank for my appreciation of great literature. I wonder if he realizes just how much I learned from him and what a positive influence he was on me.

Now he does!

I shall close with my favorite quote from "Little Gidding".

"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all out exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And to know the place for the first time".

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go ...

2011-10-14T17:03:00.000-04:00

... sort of. I've thrown everything I would like to take to London into my purple suitcase. Luckily, I still have 24 hours to un-'n'-repack which I shall do with the help of my extremely helpful & practical Kaelin.

I am returning for the first time in 2.5 years. Things were so different then. Vic knew deep inside that it would be his last London visit & saying goodbye to people like Peter & Steve would have a greater finality.

We were introduced to Shay's husband, who made everyone's skin crawl. Time would prove all our instincts all too accurate.

Lesson learned: always, ALWAYS listen to your instincts. Your heart knows what it knows.

We spend wonderful moments on favorite walks through Holland Park & Kensington Gardens.

We ate delicious polish & italian food. Vic & Peter toasted life with vodka & wine. Nicky, Steve, Vic & I all laughed & cherished a few rare, final times together.

Kaelin brought joy to everyone & had a blast window shopping in High Street Kensington just like I did at her age, all those decades ago.

Fast foward: October 14, 2011.

I am preparing for a lengthier trip, this time solo. We are approaching the 2nd anniversary of Vic's death & I will be acknowledging in an apartment that is so overflowing with memories that photos actually cover the entire fridge & freezer, lamp shades, doors, you name it. My mother is not what one would call "low key."

The good news is that 2 years on, I feel that I am finally coming out of the fog that has enshrouded me.

As a family, we have settled down into some kind of loose routine, if that makes sense. With so many different ages & stages living under one roof, we have all had to make serious adjustments & I feel that we have worked out all that pent up frustation, sadness & anger at our individual & communal loss of Vic.

So that's the good news.

The bad news is the shadow side to all the aforementioned.

Personally speaking, to have the realization that I am totally alone at 54, with a life that was completely enmeshed in being part of team, a couple, a partnership, well, it's a very bitter pill to swallow.

Being Vic's wife & mother to our children was my life. Outside of it - almost nothing.

I was happy with that, devoted to it, at times a little stifled but at the end of the day, life was all about Vic & "the kids, the kids, the kids ... "

As the dust settles, I find myself in the novel & overwhelming position of having to create a whole life for myself, myself as the individua.

I am no longer 50% of a team. Rather, I am 100% that is Team Karen.

Yikes!

Mulling what I enjoy, what gives me pleasure, what direction I would like to see myself is big & scary, to be honest.

I have thought about it & so I find myself on the eve of going to London, with a purpose.

For ages, nay decades, my Mother has asked me to commit to paper "her story". Many people have approached her over the years to write her story or make a film of her experiences. She has spent the past 20 years as a most vocal advocate for post-war reconciliation & forgiveness, giving interviews & speeches wherever there is a willingness to hear her experiences.

Steven Spielberg is reportedly rereleasing "Schinder's List" & when I heard this, I had a powerful realization.

Survivors of World War II are diminishing fast. Their voices will be silenced.

Who will help remind people of mans inhumanity to man, 60 years ago.

Can we learn from our past?

To that end, I decided to undertake the writing the story of a remarkable (small) group of ordinary people who, under extraordinary horrific circumstances did extraordinarily brave & humane things.

Armed with tape recorder & a copy of Dragon Speak on order, I hope to do this story the justice it deserves.

I am hoping to write my way through some of this grief, which still grips me like a vice.

I did not realize that I last checked in with the "Crone" in March but so many people have asked me what happened with her that I hope to bring her back with greater frequency.

Unless I can piggy back on someone's wi-fi in London, it is going to be hard to write from there but I will try. I'd really like to send a photo from my bedroom & kitchen - London laid out at my feet. Quite beautiful.

Until next time ... don't forget to share the love now while you can ...

OMG quote ...

2011-03-29T21:18:00.000-04:00

"I'll have a plate of alfalfa sprouts & some mashed yeast."

Those that know, know.

La di da ...

A limerick ...

2011-03-29T21:13:00.000-04:00

A bitchy, ex-pat now in Birmingham
With a penchant for the lowliest of breeding men
Wrings her hands, prays & screams,
at her numerous offspring,
Look in the mirror, it's what's known as
"karma", ma'am.

Angel trumpets: beautiful but very nasty

An Ode" " The Doobie Brothers" 1971 - 2011

2011-03-09T09:48:00.001-05:00

"Take me in your arms, rock me, rock me a little while" all the way down to "China Grove" where "Jesus is alright with me."

Better not drink any "Black water" or we'll be "Takin' it to the streets", "Breaking down the Highway" while we "Listen to the music".

Oh well, "Minute by Minute" it's only "What a fool ...believes."

This "South City Midnight Lady" has a "Long train running" to catch ...

Me so funny! At least I amuse myself.

Rock 'n' roll!

To Vic ...

2011-02-27T13:43:00.000-05:00

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 ...

2011-02-18T23:39:00.000-05:00

'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 ...

2011-02-17T17:57:00.000-05:00

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!

2011-02-17T16:22:00.000-05:00

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 ...

2011-02-15T20:05:00.000-05:00

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

2011-02-14T20:43:00.000-05:00

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 ...

2011-02-13T20:15:00.000-05:00

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"

2011-02-12T09:36:00.000-05:00

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???

The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot

2011-01-17T21:01:00.000-05:00

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

The Big "M"

2011-01-17T10:55:00.001-05:00

When I think "migraine", I think "thank you, that I don't have one." Or "oh crap, here it comes ... can I head it off at the path? (no pun intended. Maybe a small one).

I do so envy those who do not suffer from it & empathize with other "migraineurs" as we are communally known.

My triggers tend to be hormones, weather changes but most frequent of all, S-T-R-E-S-S.

My body's knee jerk reaction to acute stress is that I can experience a panic/anxiety attack which includes bad stomach cramps & worst of all, can lead to ... migraines.

Thursday had me react to some difficult, unexpected news dealing culminating in a sudden, violent eruption - the Krakatoa of a lifetime of migraines. I should remember the date, it was that monumental. Any bodily movement results in nausea. Nausea can result in vomiting. Vomiting makes my head feel like the grey matter inside my skull wants to explode out, like a giant, cranial zit.

Blast off!

Sumavel Dose Pro to the rescue. My doctor gave Corey a needle-less shot of a new drug for severe migraine & cluster headaches. Straight out of Star Trek. Cool. Got to get me some stock in that company ...

Within half an hour, I was asleep. 3 hours later, I woke up, shaken & stirred yet better.

I really need to master my stress. Make that "mistress" my stress.

Either way, 3 days later & I no longer feel like wrung-out. Whew.

Harry Houdini finally drops-in

2011-01-12T20:00:00.000-05:00

From Coast to Coast radio.

The Spirit World:

Professor at the University of Arizona, Dr. Gary Schwartz, discussed his latest research on quantifying the spirit world including contacting the dead in the laboratory, and expanding on the work of Harry Houdini. An advocate for science or evidence-based spirituality, he suggested that Spirit could be thought of like air or water, something that is all around us. Science is now creating technology to detect the tiniest amounts of energy-- such as single photons, and these new instruments have the promise to detect spirits on the Other Side, he declared.

He used such a device (a silicon photomultiplier) in an experiment making contact with the late Harry Houdini, and found that the number of photon detections measured much higher when he made a direct contact request from Houdini. Interestingly, he noted that one of his contacts, the deceased medium Suzy Smith, was the first to bring Houdini to one of his experiments, and that other spirits known as "drop-ins" started spontaneously showing up.

Schwartz recounted how a living medium received an accurate warning from Smith that he was about to be "ambushed" on a TV talk show, which helped him to prepare. He also talked about angels, and spirit guides, who can serve as messengers, and the role of Spirit in physical and emotional healing. He has set up a new site, Sacred Promise Universe, which will feature his free video lectures on various aspects of Spirit.The Spirit World:

On Tuesday's show, Professor at the University of Arizona, Dr. Gary Schwartz, discussed his latest research on quantifying the spirit world including contacting the dead in the laboratory, and expanding on the work of Harry Houdini. An advocate for science or evidence-based spirituality, he suggested that Spirit could be thought of like air or water, something that is all around us. Science is now creating technology to detect the tiniest amounts of energy-- such as single photons, and these new instruments have the promise to detect spirits on the Other Side, he declared.

He used such a device (a silicon photomultiplier) in an experiment making contact with the late Harry Houdini, and found that the number of photon detections measured much higher when he made a direct contact request from Houdini. Interestingly, he noted that one of his contacts, the deceased medium Suzy Smith, was the first to bring Houdini to one of his experiments, and that other spirits known as "drop-ins" started spontaneously showing up.

Schwartz recounted how a living medium received an accurate warning from Smith that he was about to be "ambushed" on a TV talk show, which helped him to prepare. He also talked about angels, and spirit guides, who can serve as messengers, and the role of Spirit in physical and emotional healing. He has set up a new site, Sacred Promise Universe, which will feature his free video lectures on various aspects of Spirit.

http://sacredpromiseuniverse.com/

Larry David never leaves home without this!

2011-01-11T20:45:00.001-05:00

Some people might think that perhaps I should follow suite. Consider the following scenario ...

I piss you off. You give me the look. I whip out one of these. You fill in alledged "infraction" box.

I will give your request due consideration. I fill in appropriate box & that's that.

What say you?

This little piggy went to Fresh Market ...

2011-01-11T20:33:00.000-05:00

Big mistake!

I taught I saw a puddy cat ...

2011-01-11T13:03:00.000-05:00

... nestled amongst the halyconias, prior to the great frost of 2010-11

A little bit closer now ...

"I did, I taw a puddy cat, as plain as it could be!"

Quite a beauty.

Crystal clear

2011-01-11T12:57:00.000-05:00

So beautiful ...

Another Richard Gould original

2011-01-11T12:34:00.000-05:00

I adore Richard's work. A friend of Corey's since 3rd grade, Richard has always had an incredible eye for proportion, clean lines & vibrant colors of innocence.

His work just makes me feel happy. So happy.

In the midst of the barren trees ...

2011-01-10T19:49:00.001-05:00

Look who's found the peanuts ...

"Saturday, in the park, I wish it was the 4th of July ... "

2011-01-10T10:43:00.000-05:00

Hanging out the Vero Beach museum, we happened upon these two guys sitting in the garden, deeply engrossed in conversation ...

"'Allo, darling!"

Maybe this one is a little warmer.

I just can't choose ...

The Doobie Brothers - here we come!

2011-01-09T19:59:00.000-05:00

Guess who's got her tix??? Sooo excited. Last time I saw them was at the Hollywood (FL), Sportatorium, 1980. I had just moved to Florida. A thick, pungent cloud hung over the entire audience & my started husband humiliated me by using earplugs! Minute by Minute just came out. 31 yrs later, I'm taking my 19, 18 & 15 yr olds ...

Sunrise Theatre Presents Doobie Brothers

From Facebook ...

Claudia Balint, Robert Sas and Ron Roberts like this.

Nicky McAllister Fabulous, Vicar!!!!

Kerry Stone Henderson seriously...you got me a ticket, too...right? and is michael mcdonald gonna be there? he doesn't hang with them too often...

Nancy Johnson Riley That same cloud will be there!!! They are incredible.. still .. after all these years! Take me in your arms and ROCK me baby!!!

Angie Mantell-Smith SOOOO jealous have a great time!!!! :)

Marcy Frishman Purdy Count me in for another fun night in Ft. Pierce!!! Doobie do!!

Kerry Stone Henderson He came from somewhere back in her long ago..sentimental fool lalala

Karen Mantell ‎... minute by minute by minute by minute, I keep holding on ...
e
Susan Judd Ridlen Saw the Doobies in around '77. Monroe, La. I think I was in the 8th grade.

Karen Mantell Wee baby. Check out their site - looks more like an ad for Paul Mitchell hair products, as they John Wayne-style walk into fans, hair a-blowin' in the wind. Still, I can't wait ... "take me in your arms, rock me, rock me a little while .. "

Sunday night menu

2011-01-09T17:58:00.004-05:00

My close friends & I are mad about food. Both the preparation as well as the eating. 2 of them actually speak in a shorthand of recipes.

We like to share & add our own touches.

Having said that: dinner tonight, chez nous.

Vegitarians: tune out. Carnivores, you'll love this.

Grilled, well seasoned sirloin, steamed kale au garlic & onions, potatoes avec (un peu de) butter & beaucoup of dill, qu'el que edamame & we're off.

After dinner, will take duly satiated family into hot tub under-the-stars for another of Mommy's more regular Sunday night sermons.

Oy, how they love it! Oy, how they groan & protest. Oy, how the side of me that would rather not hear is longing to give in.

No, I am committed to holding my ground, shaky as it may be at times.

Maybe half a xanax will soften the proverbial verbal attacks which usually ensue.

Key for my success lies in just not taking the bait. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Remind myself as the punks proceed to list all my shortcomings as a parent, "Who's got the power?"

Yep. That would be little, getting older me.

Cue Gary Glitter "Rock 'n' Roll"

New year, new plans

2011-01-08T19:29:00.000-05:00

The waxing, crescent moon lays on its back, deep in the western sky. The air is clear & crisp making the stars all the more vibrant.

All would seem to be well.

The new year brings with it unexpected changes. So soon?

Being that life is impermanent & how you handle the transitions, why not then?

Corey returns to the homestead. Determined to make lemonade out of lemons, he will go to our local college, get a job, etc., etc. Get himself on his feet.

Not what had been planned. But as it is said, "man plans, G-d laughs."

Being a parent to 2 end-stage teenage boys is not easy. At all.

They live in a world that is an athema to me. My mind does not work like theirs at all. No way. Jose. I don't get their neurosynaptic connections.

Bla, bla. I am not the first. I will not be the last.

I am just saying, it is not easy but I will not be beaten down.

Cue ... Whitney Houston blasting "I'm every woman!"

Back in the day ...

2011-01-04T17:30:00.000-05:00

I thought it would be fun to look back on my starter blog ... more garden/nature oriented.

"In a Gadda da Vero" was inspired by the nature that surrounded us during the days of cancer. Vic & I spent as much time as possible outside & I think the love with which that garden was tended, shows.

http://in-a-gadda-da-vero.blogspot.com/

Sadly, since the great freeze of December 2010, the "gadda" is less an explosion of color & more the wind-burned brown.

The year continues to be interesting ... stay tuned to this frequency.

January 1, 2011

2011-01-01T21:28:00.000-05:00

I begin 2011 handing plenipotentiary license of my life into the hands of my higher power.

As simple as that.

As I walk through my current life, I have chosen to accept the support of the angels who push one from behind. They have always been with me.

I have just chosen paths which made their work much harder.

Release & acceptance will be woven into my daily thoughts. After all, just how much control do we have anyway? I am not sure.

I welcome the new experiences that I will encounter for the lessons & gifts of my life.

I am open to relationships that are mutually nourishing, growing, joyful, symbiotic, fun.

Not the Resolution type ..

2010-12-28T22:09:00.000-05:00

Having said that, I have made a few decisions I would like to implement imminently.

I will be displacing Facebook postings in favor of blogging my random & occasionally very incorrect comments!

Appreciating & nurturing special friendships. Not sweating superficial or draining relationships.

Paying close attention - to life both outside & in.

Not striving for perfection: just putting my self out there & will to practice & learn.

Just some thoughts ...

Christmas & Boxing Day

2010-12-26T21:09:00.000-05:00

Back in the days of yore, the tradition was for the King or Queen would present gifts to their serfs the day following Christmas. Gifts in boxes. Hence it is called Boxing Day. Today, it is a national holiday - a day off work.

Despite the grey cloud that hung around me pre-Christmas, Christmas Eve kicked in some spirit. Not alcoholic either.

The grey days which had preceded Christmas threw me deeper into my holiday ennui.

But to see the gifts wrapped & arranged under the tree, bedecked with unbreakable balls. A delight!

Corey made an unbelievably great Christmas Eve dinner: his first rack of lamb done on the bar b que. Spinach. Brussels & peas. Yum.

For the first year ever, we all slept in on Christmas morning. Kaelin finally called "chicken" & herded the family in to open the goodies.

I hit the jackpot this year. The "motherlode" for the house "mutha." 4 tickets, front & enter to Cirque du Soleil's "La Nouba", end of January. 4 tickets for me AND the children. All 4 of us. Together. A cultural outing. Finally! How longggg I have yearned for this.

I can't even begin to articulate how thrilled I am. Best "gift" ever. An evening with my children in magical theater.

You know, sometimes, not very often but sometimes, it's good to be me!

Another take on Christmas

2010-12-24T18:25:00.000-05:00

From Sarah Silverman, a different take on Santa & WWJD ... oy!

Eric Idle's "Fuck Christmas"

2010-12-24T15:47:00.001-05:00

Thank you, Eric Idle, for articulating my holiday sentiment - brilliantly, succinctly, eloquently.

Long Live the Python's!

Would you rather?

2010-12-24T15:32:00.002-05:00

Taking an unofficial holiday poll:

Would you rather deal with:

a) hormonal, adolescent, teenage female

or

b) late adolescent males w/arrested development. Both categories are blessed with omnipotent, all encompassing intelligence.

Just askin' ...

Lunar Eclipse / Solstice

2010-12-21T10:19:00.000-05:00

Pardon the pun but this is truly heavenly!

Will tonight's lunar eclipse give us the answer to The Meaning of Life?

2010-12-20T18:33:00.000-05:00

Why are we here, what's life all about?
Is God really real, or is there some doubt?
Well tonight, we're going to sort it all out
For tonight it's the Meaning of Life.

What's the point of all this hoax?
Is it the chicken and the egg time,
Are we just yolks?
Or perhaps we're just one of God's little jokes.
Well ça c'est the Meaning of Life.

Is life just a game where we make up the rules,
While we're searching for something to say,
Or are we just simply spiralling coils,
Of self-replicating DNA?
In this life, what is our fate?

Is there Heaven and Hell? Do we reincarnate?
Is mankind evolving or is it too late?
Well tonight here's the Meaning of Life.
For millions this life is a sad vale of tears,
Sitting round with nothing to say,
While scientists say we're just spiralling coils,
Of self-replicating DNA.

So just why, why are we here?
And just what, what, what, what do we fear?
Well çe soir, for a change, it will all be made clear,
For this is the Meaning of Life
-c'est la sens de la vie,
This is the Meaning of Life.

Monty Python - of course!

Open Holiday Letter to our Friends

2010-12-16T08:22:00.001-05:00

December 2010

Dearest Friends:

There are many adjectives available to describe 2010. It was a year of "firsts" for the 4 of us. The Elisabeth Kubler-Ross year of firsts. Joan Didion referred to it as "The year of magical thinking."

That would depend entirely upon your definition of "magic".

Let me put it this way: everything, EVERYTHING was different in 2010. Such as I can recall. I spent many months sequestered away in a dark room, either over or preferably under the covers. The yoga of grief. Grief is definitely a verb. Emotion in motion. EK-R may have coined the 7 stages of grief, however, there really are no rules. Everyone's experience is unique. We all have to work out lifes impermanence for ourselves, hopefully learning appreciation along the way. The children & I are all processing our unfamiliar & new life differently, not wholly without bumps in the road. We are still adjusting to the new "now" as we all continue our forward motion through our respective stages of life.

It was wonderful to have my Mother visit in March, spending her "special" birthday with us. Nicky swooped in after that, helping guide me out of my pea-soup fog depression. She took over & organized the new life in color-coded files (obviously purple is in there for special things). She still understands me better than anyone even if we are so very different. August saw us going down for a "short week" to the Keys. We fulfilled Vic's wish to have some of his ashes spread out over the azure tropical waters that brought our family so much joy over 6 summers. It was there that we all believed all was well & lived out some of our very happiest family memories. Angie came in October for a quick visit & it was so good to have her here. Isn't life strange? I went with 3 friends to our Arizona Shangri-la for an even shorter week in November. It never fails to bring my soul to the surface for a few glorious days of mindful oneness.

Corey, 19, is a tattoo-inked, sophomore, Sigma Chi brother at USF. He has started to settle down, academic wise & also appears to be demonstrating some frontal lobe development - a modicum of empathy, consideration, etc. Of course, he is such a schmoozer, it's probably something he is perfecting on me, the dotty, dotting Jewish mother who laps it up. What can I say? Such an enabler! The fact that he's only 2 hours away had made it possible for more home visits this year, which was nice.

Daniel, at 18, is in full blown "Senioritis". Dreadful time for a parent, let alone a single, white female!!! As a friend said many years ago, "G-d makes them like this so that you want them to leave!" I absolutely adore his quirky, uniqueness but talk about tug-o-war ... Vic always said Daniel was just like him but he never qualified what that meant - I guess "dare to be different" might sum it up nicely. Loyal, funny, yet armed with a Scorpio stinger, usually aimed at me, Daniel walks to the beat of his own drummer. Ever since Daniel was conceived, he has carved his own path. So be it. I love him even as I'm getting rope burns!

So to little mademoiselle Kaelin. Very much the young lady, my 15 year old baby should wear a t-shirt clearly stating "jail bait". Gone is our babycakes. She has become my incredibly capable assistant, often heard calming me down, "it's ok, Mommy" when I get my all-to-frequent migraines. She's a wonderfully happy child who spreads a lot of joy, love & happiness around her. Her beauty is far from skin deep. It emanates from deep within. People constantly tell me I'm going to have my hands full, but I beg to differ. Yes, she's headstrong, but she is compromising & is a very willing spirit & I am truly blessed to have a great relationship with her.

Finally, yours truly. Nothing much to say. It has been very hard for me. I never realized just how enmeshed our lives were. From work to parenting, it was always "we", rarely "me". There are many people to thank for just being there this past year. If you are reading this, you are one of them. Whether we talk or see or don't see one another, in some way you impacted positively in my life, for which I am enormously grateful.

We continue to find new paths for ourselves, some well trodden, others new. We end the year with all children at home together with my Father who will be moving up here finally some time in the coming year. He is recovering from pacemaker surgery but at 85, agrees that the 260 mile round trip journey is not an acceptable option for me or himself.

One thing I know we can look forward to in 2011 is learning elder care in Vero. I am using the word "we" optimistically!

Let me end, as always, by wishing you love, health & laughter, always. One thing that still works wonders is the miracle of laughter. My Mother shared this gem with me an eternity ago. It is a brilliant & timeless.

May your year be filled with love & hugs,

In peace,

Karen, Corey, Daniel & Kaelin
xoxooxxo

17th Century Nun's Prayer

Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself, that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but Thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessing cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a Saint – some of them are so hard to live with – but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And, give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.

AMEN

Christmas Carols for People with Various Disorders

2010-12-15T20:18:00.000-05:00

SCHIZOPHRENIA: Do you hear what I hear?

MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER: We Three Kings disoriented are.

DEMENTIA: I think I'll be home for Christmas

NARCISSISTIC: Hark the herald angels sing about me!

MANIC: Deck the halls and the walls and house and lawn and street and trees and office and cars and fire hydrants and ...

PARANOID: Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me!

But who's counting ...

2010-10-06T19:15:00.000-04:00

370 - the number of nights I've been sleeping alone.
351 days ago - Vic just had his emergency surgery to correct the post operative blockage.
13 - the number of days Vic had left.

Vic was on his feet. Eager to get back home. Later that day, hopes were dashed when as doctors told Vic he would require emergency surgery the next morning.

What???
How???
WHY???

Come, take the walk down memory lane with me ....

2010-09-28T08:47:00.000-04:00

Driving to the VA.

A look with which I was so familiar in the past years. Months.
Eyes forward. Jaw fixed. Target locked. One man. Alone.

Viens finally gave up. Port installed so that Vic could do yet another round of chemo & just be able to give blood. He never flinched or complained when the nurses endlessly poked his arms & hands looking for any place to get some blood.

"Whatever it takes" is what he would say.

It is very hard to look at the scars. Knowing what brought them to him. Not for the feint hearted.

As always, outside surrounded by the peace & healing calm.

To think, this was only the beginning. I never thought this would be so hard for me. Nothing can prepare you for your own personal grief process.

Mine is certainly taking me down roads I never expected to travel.

I miss him.

That's all.

From the world of online personals ....

2010-08-05T10:37:00.000-04:00

I really, really needed this laugh. Too funny & I wish I could have made it up ...

Definitely smacks of "Eats Shoots & Leaves"

"HEROINVERO"is a 51-year old living
in Vero Beach, Florida, US .

The Devil did it!

2010-08-05T10:32:00.000-04:00

From the world of senior singles ...

2010-07-30T09:53:00.000-04:00

It seems that the moment Vic's obit hit the paper, my spam box became innundated with flirts from internet dating sites, specifically senior ones.

Far from being even remotely interested in dating, I must say these sites can provide some serious entertainment value.
A peek into another world.

I have learned little things: when the guy is wearing a baseball hat, it means he is bald. Sensitive usually means he got picked on ruthlessly when younger. No photo & complex scripting also spells some kind of allusive trouble.

This morning, instead of hitting delete all, I read this one & had to post it.

What do YOU think???

'A little about me...

When a man and a woman find each other in this confluence of confusion, insanity, and just downright incivilities that we now seem to be bombarded with from nowhere, rather than give up, rather than compromise who you are, or rather than feel downtrodden, why not fight back, push at what is wrong, fight for what is good, and feel that special bond which only two persons with a true affinity for each other can ever know.

What are you looking for in a partner?

A good hearted woman with a big appetite for loving! I am both passionate and compassionate.

For it to work, it must be both the head and the heart; the lust and the spirit; the touch and the feel; the longing and the release; and, best of all, when we laugh, it will always be for the right reasons and at the right time. For then, but only then, will we experience each other’s inner being.

For I AM ALL MAN. And you must be ALL WOMAN. A rib from my breast. And then you will receive my best, dear person.

I'd just like to add...

I love fine dining with a classy woman who is a lady, and I love classy people who say what they mean, and mean what they say."

Reason, Season, Lifetime ...

2010-07-26T21:42:00.002-04:00

People come into your life for a Reason, a Season or a Lifetime.

When you know which one it is,
you will know what to do for that person.
When someone is in your life for a REASON,
it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.

They have come to assist you through a difficulty,
to provide you with guidance and support,
to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend and they are.

They are there for the reason you need them to be.
Then,
without any wrongdoing on your part
or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something
to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met,
our desire fulfilled, their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered
and now it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a SEASON,
because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.
They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Believe it, it is real.
But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons,
things you must build upon in order
to have a solid emotional foundation.
Your job is to accept the lesson,
love the person
and put what you have learned to use
in all other relationships and areas of your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.

Thank you for being a part of my life,
whether you were a Reason, a Season or a Lifetime.

ShitMyMomSays:

2010-07-16T12:47:00.001-04:00

"Karen, can you please bake a cd for me?"

"Wha'?"

"You know, bake me a dvd."

"Burn it, Mummy. You mean "burn you" a cd."

And the oy goes on!

Sugar porn

2010-07-13T19:25:00.000-04:00

Here it is ... Croissan'Time, home of Mantell family, all occasion magnificent mocha gateau.

The delicious breads, the mini patisseries, the CAKES ...

Started in 1986, the starter husband & I were smoked salmon salad on Saturdays regulars from the get go.

So very happy it is still in business. Lines apparently go
outside on weekends ... So totally worth the wait.

South off Sunrise Boulevard on US1 in Fort Lauderdale, Croissan'Time
is a sugarholics den of erotica!

Cheese corn!

2010-07-13T19:16:00.000-04:00

I really can't help it but I am so incredibly fortunate to have friends as wonderful as mine!

As I slowly, slowly emerge from the dark, they continue to be there for me through the many stages of what is a custom-designed process called grief.

Grief has no boundaries.

It follows a path of particular direction or destination.

The key for me has been to acknowledge & allow myself to experience all the feelings, good & certainly bad.

The months of random crying. Make that doubled-over bawling. Being present for the pain. Being present to appreciate the peace which always, always followed ...

The pain that would interrupt moments of peaceful resignation. Being present to appreciate the pain which always, always followed ...

Slowly, gently, the wounds are closing.

My amazing friends continue to be important as we all continue to heal & figure out life, so very, very different now.

Life so very, very different ...

Emmy nominations

2010-07-08T20:26:00.000-04:00

OK, can I call them? Not that I pay that much attention to any awards. Having said that, when my personal viewing comes up a cropper, then I sit up a bit straighter.

Today's Emmy awards were announced.

So, from the beginning, Larry David for "Curb your Enthusiasm." Love, love, love him. Hate him. Love him! Such psychotic chutzpah.

"Mad Men" - love it - superb dialogue, totally catapaults me back to my childhood in New York ending late 1963.

"Nurse Jackie" - Eddie Falco for being such a totally messed up, stale, ER room nurse. Nurse Jackie taught me what it takes to actually get a buzz from Vicodin as opposed to just using it for its medicinal use. Something to do with an old back injury ... and so the shopping & snorting goes.

Migraineurs, I must add, do not fuck around with pain meds.

Ever.

At least this one doesn't. I so respect the magical ability my meds have to relieve my throbbing head & nauseous stomach. Yuk! Not a pretty sight - ever.

Still, I always just wondered how people got high off of something that was a pain reliever... a bit like how exactly does a high colonic work.

But that's a whole different ponder ...

Finally, Alec Baldwin gets a nod for making paunchy, middle age look really good. Let's hear it for the black lights on "30 rock". "It's complicated" really put him on top of the middle aged, menopausal woman's poster man for the kind of bad boy about whom we all momentarily fantasize!

Still waiting for Becky of Sunnybrook Farm to have that 'Mad Men" luncheon. Cigarettes, booze, a token drinking & smoking pregnant woman ... tit bits to go with the tit bits!

"Grouper cheeks" anyone?

2010-07-07T16:23:00.000-04:00

Should you ever see "grouper cheeks" listed on a menu, let me share a visual presentation of said delicacy ...

Such a view ...

2010-07-06T18:32:00.000-04:00

For Father's Day, we went down to see my father who is pushing 85, much to his (& frankly my) great surprise.

He is finally starting to show the undeniable signs of aging & we are getting into gentle discussions about the possibility of his moving up here, closer, etc.

He moved to South Florida from Forest Hills, Queens (718) permanently in 1994.

Each time I go down to visit, very rarely to be honest, I wouldn't trade Vero for anything but sometimes, the views from his apartment are just so glorious that I really do understand his reluctance to leave such a very lush setting among the concrete monoliths.

The kids love fishing there, I love floating in the pool - anything to get out of his boutique, cigar infused abode.

A wicked, tropical, over the top Jewish ghetto, Aventura is everything I hate about my tribe when congrugated in a discount shopping district but I have to say, the bagels & the Mall is pretty good!

Not for naught do those of us on the inside call it "Oyventura."

Enter my dream ...

2010-07-06T17:35:00.000-04:00

'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 again come to speak of other things. I am glad so many of you are joining me as I recommence chronicling the latest off-road journey in life. I am seeking to circumnavigate & articulate via words 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, an isolation tank might be the only cure ...

Remember, when the vibrations get me, I always find it fun to nudge the world a little more out of its comfort zone, proudly splatter vibrant hues, joyfully color outside the lines, sing out loud, dance like a Dervish under the ever-changing moon, 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, grammatical atrocities against the English language, misquoting sources, Miss Shadlock's hateful red-lining, taking self or life too seriously & never miss the chance to learn, share & help make someones day a little better, even in this case, my own."

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

Again!

Happy days @ the shooting range

2010-07-04T20:00:00.000-04:00

Magical thinking??? Not.

2010-07-04T15:28:00.000-04:00

This time last year - a house overflowing. A house busting at the seams. There was a constant sound in the house. Noise, sounds of kids behind closed doors, televisions on non-stop. Yet it was good. It was all good.

This was what family is supposed to be. You are there for one another. In good times & bad. Like a marriage. At least, that is what my picture was. The reality was very different.

I have wrestled with myself for a long time as to how I could have achieved a different end result.

Of course, it was never for me to alter. Journals & emails recently reread have helped me see the picture how it really was.

I found Vic's scan reports following his 6 week radiation. I highlighted the pertinent words, such as spreading, worsening, growth ... When I look back, all I remember was how we were going to attack this now. That is what Vic wanted. His treatments were always his call. That I really did not understand that this was the beginning of the end ...

April 2009. We were returning from what would be Vic's last trip to London. At Heathrow airport, amidst the throngs of what were clearly terrorists being herded through passport control, Vic's Buffalo nickel bracelet broke. Beads everywhere. I picked them all up despite all the hideous feet & shoes. I had it repaired & Vic wore it up until he went to hospital in October.

I wore it every since. However, there have been two occasions that it broke. The latest being the other day. When I noticed it was gone, I had an odd reaction. I did not panic. Somehow I knew it would return. I checked drawers & all the usual places but nothing. Two days later, my neighbor knocks on the door, holding the buffalo nickel & bracelet, separated but still here! My instinct was right. It was not gone. Just out of sight. But safe.

Still, I had a strange feeling that maybe the time has come not to wear it, just keep it close & in sight. Just with me. Not, on me.

When I told DCC about the bracelet, he told me that according to Buddhist tradition, if a sacred bracelet is broken, it symbolizes karma fulfilled. Transitions. New beginnings.

Three times it broke. I kept saving it. I think maybe karma is being fulfilled.

I have been through several pivotal dates lately, culminating with this date, one year ago. I don't want to say anniversaries, although ours was a June date.

There is nothing "magical" about this year. Not yet, at least. It has taken hard work. Lots of acceptance, of reflection. Of stark realities.

Forgiveness is something I have a lot of trouble understanding. I ask everyone for their interpretation, how they do it, etc.

As I look back on the last year, losing Vic of course would be the #1 hurt & loss. Obviously. Clear winner. I continue to work on this but it begins to make sense.

In second place would have to be Shay. We always had a difficult relationship. From the beginning. Both ways. It always seemed that she raged at me for unresolved issues with Vic. Clearly, there was much she never liked about me & held onto it fiecely. I took many a piece of hate mail from her, going back prior to Vic & my marriage over which i would choke but ultimately recover, considering the source.

When we opened our home to her & the children last year, I was well coached by Vic that it was a huge mistake. She should stay with either of her brothers who live in Florida or her Mother. Her best friend did not want her & the kids staying because of disrupting her childrens' schedules.

Vic was fighting for his life, having chemo. I assured him I would be responsible for them being here & keep everything away from him.

"Disrupt this!"

In the end, when the British visas were finally issued after 3 long months in the processing, Vic didn't care what it took, he just wanted his home back. Our children did too. They had sacrificed their space & shared their summer with the understanding that this is what family does.

Shay, surprised to find herself pregnant with #5, also wanted her own life back as did her chidren. We all still wonder how she could possibly have been surprised after being pg 4 other times!!! oddly, Vic walked past her one day before she knew & asked me if she was knocked up again. I defended her saying she still had some of Stone's baby weight to lost when in fact, she was indeed up the spout again.

She's old enough (& experienced enough) to know that it's not the stork that brings the baby but the lark when the lights go out! Oh!

We all held it together very well despite all the stress. Shay & I laughed a lot, as we always did. It was also good to have someone else around who understood Vic differently. A glance across the room between us said it all. I liked having her around. I enjoyed her company. I can honestly say I loved her very much & when things were good, they were very good. I knew it was difficult for her & did everything I could to make her comfortable, cared for, loved.

I never forgot, however, that I was she was not my friend & I was not hers. I was her father's wife & mother of her other half siblings. That's who I was. I also never forgot that at any given moment, she could attack. Like a snake. A spitting cobra.

She had several moments there that it was hard to hold it in. Especially when I asked her husband Paul, why he kept calling me "scary grandma" and "mean grandma" nearly every time he walked past me with the baby in his arms. Something to do with the immature English schoolboy humor I believe, but I did not like it, appreciate it or want to hear it. Anymore.

He was a whole other kettle of very stinky fish. Vic's dislike & mistrust of Paul was all revealed by the end of the summer when he found himself unable to pay for his familys' return tickets to the UK. About 2 weeks before, he had assured Vic that all was fine & taken care of.

Bla, bla. All bullshit.

So Shay bit her tongue & so did I. We all got through the summer. She & the kids got their visas & returned to their new home in the armpit of the UK. We got our home back.

She came back when Vic died, missing him by only a few hours. She stayed for his cremation then returned with a suitcase of Vic's stuff. Just stuff. Clothes, t-shirts, just things. She had shared the whole summer with him. What greater gift?

Her final missile of hatred was launched less than a week after Vic's beautiful, touching, very fitting memorial service. My shock was palpable. She told Daniel & Kaelin that I had "tormented & manipulated her for the past 20 years." That they should watch themselves. Over a desk name-plate of Vic's that I gave to her sister, Angie. A piece of wood.

As of that moment, she was history to Kaelin & Daniel. It was what their Daddy had said about their sister. Her character. Impulsivity. Inability to control herself at times & the list went on. It was easy for them.

For me, it was much harder & it took much longer. Oh, I totally agree & was perversely grateful when she said she was done (with us). As the song says "it's over, it's over, I went through you, you went through me."

Vic had tried to warn me. He tried. I would not listen.

"One hundred years from now, the size of my bank account, my house ... will not matter. What will matter is that I made a difference in the life of a child".

As I tried to replay everything as to why she hated me so much, it suddenly occurred to me. I had always given her my very best. I was there for her when he own Father (let alone Mother) were not. My incredible, amazing friends gave her their very best during her sejour. We all showed her love & consideration & support. That's how people in the real world are. That's how people in my world are.

Guess what? Apparently it was just not good enough. Her email of bile contained something about Vic having done little for her (as an adult) & that there was a very strong sense of being owed ...

So how to forgive? I could not get around that. Then I realized. It was not for me to forgive her. She was being true to herself & her feelings. It was for me to forgive myself. I was beating myself up for having let her down in some way. Did I? Absolutely not.

Her children will always remember their time here & will come to their own conclusions if & when the time comes.

Ours was a relationship whose time had come. I have no regrets anymore. I have learned. Everything I did, I did with love & the best that I could. I did it because she was Vic's daughter.

So, for me the bracelet is indeed karmic & symbolic.

By this time last year, Stone had pounded his red, white & blue smash cake for his 1st birthday. I still have the pentas I bought when he fell in love with butterflies. The butterflies still love them.

I am glad that I can look at the flowers & not feel a stab of pain at the memory. Time to put closure on the hurt, even though it took a lot of time & effort & stepping outside of the normal paradigms of my thinking.

Vic is smiling because he was right & he likes to hear me saying it.

"YES, HONEY, YOU WERE RIGHT, RIGHT, RIGHT!!!!!!"

He really did know his daughter. I was just hopeful & naive.

It is still raining here in the land of the free, home of the brave. I love it.

It's a great day for Independence!

Wasp it all about, Alfie?

2010-07-01T20:01:00.000-04:00

It's full pollen alert. Red eyes, runny noses & sneezing abounds.

The flip side to the discomfort is that the vegitation is exquisitely verdent & plentiful.

Plump, red berries call to the froliking squirrels. Precariously dangling by their tails, they pick off the last juicy bunches at the farthest ends of the willowy limbs. Bellies full, they chatter to one another in cheerful clicks.

The gadda is also full of eager insects, polinating everything they touch.

Come & take a quick peek inside a couple of sista k's bloomers today ....

"Wasp it all about, Alfie?"

This lucky chap gets positively drunk on delicious, sun-warmed nectar.

"A la salud!"

Summer twilight

2010-06-27T18:06:00.000-04:00

Sunset

Magic time

Florida sunset

June 2010

Words to live by ...

2010-06-25T15:35:00.000-04:00

Saucer here, saucer there ...

2010-06-25T14:19:00.000-04:00

On June 24 1947, pilot Kenneth Arnold reporting seeing nine UFOs over Mount Rainier, which he described as like "saucers skipping over the water."
His sighting kicked off the modern UFO era and led the press to coin the phrase 'flying saucers.'

50 years later on June 24, 1997, the U.S. Air Force issued a 231-page report dismissing the long-standing claims of an ET crash near Roswell, New Mexico.

They suggested that recovered bodies were not those of aliens but crash test dummies used in parachute experiments.

Do you believe the men in black???

Or the men in green???

Ohm ...

2010-06-23T15:53:00.018-04:00

The force, good it is.

Yodas ben-Jedi amidst things of this earth, sit they do
Jedi already being a plural word I believe ... Just thinking out loud here ...

And for something from a different mythology ...

"Thou shalt not worship idols"

I don't. However, I can say that each & every stone, shell, rock, Yoda has special memory for me. I love to hold each one separately. I love to feel their shape, texture. I close my eyes, eager to recapture the memory of a moment suspended in time.

Collectively, the smile that comes to my face is a small reflection of the easy, breezy sense of serenity that goes through me when I reconnect with this small cornucopia of collectibles.

One of the pieces is a particularly special gift. One from someone who knows me very well. Julita brought this from an area of her motherland in Puerto Rico well known for decades worth of, yes I am going to say it, UFO & paranormal activity.

I remember watching one of my woo woo shows years ago with Vic in which the Puerto Rican connection was discussed, footage aired, photos, locals interviewed. I told Julita about the show & asked if she had been to that area. I also rememberd the surname of the local journalist who covered the story. Martin.

As in Julita's cousin, who shares her maiden name.

And the woo goes on ...

My Puerto Rican stone always gets its full moon cleansing along with all the other rocks, crystals, feathers,, tsotches.

I like to have that one particular stone near me at night.
Armed the mandatory intergalactic hitchhiker's towel, night after night, I patiently wait, hoping to hitch a ride on an intergalactic VW bus, desperately hoping to avoid Vogon poety.

My mantra is not "Calgon, take me away".

Definitely more "Beam me up Scotty."

Douglas Adams: RIP

It's come to this: a soccer post!

2010-06-23T12:25:00.000-04:00

USA - all the way!!!!

I am NOT a soccer-widow (no pun intended) but I have to say I am thrilled at the World Cup result today.

U S A .. U S A ... sound of homemade vuvuzela or howsoever it is spelled/spelt?!!!

Having hated 'football" in England, I do, however, remember the good old days when rowdiness meant the chucking of empty beer bottles and toilet paper.

The days of George Best & a young, up and coming Pele ...

Gone. All gone.

Now you have to blow those dreadful things and paint yourself or wear silly hats.

Never mind.

Way to go, U S A !!!

Taking the time to journey ...

2010-06-23T11:38:00.000-04:00

.... to the center of my mind.

Wow! I totally love those words.

As is my way, I love to stumble across an older tv series, now syndicated. "Seinfeld" was the best find of all. A mindlessly clever laugh now available almost any time a day on some channel or other. George, of course, is my fave.

"World's are colliding. This is NOT good. George is not happy about this at all!"

Well, hello! Talk about a completely off the wall, gorgeously dark "find" for sista k. Everything considered, the irony is beyond delicious.

Ready?

"Six feet under."

For someone who could not watch more than the first 3 minutes of "My sister's keeper", or a full 15 of "You don't know jack", the HBO Al Pacino as Jack Kevorkian, "Six feet under" just tickles & provokes my thoughts in so many ways.

Oh, it makes me sob at times but mostly, I get to observe the myriad of made-for-tv sound bytes of various forms of grief.

Conclusion: I am quite, quite normal in my own Abby Normal way.

Ta ta, for now ... I think I am starting to come out of the dark side ...

Do you bathe by the light of the silvery, solstice moon?

2010-06-21T23:15:00.001-04:00

The summer solstice sun setting in the west, dipping in & out of the clouds.

The summer solstice moon slowly rising in the southeastern horizon.

What better way to celebrate this most sacred & magical
of nights than to float around in a beautiful pool with a beautiful friend? Excellent tea, a cool pool, two old friends reflecting on their lives past while both look to the starry sky, wondering what the future has in store?

Bathing in the moonlight. No SPF required! Delish.

All over the world, for thousands of years, people have born witness to the significance of the solstices.

Tonight, in my own fashion, I also pay homage, lay disciple of
heliolatry that I am.

Waiter, there's a starfish on my table!

2010-06-19T23:59:00.000-04:00

What could be better than homemade,
freshly caught conch chowder on a hot,
steamy Florida night?

Still playing footsie in the garden

2010-06-19T23:47:00.000-04:00

Enter the peaceful, purple patio & you will be greeted by
several blooming Crocs.

Vic loved his Cros & they participated in nearly all of his construction
projects.
I love the fact the Crocs continue to live, the perfect home for
our Spider Plants.

Winky, winky!

2010-06-19T17:17:00.000-04:00

Hogwarts indeed!

I've got my very own "howler" delivery team.

Nudge, nudge
Wink, wink
Say no more!

THE FRIENDS

2010-06-19T16:51:00.003-04:00

THE FRIENDS can connect in a

mysterious way without even speaking.

Perhaps they have AMAZING MAGICAL POWERS.

Perhaps they are both just
PECULIAR IN THE HEAD.

(the INTERESTING thoughts of EDWARD MONKTON)

Really?
Perhaps our brain was separated at birth?
Whatever, 41 years, still BFFFFFFFFFs &
still amusing the heck out of each other.

I wish everyone have just one Vicar in their lifetime!
And not the naughty, hand up your frock during vespers,
Benny Hill type of Vicar. Not the one with open sandals & dirty
toe nails. Not the scone & clotted cream scoffing
one from Digby either.

No, I am talking about my BFFFFFFFFF, aka TBV = The Big Vicar
Nothing to do with her dimensions, petite as she is/was/shall always be, amen.
Rather to distinguish us by height ergo I remain TLV = The Little Vicar.
I might update that to TWV = The Wide Vicar
Or how about TJV = The Jewcy Vicar

Don't ask. Don't tell.

Remember: PECULIAR IN THE HEAD
and that's the way we like it!

'Till death us do part ...

2010-06-19T13:15:00.003-04:00

Part us, it did.

Our wedding photo June 18 1991
Vic was radiant. I had swollen feet!
Vic's wedding band was inscribed:
"Two lives, One destiny. 6/18/91".

I wear Vic's wedding band together with the beautiful pyramid shaped amethyst

that is my most cherished 50th birthday gift.

Vic was fascinated by the number ratios of circles

& pyramids. He found solace in a numerically explainable world.

So our trinkets remains intermingled.

A pyramid overlapping a circle.

A circle overlapping a pyramid.

It's just our energy still with me.

Our last photo October 8 2009
Vic was dying
No one gave me a straight answer
So I just did what I did best: I stood by Vic's side,
his front & his back.
Together, we fought.
We fought for Vic to live on & on & on

Neither of us gave up.

In the end,
it was never in our hands anyway ...

18,19, 20

2010-06-18T23:15:00.000-04:00

It has been quite a while since I last sat to put my thoughts down.

Not that I have been without experience after experience, some that added a slight grey tinge to the hairline above my right temple.

Tonight is different. The moon in rising. There's a warm, wet breeze in the air.

Tonight I acknowledge that Vic & I were married at our home in Ft. Lauderdale on this day in 1991. Corey was our 7 month in utero witness.

Vic cried as we exchanged our self-written vows before the tennis playing, macrobiotic, attorney & part time rabbi, later to be Representative Barry Silver.

As soon as the ceremony was over & he had a healthy slice of heaven sent Croissan'Time mocha cake, he left for a tennis game in Boca, not before asking if he might possibly get a date with Shay ...

Today, I look back at our photo, standing on the dock of our Lauderdale home. How many lifetimes ago it seemed. The overjoyed man standing next to me bore no resemblance to the Vic I kissed good bye 8 months ago tomorrow (19th).

Our eccentric marriage ceremony was but a prelude to an eccentric, magical, fully charged marriage.

As it was back on this day 19 years ago, I quoted Kahlil Gibran on marriage, so it is today that I look back once again, find tremendous comfort & grace in his words;

"The a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto your, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Sunday is Father's Day. The 20th. It will be a glorious day despite the namesake will not be present. We both agreed that the greatest gift we ever gave each other was our children.

Amen.

"Time goes by
Still I think of you."

The labor of grief

2010-04-12T09:00:00.000-04:00

The truth is this stinks.

Grief is like being in labor. You have to ride the waves of excrutiating pain .

The difference, of course, is that once through labor, you have some physical fruit to show for your labor.

With grief, you still feel empty.

It is so random & while I respect the process, I am not good at being brought to the floor in tears.

Being blind-sided by sound-byte pixellated memories is just the worst.

I keep going back to those last days in hospital ... grasping to fill in the gaps ... last words ... leaning over Vic's head, asking him if I should give the staff his living will ... him telling me I would know when the time was right ... to promises whispered in Vic's ear as he lay, dying.

I miss him so much, it feels like I've been punched in my stomach. You know when a child just gasps for air between sobs ... that gasping has actually made my "abs" hurt. My forehead is muscle-fatigued from the crying-frown.

Frown & cry I do.

It started last night at about 8pm.

Has not stopped yet.

Like I said before, it is about learning how to ride the waves of sadness.

Who'd have thought at 52 I'd be taking up surfing?

Hoos watching yoos?

2010-04-06T19:42:00.000-04:00

House protected by homeing
Megascops.

Approach with caution.

Your every move is being observed.

Whether camoflagued in the surrounding trees
or out in the open, right by the front doors

You are not alone.

Nor are we ...

Home base

2010-04-06T19:25:00.000-04:00

Namaste

Shuttle pre-dawn blast off ...

2010-04-05T20:23:00.000-04:00

At always, breathtaking ...

Exodus from home, desperately seeking manna from heaven

2010-04-04T16:23:00.000-04:00

I have to say, the past several weeks have been maelstrom of spring cleaning.

A time of renewal.

Outdoors, the gadda is coming back into glorious bloom following February's hard freezes.

We have been painting, moving, removing, moving around, moving back, boxing, passing along as well as good old fashioned trashing.

Once again, nature becomes a metaphor for my personal spring cleaning (nothing to do with finding a sparkling washcloth either!)

For the past several years, a stronger, more mature self has been crying for hearing. She has been tearing at her own skin from the inside, in order to get out.

So, during the fifth month of the next chapter of my life, I found myself being wholely affected by the longer days, shorter nights, thoughts that ambush me during my quiet times ...

A perfect storm has come together, creating optimum conditions for very accute panic attacks. The kind that have you holding onto a heavy object just to stop yourself from being swept away by the tornado of visions, thoughts, memories, longings.

It's called mourning. That is what I am told.

It fucking sucks!

Can't believe Mummy has been here for a week already, less than a week left. Her visit coincides with an extended spring break.

Translation: no kids!

Our babies are Florida beach kids, all the way. Volleyball, fishing, swimming, friends, music, soda, pizza & cell phones.

Life is, indeed, a beach!

I have missed writing but it is not that I have been without Good 'n' Plenty to say. Just to busy puking or holding my discombobulated head or digging myself out of a potential Vesuvius of paperwork.

In the meantime, should Lili & I eat in, go out for sushi just the two of us or should we find out if our beloved children care to grace us with their company ...

As I said before, life's a beach!

Seen in an elevator ...

2010-04-04T12:50:00.000-04:00

Humor me! Please.

2010-02-17T14:30:00.000-05:00

Something is in retrograde. Something is off or amiss. Or something may be right on.

It's all too confusing.

I get so frustrated with myself & the outside world. There is an expectation that surrounds me ... "it's so boring without you..".

Entertain. Amuse. Regale.

Yet who steps up to the plate to make me smile? Who volunteers to make things unboring around me?

Vic's mother once said that I could not save the world.

That always befuddled me. Then I had to remember the source of the comment: at age 17, all Mantell children had, HAD to leave home. As in kicked out. As in "enlist & get out." and don't let the door hit you in the ass, either!

There's some serious karma waiting there. I guess losing 2 out of your 5 children might be considered rough enough.

According to Judaism, he (or she!) who saves one person, saves the whole world.

That sits much better with me.

I don't usually ask for things from my friends & confidantes. I am always grateful for any consideration I get.

But I really can't bear to carry the mantle of entertainer when I am just feeling well, sad. A deep sadness.

As the song says:

"I don't mind the quiet
or the lonely nights.
I don't miss the funky attitudes
& I don't miss the fights.

But sometimes out of the corner of my eye,
I see that adorable ghost
That's when I remember
The things I miss the most.

The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust ... "

The start & close of each day is the same: an empty space.

And silence.

No one to talk to.

No sex (what's that???)

Who to trust but myself?

Transitioning ...

2010-02-13T20:56:00.000-05:00

I remember watching a British version of "The Apprentice" about 2 years ago while visiting my Mother & Peter. One of the challenges issued by the host, the Sir Alan Sugar, a self-made nice-Jewish-boy-from-the-East-End-of-London was for the team to come up with a line of greeting cards.

One of the groups were inspired to pick February 13th. The Loneliest Day.

How totally ridiculous is that? A Hallmark line of cards, lauding the day before Valentine's as, well, basically something akin to Eleanor Rigby!

Pshaw! What a load of rubbish.

Fast forward to January 13, 2010. Here I am the day pre-Valentine's - the dread Loneliest Day of the Year.

Am I sad? Am I bothered?

An afternoon spent with an insane group of adults, all participants in Vero Beach's First Annual Olympiad was the best box of chocolates & roses imaginable.

Nothing better than grown ups being silly. Mad grapefruit & spoon races. Grass skiing & citrus toss. Hammer throwing (I got a Silver for that!).

Our Olympics included the brining in of the Olympic flag, followed by the torch carried by toga sporting Grecian goddess who passed the flame on to Eros, I mean Eric who shot the flame into the Olympic firepit!

Foods celebrating the different countries & Olympic trivia made the glorious afternoon.

Vic comes to me in such different ways. The obvious does not trigger me. It is in the most unexpected of times that I get caught unawares.

When I think of Valentine's Day, I remember that I was told every day for 20 years that I was the highlight of Vic's life. Feb 14's just another day ...

Tool Time Tessie

2010-01-20T08:25:00.006-05:00

OK, a whole new page has been turned. Look out lumber. Watch out, water. Who balanced the ph in the h20?

Yep. Tool Time Tessie!

Daniel & I finally cleaned the empty hot tub. Used the shop vac (yeah baby!)to empty residual puddles of sudsy water & sand. Making sure the drainage valve was righty very tighty, we filled it up & followed instructions according to the manual.

See, what I found out is that Vic kept meticulous files on EVERYTHING - including all appliances, equipment, etc., for the house.

When in doubt, head first into the filing cabinet.

If that doesn't reveal the answer, I sit & simply ask Vic for guidance.

Next thing you know, I find myself opening a drawer, moving stuff & bingo, there is the answer!

Next on Tool Time Tessie's agenda: charge up the drained battery on the Ryobi 18v electric screwdriver!

What a trip that will be. I already found an old coffee tin full of miscellaneous nails, screws, plugs. This is important because there is an entire drawer of at least 25 boxes each containing job specific hardware. WTF? I just want a simple generic screw!

Hey ho. With a built-in spirit level, Ryobi-san, Mr. Coffee's miscellany & I might become very good friends. I feel the need to hang things. Now that I can, that is ...

Even though the discoveries are fun & exciting, the fact is Vic left a gigantic crater in the middle of my life. The children seem to be handling things better than I am at the moment.

I hear him, feel him, remember him in things all the time - but random things. The triggers I avoid are fine.

It is the unexpected flashback encounters that are ambushing me.

3 months into "the process" & the battlements are feeling the wear & tear of the sieges. Reserves feel like they are depleting instead of being restocked.

Vic was the sails, the rudder, the engine of this family.

Right now, this particular boat is has a body, map & a compass.

Unfortunately, it is just out there, bobbing away. Just to make things worse, the crew (yours truly) is mutineering against the captain (also yours truly).

What a joke!

If only to be one of those people for whom life is black or white. No grey. Simply this or that.

Sadly, for me, I live through all the spectral shades.

Sometimes simultaneously.

Oy vey.

Sharing Grief

2010-01-18T18:56:00.001-05:00

The mantle of grief can be as weighty as it can be light. Layers of it feek like thick, wet, felt-wool. Itchy. Dense. Uncomfortable. Other layers soothe,like wispy strands of gossamer silk gently skimming over the surface of ones skin.

It is 12 weeks today. 3 months. Almost to the day.

It seems like so much longer.

Snapshot memories fly at me from the strangest of places.

Driving south the other day, I realized that the last time I drove this route was the last time I went to the hospital ...

Random landmarks & signposts would take me back to the 19 days that I made that trip - each direction coming with its own set of thoughts. Energy. Anticipation. Hope.

Exhaustion.

a couple of days ago, I was tearing out crossword puzzles. Folding them in four. Putting them aside.

Last time I did that, I was going to the hospital ...

Nice things in the Bealls catalogue. Vic would really like those shoes ....

Oh, peanut butter ice cream. Great. Vic love peanut butter ...

I never realized just how programmed I had become. Just how automatic was automatic. Just how numb to the pain of it. Just how much responsibility I carried totally alone, those 5 years, day by day. I was the only, the one & only person in the whole world who was there for Vic. The only one that Vic totally knew had his back. That he totally trusted.

We prayed to G-d, Every night. Every day. A whole lot.

Now, I seen to function day to day with crash & burn frequency. Everything takes a monumental effort on my part. I push & push to get through all the most mundane things. It's confusing. At one point, I was superwoman. Now I'm just super depleted.

I just really want to be home. Alone but for the children. Home, where I am happiest & safest. A home oozing warmth & love. I find myself needing to keep my commitments to barest minimum. I am forced to say no more than ever. No, I just can't. All I really want & need is to be with our children. And the closest of friends who understand this difficult, discombobulating time.

As far as grief & loss go, I am one of the fortunate ones. Vic & I had a long time to talk about things. To have no regrets. To know that you said what you wanted to say. And got to repeat it, as I was able to with Vic many, many, many times ... it's a beautiful, beautiful gift. A great blessing.

That is why I do wrap myself in the loss, the grief, with love. I walk deep into my feelings & in there, I find comfort.

How strange & yet wonderful.

How freeing.

OK, do I have plague or something???

2010-01-13T18:19:00.001-05:00

You know things are off when even your recycling is rejected!

Seriously. My recycling was left behind accompanied by a note, telling me to put this with that, the other with the following.

Goodness. I mean, there I have 2 huge bins brimming with things that can be turned into mulch & shoes & bags & siding (OK, I was reaching there). I took the time to forage in my trash compactor for the cans & paper & plastic the children throw out only to have it cast aside next to the road in my snazzy 'Wheel Away" recycling bin on wheels.

Le me recap the rejections of my last 2 days: first, my therapist sends me an email subject: "termination" - never a good way to start any communication: next day, recycling is rejected!

In a nut shell, from the lips of a nut case, with apologies to Cole Porter;

"Can't save myself - can't save the planet.
Let's call the whole thing off!

The Glory of Nature

2010-01-12T15:04:00.000-05:00

Under the OMG category

2010-01-12T15:03:00.000-05:00

'On such a day as this" ... did my therapist break up with me!

How am not to take that personally?

So be warned. One more fruit is running around outside of its loom.

Can you fucking believe it???

It's got to be the oddest form of rejection. I know it is fodder for much juicy material . Perhaps I will have a Nora Ephron moment & write about it in a scathing novella.

"Rejection therapy."

To think I was only just learning about "Positive therapy."

And the world thinks that I'm weird? No freakin' wonder!!!

Gardener's Corner

2010-01-10T07:58:00.000-05:00

To Maintain A Healthy Level Of Insanity

2010-01-08T11:09:00.002-05:00

Ok, ok, I have to share this one, in this morning. It is not new, but maybe it is to you.

It still makes me laugh so enjoy ...

1.. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and point a Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down.

2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice!

3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, ask If They Want Fries with that.

4. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks . Once Everyone has Gotten Over Their Caffeine Addictions,Switch to Espresso.

5. In the Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write ' For Marijuana.

6. Skip down the hall Rather Than Walk and see how many looks you get..

7. Order a Diet Water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face.

8. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is 'To Go'.

9. Sing Along At The Opera.

10. Five Days In Advance, Tell Your Friends You Can't Attend Their Party Because You have a headache.

11. When The Money Comes Out The ATM, Scream 'I Won! I Won!'

12. When Leaving the Zoo, Start Running towards the Parking lot, Yelling 'Run For Your Lives! They're Loose!'

13. Tell Your Children Over Dinner, 'Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go.'

And The Final Way To Keep A Healthy Level Of Insanity

14. PICK UP A BOX OF CONDOMS AT THE PHARMACY, GO TO THE COUNTER AND ASK WHERE THE FITTING ROOM IS.

What's your animal totem?

2010-01-06T20:51:00.006-05:00

Just over 2 years ago, a pair of Screech Owls established a camoflagued residence in our untrimmed Eugenia tree, right by our front door.

Eager to please, ("mi casa, su casa"), Sweet Judy Blue Eyes gave multi-talented Vic the official Audobaun Society directions for building a nest condo to their specifications.

They flew right in & next thing you know, the sound of baby owls!

They reared their young, left.

Then came back. Repeated the behaviour.

Left again. And returned again.

I developed a total love affair with the pair, named Dede & Man (don't ask). Being the spirit seeker that I am, I googlized the significance of owls in mythology, history, magic. The owl as an omen.

I found that they signified both wisdom & death.

The owl is the symbol of the feminine, the moon and the night.
The owl is the bird of magic and darkness, of prophecy and wisdom.

The owl is associated with Athena.

An owl totem gives you the power to extract secrets.
Meditate on the owl and things will be revealed.
Listen to its voice inside of you.

You will hear not what is being said by others, but what is hidden.
You can detect subtleties of voice that others cannot.
People cannot deceive a person who has an owl totem.

Owl people can see into the darkness of others souls.
Most owl people are clairvoyant because of this ability.
It can be very scary at times.

Learn to trust your instincts about people.
Let your owl totem guide you.

The owls that guide me are Screech Owls.

Very courageous and ferocious, this Owl teaches you how to be a fierce individual
with an ability to cooperate with others.

Global warming? I don't think so ...

2010-01-06T08:09:00.001-05:00

I thought I was living in tropical La Florida.
But nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. This morning, I woke up to a 28 degree, freezing, frosty Florida.

Instead, it seems I live in La Florida-sur-ice.

I don't care what people think (like I really do) - I am wearing my 20 year old apres ski boots. Uggs off - it's all down to my politically incorrect, "vintage" furry boots for this cold weather baby, baby. Thermal thongs just don't do it when it's this cold. Fleece knickers, there's an idea.

Steaming hot tea, a delicious crumpet dripping with melted butter & an early morning crackling fire - yep, that works fine.

Definitely a night for soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooup with garlic bread.

Scenes from a new year

2010-01-03T20:46:00.003-05:00

I had a really great time on new year's eve, despite myself! I was in the company of really cool people, dining outside under a beautifully decorated tent ... A delightfully cool evening, I learned the benefits of being in the presence of a well created Lord Rumson firepit. It's unique & specific design causes the heat to expand outwards therefore covering a larger area of well dispersed heat.

But the real joy began once I got back home around 12.30am.
The blue moon was rising in the cloudless sky.

The children were with friends. My tea was hot. The fire was inside was gorgeous.
Our home has a very special, wonderful feel at this time of year. Many was the night that I would sit in front of the fire when everyone was asleep. Just staring. Trying not to think. Losing myself in the dancing, tangerine flames.

Recapping the evening, I was surprised not to have been bothered going to the party alone (as in unaccompanied, as in no Vic). As I was driving down the dark, dirt road, I reached a dead end. Right in the middle of no where. On a gravelly road. Not even in the Jeep.

Oh, Vic was loving this. "How would Karen extricate herself from this situation?"

Yep. Lost. Totally. Instead of freaking out, I kind of laughed.

"I'm on an adventure" I thought. Actually, it was more how I felt.

Can you feel like you are on an adventure? That is what this feels like. Life after Vic.

As I sat on the patio, I not only looked back upon the year, but upon the decades that have passed. How I have acknowledged this annual "event" - from a child in Switzerland, to being married to the starter husband, practically ignoring every holiday as was his family way, then to Vic & our first Christmas & New Year together in Ft. Lauderdale.

The key to grieving is to look back without regret. Never to use the words "would", "could", "should". As I sat alone on oure deck on new year's eve, I felt oddly fulfilled & happy just as I was. Scared? For sure. But in an excited kind of way. Really, really weird. Not at all what I had expected.

Certainly not the grief model upon which I was raised ... 'Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt & Grief' ... Sunday grave crawls, a requirement.

Instead, I focus on the here & now. Of being present. Very present.

Maybe it is a form of escape.

Maybe.

But it works for me.

Mindfullness with Jon Kabat Zinn

2010-01-01T20:40:00.003-05:00

A wonderful way to start the new decade.

I adore him. His energy is the purest of experiences ...

I found this on You Tube. He is at the headquarters of Google, teaching mindfullness to employees.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3nwwKbM_vJc

Happy New Year.

Contract of Friendship 2010

2009-12-31T09:40:00.002-05:00

After serious & cautious consideration... your contract of friendship has been renewed for the New Year 2010!

It was a very hard decision to make... So try not to screw it up!!!

My Wish for You in 2010

May peace break into your home and may thieves come to steal your debts.

May the pockets of your jeans become a magnet for $100 bills.

May love stick to your face like Vaseline and may laughter assault your lips!

May happiness slap you across the face and may your tears be that of joy & laughter.

May the problems you had, forget your home address & your memory.

Simply put ............

Live Each Moment of Your Life in 2010!

To you & yours, HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Poem de jour

2009-12-27T10:54:00.000-05:00

THIS MORNING
Raymond Carver

This morning was something. A little snow
lay on the ground. The sun floated in a clear
blue sky. The sea was blue, and blue-green,
as far as the eye could see.
Scarcely a ripple. Calm. I dressed and went
for a walk -- determined not to return
until I took in what Nature had to offer.
I passed close to some old, bent-over trees.
Crossed a field strewn with rocks
where snow had drifted. Kept going
until I reached the bluff.
Where I gazed at the sea, and the sky, and
the gulls wheeling over the white beach
far below. All lovely. All bathed in a pure
cold light. But, as usual, my thoughts
began to wander. I had to will
myself to see what I was seeing
and nothing else. I had to tell myself this is what
mattered, not the other. (And I did see it,
for a minute or two!) For a minute or two
it crowded out the usual musings on
what was right, and what was wrong -- duty,
tender memories, thoughts of death, how I should treat
with my former wife. All the things
I hoped would go away this morning.
The stuff I live with every day. What
I've trampled on in order to stay alive.
But for a minute or two I did forget
myself and everything else. I know I did.
For when I turned back I didn't know
where I was. Until some birds rose up
from the gnarled trees. And flew
in the direction I needed to be going.

In the mood ...

2009-12-25T20:39:00.000-05:00

So we discussed the miracle of Chanukah. A bit light on the latkes this year but I think the new traditional Chinese was delish!

Today, celebrated the season of excessive giving. We unwrapped the much scaled down but well thought out spirit of giving. Christmas. Like our sand dollar tree, everything was new & different this year. We are shifting through different paradigms.

At the end of the day, I still just love to sit on the patio, by the fire & wonder at the nightly extravaganza that is the universe.

Amber alert called off after Druid Moon returns home

2009-12-21T12:58:00.003-05:00

After attending a whirlwind of annual global winter

solstice celebrations, Druid Moon safely returned home

in the predawn hours of Tuesday morning.

"Breathtaking", said a local witness.

Druid Moon is reported to have been following long time

companion, Sun Set, as they circumnavigated the planet last Sunday.

This year's party themes included dreidels & group chanting as they

attended both Chanukah & Winter Solstice festivites.

Druid Moon, exhausted at the end of night, spotted laying down in

her exclusive bed of palms

somewhere in the southeastern horizon ....

"Father Sun & Mother Moon

Bless this, the fruit of your

Sacred womb."

December 21-22 2009