Adjustments

Today I sold a chair to a neighbor. Not only did she buy the chair, but she commissioned me to paint some other wooden furniture she already has. This "being an artist" thing sometimes takes me by surprise. I never know when the label will overtake some perfectly ordinary moment in my day. It's one thing to enjoy what I do, hobby or otherwise, but it's quite another layer to call myself "artist" and then risk putting my my work out there, being vulnerable to the critique of the world. I don't think it's false modesty to wonder whether or not any piece of work I'm offering is worthy of someone else's notice. I think it may be human nature. Well, it's certainly mine, and I'm human! I wonder if there's a magic moment, in the life of an artist, when they suddenly realize they have become absolutely sure of the quality of their work and the esteem with which the public will receive it, and so they are no longer reluctant to "put it out there"? Just a wonderment, no answer forthcoming or necessary.

Yesterday, John and I and some friends walked to a horse racing track about three miles from our house. It was a lovely afternoon and we thought it might be fun to go watch the horses race. It was all of the above! I'm struck over and over at how close everything is here, and how willing we are to walk. We walk to the park several times a week, we walk to the grocery store, we walk to friends homes, it's even possible to walk to church, but I'd have to get up earlier and (for now) that's not something I'm willing to do! ;-)

I started a job last week! Not a big thing, but something that will be, or at least holds the potential to be, very rewarding. A friend of mine is the director of a small child care center, at a women's and children's homeless shelter, and she has asked me to come offer some art projects for the children, possibly involving the mom's as well at some point. I'll also be part of the child care team, but bringing art into these young peoples lives is really what draws me. I read a book many years ago, by Julia Cameron, called "The Artist Way." As much as such a thing is possible, the book changed my life! I hope to pass on at least some of the wisdom and vision of Cameron to these children.

There have been days lately, when Pt. Orchard and our lives there, seem so far away, like a story I knew once. Other days, a smell or a sound will trigger such vivid memories of our life and times there, our family and friends left behind, that it's all I can do not to drop to my knees weeping over the loss. It's definitely a difficult and sometimes weird balancing act, psychically. One night recently, we were walking in the French Quarter leaving a pub, after having just listened to a friends band playing there. I found myself smiling somewhat smuggly (inwardly) over the fact that I live here and most of the people passing by were "just" tourists. Most any other day, usually while attempting to drive somewhere, anywhere, I find myself so frustrated at having to learn a whole new series of routes to get anywhere! I just want to go "home" and drive those very familiar roads again, resting in the confident knowledge I know where everything is and how to get there.

When I was a kid, we moved all the time. But, as an adult and mother, I wanted something different for my kids, so we pretty much stayed put, moving only to different homes within Kitsap Co. I absolutely hated all those childhood moves!! (Thirteen different schools before the 9th grade) Now, hindsight being such as it is, I recognize those moves gave me a "gift" of sorts. Moving often forced me to adapt, quickly! I became very adept at finding my niche, my circle of friends, and making some kind of order in each new environment. Now, I wonder if it's been so long since I was the "new kid" that I've lost that gift? Well, I guess it can't be completely lost because I am adapting, I am finding my niche and my circle of friends, it just seems so much more tramatic now that it did when I was younger. Maybe I just spend to much time inside my head or typing here.

Tonight we're having dinner with friends, we'll laugh together, swap more of our life stories with one another, reveal a bit more or our "tender under bellys" and grow that much closer in the process. We're streghtening our friendshp foundations, while we individuually and occassionally collectively, make our way into the lives we've chosen. They're adjusting, I'm adjusting, who could ask for more?

Namaste'
my

Sweet Time

I haven't taken any time lately to sit down and organize my thoughts here. I miss writing to myself, to my few readers, and especially to my devoted husband, who is my most honest, loving, supportive, reader. One reason for the lack of posts is the calm in my life right now. No great obstacles to recognize and overcome, no overwhelming sense of loss to deal with and no pressing commitments to juggle. I noted to no one in particular the other day, since moving to New Orleans, I haven't been late for anything! That's a real divergence from my former life where I felt late, slightly behind, all the time!! I have this growing, wonderful sense of freedom from the "have to's" and the "must do's." It's a pretty addictive way of approaching life, I like it!

I'm walking a lot more, 3 to 6 miles a day. I'm "reading" a lot more too. Listening to books on tape while I walk, must count as some kind of reading(right?). And, most fun of all, I'm getting lots of chairs ready for a craft fair at the end of Nov. If I'm lucky enough to get a space in this particular one, I believe it will help turn the tide from a sale here and there, to a true business with chairs moving out as fast as I can get them painted.

There was a major milestone in the life of my family recently. I hesitate to write about it here, because of privacy issues, but since so few people frequent this blog, and I won't use names, I think it will be OK. My oldest granddaughter, daughter of my second son, turned 18! I know most of us(all?) parents/grandparents feel the rush of time most exquisitely when we watch how rapidly the children in our lives grow from infant to adult. This is such a common phenomenon, you'd think we'd grow immune to its sting, but that seems not to be the case. I'm a curious mixture of proud, sad, excited, and scared over this milestone birthday.

In wisdom beyond their teenaged years, my son and his then girlfriend, made the heart wrenchingly hard decision to relinquish custody of their daughter at birth. They knew they were not ready to become parents. What began in pain, has grown into an extraordinary relationship between myself and the adoptive parents. The faithfulness of my granddaughters adoptive mother to maintain contact with me, through letters and pictures, all these years, is one of the purest blessings of my life! I've actually thought, from time to time, that it's probably she I look most forward to meeting, even more than my granddaughter! Ironic! She is a devoted mother, strong and selfless and I admire everything about her. A time in my life I referred to, in the moment, as the darkest hour, has become a joy filled situation, surrounded with love shared for a precious child, recently turned woman, all due to the commitment, compassion and grace of this woman, this perfect, gift from God, the mother of my granddaughter.

Now we all of a sudden, find ourselves nearing the time when we might all meet and establish a whole new kind of relationship. Recently the birth mother, myself and my son have reconnected, and soon the birth mother hopes to initiate contact with the child she bore and her family. It's swirling around us now, this energy of something wonderful, yet scary, approaching. Personally, I'm very content to just bask in that energy right now. Let the changes happen in a very deliberate and non-hurried manner. This set of circumstances has been a source of joy to me for eighteen years, and I'm just not in a hurry to see it change.

You, my faithful readers, can be sure there will be more stories to tell, this adventure, and all of it's inter connected chapters, has barely just begun. It's time to go paint a bit on a chair and then take a walk. I love these times of my life. Sweet time!

Just Wondering (... or maybe wandering?)

Last night Em and I went to a fund raising dinner at the Presbyterian Church. As fund raisers go, it must have been wildly successful!! Hundreds of people (literally) filled the social hall, during the hour we were there, and they continued to serve for a total of four hours. The tally of meals served was figured out, in part, by the number of Styrofoam "to go" boxes that were used to dish up the meals. At the last count, I heard, over a thousand meals had been served! I certainly admire the enthusiasm, planning and promotional abilities of the fund raising committee!

For me personally the evening was so hard. Em's been volunteering at the church for a couple of months now and has learned the names and faces of many of the members. I attend worship services there sporadically, and have gained only a very limited knowledge of names and faces of anyone. Sitting in that packed hall, even with Em at my side, I felt very alone. I ate my barely warm spaghetti dinner, with it's wilted salad and stale cookie dessert, and just felt exceedingly sorry for myself.

It's hard for me to write that truth. "Feeling Sorry" for oneself was not an acceptable state of behavior at any time during my childhood years. First, it was unlikely to draw even the slightest sympathy or attention, so it was a complete exercise in futility. Moreover, if someone actually did take notice, the attention my "pity party" might bring down on me would be the most unwelcome kind. Teasing and disdain were the only predictable outcomes of that particular self indulgence, I can remember.

The crazy thing is; it's not as if I don't know the remedy for my own malaise. I do! It's as simple as following Emmy's wonderful example and jumping into the mix of people and life and energy swirling around Lakeview Presbyterian Church. I could join clubs and go to meetings, show up for book studies and work parties and soon I'd be in the thick of things and all my troubles would fade away! Right? Mostly right?? a little right??? almost right.... ?..

What's stopping me? Of course I know it's me, I'm stopping me, but why? The folks I've met are friendly, the friends I've made are loving and supportive. Is it too much work? Am I afraid (remember recess in the second grade?) no one will "pick me"? Is this reluctance a symptom of burnout from being so hyper involved at home? "All of the above? -- None of the above?" It's like I'm holding back, waiting for something outside myself to propel me forward. After all the work I've done over the last couple of decades, facing and properly containing the trauma and demons who would haunt me, learning to take personal responsibility for my life and times, recognizing no one is a victim (for long) who doesn't chose to remain a victim, why can't I stir my limbs and heart and get moving into this community (or another!)? Why do I feel such helplessness at this particular juncture of my life?

You, my dear anonymous reader, may have noticed some distinct mood changes woven through my writing. I see it too. I live inside this swirling mass of confusion, insecurity and hope, and it's as confusing to me as it may be to you! I seem to have a real "Love - Hate" relationship going on with my own life! Is that even normal? What will I be when I grow up? Will I grow up?

Writing here helps. I not sure why, but it helps. There's a particularly annoying voice, coming from some deep, dark crevice of my mind, which keeps offering (rather cynically, I might point out) "you are definitely a woman with too much time on your hands!" I don't agree. I'm a woman with just the right amount of time on my hands! Time, sweet time.... all things in good time.

thanks for listening,
my

What if?

Some days I'm tempted to fall in love with this place. It's so exotic. Last evening, for about two hours, a tremendous thunder and lightening shower rolled over us, accompanied by torrential rains. Toward the end of the storm, I'd planned to take Emmy to a friends house, a couple of miles from our own. We found, much to our amazement, that many of the road ways we'd normally use were completely flooded! I'm not talking a little standing water, there was feet of water over the roadways!! I saw (and it was featured on the news this morning) a small pickup truck, submerged up to the drivers window stuck in the small hollow of roadway under an overpass!! We had to re-chart our course to find the high ground roads (mind you, when you live in a below sea level community "high ground" is a relative term) to get us where we needed to be.

Actually I was very proud, not only did we find our way, without loss of life or limb (or hurting John's Jag!), but then I got back home again safe and sound, as well. What an adventure! All the elements of a Steven King novel; A Dark and Stormy Night, lighting flashes that lit up the whole sky, followed by thunder that actually shook the house. The rain was coming down so hard it was flying at the windows of the house, and later the car, sideways. The fastest setting of the windshield wipers couldn't keep up! What a night! I'm thinking I must not have lost all my pioneer spirit after all!

Not to long before we moved down here, I was going through a "memory box" and found, much to my surprise, a short essay I'd written, probably when I was in about the third grade. We moved a lot when I was a kid, by my reckoning, 7 or 8 different schools before the 10th grade, when mom and dad finally settled us in Bremerton to stay. Not many souvenirs of my childhood survived all that transporting from one place to another. I did save a Shirley Temple doll, given to me when I was about 8, and then because I could do it myself, I saved lots of memorabilia from high school. There's not much else, so how this single sheet of notebook paper, laboriously and carefully hand written (and not very neatly I might point out) survived I can't even guess. I didn't find it with a folder of old school work, just a folded up piece of paper at the bottom of a box. What a precious gift.

This little essay was evidently an assignment to write about; "What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?" In it, I proudly proclaimed to the world (or probably just to my teacher) "I want to be a scientist or an astronaut when I grow up!" Now, I can almost remember writing the paper, and I perfectly remember the feelings! What did you want to be when you grew up? Did any of you out there ever want to be a scientist or astronaut or a pioneer or a cowboy? I sure did! Each and every one one appealed to me at some time or another! Not to mention owner of horses, lots and lots of horses! I'm not sure what I intended to do with all my herds of horses in the future, but I know I wanted to own lots of them!

I'm not sure when the dreams faded or changed for me, but my grown up self recognizes living as we do in a world filled with modern conveniences, I wouldn't know how to do my life any other way. Does that mean it was the right choice to find new goals or did I make this reality the right choice? I often say to friends "I'd never change a single moment of my life, because each and every step got me to where I am today, and this is where I absolutely want to be!!

Don't you admire those few people we know who, whether from strength of resolve or blind luck, never gave up on their childhood dreams? People who didn't let the well intentioned "leaders" in their young lives point them in other directions "for their own good!" They became a cowboy or a fireman. For the rest of us, we (generally) do the best we know how to do with the tools at hand. And, maybe we had to let go of one thing in order to catch hold of something else. Perhaps leaving those childhood dreams behind is a normal and necessary part of growing up for most of us.

A happy thought: No matter the reasons we've changed direction, good or bad, lazy or resilient, smart move or a "forever" regret, I'm pretty sure the child's dreams still lingers in each of our souls. We certainly could revisit them anytime we'd like. We could try on those old wishes and examine what once were our goals, see if they might still fit, remember what drew us to them in the first place, revel in our once fearless hearts. Who knows what would happen? Some days, you might find my inner child in charge of the writing here. A little one, freed from the responsibilities of her adult caretaker for a few minutes, and allowed dream and share to her hearts content. I wish I could give her more time!

blessings,
my

An Epiphany

I sat in the Presbyterian Church Sunday morning and sadly found myself fighting a familiar, internal battle, which before now, I’d thought related only to my private, and sometimes not so private, struggles within the boundaries of the Episcopal liturgy. Once again that morning, this time in a Presbyterian church, in my mind, I rewrote song lyrics, prayers, even scripture, to better suit my admittedly limited understanding of it all and/or my need for affirmation and consolation of my faith through the words of the liturgy.

The war in my head starts like this; first I change all male pronoun references to God to the word God. (Admittedly a waste of time, could God actually care???) Next, I personalize all prayers and creeds by using “I” instead of “we” (I want my prayers to be personal not corporate). These are the simple scuffles, some might argue (and I might agree!) the least consequential of my Sunday morning battles. The hardest skirmishes, and sadly, the most unsatisfactory, are those I find within my mind and heart while listening to song, a piece of scripture or a sermon and I rail (silently) over something presented there. For whatever reason, I'm compelled to try to make it all line up, make sense, match what I understand. Is that even possible? Is it necessary? What am I missing while I do all these mental gymnastics?

A friend once admonished me, as I was fussing (aloud for a change!) about something having to do with the words of the Liturgy, she asked; “Myra, Why is it you seemingly have no problem interpreting scripture, but can’t you give the same latitude to the words of the Liturgy?” She was right. I can easily dive into the actual words written in scripture, allowing for cultural differences, then and now, and the science unknown at the writing of those holy words and find deep meaning. Looking deeply into the overt message, I find amazing messages revealed for me today.

I have long believed the “path to righteousness” or salvation, 'Heaven" or whatever you might call a Nirvana sort of state, couldn't possibly have much to do with the name of the organization you worship within. Presbyterian, Episcopal, Mormon, Jewish, Islamic, Hindu, Native American Spirituality, whatever, they were all created by human beings, over vast periods of time, in a sometime futile (but always worthwhile) attempt at explaining and understanding these matters of God, which, in this lifetime anyway, will probably always remain somewhat unexplainable and beyond our understanding. What these differing traditions do very successfully is to draw likeminded citizens together, in community, to worship and honor and build relationship with God as best they understand. So, it seems reasonable to assume the semantics I spend so much time struggling over are, at worst, not the point(!) and I’m just stalling instead of doing the work necessary to strengthen my relationship with God, or at best, it's a feeble indicator I am working on finding my way, but consistently choosing a less than productive path to get there!

If these thoughts of mine have any validity, and given that I now realize my struggles with the words of Liturgy are not just related to the Episcopal community, then the epiphany is for me; it shouldn’t matter whether I‘m attending worship in the Presbyterian community, the Episcopal church, or any another, as long as I’m attempting understanding and relationship. If my attempts at understanding the Mind of Christ, my place in God’s Kingdom and what responsibility I have in that Kingdom, are the best I know how to offer, then maybe I should relax a little on Sunday Mornings, listen more, rail less and try harder to hear the message of the word. The hard work should begin in earnest when I leave the building! ;-)

John's Birthday

Today is John's Birthday! We have a special dinner planned with lots of friends. A shrimp boil, with corn on the cob, baked beans, pasta salad, and Flan for dessert. I've been cooking and cleaning all day. Spent yesterday exploring more of this country side, in my attempts to get to the West Bank for the shrimp. This is truly a strange place. Even though the map clearly shows the location I needed to reach (the Seafood Market) is on the EAST side of the Mississippi River, the road to get there is I90 West, and just to add to my confusion, the signage on the express way calls that side of the river "The West Bank!" When I told this tale to our friends, they told me it's just because the river twists and turns so much that that side is "generally" west. They offer that thought so confidently, I had to back to my map and look again! It's not true! If anything the majority of the land "over there" is south of New Orleans, and generally it's East! I hope I can make sense of this place soon, thank God gas is getting cheaper and cheaper, because it takes me twice as long as it should, to get anywhere! I have to keep circling back and starting over. I know it's partly my own lack of directional sense, but mostly it's because everything is "off Kilter" from where I think it should be!

The good news is; It's John's Birthday!!! Friends will be arriving in a couple hours and we'll have a wonderful evening solving all the worlds problems or creating a few others.

Life here has taken on a pleasant routine. Em volunteers at the Presbyterian Church most everyday. I drop her off and Jack (the dog) and I grab a quick walk around the lagoon at City Park. I get home and tidy things up a bit, paint a little on the newest chair creation, then I take a second walk with a friend at Xavier U (about 2 miles from our house) in air conditioned comfort. Home again to start dinner, pick up Em, and then John gets home. Most any evening we might walk at the park and/or saunter over to a friends house for a glass of wine. It's a very calm time in my life right now and I find, much to my surprise, I really, really like it. I've grown so used to having a half dozen things to do with any given hour, this is a very sweet interlude of peace. I'm not at all interested, at the moment, in changing this reality by getting involved in church or community stuff.

Time enough for busy, right I'm enjoying being more serene and centered than I think I've ever been. It's kinda nice!!

Louisiana Resident

Today is a big day! I got my Louisiana St. drivers license!! Holy Mackerel, this must make it official, I live in New Orleans, LA now. I didn't write about my last experience at the LA DMV here, because I shared it with so many friends via email. Without going into much detail, suffice to say it was both frustrating and (after the fact,) totally hilarious! Today's visit was very different. I was in and out, with a Louisiana license in my hand, in just over two hours. I think that's some kind of record in this area.

I've started walking again. A friend who works at Xavier U, invited me to join her walking each day. We walk on a "track" of sorts in the admin building, for about three miles, 45 minutes of air conditioned bliss! I just can't get moving outside, in the heat and humidity, any faster than barely a stroll. And my hips are starting to reflect the lack of exercise I've had these last two months!! I'm so grateful for this chance, the walk and the growing friendship! We chatter away the whole time, and before I know it, we've accomplished our goal, and we're done for the day.

I've also finished painting another chair and found a wonderful little nonprofit shop, nearby, where I can buy more chairs, and maybe other wood furniture, to paint. I put the ones I've painted on the internet to sell. I feel more like myself today than I have in weeks. Things to do, places to go, deadlines and commitments to honor. It's a light load (the commitments and places to go) at the moment (and I'm glad for that), but the great big "blank" that seemed to define me and my life, when I first got down here is starting to fill in.

If anyone reading this has ever read "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron, (and I can't recommend it too highly!!! It's a wonderful book!) I'm thinking this space could be something like "morning pages" for me. (Something Julia recommends her followers do each and every day, to clear their minds by unloading all the "have to's and need to's" stored in their heads, with the goal of getting more easily to the "WANT TO'S" in their hearts.) I probably will not write everyday,as she recommends, or do my writing first thing in the morning, as she feels necessary, but, since there doesn't seem to be anyone but me reading or writing here, (very often anyway) this can be an almost private place for me to organize my mind a bit, and sort through things a little.

One of the reasons it appeals to me to write here is the lack of book. How many times have I bought an absolutely gorgeous little diary, leather bound, or some other attractive covering and then felt it was to perfect, to pretty, to take another chance on me either writing something not worthy of those pretty pages, or fearing I'll not follow through on writing faithfully, so I dare not even start??? Talk about self fulfilling prophesy. Here, I can delete any or all at a whim. I can face the fear of risking someone reading my words and commenting. Or I can trudge on, just as I am, seeking some kind of direction and/or purpose for myself in this great adventure and chronicle the process of that great discovery (or series of little discoveries as the case may be.)

Hang in there faithful friends. this isn't the Great American Novel (it just feels that long!) Julia wrote in one of her books, a character from a novel she had written "came strolling on to her morning pages one day, and wouldn't let her rest until she got to know him." I don't have a novel in mind, but then again, there is no specific plan for this space. I wonder what will wander onto my pages?

soon and very soon,
my

Hello world, So much has happened, internally and externally, since I've written here last. Maybe most significant (or hopefully somewhat significant anyway) is starting a facebook account. I really don't even know what I'm doing with this new phenomenon but a few people asked me to give it a try so, late one evening, I jumped into the unknown and tried. So many dear friends, and even my kids, have reached out to me through this medium I'm humbled at the response. What a world we live in!!

I remember a story my grandmother told me once. Now mind you, she only told me this little vinette one time and I don't don't even remember the context in which we had this snippet of conversation as she wasn't prone to waxing poetic about herself or her life. Gramma told me that she remembered a time when she and her dad would hitch up the buckboard, before dawn, in order to make it to town and back in the same day to purchase supplies. This same woman lived to see men walk on the moon! I've told this little story dozens of times to friends and family, marveling and wondering if there could ever be another hundred year life span that would include the same kind of progress my grandmother saw. Women could not vote in the year she was born (1906), they could not inherit or own property. If a woman were to be divorced, for any reason, the children would automatically stay with their father. We've come a long way baby!

The advances of technology might very well be the leap that marks this hundred years, but I'd rather it be the cure for cancer or aids and/or the end to world hunger and wars everywhere. Dare I wish for an understanding between we mere mortals that our (nearly universal) belief in God and our deeply seated need for religious connections could be a uniting factor instead of a dividing one. We still have time.

Today is a new adventure. Today is a new start. Today, I will not allow myself to wallow in self pity or engage in self doubt. Today is mine and I will strive to use it wisely (or at least, have fun with it!). Look for me on facebook. The adventure continues....

my

Labor Day Weekend

Here I am, doggedly trying to write something of significance. Something proving, at least, to myself I'm learning and growing and not totally, hopelessly confused, lost and homesick here in beautiful downtown (uptown?) New Orleans.

Last night we had a wonderful dinner party. In acknowledgment of the Labor Day Weekend upon us, I had a picnic theme for dinner. Fried chicken, potato salad and corn on the cob (didn't do my famous baked beans :( I'll save them for another day.) The conversation was lively and engaging, and (if I do say so myself) the food was good and plentiful. Actually is was the best time I've had, around our table, since leaving Washington St.

I know I'm much too impatient. I want to instantly be enmeshed in a network of friends and involvement. I KNOW, building that kind of framework takes weeks and months, even years, to accomplish. I don't know if we have years here and do know I miss what I had, I want it replaced now!!!! It's hard being green... no wait, I mean it's hard being me! I'll keep reminding myself, baby steps, Myra, baby steps.

This afternoon, Em and I are going to the Presbyterian church, to work on an ongoing community project. (Constructing a huge stained glass window for display at the church). My first reaction to the invitation was "no thanks" but I've reconsidered. I have to start somewhere. Emmy and John are singing with the choir of this church family, and have made a solid connections with the community. I've attended a couple of services to hear the musical offerings and I've greatly enjoyed the sermons I've heard from the pastor. I don't much about the Presbyterian theology (and I don't really even much care) but it seems to be a gentle place to hang out til I decide on a course for myself. To church or not to church, that's the question.

talk to you (well, me ) later,
my

I didn't write yesterday or the day before. Doubts, insecurities, lack of direction, all of the above. I don't know. If I wrote my words on the pages of some little notebook, secreted away at the bottom of my underwear drawer, it would be so much easier to prattle away about anything, everything and nothing. But since I've invited people to come visit this site, even went so far as to ask for feed back, I feel compelled to write something with meaning, insightful or even antagonistic to help insure folks would be glad they took the time to read my thoughts.

The last couple of days there didn't seem to be any meaningful, insightful or even antagonistic words at my disposal to share. I started two different blogs and discarded them, realizing even as I wrote, I attempting to force something that just wasn't there.

I'm thinking there's a lesson all jumbled up here in ego and expectations. That lesson might be, for me anyway, to calm down. Wait on the words or the moment or the inspiration. Notable, at least to me, is I'm making my peace with "waiting" on this stupid computer (a true lesson in patience)! The "'u" key sticks, the "i" key doesn't respond half the time and I lose the connection to the Internet almost every time I want to check spelling or look at some previous post. Drats!!!!!!!!!!!

Writing "The Great American Novel" may not in the stars for me, but maybe, just maybe, staying connected to you all and recording the humor and humanity we encounter on our respective journeys is just as meaningful!! I'm game if you are.....

talk to ya soon,
my

If I Were A Carpenter

It's early in the day and all things are possible. Does everyone feel that way at the beginning of a day or just perpetual optimists? Right now it doesn't matter that there are several things on my "to do" list, things I haven't gotten to for days or weeks. Today just could be the day to break things wide open and soar!

I love to paint furniture. I'm always on the lookout for a quirky chair, or a darling little side table. The possibilities literally fly through my brain when I run my hand over the curves of a table leg, or the arch of a chair back (Holy Mackerel, that sounds almost sensual! Yikes!! Maybe I need more help than I thought!!!). Anyway, back to painting furniture. The other day, while driving downtown (they call it "uptown" here) I saw a wonderful oak dinning room set, set out to the curb! (It's the habit of folks in this area, when they have no use for something, they set it out to the curb and usually, within minutes, it's scooped up by somebody who can use it.) I slowed down to take a look, did a quick turn around, and stopped to investigate. Who could believe such a windfall???

Four matching, beautiful oak chairs and a round, drop leaf table, with a pedestal base. In perfect condition! I couldn't shove them in the Subaru fast enough. As a matter of fact, the gentleman who'd placed this furniture out, saw my struggles to get it all in the car in one trip (it wouldn't be there when I got back, if I took the time to go home and drop somethings off to make room for the rest) so he came out to help me. We chatted a bit. He told me he was cleaning out his son's apartment. I was afraid to ask why, but I believe it couldn't be a happy circumstance. I told him how thrilled I was to lay claim to these pieces, thanked him for the help and gave him a hug.

I've never tackled such a big painting project, but I saw a table in a shop, years ago, painted in vibrant colors, with rich textures and all around the tables edge was a beautiful sentiment. A vision of something similar is forming in my mind, for this table and chairs. Maybe I could find words to honor the son and his father in some way. Vibrant colors, rich textures and meaningful words......

It feels so good to be alive!
All things are possible,
my

Monday morning blues

Some days are lonely here in the midst of "the Big Easy." There's so much history, fun, and vitality all around me, but it occasionally feels like I'm watching a movie, instead of being a participant in all this wonder. The feeling comes and goes. I know what to do when this sort of malaise overcomes me. Get up and move!! I don't normally wallow in self pity (any longer than it takes to write here, anyway). And likely, by the time anyone reads these words my mood will have shifted and I'll be fully engaged in one thing or another. It's fascinating to me how fragile (and flexible!!) our (my) psyche can be.

My kids are grown, my mom is well looked after, my husbands career is steady, it's my turn. I'm ready to immerse myself into a life as an artist. Actually, imagining having the opportunity to create art, in the center of my day, rather than doggedly trying to fit it in around the edges, had tremendous appeal in giving myself permission to move so far away from our family and friends. All my adult life, I've looked forward to (and admired the person who's already accomplished this) the occasion to make a dedication to my family. Like the ones you might read in a book jacket;

".... and I'd like to thank my family for going without clean underwear or hot meals while I pursued [art]."

Now, just as the unfolding of my life has presented me with the opportunity of pursuing my artistic bent, full time, I find I'm faltering at the starting gate, I'm strangely unfocused and lethargic. What's up with that?

You know what I just thought??? Writing here is another mechanism for stalling. It's time to "Get up and Move!!! Let's see what the day brings.....

my

musings on two incredible forces of nature

What a day! Ted Kennedy's televised funeral took place today, August 29th, and this is the fourth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Two amazing, juxtaposed forces of positive and negative energy. I wonder what, if anything, to make of this confluence of events. The senator's service was very moving, speaking volumes of the love and respect held for this man and the work he'd accomplished in his life of public service. What I've witnessed of the recovery of New Orleans from the crippling blow dealt by Katrina, this part of the world has a spirit and resiliency to be envied anywhere! Maybe the power of the human spirit to persevere, often against staggering odds, is the lesson I should be pondering today.

Yesterday so many of you wrote, encouraging me about this idea of my blogging to chronicle my first year in New Orleans. Thank you! Some wrote (via emails) that they didn't know how to log on to post a reply. I'm sorry to say I don't have answer, but I hope any of you interested in responding will preserve until you find the course, then let the rest of us know, or, if you already possess this wisdom, please share it with us!! I'm so looking forward to an on going dialogue with you all.

As I prepared for the move down here (it took two years from the time John took a position here) for me to actually get in the car and head south) so many things plagued my mind and heart. Some were "reasonable" concerns, from how hard it would be to leave the "kids", (average age 30!) what it would be like to say goodbye to our friends, our parents, and community we loved, and then, getting the house ready for sale was a whole other [GIANT] can of worms (we ended up renting it). Other concerns, more theoretical, began to creep into my "worry zone." For instance, would I take John's grandmothers beautiful, ancient writing desk with us, because I love it, knowing I'll be risking having to leave it behind if a hurricane were to come barreling in over the city and force us to evacuate. The alternative would be to place it in storage in Washington St. where it would sit, for who know how long, with no one enjoying it at all. I had this kind of discussion with myself over and over again, about many things, until I realized how materialistic I sounded, even to myself.

It's stuff. Pure and simple, just stuff. One piece of stuff might be more beautiful, or useful, or have more history, than another, but it's still stuff none the less! Last night, while talking with a friend, she told me a story about a friend of hers who had lost a son to suicide. This friend of a friend said after the loss of her son; nothing else in the world matters to her now except relationships! It's the same reality I had (ever so slowly) come to grips with during my plotting and planning for the big move to NOLA!! All the wonderful stuff that decorates our lives, is just that; stuff. It's the people you love that are important!

If one day we have to get in the car and drive away from what ever danger is presenting its self, we can fondly remember (or not) the "stuff" we leave behind, but we'll end up with each other to hold on to, and that's what really matters.

thanks for "listening"
my

Friday, August 28, 2009

I hope this is the start of something revealing. I hope I learn, and grow, and find answers. Maybe I hope to stir things up, offer ideas, or pose questions without easy answers. Who knows... We'll see what happens.

Mostly I'm looking for a place to "diary" my adventures in this strange alien land, called New Orleans. Having lived my whole life in the Pacific Northwest, coming here to join my husband on what we refer to as the "Great Adventure" took all the courage and blind faith I could muster. I left behind grown children, grandchildren, the autonomy of having lived and worked in the same community for decades, a home I loved and the family and friends, the life I love.

I love my husband. I love the possibilities for growth and adventure that await us here but I miss things familiar. I miss discussing, with passion, politics and religion, the ordinary things of our lives. I miss knowing how to drive to the store or friend's house. I miss saying, "turn left where the Safeway used to be." because I know where the Safeway used to be.

I don't know my new neighbors and friends yet, and they don't know me. I feel daunted at the time it will take to build, meaningful relationships and yet I know I can't settle for less. I'm pretty sure the emotional roller coaster I'm riding right now is good old fashioned Homesickness. I know I'll get beyond that, I'm resilient. I believe I'll learn and grow in this new environment because I'm curious and optimistic. I hope I'll contribute to some greater good, outside my own personal need, because I'm a child of God and I have responsibility to the family.

If you read what I write, I hope my words will count for more than a meandering (hopefully sometimes focused) retelling of my life and times in New Orleans. I hope you would challenge me with your own thoughts and energy. If anything I write resonates with your experiences, I invite you to share that experience with me, maybe we'll both find solace. If you find humor or wisdom or even blatant bizzare/wrong thinking, tell me your prospective. I count on we human beings caring enough to not only love and respect each other but to challenge one another and be held accountable beyond ourselves.