How do I start this, I sit here and wonder to myself. Do I even want to write about it at all? Not really. Do I need to? Probably. Problem is, my fingers don’t want to do the talking either. What the hell am I afraid of writing? Hello out there… brain to fingers – get to moving, babies. I need to get this out.
More ‘stuff’ over at the old house to go sort through. When my ex contacted me about it last week, I thought there was maybe just a bag or two to pick up. It was this time about four years ago when we were busy ‘splitting’ stuff. We stayed busy ‘splitting’ for months on end – after all, you do tend to accumulate a shitload throughout twenty-one years. So we split, split and split some more. When the emotions would get too high, we’d quit and start up again the next day, splitting again. I remember the pictures were the hardest – boxes and boxes of them.
I thought everything had been done. Nope… there’s more. Let’s go take care of it – it’s Goodwill or bust, ya know.
I’ve only had to go back over to the house a handful of times during the last several years. I don’t like driving through the neighborhood. I don’t like going down the street. I do NOT WANT to go in the house, as my daughter insisted on today “Mom, Dad knows you’re gonna be here to go through this stuff – I told him and he’s okay with it.” And so I commenced inside, where neatly stacked in her old room was a good-sized pile that came from the attic. Old baby clothes, stuffed animals, my old knitting materials, some outdated clothes, a few things that belonged to my grandmother, some of my old toys as a kid, all the missing Halloween decorations, and cards. If I failed to mention it before, I do not like going through cards.
Just when I think I’m a step ahead of the game, a day like today comes and knocks me back down a notch. Reminds me that I might not be as strong as I think I am. Was. Whatever. I must swallow the fact that I will forever have these demons, I’ve just realized they aren’t going to go away. What is it? No matter, for what’s done is done. My biggest demon? Failure. Still haven’t moved past that effing failure thing.
Through the years, I’ve learned a neat little trick. I can usually disguise the funk with a smile – on a good day, maybe even season it up with my boisterous laughter. It’s a trick my Mammaw taught me, albeit unconsciously. Ordinarily, it works. Until I’m alone. But that’s what matters, right? It’s just enough to get ya through a tight spot, when someone might be looking. Alone… well, you’re just that. On your own.
I guess the passage of time really isn’t all that when it comes to healing, or growing, or progressing, or whatever it is they say you do. I realize there are good days and bad, for all of us. As for me, I’m just thankful for that huge smile I was born with.
When I was a kid, my Mom used to point out the sand on the side of the road to indicate we were getting close to the beach. I must’ve worn the question “Mommy, how much longer ’til we’re there?” into the ground. She finally found a way to divert my attention from that irritating question every
ten minute s – to pay attention for my own self to my own surroundings. Another great lesson in life by a great Mom.
Now when I’m on the way to the beach, I still pay attention to how the red dirt slowly evolves into beautiful white sand. Except now, I also appreciate the beauty of it. It serves two purposes.
Sometimes it takes patience while you’re waiting on the dirt to evolve into white sand. As my dear uncle used to say, ‘such is life’.
Ever felt like you’ve bonded with an animal of the wild? I tend to bond with many of the seagulls, at least I like to think so. This little girl seemed ever-accommodating – a trait I see as both admirable and disturbing. I named her Bon.
Once again, a New Year is upon us. Time for me to choose a new header/banner, for the year 2012. Just as I choose a single word that best describes the prior year that passed, I also pick a new banner to use for the coming year. I enjoy reflecting back on the prior years’ words and banners, specifically for their powerful meaning to me.
In 2008 I wasn’t blogging yet, so no banner – but my word for that year was Monumental.
It’s not by accident that my first banner below included so many mountains.
My word of 2009 was Colorful.
The next piece below is made up of five of my most favorite things.
My word of 2010 was Serene.
The below shot is a panoram I took while staying at the beach last New Years.
My new word for 2011… drum roll please…
My word of 2011 is Transitional.
It was hard to find a word for 2011. When I finally ran across transitional, I knew I didn’t need to look any further.
I’m finding the end of 2011 to be this huge reflection pool, of this year as well as years prior. In late Spring I moved from my humble abode of three years, the place where I started my new life in 2008. It took some adapting to learn to live with someone again, since Keith and I had both been living alone for so long.
It didn’t take long at all. Where I live now is home in every sense of the word. Hard to explain, except that I feel like I’ve always lived there. Whenever Keith and I are together, everything just seems so easy. Of course life will always have it’s trials and tribulations – but it just seems easy. If that makes any sense.
So on to a brand new year. Nearly four years later, I can finally breathe that long-awaited sigh and say… this butterfly has completed her journey. And what a journey it’s been.
It’s cold, dark, and rainy. On certain rare days like today, I wish I could grab ahold of this state of mind I’m in and smash it right out of a 12-story window. Hard.
Sometimes, a person’s ‘thinking time’ can be more destructive than constructive. Combine those thoughts with just the right song, and it can unintentionally serve to outline that whole thought process. The past always seems to play a huge role in that.
Events transpire. Most things change – a few things never will. Nothing lasts forever, even cold November rain.
My favorite song (and music video) of all time. Always has been… and always will be. This is my sure thing.
I always smile when I think back to what I wanted to be when I grew up. I haven’t thought about it in a long time, but this morning’s commute brought that old memory right back.
When I was in 4th grade, each student had to write a 4-5 page report of the career path we hoped to take. As I recall it was towards the end of the year and the report was to account for a large part of our grade. My classmates chose doctors, nurses, lawyers, teachers – the majority of them being the more ‘normal’ career choices.
When the time came to turn in our reports, I asked my mother to look mine over beforehand. “A race-car driver?” she asked. I answered very seriously, “I know one day there will be women race-car drivers and maybe I’ll be one of them.” I remember detailing Richard Petty and his career, and Cale Yarborough as well.
More than anything, I wish I still had that report. I got an A.
I didn’t grow up to be that race-car driver – at least not professionally. In all seriousness, at the time I yearned to do it and furthermore believed I could do it. It’s good to have those hopes and dreams as a kid, to believe that you can do something and perhaps even be the first of your kind to do it. In this crazy day we’re in, I wonder how many poverty-stricken children have their hopes and dreams crushed by the stress of the rough economic times. Sometimes hopes and dreams are all you have to hang on to, and it could be the one thing that pushes you forward. Life just seems so much harder now than it was back then, in simpler times.
So what spawned the memory of that 4th grade report?
On my two-lane highway this morning. Eyes dart up ahead left, up ahead right. Scrutinize, which lane’s faster. I can judge speed like a human radar. I want up front. Sunday drivers. Feels free up front. Open air. I love my car. My car loves me back. Oh yeah. Picked the right lane.
- My one and only child, my daughter, is amazing. I have absolutely no doubt she was heaven-sent. She’s smart, beautiful, kind and God-fearing – and she loves me as much as I love her. Well… almost. 🙂
- My mother and my father are alive and well, and are each amazing in their own right. Our individual relationships are more precious and meaningful than I’ll ever be able to convey in words.
- I’m fortunate enough to have found an honest, genuine, beautiful man who possesses the rare ability to love me unconditionally (and I love him more). His awesome family members are added gems.
- A warm, comfortable, quiet house to come home to every day is my refuge, my peace, my tranquility.
- My job affords me the ability to live. It’s a good job with good people at a reputable company – something I’ll never take for granted.
- I own the most reliable vehicle in the history of reliable vehicles. I really do have the ‘little engine that could’. My little sedan has proven herself for many years now and still performs like a champ.
- As of current I have no known debilitating disease or other affliction that would affect my daily life. I say this while I watch so many around me suffer – including children.
- I count the small circle of genuine friends I have as part of my life’s riches. Because true friends are indeed a treasure.
- I’ve never gone hungry. We always always have more food than we need.
- My little furbaby Camille has brought more joy to my life than I could ever repay her with. It astounds me just how much love God has bestowed into these little hearts.
- Never will I take my individual freedom to come and go and do as I want for granted. As a law-abiding citizen, I may travel at whim and make my own decisions – all benefits of free will.
- My most beloved blessing… the most glorious gift from God for anyone who is willing to accept it – the promise of eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
This morning as I sat in front of my computer, my trusty sidekick hung out with me.
I caught her snuggling with Mr. Frog (the first stuffed animal Keith ever gave me).
For once, I happened to have the camera right beside me.
A few minutes later, she gave her customary ‘hummpphh’ from her table beside the computer desk. Knowing my little girl so well, I immediately took note it was more than a ‘hey mommy, over here!!’ grunt. It was obvious she was planning a desk-launch, and she wanted clearance to do so.
And so the stance was taken.
“No, Camille.” Hunched forward again in pounce mode. (A little firmer now) “Camille – NO.”
She then backed off completely with one exception – her little left paw was left suspended
and quivering in mid-air.
And it hung.
And hung. And quivered.
“Aren’t I cuuuuute, Mommy?
Let me squint my eyes at you to let you know how much I love you Mommy and,
and, and… you are getting very sleepy, Mommy…”
“sooooo, now could be my chance – lemme slide in a little looksie at two o’clock…”
She shoots – she scores.
After digging her out from the wires on back of computer (oh how I hate that)
comes the dreaded walk of shame.
“Whatta you mean I gotta get back on the bore-table?! All that work for nuttin’??
Oh I’m pissed. No, I won’t look at you. No. I’m so…”
“…pissed, I tell you. Errr, what… a close-up you say?
Well – okay, gotta look my best for dem close-ups. Cheese!!”
Daylight savings time has always been my preference if given the choice. It just feels right – at least most of the time. Now though, it seems right to make the change back. I’m feeling the need to hibernate, while adorning my feet with not one but two pairs of socks. After 43 years I guess I’ve finally grown accustomed to the bi-annual change of time.
Recently I learned that two of my ex-bf’s are engaged. This doesn’t bother me, it’s just kind of weird in a way. I can only describe it like this – it’s like I’m watching life go on around me from inside of a bubble. I know that probably makes little sense to anyone who’s reading.
I get along well with my ex-husband, probably much better than the majority of the divorced population. I won’t say we talk often, but when we do it’s always pleasant and long enough to catch up with meaningful events in his, mine and our daughter’s life. During a conversation this past summer, he confided that he missed being married and he’d like to be married again one day. I totally understood where that came from because I feel the same way. We went on to agree that it’s a ‘state of mind’ comfort that just never leaves you. He’s had a wonderful lady in his life for years now, as I’ve had a wonderful man in mine. It’s something I never forget to thank my dear Lord for every day.
A few weeks ago, I had a conversation along the same lines with a coworker. Like me, he also came out of a long-term marriage and now he has a special lady in his life. We both agreed that we don’t feel that the word boyfriend or girlfriend is taken very seriously, for whatever reason. It was funny to learn we had the same view on this. I’ve always appreciated a male perspective, especially on issues like these.
Hope everyone has a fantastic weekend, and enjoy your extra hour! Don’t go and spend it all in one place. 😀
Oh hai, November. You could’ve taken your time, you know – no need to have rushed on my account. Since you’re here now, I’ve been reminded of a few important things.
The last bit of summer I’ve held onto all this time really is gone. Maybe it’s time to finally pick up the pair of flip-flops still sitting by the door and replace them with a pair of warm snuggly bedroom slippers. For just a little while.
You’ve brought along with you a stopwatch. Know that I really really dislike stopwatches. As of today, it’s a mere 53 days until Christmas and 61 days until the New Year of 2012. Our annual New Years beach vacation will, however, be something well worth counting down to.
You usher in the early sunset nights and dinners, where blazing fires abide the fireplace and more movies are watched on television. So be it.
Through it all, you remind me of the most important factor to me – the fact that from the start of coldness and still life will eventually come rebirth. In a short 4 1/2-5 months, a lush spring will once again be reborn.
So it’s finally become real to me that you’ve laid Spring and Summer down to rest for a few months, November. Give them a kiss for me and tell them I miss them. Oh, and how ’bout being a little easy on that stopwatch for the next couple of months?
Actions speak louder than words. Out of all of them, this one’s probably my very favorite quotation.
It’s always been up in the air as to the exact birth of this famous quote. To name a few possible contributors – 16th-century French writer Michel de Montaigne is credited with saying, ‘What you do means more than what you say.’ Prior to that, St. Francis of Assisi followed a similar principle by saying ‘Saying is one thing and doing is another.’
Here’s a few monumental quotes that fall along the same lines, copied from a favorite quote site – The Quote Garden. It moved me to see the many variations… I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.
Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement. ~Alfred Adler
Well done is better than well said. ~Benjamin Franklin
Small deeds done are better than great deeds planned. ~Peter Marshall
Action is eloquence. ~William Shakespeare
Remember, people will judge you by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold – but so does a hard-boiled egg. ~Author Unknown
Talk doesn’t cook rice. ~Chinese Proverb
Action is the last resource of those who know not how to dream. ~Oscar Wilde
Contemplation often makes life miserable. We should act more, think less, and stop watching ourselves live. ~Nicolas de Chamfort
Deliberation is a function of the many; action is the function of one. ~Charles de Gaulle, War Memoirs, 1960
Action is the antidote to despair. ~Joan Baez
Ironically, making a statement with words is the least effective method. ~Grey Livingston
A nod, a bow,
and a tip of the lid
to the person
who coulda and shoulda
~Robert Brault, “A Poem Missing the Word Woulda”
He that waits upon fortune is never sure of a dinner. ~Benjamin Franklin
In skating over thin ice, our safety is in our speed. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Do not be wise in words – be wise in deeds. ~Jewish Proverb
The secret of getting ahead is getting started. ~Mark Twain
Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced. ~James Baldwin
When deeds speak, words mean nothing. ~African Proverb
As I grow older I pay less attention to what men say. I just watch what they do. ~Andrew Carnegie
Since it’s nearing Halloween, I thought I’d share a little non-fiction story with you about the horrors that can occur when you decide to pool resources and get a roommate. Muah-ha-ha-ha…
Seriously though, a person I know is going through one of the hardest times in her life because of this very thing. I’ll call this person Rose.
Rose and her roommate (who I’ll call Thorn) have been friends since they were kids. Having been offered a sweet deal on a townhome from Thorn’s father’s girlfriend, they decided to save a little money and become roommates. It’s a nice enough place, a townhouse condo in a nice area that’s close to both of their workplaces. Each of them brought a cat to the mix, both of which get along fine and play all day. They agreed to split the rent as roommates usually do, even though Rose has brought slightly more to the table as far as furnishings. Rose supplied all the living room furniture, the washer/dryer, barstools, vacuum, most of the kitchen furnishings and much more.
It all started when Rose came home one day from work to find Thorn’s cat had pissed on her bed. In an attempt to nail down the problem, Thorn gets her cat spayed – which didn’t help. For the past week Rose has been shutting the door to her room so Thorn’s cat won’t get in there, now the cat is tearing up the carpet at her door. Just yesterday, she reached the top of the stairs and found where Thorn’s cat had pissed on the carpet there. This has continued to happen even though Rose confronted Thorn on it. You all know what happens if this is allowed to continue… the entire place now reeks of urine.
From the very beginning, Thorn refuses to clean anything. At all. Now cleaning for two, Rose has also discovered that apparently she’s responsible for the costs associated with the cleaning solutions of the house. Bathroom, floor, kitchen, detergents, soaps, you get it. Just yesterday, Rose came home and went to her bathroom where she saw her toilet paper dispenser roll lying empty on the seat where Thorn had seen fit to remove the roll and take to her own bathroom.
I have never. And neither has Rose.
Come to find out, Thorn’s cat is pissing everywhere because Thorn doesn’t see fit to clean it’s litterbox (each cat has it’s own). Even worse… Thorn doesn’t feed her cat, so the cat eats the food that Rose buys for her own cat.
Thorn is not only evasive on any of these issues, but combative in her responses when she does see fit to respond. She answers all questions with another question and has anger management issues. Rose signed a two-year lease on this place (I didn’t know two-year leases even existed?) and now is just sick about doing so.
There should be a code of ethics or something when it comes to co-habitating with a roommate. It doesn’t matter if you’ve known someone all your life or not. I tell myself some things just don’t come to light until the sun comes up and shines on it. Unfortunately by then, it’s too late.
Upon hearing of his resignation a couple of months ago, I knew it had to be very close. Steve would never ‘resign’ from the thing he loved most in life. The thing that had become his life.
He’s the sole reason I’m in the business I’m in today. Why I do what I do. The design and creation of graphics would never have gone the way it has without the typography and graphic integration of the Macintosh computer.
I’d like to share a few of his quotes that I ran upon last night.
“The most compelling reason for most people to buy a computer for the home will be to link it into a nationwide communications network. We’re just in the beginning stages of what will be a truly remarkable breakthrough for most people – as remarkable as the telephone.” ~1985
“Picasso had a saying: ‘Good artists copy, great artists steal.’ We have always been shameless about stealing great ideas… I think part of what made the Macintosh great was that the people working on it were musicians, poets, artists, zoologists and historians who also happened to be the best computer scientists in the world.” ~1994
“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart…. Stay hungry. Stay foolish. ~2005 Stanford University commencement address
“The computer is the most remarkable tool that we’ve ever come up with. It’s the equivalent of a bicycle for our minds.” ~1990
“My model for business is the Beatles. They were four guys who kept each other’s kind of negative tendencies in check. They balanced each other and the total was greater than the sum of the parts. That’s how I see business: great things in business are never done by one person, they’re done by a team of people.” ~2003
Launching the apple site will really grab you this morning. I’ll give you a preview…
Rest peacefully, Steve. And… thank you.
Guess what came in the mail yesterday? Lo and behold – a Helzberg Diamond mini-catalog. ‘You might like to look at this’, K said as he tossed it over to me. At first glance, I just let out a small hmmph.
Upon much closer inspection, I found six out the of eight pages were adorned with various engagement/wedding ring sets. I found out quite by accident this mini-catalog was large enough for me to actually drool over. Like a kid looking at a Christmas toy catalog, I was. So many to look at and choose from. That is – IF a person were to ever desire, or have need, to choose one.
Which made me think of one of my favorite little childhood jingles about worms. Fat ones, skinny ones, even little bitty ones, see how they wiggle and squirm… oh okay, I’ll shut up.
Because it’s not a worm. At least I don’t think it is.
I love soft drinks. Not just any soft drinks – in particular Diet Coke and Diet Dr. Pepper. As bad as I hate to admit, I consume an overwhelming amount of them. I’ll go so far as to say it’s a big part of my daily life. Because I adore both brands equally, I consume each in equal amounts – adding to my list of many quirks.
For many years, it’s been my morning coffee, my ‘get through the morning’ pacifier, my lunch drink, ditto the afternoon pacifier and into the evening. If my stockpile goes below two 6-packs of bottles (I prefer cans though lately bottles have been more economical) I get anxious and start thinking about natural catastrophes and being caught without them. It’s a must to have them cold – if my current one dips above what I consider to be cold enough, it makes a temporary trip to the freezer and out comes a new one. POOF! Cold once again. Life is good.
I’m starting to classify this as one of many addictions I may have in life.
After being told for years that I need to cut back, I believe I’ve been in denial. In my experience, denial often spawns rebellion. I’ve ignored the old ‘put a rusty nail in a glass of coke and watch it eat the rust off’ and ‘pour a glass of coke on battery acid to eat the acid off’ fables. Well, I guess they’re not really fables.
This weekend, I came down with my very first bladder infection. I can report that it’s debut was not welcomed. The doc prescribed me some kick-butt antibods and after weathering the storm I’m feeling better now. I can only assume that since I’ve never had one, could it possibly have to do with the massive amounts of soda I consume every day? I’ve been almost three days without soft drinks, aside from an unconscious order of one for Mexican dinner out night last night (it really was habit – I didn’t even realize it until the waiter sat it down in front of me). I’m not even missing them that much. But I can still feel residual traces running through my veins – it’s gonna take awhile. When all is said and done, I still want to be able to enjoy one every now and then.
Does anyone else have a soft drink addiction?
Attempting to interpret dreams can be as hopeless and painstaking as searching for a lost shipwreck. There may be multiple meanings that exist in dreams, or no meaning at all. Many of them are simply the result of our collective subconscious working overtime. Nevertheless, I find it fascinating to see what could be a hint or preview of what could end up being reality. If nothing else, I always pay attention.
I was in a large kitchen that resembled an industrial one – supposedly part of a place where my daughter was getting ready to move (her real-life upcoming move was to be the following weekend). I was on a stepladder trying to balance several boxes stacked high, all of which were threatening to crash to the floor. Try as I might, I could not hold them. One by one, the boxes crashed down, each containing glass – soon I was surrounded by glass on the floor. I remember thinking there was no way I’d ever get it all completely cleaned up, that there would always be a danger of someone cutting their foot.
To see broken glass in your dream signifies disappointments and negative changes in your life. Alternatively, it could be symbolic of an aspect of your life that is in pieces. A relationaship or situation has come to an abrupt and untimely end. If you are walking on broken glass, then it suggests that you will be experiencing some heartache or pain. You are unsure with how to proceed with your life.
To see a spider in your dream indicates that you are feeling like an outsider in some situation. Or perhaps you want to keep your distance and stay away from an alluring and tempting situation. The spider is also symbolic of feminine power or an overbearing mother figure in your life. Alternatively, a spider refers to a powerful force protecting you against your self-destructive behavior. If your kill a spider in your dream, then it symbolizes misfortune and bad luck. To see a spider climbing up a wall in your dream denotes that your desires will soon be realized.
Just two nights ago, I was holding a box turtle. About the size of a cantaloupe, he had his head and limbs stretched out. Looking back it reminds me of one Keith and I had rescued from the road a few months back, except that real-life one was larger. The turtle had his head stretched back around in ‘ET’ fashion, looking directly into my eyes. His little feet were swimming back and forth like they so often do when nothing is under them – I could feel his little claws hitting my fingers.
To see a turtle in your dream symbolizes wisdom, faithfulness, longevity and loyalty. It also suggests that you need to take it slow in some situation or relationship in your life. That with time and patience, you will make steady progress. Alternatively, a turtle indicates that you are sheltering yourself from the realities of life. You are putting forth a hard exterior and not letting others in. As a result, you are feeling withdrawn.
**I realize my posts are often vague or oblique to say the least – as I’ve said before, I do that to maintain anonymity. There’s an old southern saying that my mother used to tell me, ‘you’re getting too big for your britches’. As I look back, she had good reason to use it. The idiom refers to a person who is over-extending their authority or is being bossy, a person who may have a conceited and exaggerated sense of their own importance, perhaps to the point of even injecting their self or their opinion where they aren’t needed. It’s pretty cut and dried to me. In the end, it’s really about your respect for others – you either have it or you don’t.
The subject always heats me up in a bad way. Each time I try to write about it I end up backspacing, deleting, rewriting – and guess what? I still end up all over the place. This is sure to be no exception.
A guy I know is going through a rough time. Upon recently learning of his wife’s affair with a co-worker, he confronted her on it. She pledged to ‘end’ it, but obviously didn’t. Long story short, he left her this past weekend.
My curse of thinking too much strikes again, as question after question invades my thoughts. Even if she had ‘ended it’ like she promised, could she really have continued working with the ex-lover? And if so, could my friend have slept well at night knowing the two were still ‘together’, albeit on the job?
Welcome to today’s world where the females are definitely giving the males a run for their money on this issue. At the risk of sounding crude… I’ve gotta go there. Why can’t these people keep their pants on? Can an hour of pleasure really be worth destroying the life of your spouse and/or children? Does your stomach not twist up in worry and angst over what you’ve done – or at least from fear of getting caught? And are ya really gonna trust someone you cheated with not to do the same to you later?
Don’t get me wrong – I absolutely do have great respect for those who’ve been able to get past an affair and ultimately save their marriage. I just can’t imagine many cases turning out like that.
I’ve heard the words reason or exception thrown around, I say SAVE IT. No reasons or exceptions matter to me in this most tender area. Yes I have an assload of sins myself, but infidelity isn’t in that huge pile and it never will be. I know some might call my views one-sided, and maybe they are – but they’re mine. Infidelity within a marriage is a certain removal of trust – the most personal betrayal – a definite stab in the heart. Who knows what goes on in a cheater’s head – I’m just unable to rationalize it in any way shape or form.
At long last, we’re making a little trip down to the coast. Sure it’s no 7-day caribbean cruise like my daughter just came back from, but it totally works for me. It’ll be nice to get away, even for a few nights! Forecast is calling for cooler temps with possible showers, but it’s all good since we’re not currently in the path of a hurricane. Hoo – wahh.
Last night Keith mentioned taking a couple of rods with us so we could go pier fishing – something I’ve wanted to do for years. Being a fishie myself, I’ll of course throw back any fishies that I’m lucky enough to snag. ‘Cause that’s how I roll.
All this led me to some serious thinking.
Common Sense Beach Thoughts, by Bon:
- It’s September, so don’t wade too far out in the ocean if you favor the concept of a complete pair of legs.
- While enjoying a leisurely stroll on the beach, keep a sharp eye out for those huge wooden structures called piers. Avoid any and all contact between them and the top of your head.
- Relish the memories of previous parasailing events and resist the urge, however strong, to do it again. Your luck on not having yet become just another accident statistic is bound to run out sometime.
- Do not opt to eat at Taco Bell immediately prior to taking a dolphin watch cruise on the ocean.
- Never wait until mid-September to decide you’d like to add ‘just one more bathing suit’ to your collection. All that’s left in that area of the store is chirping crickets.
Now… if I can just figure out where to score one of these fins and an invisible push-up bra
I’ll be set. The hair extension part is easy.
This ten-year mark of the September eleventh attacks will be a little different than the prior nine.
What’s sure to be an emotional unveiling of the 9/11 Memorial and Museum will happen this Sunday morning of September 11 2011. It has been a long-awaited and intricately planned project to say the least. Granted, these are my words. I realize there are no ‘appropriate’ words to use to describe the attack itself, it’s Memorial nor the intense emotions that run so deep when one thinks back to that fateful day ten years ago.
This past weekend I watched a 2-hour special on the years of work leading up to the completion of the 9/11 Memorial Site and Museum. All the time, effort and respect shown by everyone involved was nothing short of an amazing story. It had it all – love, grief, courage, oneness. Such an important word in the continued endeavor to heal – ONENESS. I believe the generations that went through these attacks will be working to heal for the rest of their lives.
To me, there could be no more appropriate memorial than this beautiful one that took so long to conceptualize and create. Two seemingly ‘endless’ pools sit on the area where the Twin Towers once stood. They are each nearly an acre in size and feature the largest man-made waterfalls in North America. The large pool of the initial waterfall spawns a second small one in the center which appears to cascade infinitely into the earth. The surrounding bronze panels edging the pools are carefully inscribed with the names of every person who perished in both the 2001 and 1993 attacks. I can’t imagine there being many dry eyes for those citizens witnessing the unveiling of this Memorial, whether in person or on television.
I’ve been told more than once that I ‘dwell’ too much on the most horrific terror attack in modern history. My answer to that is and always will be, so be it. One time when I brought it up to a close friend, I was dismissed with I never want to think about it again – it’s too horrible. It’s something that’s already happened and in the past now. As much as I still love this person, I’ll never forget the impact of hearing those words. Just mere days after the attack, when airplanes had yet to be given clearance to fly in our skies again – my ex husband told me I can’t watch any more of this, I’ve had it. From then on, just about everything else I watched had to be on my own time – adjusted around other shows which seemed to take precedence over 9/11. Again, so be it. I can report with much confidence that I did continue seeking information, and by the grace of God, I got it.
I’ve said this before but feel it bears repeating – I’d rather have nightmares about 9/11 every night for the rest of my life than to ever to forget about it. It’s true each of us are different, and we all have our own ways of dealing with tragedy. I realize this post is only one person’s views of the lasting effects from the largest loss of life from a foreign attack in the US so far. But let us not confuse the term ‘morbid dwelling’ with somber respect and remembrance. The act of remembering September 11th isn’t just black or white – equally as important are the shades of grey in between.
I love spontaneous roadtrips. With us they usually end up in the mountains, and I’ve grown to love the area a lot. Yesterday we set out early to Maggie Valley/Cherokee, NC. This is the location of mine and Keith’s very first trip together over two years ago, and I was surprised to see how much I remembered about it! Maybe my old memory isn’t as bad as I thought it was. Keith has Cherokee roots from his mother’s side of the family, and even looks the part. He could probably put on a headdress and pass very well.
We mostly walked both towns and perused the shops,, and ended up in Waynesville to eat dinner. Thought I’d share some photos of my favorite findings of the day – I hope everyone has a enjoyable and safe Labor Day Weekend!
This morning I drove past my favorite bull in the misty morning field, and noticed a little calf with exactly the same coloring he has. I just had to smile. The slightest hint of autumn air whisked past me – I’d recognize this transition even if I weren’t conscious of the coming season change. I don’t mind autumn, really I don’t – I think of it as an end-of-summer reward at it’s best. At last, we will have bearable temperatures, cool nights, and gorgeous colors everywhere. I can even go hiking again. I’m just not fond of what comes next – bare trees, blustery cold mornings of devoting an extra fifteen minutes to defrost the car, the careful layering of our clothing to keep warm. I sleep about twice as much in the winter, hibernating like a bear. A cute little mama bear, that is. 🙂
Lucky for us, we have the current friendly neighborhood hurricane season to take our minds off those imminent winter days and nights! Oh, yay. Katia looks to be the next big boy coming our way. Incidentally, my daughter sails off from Tampa on Sunday for a seven-day cruise. She’ll be hitting some optimal ports – Cozumel, Belize, Isla Roatan Honduras and Grand Caymen. Tonight we’re taking her out to dinner bon-voyage style at our favorite Japanese hibachi restaurant. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit nervous about the weather for her. I know it’s to be expected, though…
Because that’s how September rolls.