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Posts Tagged ‘life’

Do I write this post with a tad of guilt? I do. I feel like I have neglected my wonderful blog and disappointed … who? I notice that many of my contemporaries in blog posting have not been writing either. Hmmmmm ….

An effect of the pandemic? Are we all on to different things? Just not writing?

In the kitchen, keeping Jazzy company while she ate her lunch, I realized how restless I am. I want to do everything, but yet I really want to curl up with a good book and do nothing (but read). Life had been so crazy busy for so long, and then I left my very-often-intense work in the humane field. It was exactly what needed to be done, and along with some of that work was the pandemic. Working from home, staying at home for my safety, getting all too used to being home. Not liking it. It’s very comfortable and I live in a beautiful part of the state, but needing more. Restless.

Now that I can actually think, what do I want to be when I grow up? (You may have read about my ponderings on this subject in previous posts.)

Working on that, but meanwhile … I am always reading and always listening to music. Two constants. So while I work on the direction of my life, here are my 2023 reads so far, and all recommended unless otherwise noted. Not in order of being read.

The London Seance Society – Sarah Penner (currently reading)
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
– Mary Ann Shaffer – Excellent!
The Lost Apothecary – Sarah Penner
The Lost City of the Monkey God – Preston Douglas – didn’t finish, non-fiction, but not my type.
Little Fires Everywhere – Celeste Ng – Excellent!
The Book of Longings – Sue Monk Kidd
Now You See Her – Linda Howard
Night Music – JoJo Moyes
Secluded Cabin, Sleeps Six – Lisa Unger

Perhaps you will find something of interest. Perhaps you will share something of interest, as I know any followers of mine are also readers. Whatever you may be doing, I hope you are happy in your days. I am always hoping you are as content as possible in our so-often-challenging world, and finding the small and simple joys that are right there in front of us, waiting to be noticed. Till next time …

p.s. In reading a comment on this post, and following up, I see that I have not been getting any notices of posts from my blogging buddies. Went into my settings and see something different than I remember. I hope this solves the problem, and my apologies to my friends who may have thought I was not reading and responding. That explains what I wrote above!

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Lately, I find myself drifting back through time. It seems necessary to my creativity for me to go back before I can go through.

I am searching – I want to use my writing and art to reach out in a different way than I have in the past. How will I do that?

Conversations about art, music, and writing with people in my life now get me reflecting. And remembering … recently, I felt a song trickling through my mind. It was a Peter, Paul and Mary song, but I could only grasp a phrase. A search brought it back to me – Bob Dylan’s Dream. And with it, a flood of memories.

One memory was of my junior and senior years in college when four friends and I would hang out in the evening in Susie’s apartment and play music and sing together. They all played guitar, and we all could sing and knew a wide range of folk songs. Just sitting and singing and playing by candlelight into the wee hours of the morning were such incredible times. I don’t yet know how that memory will play a part in my going forward, just that it will.

Bob Dylan’s Dream, written by Bob Dylan, sung by Peter, Paul and Mary, 1967

I recently went to see a fabulous show of Japanese printmaking from the 1950’s to the present. I looked so, so closely at those stunning prints, noticing just how they were made, recalling the necessary techniques. I studied printmaking for two semesters – woodcutting, etching, and lithography. And these masterful Japanese prints brought that back, too.

“Red Wall”-1992. Zinc etching and woodblock print on paper by Hodaka Yoshida

I am being readied. I am preparing for some leap forward that I cannot yet see, but these memories are stirring the things I need to know, so long put aside while I did other things with my life. Sometimes it seems like I’m dreaming or wasting time, but I know I’m not.

I’m taking a deep breath and – not always so easy – trusting in the process.

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Always learning, always growing, always grateful.

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Or maybe I should say `spread thin.’ There are times in all our lives when we have an awful lot of balls in the air, and I’m going to say this is one of mine. And I am juggling – or dancing – as fast as I can.

Work is a constant (for which I am grateful), and changes are on the horizon. I will be opening my heart and mind to new possibilities and it’s exciting, if not occasionally anxiety-provoking. Depends what day you ask me.

I have a children’s book coming out! – Where Do Butterflies Go at Night? One might think that once you’re done writing the story, you, as a writer, are done, but it couldn’t be further from the truth! With my wonderful publisher, Ethicool Books, we work collaboratively. The illustrator, Stella Mongodi, shares her sketches and illustrations as she goes along, and the publisher and I are able to have input. Stella’s work is beyond fabulous, but being able to share a thought or two here and there is a wonderful gift.

And then … promotion. I want this book to be an amazing success. It’s my debut picture book, and while I would want any book of mine to be so, the first is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. So I post – on my blog, website, Instagram (which I am learning and loving), and soon Facebook (which I have avoided, but no longer can.) It’s a lot!

And yes .. the holidays are upon us! Halloween is next week and I haven’t even gotten to take a tour of the neighborhood yet. Then Christmas, for which I hope to have some new Frenchie items in my Etsy shop. Oh … note to self – learn more about Mailchimp! And start thinking about that new website! Yes … and remember to breathe!

We women today are not the same as those of our mother’s generation. We can do so much more, learn so much more, just be so much more! But whew! It can get a little tiring at times. And yet we persist because the world today is a place where we can open our hearts and souls and find kindred spirits whether in friendship, love, or business. It’s a new day.

Yesterday, a quote passed over my screen and I grabbed it. It’s a wonderful word of encouragement from the inventor from New Jersey (!), Thomas Edison, for the moments when we might feel like we’re not “getting there”, wherever that is, or “getting there” fast enough. Take heart – we are all exactly where we are supposed to be at this moment in time, but in case you’re having a doubt –

I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.

Have a wonderful day!

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As much as I like the moon photo I took below, it just isn’t clicking with how I’m feeling now … that there actually may be a Spring around the corner. So until I have the time to be out and about taking photos, I thought I would share two thoughts with you. They are timely in the respect that both were from March from past day-to-day calendars by Wayne Dyer.

They are timely always as reminders that we are more special than we often think, and that we often lose much valuable time in our lives worrying about things that won’t happen.

I took photos of these two pages because they were – and are – important reminders to me on my own personal path. But I know so many who struggle with these same issues, that perhaps they would be a touch of enlightenment or comfort to some of you, too.

We are all unique and wonderful beings on this planet. We do well in trusting that things are going exactly the way they are supposed to be going, even if it doesn’t always feel like it or we’d like it otherwise. Happy soon-to-be-Spring.

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That pretty much says it. Despite the fact that I am still working – and very thankful for that – and am hardly in need of things to do in any area of my life, my focus is, well … intermittent would be a good word. Some days are pretty “normal”, but at times there is a sense of drift that never used to be in my life until the Coronavirus blew into town.

I know you are all experiencing this, too. I have yet to speak to anyone who isn’t dealing with some variation of this theme. As best I can tell, those of us who are creative have taken a truly palpable hit. I haven’t blogged in a month; I feel like I have little to say. Or perhaps I’ll just whine. So I started thinking in pictures. I went through the last few years of my photos and below you’ll find a little walk through my town, a little walk through summer. Hope this offers some cheer.

It was early spring, April 12th to be exact. The pandemic was in its serious upswing. I didn’t feel like walking that cloudy morning, but I did anyway. The streets were pretty empty. The flowering cherry trees were in bud, and I was cheered to see our flag, a colorful beacon on one of my neighbor’s porches. It was a comfort in a time that left us all unsteady on our feet.

Daffodils in bloom, the little entry area to the bridge freshly manicured and mulched, but still, it looked pretty bleak. A sunny sky would have helped. There were next to no cars on the road. Everyone was home, wondering what was next. And still, there was our flag, posted by my town, somehow a hopeful reminder – to my way of thinking – that we’d be OK.

My back porch last summer. It was the summer when I got all those amazing plants from Rice’s Market, pictured in a previous post – gorgeous coleus growing like crazy, stunning petunias and snapdragons. This part of the porch was quiet but pretty with pots of impatiens. This year? The porch has the furniture, but the plant market was closed, and I didn’t really have the energy/desire to pot plants anyway. There’s always next year, I thought. I am still surrounded by beautiful hostas, lilies, and hydrangea on the other side of the porch railings. I’m good.

Jazzy napping in a favorite sunny spot in the bedroom. The painted stool was one of quite a few hand-painted children’s items I’d made when living in Pattenburg a number of years earlier. My next door neighbor had converted what was once the town’s General Store into an antiques and collectibles shop, and she featured my pieces. I loved the painting and stenciling. Something I think about doing again, but …

It was a grey-ish day, but the cemetery at the Unitarian Universalist Church was tended so beautifully, it didn’t matter. It was very calm. Peaceful and pretty.

 

Another view of the Delaware River, separating New Jersey from Pennsylvania. I love this photo as much for the gleaming handrail of the bridge walkway as for the unusual cloud formation. When you live so close to a river, it’s hard not to take photos of it.

Did someone say Jersey tomatoes? New Jersey is The Garden State and this is tomato season! Those rich, red beauties put other tomatoes to shame, and make the best sandwiches anywhere. In reality, you don’t even need the cheese – just plain tomato sandwiches with a little mayo work, too. I literally just came back from a tomato run at Phillips Farms’ new farm stand with a bunch for the week.

Marilyn. Who can forget her? Here she is remembered in a retrospective of the works of Seward Johnson who founded and built the magnificent Grounds for Sculpture in Hamilton Township, NJ. His works are always on display, but friends and I made a special trip down for this exhibit which extended throughout the 42 acre grounds and inside galleries. Just do a search on this site for Grounds for Sculpture  (or start here) and you will be treated to both his works and those of many other wonderful sculptors. Johnson is known for his lifelike figures, especially those where he’s brought to life the famous paintings of the Impressionists.

 Hydrangea bushes are here and there all over the adjoining property, part of which surrounds my back porch. So lovely, here in pale green, slowly changing over the summer from snowy white to glowing rust.

The view at the end of my block. I am just 3 houses away from the Delaware whose many moods charm and inspire. This was from a previous summer, in her full green regalia. This summer, the area is overgrown, and the ability to access a nearer point as was possible in the past, is blocked; whether intentionally or not, I have no idea. So much has changed as of late.

Thank you all for visiting. For those whose blogs I visit regularly, forgive me if I have not stopped by in any sort of timely manner. I value what you add to my life and to life on the internet as well. I’ll get there. As I mentioned earlier, I am just all over the place, but you are in my mind and heart. Keep writing. Your words and images matter.

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When you come right down to it, it often really is the little things that make a big difference. Sure, the milestones are wonderful, but day-to-day? It’s the small stuff. I count myself lucky, and I suspect you might feel the same way, in being a person who can say, “It doesn’t take much to make me happy.” Here are a few of the little things that have made me happy recently.

This is one of those things where I can say, “Finally!” I’d gotten a new cover (read that as cat hair deterrent) for the couch and was just back-pedaling forever on getting some pretty throw pillows. Voila!

When I came home from an errand in mid-February, I found on a table, at my side door, a beautiful bouquet of tulips. They were left there for me by a dear friend for Valentine’s Day. How lovely is that?

In the wake of losing my sweet little guy, Pumpkin, another wonderful friend sent me this. I shed a few more tears, but yeah, this will do it.

Although the sugar cookies for my friend’s book launch are absolutely fantastic, it’s the catching up, the silliness, the forgetting to add the vanilla (my bad – I fixed it), and fun together that means the most.

Oh, look! It’s another case of “Finally!” The blinds that were once at these back windows had been a little broken on the left side when I moved in; then the cord shredded out on the right side. But how long did it take me to actually get curtains? I’m not saying. The chairs, BTW, if I remember correctly, are from the 30’s and that is the original milk paint.

Hardly a “little thing”, my Jazzy, but she is a part of my everyday life that I am always grateful for. As we can be grateful for the little things, cats are always grateful for boxes. Of any kind.

Irish oatmeal with blueberries, cinnamon, and a pat of Earth Balance. Makes my day whenever I cook it up.

It’s been a long winter, even though, thankfully, it’s been a mild one. With plenty of work and too much else going on, I haven’t gotten out as much as I’d have liked.  Today in the low 50’s again, I couldn’t help but notice a harbinger poking it’s pretty green self through the leaf litter.
I see you there, Spring.

And last but not least of the “little things” – the small, muddy paw prints that trace a route from the backyard up my porch steps and to my back door. You know whose they are. I have no intention of washing them away until it’s warm enough for the garden hose to be hooked up. And maybe not even then.

I hope this has inspired you to think a little about the wonderful “little things” in your life. I hope you find and cherish them.

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Though I cannot take credit for them. We all experience times in our lives when people are acting badly, situations hover and sway as if on the edge of a precipice, and everything is moving too slow … or fast … or in the wrong direction. It’s just life, but from time to time it can leave us spinning.

On one such recent occasion, I removed the previous day’s page from my wonderful Wayne Dyer desk calendar, and found these wise words.

Sometimes you just have to laugh. They couldn’t have been more perfect.

It doesn’t mean that things will always be that way, or that we can’t change them, or that we can’t intend to change them. It just means that right now, it is the way they are. Point taken. And just in case it may be one of those times in your life, I figured I’d share them with you.

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It’s been a very long time since I wept so at the end of a book. And I mean wept. Even I didn’t see that coming. The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein is an outstanding novel, told in the first person by Enzo, a dog. But don’t think that this is just some dog story – it’s not; it is skillfully told through the keen observation, devotion, and insightful outlook of a narrator who just happens to walk on four legs.

The main character, Denny, to whom Enzo has been deeply bonded since a small pup, is a race car driver, so periodically, there is background and information about racing. But don’t think this is a story about racing either – it’s not. Racing is a metaphor for life and how to live it, particularly racing in the rain, of which Denny is a master.

The first chapter begins at the end of Enzo’s life, where he wishes to be released with dignity. From watching “too much television” (according to Denny), Enzo has learned of a Mongolian belief whereby a dog who’s lived a good life will become human in his next incarnation. This is what Enzo aspires to, and despite his periodic dismay at not having speech and being unable to communicate what he knows, or to have been denied opposable thumbs, Enzo does his best to live a model life.

The second chapter begins the story of Denny, his love, Eve, their child Zoë, and the journey of their lives together. From Denny and Enzo watching race tapes on the TV, with Denny explaining all the details to Enzo, to Eve’s illness, to the in-laws overbearing attitude and ultimately cruel shattering of Denny’s life, we are drawn into a story – sometimes funny, sometimes tragic – of a life that could be anybody’s. It’s always set against the backdrop of Denny’s aspirations to be an accomplished driver, and his teaching Enzo the subtleties of mastering the track. Enzo gets it. “Your car goes where your eyes go. Simply another way of saying that which you manifest is before you.”

You do not need to have ever had a dog to appreciate Enzo or his telling of Denny’s story. But if you have ever loved a dog at any time in your life, you will be greatly enriched – and moved – by Enzo, and all that he is. Likewise, those familiar with racing will have the extra bonus of understanding the racing world references. But you don’t have to know anything about racing – as I do not – to understand the story, for again, in the end it’s not about racing, but life.

While we knew from Chapter One where this book would end, the impact is unexpectedly profound; the epilogue, deeply touching. If nothing else, Enzo is a remarkably skilled writer. I had not realized how invested I was in this story … and in Enzo … until the end. The Art of Racing in the Rain is a keeper.

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One of the fascinating things about childhood is that as we grow older our perspectives on it change. What were once annoying practices foisted upon us now make perfect sense. Where once we had wishes for things far more grand and perhaps expensive than we could afford now seem so unnecessary. Just like our parents told us. Thing is, parental advice just wasn’t always all that much fun; we were kids after all. We weren’t interested in having values instilled in us; it seemed tedious.

Yet here we are, ever so many years later, reflecting on the pearls of wisdom that our parents were thanklessly sharing with us. Okay, maybe they weren’t all pearls of wisdom, but plenty of them were great guidelines, both large and small, for managing life along the way.

Below I’ve listed just a few of the things my parents taught me, and there is at least one humorous, heartwarming, life-changing, and/or scary – but always memorable – story to go with each. Undoubtedly, you have your own list you can make up quite different from mine. Especially if your parents have passed over, you might be surprised in making that list how much of what you like about yourself actually came from what they were teaching you all along. Life is funny that way.

So here’s to all the parents who caught a lot of crap, patiently waited out hysterics, bit their lip when they wanted to scream, and resisted rolling their eyes as they explained something to us for the 19th time. And here’s to all the parents who went about their lives day by day, totally unaware that their children were watching and soaking up ways to manage some of the simplest things that would stand them in good stead for a lifetime.

My list:

  • Simple is good
  • Keep the house cool by following the sun to adjust the blinds/shades
  • You don’t have to have a lot of money to have a good time
  • You can never have too many flowers
  • Eat fresh
  • Bugs aren’t really all that scary when it comes right down to it
  • Budget your money
  • Make your bed every day
  • Take lots of pictures
  • Going away to college helps you grow up

 

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We have become such a throwaway world, yet there are some of us who just are not going to ever fit that mold. That old saying, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” suits many of us just fine. And we’ll keep using something so long as it is in good working condition, even though it’s no longer new and shiny. Enter my old toaster.

OldToaster-Farewell2

I can’t tell you how old this toaster is, though it’s well over 20 years, probably 30. They just don’t make stuff to last like this anymore. So as it will soon be moving on, I thought to give it a nice farewell in the photo above, Still Life with Toaster.

It has been a faithful appliance, never giving me a bit of trouble. Until recently, when it started making that awful grating noise before coughing up a piece of toast. Worse yet, I caught it flashing a little spark one morning before it handed me my bagel. And that’s not good. I mentally went over all the things I should do if my toaster were to actually catch fire, the most important one being to write an e-mail to someone who always wants to know what they can get me for a gift. “I have an idea,” I said, and they were on board in two seconds. A little online research into types of toasters, scouring reviews, considering prices (did you know you can buy toasters for $200.00?) and I was able to offer some options.

It wasn’t long after, the following arrived. How exciting! Why is getting a new toaster so exciting? Simply because it’s been over 30 years since I’ve needed a new one. Who knows what new features will now turn bread into toast?

NewToaster2

How nice will it be to toast a bagel without having a thought about the kitchen catching fire? Or listening to a ratcheting sound when a nice English muffin is really all I want? I am still a big believer in the simple things in life, and if a new toaster some every 30 odd years or so comes my way, I’m happy. And the old toaster can move on, knowing it more than fulfilled it’s purpose in life – it sure doesn’t owe me a thing.

Jazzy-Toaster2

p.s. What fun would opening a large box be if not without a little help from the premiere local box specialist, Jazzy?

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