eye begin - chris, emily and zeph

they all converge at once, it seems. one minute, a relative quiet, broken only by the sounds of traffic and the next minute, the air is full of twittering and chirping. there, a family of cardinals. the song of the carolina wren is punctuated by an irritated chattering from another bird nearby, though i cant make out the source of the grumbling. on the cedar, i spot a pair of woodpeckers that i have not seen before - not the pileated ones, but mid-sized and gray, excepting the red head. a mockingbird swoops down to chase a cardinal away from the big tree stump thats nearly covered with lantana and a blue jay heads across the street to land on a branch, so big it makes that branch bob up and down.

i grab my camera, and since photos are no good through a screen, slip out the porch door and onto the steps. quite without my noticing, the birds are gone. the chirping and twittering has shifted and now appears to be coming from the back of the house. i sit for awhile, and then resigned, head back inside.

the eyes have it

as it turned out, my evening was very different from what i had planned. i still went to the auction, though i left before they even got to the furniture. i drove to the new wine store in town and decided not to go in afterall. too small, and too many employees there. i dont like to be bothered when choosing a wine. in fact, i dont like to be bothered when choosing anything at all. the new pizza shop was very crowded and i made up my mind instead to just get my groceries and head home.

i spent the night watching a typical 80's movie with kurt russell that had been reccomended to me and eating a sub sandwich from publix. its one of those movies that, had i seen in childhood, i might have really loved and therefore overlooked its inherent cheesiness. the movie was called 'big trouble in little china' and is pretty much a forerunner to mystical chinese movies like 'crouching tiger, hidden dragon' (without the good storyline). a sorceror needs to marry a girl with green eyes to become mortal again and rule forever. not sure how he could do that, being mortal and all. there was kung fo fighting, yes, and lots of blue and green light that depicted magic. and lots of going on and on about the girl with the green eyes...

speaking of eye color, i thought about making a family tree with eye color listed next to individuals. im curious about it. for instance, my father has eyes that i usually think of as aqua colored, various shades of blue, and reminding me of water. my mother, having some native american blood within her veins, is a deep brown color. three of the five of their children have light colored eyes, while two inherited the dark chocolate color from my mothers side. i wont say their eyes are exactly alike, but its hard to detect subtlies in such a rich color. one sisters appears nearly black, while the other makes me think of chocolate; both are exotic. out of the three light eyes, there is my older sister with eyes that are predominantly gray. some might say blue, and of course they would be right in some respects. but for the most part, her eyes are steely - sometimes so light in color, parts of her iris appear to be white. beautiful, really. my brother also received light-colored eyes and his are probably the closest to my father's color. shifting and changing, of course, but with lots of flecks of gold. my own eyes are considered green by most.

i did some research. perception of the color of an eye may change due to the amount of light and surrounding colors, which explains why some will have different opinions of what a certain eye color is. also, what i learned in science class about genetics does not apparently always hold true - the rule of brown as the dominant color and blue as the recessive is not always followed. another interesting fact is that eye color usually stablizes around 6 months of age. my neice, then, may keep those lovely mossy green eyes. which in some ways, may prove the former point, seeing that both of her parents have brown eyes.

this brings me to another point i was wrong on for a long time. hazel does not mean blue-green eyes. hazel mostly signifies a reddish undertone (thus, the red-brown color of hazel in 'watership down'), though it appears that there is a reason for this misconception, since some scientists have used hazel to describe blue/gray colors.

so back to that family tree again - siblings, in-laws and nephews/neice, please take a photo of your eyes and forward to me. ill start. tell me, whats your perception?

im out of breath at the moment and bear is taking a break to investigate the big box in the dining room. bear is the only cat i know (well, except for debs cat, fuzz) that will play hide and seek. ill spare you the details, but its a lot of fun and can be slightly scary; imagine those green eyes, pupils widened, staring at you hungrily right before the charge.

bear has been sick the last few weeks with a urinary problem. im sure he doesnt want everyone to know about it, so please dont spread it around. he had to be taken to the emergency vet and was given antibiotics. since then, he has gotten progressively better, or so i thought until these last few days. i have been on litterbox patrol since ive been back, following bear to the box to listen or check it once hes left to see how much or if hes going. i dont want to give the cat a complex, so sometimes i wait a minute or two. maybe hes been going there more often just to see what i find so fascinating about it.

they say stress can cause this issue in cats and there is the upcoming move.. but i dont think things have been crazier than usual around here. however, i do want him to get better and so to combat any possible stress he might be feeling, ive been playing with him and petting him a lot more. yesterday and today he completely zonked out on my lap, giving me an excuse to take a little nap myself.

i imagine all the endorphins flooding his little body as im giving him a good belly rub or a long scratch under the chin.

mmmm, endorphins.

two cute cats enjoying the sunshine on a cold day.

yard sales in florida are a curious thing. they usually start early in the morning because there are those who are up and about specifically looking to be the first one there. inevitably, a van full of seniors will arrive while you are setting up. there are old ladies who, normally sweet in personality, will talk you down from a quarter to a dime. there are old guys always looking for guns, knives or fishing rods.

yard sales have the tendency to make me question myself; i look at my items for sale and wonder why no one else seems to need them like i once did. doesnt anyone have a small rodent they need a cage for? (actually, rodent or not, someone did eventually get that small cage) whats so wrong about the price im asking for those collectors mugs? and dont even ask about the clothes i had for sale. even at 50 cents each, i didnt sell much.

in a way, its sad to watch. in other ways, its uplifting to be free of so much stuff that you dont have a place or use for.

yard sales also end up being a time for acquistions. usually, others throw in their few items to sell and of course, i always examine these items to see if perhaps its something i had been looking for. because of one such purchase like this, i ended up with negative sales for the day. the next day, however, i was happy to make a little over 8 dollars, even with one more purchase. i also use yard sales as a way to look through dan's garage, which is full of so much stuff, im sure i could almost build a house and have all the supplies i need from his shelves alone. this time, i made an off-hand comment that i was looking to get a toolbox. within ten minutes, i had three such toolboxes shown to me, and 30 seconds more, i had approved of the final selection. along with such box, i was allowed a few tools to add to my collection. a rasp, a hacksaw blade (for which i had no saw) and a swiss army knife. there will be plenty of room for the small amount of tools i currently own, essentials like a hammer and nails, screwdrivers, pliers and other odd and ends.

yard sales. this was my last one.

'we never had it right'

i am always so desperate to get back home.

i always wonder what it is about that place; why i feel heartache at the sight of it, why i cant seem to drive home without a small sort of breakdown in my car. i think i know the reasons behind these things, but i cant bring myself to analyze it too closely.

come along and ride on my fantastic voyage

today for the first time (minus the few times deb joined me and not counting the butterflies), i had some company on my walk. somehow the cocker spaniel from a few houses down got out of his fence and decided, once he got to know me with a few sniffs and licks, that he wanted to walk with me.

he investigated all the other fenced in dogs along the way; yellow dog looked more resentful than anything and the twin rottweilers seemed determined to eat him if they got the chance. i turned back a little shy of the highway since i was not sure how wary he was of cars, and held him back a few times when the garbage truck came along and other big vehicles passed us.

ive never been a dog person, though ive had plenty of fun with the few dogs ive known. that complete adoration you see in their eyes - you could never get that with a cat. (except bear, that is.) he ran beside me, sniffing at leaves and twigs, and took my walking backwards as an invitation to speed up and jump on my legs. his ears blew back from his face like blonde hair waving about in the breeze, while my own hair was tucked neatly under my cap. the tongue too, was hanging out, and he looked like he was smiling.

seeing that i had some company, i thought i would finally take the time to explore the woods across from my house and i hoped that having a dog along would scare away any potentially frightening animals. he seemed more afraid to go in than i did, really, whimpering and refusing to go further; at one point, sitting practically on top of my feet. still, i kept going, running into more than a few spiderwebs, and within about 20 feet i came to a small clearing. i was looking for owls nests, since ive been hearing them quite regularly this past month or so. there have also been some strange yelping sounds coming from this area in the last week, so i kept an eye out for foxes, maybe some young ones. no nests or foxes were in sight, though, and still shuffling my feet in case of snakes, i made my way out.

he was more than eager to leave with me and now sits on my front step, no doubt waiting for a doggie treat.

are you looking for the mother lode?

i have discovered what this town does on any given friday night: they cash their checks and head out to the local auction house. i was invited to tag along with some friends and arrived a bit early to check out the merchandise. knick knacks were divided into small cardboard boxes with lot numbers written on yellow tags. furniture lined the outer edge of the room; tables and chairs, shelves, and dressers, with the occasional rocking chair.

i had told myself that i would not be bidding tonight, unless there was something very, very special. however, i had my credit card and id on hand, if i decided to get a bidding number assigned, and we found seats near the front of the room. before it started though, i stood talking to peanut for a bit, until an older man behind me tapped my arm and asked me to move out of the way. i looked to the front, but the bidding had not yet begun. i moved anyway, since he looked like he could hurt me if he wanted.

there i sat. for two whole hours. no hand raising at all on my part, though i could see dawn's hand going away at it out of the corner of my eye. the auctioneer was very good, and fast (yeah fast), and most things went cheaply. ironically, the estate was from a woman who died suddenly and was a frequent visitor to the auction.

i sat mostly in a daze, thinking about the upcoming trip, when i felt another tap on the arm. the wife of the man who had told me off apologized in a hushed whisper, saying she felt bad and that i had not done anything wrong and that her husband was just a bit grumpy. i told her it was no problem and smiled benevolently.

so ended my night at the auction.

things that cracked me up today:

watching an old guy on a horse in a neon pink hat, circle a bronco that had been put on top of a semi-truck's wheels, as if he were looking into an upgrade.

seeing bear gleefully pull himself across the carpet with his front paws, only to leave his back ones dragging along, seemingly useless.

noticing puppy caught in the middle of a complaining meow by a very big yawn that turned the meow into some sort of strangled sound and made her eyes bug out ever so slightly.

the town that i live in is a pretty quiet place. its full of front porches, and folks who like to sit on them, and is generally a friendly area. i have neighbors who love to work on their houses nearly as much as i do and are proud of the results: cracker-style homes with overflowing flowerpots and swings and rocking chairs and weather vanes. number 406 seems to be occupied again, perhaps they are snowbirds, and i wonder how many of the houses in m-town are owned by residents of northern states but come here for the mild winters. it seems a good idea to me. they must be so spoiled by the glorious weather that is always surrounding them.

i live on the side of the town that is more agricultural; its my side of town that has the farms and the horse ranches, etc. this small town stretches to meet another small town, and so on, until you get all the way to orlando area, going through a state forest along the way.

the other day a horse and its rider passed me while walking; she was heading to the gas station/convenience store. there semi-trucks are always parked, waiting for their drivers, and there is a blue tarp set up for guys to sit under and shoot the breeze. its a good place to run for a last-minute beer pick-up.

the cuban place down the road is usually full of pick-up trucks and their various loads: horse trailers, hay, etc. and then theres the family restaurant thats one block further, with its heavenly smells of potato pancakes and other european treats. (i read the menu once and i seem to recall an attempt at old world cusine. i should actually try eating there one day.)


three days ago, an elderly couple in their 80's were stabbed to death a few blocks away.

baker, baker

the problem with me, or maybe its not really a problem, is that i start to bake one thing and then decide i should just go ahead and make a few more things while im at it. and its true, it is an efficient use of the oven. i end up with a mess, but very at calm at heart.

so it was yesterday, when i thought to use up the remaining flour i had with a cinnamon raisin bread recipe. i had been looking for one that did not call for milk and was not made in a bread machine, and when i finally found one, i also found one for italian bread. that led to a trip to the store, and i picked the new publix that just opened as my destination. only, that small trip to the store for nonfat dry milk led to a perusal of their wine selection, which led me to look for my latest favorite wine, 'goats do roam'. i wasnt really planning to buy any, but it took so long to find, and i couldnt waste that effort; two bottles went into the cart. so, 44 dollars later, im heading home, with more flour, no less, and another bread recipe to try.

this is the life of an addicted baker.

of course, it would be much easier if i had my bread-baking partner here. kneading dough for ten minutes is not easy when one has the arm muscles of, well, a weak-armed person. i made it through, however, reminding myself that i would be eating the results of this baking session with andrew soon. and perhaps with a few nephews, too.

watching river phoenix kiss martha plimton in 'running on empty', i could almost imagine that it was actually his very first kiss. and what is it about his hair? so full and wild.

and the end, the expression on his face...

i'm torn. i could just continue in the ignorance i so love or i could force what i believe to be true to light. maybe i'm wrong; perhaps it is altogether something else.

if it were true, then, well. i should be grateful for not knowing until now.

spare the fragile soul.

the bed was made; i made it through that, at least, with minor difficulties. bear cannot help but be involved whenever there are sheets rustling through the air and then after they are spread nice and smooth, loves to drag himself along by his claws wherever the mood takes him - to the pillows, to the wall, to the edge of the bed. then by this point, he has gotten himself worked up and ready to play, even if there are no other willing participants. there are several gallops to and from the bedroom, and each time he comes back, the tail is whipping more steadily and the eyes are dilated. now, he heads back to the space between the headboard and the wall and even though its quiet for a minute, i know hes only waiting for either me or puppy to get in his line of fire. i call out his name softly, and a head pops up from behind the pillows; his eyes are wide and his ears are flattened.

i glance at pup, who is sitting drowsily on her new favorite blanket on the floor. she regards the scene before her as only a sister can do, with the air of one who knows she is a good girl and simply would never get involved in such shenanigans. i ask bear why he cant be more like his sister.

there is another high-speed run to the living room and back, and im forcibly reminded of the time zeph was in a similar mood. i was just sitting on the floor that time, and zeph was running back and forth from the bedroom and each time he passed me, he would tap my arm and yell something unintelligible. the running only served to work him into a frenzy and soon the taps turned into slaps, and the once laughing aunt started to worry about her nephews state of mind.

i turn to look at bear, intent on baby-talking him down for a nap, when i see hes already there. eyes closed, paws together - i only know he looked at me once because i could see the shine from the lamp - and i could swear his eyes were laughing.

its like giving into a nail-biting session. damaging, sure, but they will grow back. ugly too, but that doesnt matter at this point. release, yes, but only that, and really no better for having done it.

'i wish i could kill you, savor the sight'

i thought, as i walked this morning, that the air smelled fresh and woodsy, somehow, and reminded me utterly of ft. wilderness. of course, camping always came in late november, but today was a perfect mimic of some of the best days ive had there. this year there will not be a trip.

its dark and i sit in the rocking chair on the porch, realizing the implications of the phone conversation i just ended. it always amazes me how easy it is to call to the surface the hurts that you think you've buried deep enough to forget about. remembered bits - confrontations, emails, conversations - float up and i immediately push them aside. what good would it do to think about that now, years later?

and now, i feel like the sad teenager i used to be and not the adult i am. the bed is soft, the room is pitch black and the same song is on repeat. and i cant help grieving all over again.

bear, the snuggle cat

there are days when i know my cat is looking for particular attention. the porches arent holding his interest and he doesnt feel up to stalking and attacking puppy. he follows me from room to room, rubbing my legs when i seem not to notice he is there. he sits at attention if i go outside, waiting on a half-painted chair until im back. he runs ahead of me, anticipating where i plan to go, and sits there, usually my bed or the old green chair they are allowed to scratch, tail flicking and eyes flashing. he grips the arms of the chair with those sharp claws (pictures of which i have posted before) and looks at me, as if saying 'look what a bad kitty i am. and if you come over here, ill bat at you, too.' and sure enough, he does.

claws in, too, which shows just how much he loves me.

ive noticed a trend. my freezer is absolutely full of frozen meals; mostly soup and sauces, extra grilled chicken or pork, the occasional curry, all waiting for the evening which i dont feel like cooking. that eventuality hasnt happened yet, or i should say lately, and im steadily running out of storage space. i have a turkey in the back freezer; i wont even say how long its been there, but im hoping ill be able to bring it to TN as a contribution to the food for the week. im the only girl i know who travels with ingredients and recipes, more worried about having the right amount of herbs in her bag than having all of her makeup and other toiletries. hmm, well perhaps not.

already my list for TN includes more food and food-related items than anything else. im bringing the makings of carrot cake - and hopefully i wont hear what buzby used to tell me when i brought carrot cake again to a food day at work: "is that all you know how to make?" oooh that really irked me - and have even toyed with the idea of making up a menu for the week. too much time on my hands? surely. but it never hurts to be prepared when 10 members of a family invade the other 4 members' home and then expect to be fed at least 3 times a day.

i'd better get on that menu, huh, chris?

the day of ones death...

what does one do, exactly, on a day like that?

i had a last minute desire to get out and walk (last minute because it was about 45 minutes until sunset) even though i had not planned on it. lately, its really made me smile; i'm sure it has something to do with the fact that i now do part of my walk backwards, or sideways, as the mood takes me. it makes me grin everytime - i can just see the old lady who is always impatient for her mail to arrive, looking at me out of her window and shaking her head at my foolishness. of course, the view from her place to the road is very much obscured by trees and vines, but it makes me laugh all the same.

i dont think i laugh enough.

i opened a bottle of wine, had a long bath and read the one beauty magazine that im allowed each month. then i spent an hour or two reclined on my bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the little noises bear makes when hes sleeping.

i fell asleep early, only to awake from a nightmare. in it, i had done something terribly wrong and i knew i had to make it right, but as dreams like this go, it was impossible to fix. i woke still believing i had screwed up yet again, worry clutching my heart.

i cant say the worry hasn't always been there, a part of my heart for years, but this feeling was acute, even cutting. and i had felt my mind trying to even wake me up, telling me this was only a dream, but still the nightmare fought back and reasserted control.

leaving me with a sob, pressing at my throat, only waiting to be let out.

beautiful weather this weekend. one of those days when you feel simply glad: glad to see a blue sky, happy watching the grass grow and long to throw yourself onto a blanket and just lie there, with nothing but the sky, grass and blanket to keep you company.

i swore it would be my last yard sale, but after not selling nearly enough of the big ticket items, things are packed away for one final blow-out sale - maybe in december. i havent made much headway on the project list either, what with actually having plans over the weekend.

anyway, now that its "fall" or at least cooler weather, im glad to see various squash and pumpkins in the produce section. now i just need to find a good recipe for a pumpkin bread.

feb 1994

lying in bed last night, listening to the owls hooting back and forth, i still couldnt believe that i had forgotten what had actually happened. but there it was, a clipping from the newspaper, early 1994. and i very nearly missed it too; there in the front of the falling apart journal, i didnt see it until i had finished reading all the other entries from around that time period.

it started on the way home and, really, with a song that reminded me of that year. and then i started to wonder what had become of him and like i often do these days, i wanted to remember. i located the yearbook from 1993 and then i trudged upstairs to pull out the stack of journals from their hiding spot under old high school trophies and music magazines.

of course, one gets sidetracked when looking through old writings - i couldnt help but read the entry that started with, 'JK is now my bro-in-law.' and then of course had to read the one only, what, a few pages away, 'JK is no longer my bro-in-law.' its funny, because when i found the entries i was looking for, i had written my reason for recording them - i wanted to remember. my old voice echoed nearly exactly what i had been thinking on the drive home.

everything came back as i read those two pages or so, and then the entries about him stopped. thats only natural since he had graduated and apparently, according the newspaper clipping, had joined the armed forces.

yes, the newspaper clipping. they were looking for him then, awol from the army or navy or whatever and wanted for attempted murder of his step mother. she lived, at least, to call for help and was alive last i knew. he stole her cash and had a stolen vehicle waiting outside for him.

i wish i knew what happened later - did she live? was he caught? is he in jail? and how exactly, does one turn into a killer? to me, he was just a kid from school; he had a more priveleged life than some living in his area and he was smart and funny.

oh yeah, ive just remembered. he could really make me laugh.

yesterday i saw what looked like a small version of a hummingbird, but had to have been a moth of some sort. i can't say for sure, and had no chance of getting out the camera; still, i concentrated hard on the little body each time it emerged from a flower beneath my window - coloring of a bumble bee, body like a small hummingbird and antenna like an insect.

i love octobers. they are absolutely the best month going. not only does it start to get cooler here, but it starts to get cooler. hehe. really, im surprised we are having nice weather like this (its 56 now at 9 am - 13 c for my UK readers - thanks, andrew); the last few octobers have been hot all the way through. i remember camping out a few years ago mid-month and sweltering like it was august, plus bad mosquitos. but here i am, enjoying a deliciously cool morning, and the birds are too, despite me forgetting to throw out some seed for them. i even broke out the winter blanket, a very nice down comforter, that has been in storage for months now. if only i hadnt fallen asleep with and woken up with a headache, it would have been an excellent night of sleep.

i have a list of small projects that im doing for myself and others before i leave here and since you know how i feel about lists, ill relate those to you now.

projects
finish painting chairs (this is pure agony, too many spindles)
sand/stain 2nd end table, along with feet of 1st
paint frame (off-white, for mom)
touch up straight-back porch chairs (a few knicks from puppy knocking it over)
paint footstool - check! (of course this would be finished, its the easiest thing on this blasted list)
redo small end table next to pc, glue crack

a small list, really, but a lot of work. after this, i think i could easily say i have renovated every small piece of furniture i own and some that i dont.

its good.

last night i couldnt sleep. i stared out my window, not exactly sad or exactly happy, but content. the moon was so bright, i could see beyond the street, which glowed white and stark against the woods alongside it. once i saw the shadow of a rabbit; it stood very still and then bounded off out of sight. earlier that night, as i pulled in the driveway, i disturbed two bunnies nibbling on the grass in the center of the road. one fled towards the house and i realized as i got out of the car, that aang had noticed those rabbits, too. i called to aang to distract him, and it worked; clearly, he could chase rabbits anytime while a few minutes of head scratching was a rarer commodity.

now, lying in bed hours later, my mind wandered to the upcoming trip in november. two nephews and one neice, all in the same house! of course, vianne is too small to do much but look cute. but the boys... i have visions of coloring and drawing with them, doing the famous aunt stephanie sheet swing (in which you place both boys in a sheet, positioning them so their heads are less apt to knock together, and then, along with a partner, grab the ends of the sheet and swing away) and imagining up stories together...

since the moon was so bright and i wasnt sleeping anyway, i went outside for a bit. it was after midnight, just barely, and the moon had risen. aang was gone, but i sat on the steps anyway and wrote a small story for the boys.

the adventures of aang the cat.

puppy checks out the other room from her vantage point

last night i turned around, i thought i saw the world ending

these things give me peace.

washing dishes, while watching a family of cardinals and a couple of bluejays search for food in the hedgerows, their chirps and trills reaching me on the breeze.

walking everyday, especially the spot almost directly across from the yellow dog who probably loves me despite his mean bark, because there, in those few steps, i seem to grow taller than the rest of the street and can almost reach the leaves above me.

sitting on my back porch, maybe with a beer or a glass of wine or nothing at all, and watching dusk fall. a bat flits in and out of sight and the cicadas' voice rises and falls, and gradually gives way. the feathers in flight that rustle over my head as the vultures fly off to roost. where those two just playing mid-air? contemplating the herb garden, noting which plants need deadheading, or maybe just a little more water.

leaving the mail on the front porch, because i got distracted by a cat who desperately needed a belly rub.

collapsing on a made bed in a state of semi-dress, and looking outside at the camphor tree, the light perfect for napping.

cooking or baking something, anything, on a whim, the measuring and mixing giving my mind a soothing respite from everything else.

a word from someone who knows me well, at the right time for it, telling me what i somehow could not see myself, giving me relief from an unknown fear or a palpable one.


i suppose it scares me to think i will lose all these things, whether in whole or in part. im afraid to leave this town and start over somewhere else. i wish i could just find a spot and be content and stay there. i hate to leave the ones i know here and fall out of touch with them, as is bound to happen. i drag my feet, i make excuses, i wake up in the night to think about it... and theres nothing for it. i have to go.

that big, ugly thing thats been waiting around the corner gets ready to pounce and i have no defense.

melissa calls and gives me the good news, that i will in fact see her next month. i ask her if its normal to see a raccoon walking down the road during the day. she assures me that its okay, but only after she asks if its on the sidewalk. he disappears down the neighbor's driveway and i wonder if he's the one i spent some time with last night.

i could tell bear had spotted something from the way he sat in front of the back door and thats when i saw him; a young one, nervous but curious about me and bear. i watched him use those little finger-like toes on the food aang left, until he came up to the glass and regarded me with black, clever eyes. his nose was black and shiny, like a peice of patent leather. with one final look back, he ambled off, down the stairs and into the night.

back again. i am so relieved to have had a walk, a shower, and now to be walking around in someone's old boxer shorts. (they are mine of course, but whose they were before i really couldnt say.) the cats seem to have missed me, even though it was only a weekend.

its hard to believe that andrew says summer is almost over in england. or maybe by now, its gone. here, things are still blooming; the first hummingbird ive seen since being here, i saw last week, taking advantage of the mexican petunia alongside the house and the roses seem to put out more flowers than they ever did in the middle of summer. weeds are prolific.

the smell of cut grass lingers in the air.

im not sure, but i think he was teary-eyed when i turned the camera on him all those years ago. he answered my question about the waterfall we were looking at, and then mentioned how cold it was. he looked at the camera, but he was looking at me. i remember that look. i wonder now what he was thinking.

ive thought recently that he still looks the same as the day i met him, now seven years ago. but seeing this video made me realize how young we were then; he looks energetic and sweet, i seem aloof but hopeful. and both of us silly and happy.

a few months after this video, i was heartbroken and he was too, but not because of me. or maybe it was because of me. i regret that nearly as much as i do my own pain; it hurts now to think of how i was, and how he was, both so sad, but him trying to make it up to me in anyway he knew how. and me, too numb to think about him.

now, today, i would like to just smile at our images, and feel no sorrow. im not sure ill ever forget, but i can choose not to remember.

at least for today.

liberating? maybe. its one thing to shower without a curtain, and another thing to shower in the middle of the day without proper blinds on the window. scary, too, this shower, since i keep seeing the spots and dribbles of red paint out of the corner of my eye and starting, thinking for a moment that the splats are blood and have come from me, and my death is imminent.

i realize, of course, in the split-second later, that the red drops are just the signs of the paint job that took place earlier in the day, and as for the lack of curtains and blinds, well those are signs of the laziness of the painter. to be fair, the first paint purchased was faulty and not nearly thick enough to cover the walls, even with several coats. that was worked out and now all that is needed is a few touch-ups and i will get my bathroom reassembled and back to its previously modest state.

blood. thats what i think of when i look at the walls.

a day on the weeki wachee

nearly a week later, and the soreness is just about gone. on saturday, i went kayaking with some friends, even though im not even very good in a canoe - so how could i manage a kayak on my own? either way, i had agreed to go and since ive backed out once before, i figured i should make more of an effort this time.

it made me feel better that two of the guys in our group tipped over within 30 seconds of being on the water... and then again, and one more time. by that time, i was kayaking circles around them. this river is spring-fed, and felt deliciously cool; i would sometimes let my fingers hang in the water, with only slight fears about gators. most parts of the river were clear enough that i could see to the bottom, and the parts that weren't, well, i just sped through those as fast as possible.

ive been on this water several times in the past few years. sometimes in a canoe, sometimes a motorboat, the latter of which, on this day, is the object of my scorn. how lazy is it to take a motorboat on this river? its not very wide, and doesnt really go anywhere special - to a "beach" area on one end, and the gulf on the other side. i could understand heading to the gulf, but more people were heading the other way. anyway, i dutifully allowed them the right of way, more so to avoid any near misses that might result in a tip over.

i ran into all sorts of people. well, maybe just one sort, the sort that hangs out in a bikini (or swimming trunks) all day, with a cigarette and a beer. the sort that puts out signs like "wanted: free-spirited female roommate" and paints murals of florida scenery next to their colorful wicker chairs and bbq grills.

on my way upriver, a duo of canoes passed me; this one was stuffed with about six 20-something guys and one of them slid his glasses down his nose, presumably to get a better view, and said 'well isnt she doing a good job?' even though he was looking at me, the comment was directed to his fellows, so i just ignored it and kept up the rythym of the paddle. a family of four got stuck in the mud, and the curses of the mom followed me around the next bend. when i finally caught up to the speedier ones in my group, i noticed that john, the instigater of this trip, was hanging from a tree, waiting to splash down on the rest of us. of course, his shorts were pretty loud, so he had no chance of actually catching anyone off guard. after i nicely tested the depth of the water with my paddle in the spot he would land, he obliged and waited until i moved out of the way before flying off the branch. nice guy.

i picked up the few soda cans i saw floating in the water along the way, reminded that thats how we used to do it for free when we were younger, although the peace river had a lot more trash, sadly. it also had a lot more gators, and no spots of clear water whatsoever. i tipped over a lot more back then, mainly because of others lack of balance, and a thrill of fear at the memory of being in that murky, brown water, frantic to get back in the canoe went through me. i had never seen any gators on this water, thinking that they wouldnt like it here because of the manatees. somehow it seems like those two wouldnt be in the same neighborhood, but i hear that im wrong on that one.

i finally turn around, muscles burning, and this time i get to go with the current, and the trip back is much more pleasant. i round another bend and a plume of smoke greets me from the deck of a pontoon-style boat. the smoker is a guy with an earring and heavy-lidded eyes, maybe because it doesnt seem like its tobacco he's smoking. he eyes me as i go by, and i hear another comment, again, not directed to me, but about me,which is annoying. "she looks like she needs to get wet." i manage a witty comeback, and speed up the paddling. i come across the family of four again, and the youngest kid tries to scare me with stories about a bull shark being in the area. funny, i had just recalled an incident, from a few years back; a man ran and jumped off his pier into a canal, just like he probably always did, only this time he surprised a bull shark, who was hunting, and the man never made it back out of the water. some of the places along this river look to be harboring sharks and other preditory sea creatures and im thankful to be almost back to the shore.

i did see a manatee, probably a juvenile one, judging from the apparent lack of boat propeller scars on his body. he glided right under me and looking back, i saw his snout surface and heard him take a big breath, and then he was gone again.

all in all, it was relaxing and not nearly as bad as i thought it would be. a boat being driven by a young boy passes by, and attached to it with a long rope is a canoe with another kid inside and to top it all off, an inner tube is somehow connected to the canoe, where the smallest boy rode, his butt through the hole in the tube, looking utterly relaxed. i waited until the boy in the tube, the last in this water parade, drew up next to me, and held out my paddle. 'grab on!', i said. hesitating only a second, he agreed, and i was reminded of my brother at that age. eight years old maybe, and willing to do anything daring and adventurous. i miss that kid.

i laughed and waved him on. my landing was just ahead.

on a rare cool morning, instead of being inside with my coffee, i took it to the porch. a few days ago i had scattered sunflower seeds for the birds and it seems this morning those seeds have been discovered. a small female cardinal chirps conversationally to the large jay who is also seed gathering. a few other cardinals stop by, and then fly off when either i make a noise with my cup or bear's mournful cry of frustrated hunting is heard.

i didnt realize the jay had a call like that and when i check online, its a little different from what the bird call website plays for me. i hear another unfamiliar cry and walk carefully to the other side of the porch just in time to see the tail of a mockingbird heading towards the neighbor's house. its song sounds like he once was close friends with a parakeet or another kind of parrot.

i hear the breeze more than feel it, and although it is a soft, soothing sound, its not enough to mask the rumbling of the traffic only one block over. the jay grabs a berry from the holly (wait, no, chris said its not a holly tree; either way, the berries are bright red) and cocks its head at me. maybe i was too close since he dropped the berry and flew off to the cedar amid the hedgerow. some needle-like leaves of the cedar blow to the ground, looking like a small, slanted rain storm and the spanish moss is at the mercy of even the slightest movement of air. the jay has disappeared into its branches.

bear, no longer able to contain his wild side, puts his ears back and crouches. an unsuspecting puppy emerges from the door, looking in every direction but the way that bear lies. he takes this chance to attack and the silence of the porch is broken.

i finish my coffee inside.

devil bush may be, but why does chavez sound like a woman?

warning: post is all about food and may induce cravings

there are few things that i enjoy more than an afternoon cooking or baking, or both, like i did today. most often i enjoy best the recipes ive never tried before, and comparing them to the slowly-growing store of culinary knowledge already in my head. for instance, why boiling water in gingerbread? but boil it i did, and the gingerbread turned out moist, with a cake-like crust, nothing at all like the kind we had in grasmere. i also wonder about the difference between baking soda and baking powder - both act as a leavening agent, right, giving cakes and cookies that nice rise in the oven. this recipe called for both, and though i think it meant powdered ginger, i used fresh, grated with my most useful tool, the microplane grater.

while the bread was baking, i started on dinner, pork with roasted tomatoes. i have recently come to appreciate the lovely flavor of balsamic vinegar and this recipe called for just a few tablespoons poured over my favorite fruit, tomatoes. add a small romaine salad (no spinach until the e. coli scare is over) and dinner is served.

the best part about cooking and baking for only yourself? you can enjoy a peice of gingerbread and a cuppa tea before you eat dinner.

quit work for a year: 7 steps to do it right

this was the headline of an article on msn that caught my attention. of course, they call what ive done a 'sabbatical', which makes me wish i had thought of that title sooner. the article lists some good tips, but most of them involve selling off your assets or taking from a retirement fund; since they also call it a mini-retirement, that makes sense. research has found that more and more people are taking time off from work and once they have had a few months or even a few years away, they dont necessarily want to go back to that high-paying job - they gravitate to jobs that pay less and are more altruistic. in other words, life has more meaning when you arent concerned about how much money you make and you arent giving your life to a corporation that really has no loyalty to you whatsoever. of course, easier to say that than to actually do it.

im in my 14th month, so perhaps im qualified to give my own tips on how to quit work for a year. maybe i should specify: how to quit work for a year (if you are single with no attachments).

i was explaining to one girl that i dont know very well my situation and as i was saying how i had moved to live cheaper, she said knowingly 'ah, so your parents are taking care of things for you.' my laugh probably sounded like a cackle; i couldnt help it. no, i assured her, i planned for this time off. not that my parents wouldnt help me if i got in a bind, but this is my life and if i choose not to work, then i surely will have to have another way to pay for my expenses, one that does not involve my parents.

still, im proud of what ive done in my time off. ive been able to visit family as far away as OR and TN, go to a few weddings in AL, see the birth of my niece in TN, visit HI for the first time and even threw in an international trip to england and scotland, the latter being a place ive dreamed of going to for years now.

but, i must admit, its more than the trips im proud of...

i was going through my closet the other day and i discovered an old sweater i used to wear quite a lot. i held it up to the light, critically examining the seams and looking for any stains. i wasnt too sure why i kept it, seeing that there were two stains on the front and a hole in the right underarm; or perhaps i did know, since it had been an old favorite of mine. probably a thrift store find from the start, its really not much to look at - light green, and a little beagle patch on the upper left side. i looked at the tag and it explains the puppy; hush puppies brand, though i only remember them making shoes.

after a little laundry magic, the stains are gone. now i just need to find a needle and thread.

its like being reunited with an old friend.

there is a neighborhood cat we've named aang - he loves being scratched behind the ears and makes liberal use of his paws and claws when you stop too abruptly. it used to be that i would only see him every once in awhile, and even then, he would more likely run away than let me say hello. lately though, hes been at the backporch, mewing plaintively to come inside or to have a snack or to be rubbed - or all of those things at once. i think hes gotten into a rough spot lately; his eye is swollen and scratched and then the next day he shows up with a bit of fur missing from behind his left ear. now his meow has left him, or perhaps he just has a sore throat.

bear in particular loves to watch him through the backdoor. i tell bear that aang is our "outdoor kitty" and cant come in.. and then when aang drinks from the water garden instead of the dish i left for him, i explain that he must prefer the pond water to tap water. bear only moves to the window sill to get a better look.

no more talk about the old days, its time for something great

never was a cornflake girl

i regarded the small, bright green tin, the light reflecting cheerfully off its shiny surface. i put it back because money is a concern of mine these days, but then, still under its spell, picked it up again and put it in my cart. later, once arriving home, i unpacked all the groceries until all that remained was the green tin, looking just as shiny and lovely as it did in the store. i found a place for it on the bathroom shelf.

at my parent's place, i scan the countertop of my mother's bathroom. there are bottles everywhere, various lotions and toners, in many different sizes, ranging from sample to travel to regular to jumbo. there is a small ceramic dish filled with several lip balms - i remembered at this point my moms recent trek to find the perfect balm for her lips; one struck my fancy, red in color and a small picture of a badger on the front, and i tried it out. a bit spicy, that one, but nice. i held onto it as i finished looking around, tipping bottles and tubes upward so i could read their ingredients and claims. a lot of herbal lotions, with cloying scents and cosmetics made from natural substances. 'tomato toner' i read, noticing the small bottle was nearly empty. i took one last envious glance around and left the room, balm still in hand.

'hey, mom, where'd you get this from? its pretty good.' i held up the small tin, the badger on the front looking mischeivious, and she, true to form, said 'cant remember, but you can have it if you want.' i feigned reluctance, even as i put it in my bag. my mom, ever the generous soul, usually gives away the things she searches so hard to find, since they never equal up to her expectations.

im a lot like her, i think, as i went thru my own ritual of personal hygiene before bed. a sucker for new products and old ones, too, always searching and trying new things to sooth the skin or the hair - to smooth out perceived flaws. sometimes i find something that seems to work a miracle; my face is tolerable to look at, my hair is behaving like hair should or even my feet seem more polished, like i spent the day at the beach.

but everytime, the products wear off and i am left with who i am, and only sometimes, do i feel happy with that.

girl, you got to know these days which side you're on

'momma, it wasnt my bullet.'

i catch sight of bear, reflected in the glass from the front door, silently stalking a fly. 'boys for pele' plays in the background while i put the hardware back on the cabinet doors i painted yesterday. i count the number of half-turns of the screwdriver it takes to get the job done, painfully aware that my arm strength is either very low, or these are particularly tough screws, with their slightly worn heads. a red car keeps screaming up and down my street, turning up more dust to cling to the screen of the front porch.

'glue, stuck to my shoes'

to combat a spell of loneliness, i do NOT advise looking through old school yearbooks. all i can think is, as i scan the book from the year i graduated, did they really do their bangs like the 80's in 1994?? and how i was way before my time with the good hair. anyway, its not that i had a great time in high school, but it wasnt all bad. waiting to see the guy(s) i had a crush on pass me in the hallway, having lunch with friends who you could say anything with and impressing the teachers with my knowledge (or lack thereof)... still, reading these goodbye comments from people i never saw again, stirs a bit of feeling - so i thought i would post a few for a laugh. note: while the names have been omitted to protect their identity, the spelling mistakes, alas, have not.

there are many boring ones, with typical statements of how far ill go in life, and a lot of luck being wished. nothing exciting from the brown haired mechanic guy with the dark glasses and the romantic name of clark (sigh). one really long one from a girl who thought i wrote a poem about her in the 8th grade because showed it to her.. and uh people, it was a love poem. yeah, so you can guess she got all sappy on me. really, its good i was much smarter than her and didnt have the same classes. (i cant leave this paragraph without saying the girl was really sweet and although i dont really remember the specifics about the poem incident, i can assure i did not write it for her. still, one takes friends were one gets them.)

stephanie, ill always remember sitting next to you at the lunch table (doing crossword puzzles, writing your summary, doing crossword puzzles) and yes you finally got your senior pictures taken before i did. dont forget 'all for one, one for all'. i wish you the best and ill miss you. {didnt really think i did them that much.. and whats the deal with the three musketeers thing? memory fails me}

stephanie, so how has emily [my sister] been lately? you are the only girl i know that likes to play with a knight made from legos. good luck after graduation and i hope you excell in what you want to become. {so this lego infatuation is not a new thing with me... and secretly a bunch of guys in my grade had the hots for emily and would always ask me about her.}

stephanie, you are a great friend and i hope we stay in touch in the future. i will never forget your idea of the tunafish with cheese and mustard sandwich, but will probably never try it either. {i was a culinary experiementer even then}

steph, i know when you look back at this in ten years your going to realize how much you were really in love with me. too late. cya. {oh god im too late}

the 2nd grader i sponsered was the most practical. she left her name and address. think i should look her up now? wait, shes probably in college by now. shucks.

stephanie, well what can i say youre a stephanie you have such a long name... {rest omitted since it goes on in this fashion for awhile}

to a cool girl, with cool clothes {what?! i never thought the clothes were cool} and an even cooler sis {well i always knew that}. hope you aspire to be what you want to be {okayyy}. good luck in the futcher (thats edukation for you in the states.)

and my personal favorite. where is this guy now??

dearest stephanie, i am thankful that i had the chance to meet you this year, but i wish that i could have known you sooner. you have been delightful to know and ill cherish the experience always. as we should all remember some part of higher wisdom, i found some that holds true to you. remember 1 peter 3:3-4: "your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of a great worth in God's sight." for me, your wit outshines all others and your personality shines like a fine jewel. keep this wisdom close to your heart, and remember me warmly.

oh sure, you write that in all the girls yearbooks... warmly indeed. im glowing.

you know what i did today? i applied for a job. hold on, actually, no, i just looked. but applying sounded so much more, you know, responsible. and then i took pictures of myself in a new jacket. wait, that was yesterday. either way, that jacket rocks.

there is bear, skulking on the shelf. and then lounging on the bed, taking a break from either chewing the book or seeing how many holes he can put in my blanket. he seems innocent in the mirrors reflection, but i see he is only planning his next move.

and they say blue is a soothing color..

bear and those looks of his.. or maybe hes just mad because it hurts for him to sit on the paint that comes with the dexter's laboratory coloring book. the dresser.. can you guess how many tee shirts are lurking within those drawers?

bear sits on my coloring book everytime

its hard to get back to blogging; i hope this one actually makes it to posting, unlike the previous 2 i attempted since being stateside. i am as i usually am - unpacking and in my customary disarray. one suitcase has been emptied, a rare feat to be done so soon, while the other one, the bigger one, sits in the middle of the floor, its only use being a place for a catnap. wow, thats a lot of commas.

the bedroom color is great and because its freshly painted, i am inspired to make my room nice and tidy. so i made the bed, picked up the clothes and straightened up here and there. i rediscovered my collection of coloring books. seriously, one is 15 years old. i think i can definitely call it a collection at this point, vintage perhaps? one part of me says to keep them; im bound to babysit at some point and how priceless would it be to have the exact coloring book to pacify an antsy neice or nephew? invaluable, i tell you. but that line of reasoning gets murky when i use it for the other "immature" things i own - the bucket (or two) of legos, the action figures (never opened) and the (few) comic books. oh and the simpsons block figures - sorta look like legos, but boxier. and when these things merely take up space, not being enjoyed, i have a feeling it may be time to let go.

its a recurrant thing with me these days, i know.

it seems i will whittle my belongings down to a tee shirt and shorts, a few meaningful books, my pc and ipod... once those things are gone too, there will be nothing left to discard but myself.

at least i can make some money off the action figures.

just a few days into our week in the lake district and we are having a great time. i wish i could attach some photos here, but even then i dont think they could possibly do it justice or come close to capturing the grandeur of this place. we have been to lake windermere and derwent water, plus grasmere, where the first, i think, and best gingerbread is made.
i cant help but look forward even more to next week in scotland, where perhaps there will be less tourists on holiday and definitely more shortbread.
later today we are going to see castlerigg stone circle; maybe ill get those funny vibes robbie told me about.

question

does anyone wear flip flops in the UK?

after maybe three glasses of wine, i'm feeling incredibly relaxed. i still have two suitcases waiting for me to fill, and a house to set in order before leaving tomorrow, but i'm no too worried about it. usually when i find myself in such a state of contentment, i putter about the house doing things as i please or go to bed early.

after taking a few pictures upside down, it is probably best that i just call it a day.

it's been one of those deliciously hot days, when you welcome the warmth, even the heat, as if you had just come from a cold sea.

i'm no longer restless; i did, however, put all packing aside for the day, and took to the kitchen. the crumb cake is cooling, most of which i'll take over to my parents house tomorrow. they really aren't supposed to have a lot of sugar, but hey, as long as im there, making sure they dont eat too much and get hyper, it should be okay. i also tried a recipe i found in a magazine, basil beer bread. it threw me on a few things, like seemingly calling for too much yeast and the fact that it was not meant to rise. with basil and beer in the same recipe, i had high hopes; as it turns out, i was not disappointed. that, too, will probably go with me tomorrow, or perhaps the freezer.

the heat is still here, but a wind has come and cooled things off, giving me goosebumps that have nothing to do with the slight chill in the air. the mexican petunia, as unruly and tenacious as it is, makes for a tranquil scene as it sways with the breezes. i stare at a wasp that has somehow made its way onto the backporch, willing it to go towards the door i left open. it is perfectly content to rest on the light shade, maybe thinking it would be a good spot for a nest. the wind picks up a bit, and the crape myrtle loses a few more blossoms to the earth.

the trip! the trip!

ahh, packing. ive talked about it before, so ill leave off this time.

let me just say, if i somehow end up with a stowaway named bear, i will not be surprised.

im slowly crossing things off my list, though i had a bit of a panic today, wondering if there was something i was forgetting in getting ready for an international trip. the passport is still valid (got a few more years on that baby), and ive already registered it with the airlines. i have some british currency from the last trip - saved from the last time, dont i think ahead? - and i even have some russian money to exchange. yeah, i know its weird, but a friend gave me her leftover money from their trip to russia that was, hmm, about 5 years ago. according to the exchange rate, its about 25 bucks US, and thus, not that much BP. i dont really have that much money, come to think of it. but i have already prepared my credit card companies with a message: do not block my card! i hate calling them, since, true to form, they try to end the call with selling me something i dont need. i usually tell them smartly that i worked for a credit card company and already know what you are trying to get me to buy (usually some type of protection) is a waste of money. or in so many words. target tried to get me to add someone to my account. isnt that a laugh!

can you think of anything i might be missing?

excerpt from 'the book-bag' by w. somerset maugham

"there were books of all kinds. volumes of verse, novels, philosophical works, critical studies (they say books about books are profitless, but they certainly make very pleasant reading), biographies, history; there were books to read when you were ill and books to read when your brain, all alert, craved for something to grapple with, there were books that you had always wanted to read, but in the hurry of life at home had never found time to, there were books to read at sea when you were meandering through narrow waters on a tramp steamer, and there were books for bad weather when your whole cabin creaked and you had to wedge yourself into your bunk in order not to fall out; there were books chosen solely for their length, which you took with you when on some expedition you had to travel light, and there were books you could read when you could read nothing else."

this is my kinda guy.

a sunday in the overgrown garden

after lulling about nearly all day, except for one minor spurt of energy, i was given some advice: sit on the porch, grab a beer, a premium one if i wanted (i guess that means anything thats not homebred), and read.

instead, i did some potting, pet one of the the neighborhood cats that we named Ang (until he started swatting me a little too playfully) and then, i relaxed on the porch with a beer and tried to start some new vines, morning glory and sweet potato.



its the best time to work outside in florida; a little bug spray, and you can take advantage of the fading light to take care of just about anything in that last hour - mowing, planting, weed-whacking, edging...

ang was just content to watch me. you can see the disarray under the bench, and the rest of the garden is not much different. everything has gone wrong - the tomato plants look sad, watermelons burst before reaching a good size, corncobs turn brown in the husk and the giant radishes, while very tall, yield no radishes... still, my zinnias grow tall and straight, with colors hard to describe and the marigolds are vibrant. its overgrown, but green. its wild, but beautiful.

chris, any idea what this plant is?

my view from the backporch

bear loves this spot and is not letting go

less than a fortnight to go

no more naps.
that means no more reading 'a traveller's history of scotland'. (sorry, ill man)
even i, the most perservering of readers, can not bear read past page 43. run-on sentences abound and the circuitous paragraphs tire me.

'a traveller's history of england' is going back to the library, too, just on the basis of association.

so much for being a slightly more informed tourist.

Hukilau Beach
i already knew about this obscure, private beach on the north shore. how, you ask? well, its more like i knew of it, since the beach inspired a song that i learned at some point in my elementary school education.

we pulled up in our jeep (did i mention we had a jeep?) and the name of the beach instantly struck me when i sounded it out verbally (as i had been doing to all the hawaiian names we came across). "hu-ki-lau.. wait a second! i know this, remember the song? 'oh, we throw our nets out into the sea and all the ... (unintelligible words here, since i dont think i ever saw the song in written format, and couldnt remember the hawaiian word for fish) .. come swimming to me..." i trailed off at this point, since melissa was looking at me strangely; maybe she didnt understand the hukilau dance i was trying to recreate from memory (yes, there was a dance, too). figuring i had just been in the sun too long that morning, she just headed to shore... and found this plaque.






it was as if my whole life was leading up to this point.

Makaha Beach
my favorite of all the beaches we visited.. still working on putting together the panorama shots i took here. one woman very sweetly offered to let us use her snorkel gear to go out and see the sea turtles near the pink buoy, excitingly telling us how there were several of them and how they were approaching her. one set of gear, rotated between us, constant reassurance to the one without the mask that no sharks were visible, and 30 minutes later, we were as close to the pink buoy as we were going to get. (i couldnt bring myself to actually touch it, but we were about 5 feet away.) no sea turtles were visible in the crater-like reef, but there were plenty of quirky fish; one doing the underwater version of skipping, with a tiny friend or two following closely behind. striped yellow fish were closer to the surface, taking advantage, maybe, of the warmer water. the brain coral glowed ghostly beneath me, probably as deep as 30-40 feet, and i saw a fish with an electric blue head and maroon body zip into a hole when he saw my shadow.





can't see the pink buoy? yeah, it was pretty far.

scored one more tomato today and a handful of basil! lets see... the possibilities are endless. these things came from another friends house, who are also away, and whose dogs i checked in on today. the tomato is close to being soggy, but i think i can salvage at least half of it for a salad. i almost stopped at the store, just to get an apple... in hawaii, we subsided on granny smith apples from new zealand (among other things, booze being one of them) and they were just amazing.

i wonder if my neighbor has any fruit?

can you believe i've actually made a goal not to go grocery shopping until im back from my next trip? (if you are a frequent reader, maybe you can) of course, my pantry is pretty full of canned goods, pasta and coffee (a must-have) and i have a freezer full of frozen stuff, including a turkey that i had a whim to try baking, although i dont think i meant to cook it in the dead of summer. these things should provide enough for two weeks, if not more.

i think i can do it, really. afterall, its only 2 weeks until i leave for the UK and i can always head to my parents early if i start to run out of food (i say this sarcastically, but its the sad truth), since my flight leaves from their town anyway. one thing i cant usually do without though is tomatoes. i have one slightly sad one that somehow was forgotten in the fridge and some cherry ones that i (among other things) snagged from a friends house who is away ... i mean, im doing them a favor, this stuff would go bad anyway. that should help with the fresh veg/fruit issue for a couple of days (since i also took all their other vegetables). except the celery; that stuff lasts forever.

now if only they had had some cat food...

its one of those storms that lets you know its there long before you see any rain; the clouds have been rolling in for the last 2 hours, and only now do i hear the thunder and see the lightning as i load the washing machine. the cats have been reasonably happy to see me and are now on the front porch, staring out at the insects who are making use of the last few minutes before the downpour.

ahh, here it is.

i have the doors open as i work... as is typical within the first hour of being home after a trip, ive already done two loads of laundry, sorted the mail and half-unpacked the suitcase. im always so anxious to be home i cant help but put things as they should be, right away (seeing as how ive been content in the past to keep moving boxes unpacked in my living room for months after a move, this is a sort of personal phenomenon - or it could be i've changed - something for another post to consider). its as if i long for the domestic duties of home; being away takes me from cooking (something i really enjoy), cleaning (which can be immensely satisfying) and my garden (quite overlooked at this point).

this is not to say that i dont enjoy being away; i've mentioned my trips, nearly a dozen at last count. its just, after awhile, i long to be among the familar, even if it means back to not doing much and cooking and cleaning for myself. i tire of the place im visiting (this time it happened only a day before leaving) and its hard for anything to inspire the rapt attention i had at the beginning.

still, hawaii was so much more than i expected. that, ill have to tell you about later.

flying home tomorrow. i will be glad to be on east coast time again.. tired of waking up at 3 am as if its the most normal thing in the world. i took quite a few pictures. right now its raining, as it has done a lot since yesterday. the rain clouds make quite a mist over the mountains that is beautiful to behold.

of the list (of course there would be one) my sister and i accomplished everything we wanted as of early yesterday morning. so the last 36 hours have been exploring and finding new beaches, driving just to see the mountains and going back to places we enjoyed the first time we were there. and i finally got to have a malasada and let me tell you, they are everything i thought they would be.

my flight is late tomorrow so i will be wandering around waikiki looking for something to fill the time. that might be shopping, that might be the beach.

im so bored. there are things to do, yes, but i always struggle in the afternoons... nap? read? i know if i lay down now, i wont know anything again until 5:00. bear and pup are already napping, sleeping in spots they arent normally allowed, making their naps twice as sweet.

me on the other hand.. i think about packing for the upcoming wedding weekend, but lose the desire somewhere between the hallway and the bedroom. i fiddle with my hair, wishing i had been able to make an appointment today for the cut it needs. im waiting for a package and know that if only it would come now, i would have at least 30 minutes worth of entertainment.

i really need to get a job.

a conversation with zeph

he told me about the fireworks that went off last night and 'made a lot of noisey' and 'thunders'. i told him about one of the books i am bringing for him, a story about a spider. he asked if it was a biiigg dada spider and i let him know it was just a little one, a nice one that lives in a zoo. like the horned owls? thats right, i said. he asked about granma-ma (who is my mom, granma being the chris' mom) and i told him we would see him soon.

in all, we talked about 10 minutes. now if only i could get ezra to talk so long.

a day with rick steves

it should be a cozy day, despite my wish for specific company. the weatherman is promising rain for most of the day, starting in a few hours, and already the skies are white and grey with cloud cover. im settled down with my rick steves guidebook to great britain, reading about the cotswolds and highlighting points of interest. even puppy has been on my lap; i think she senses the storms and is also in need of some companionship, since bear is busy bird-watching from the front porch.

i have a thing for rick steves. not rick, specifically; he's married with kids - their photos are all through this book. its what he gave me that makes me loyal. back in 1999, during my first trip to europe, my sister and i got a rick steves guidebook along with our railpass. the trip was as last minute as european trips can get; we booked the flights and railpasses only 2 months before and just barely got our passports in time. we had no idea where we would actually go, only that we would leave from norway (where we met up with our norwegian friends) and that we had settled on portugal as the final destination. thomas, always the thinker, had suggested we go to northern portugal, where he heard the towns were quaint. i, however, also being a thinker when i had the time, had read a bit of rick's book and fell in love with his recommendation of a town on the algarve coast, a place called salema. even the name sounds romantic.

so we went to salema, a surprising win for me, and it ended up becoming the most amazing 4 or 5 days of the trip. actually, i believe it was 5 days, but we didnt know that until after we left. i mean, how good is a place that, not just one, but four people lose track of the days? it wasnt until we reached a hostel in lisbon that we found out the correct date and felt bad for arguing about the extra money we owed to the nice couple that rented to us.

you see why i love rick steves. i only hope his great britain suggestions give me half as much joy as salema did.

renewed by conversations about my upcoming trips, i am in a much better mood today. we found some stunning photos of stirling, scotland and in my mind, the list has already started. hawai'i is not even 2 weeks away; thoughts of the beach and time with my sister are filling my head. buying stuff online for both trips is another source of fun. and really, i only spent the amount ill be earning by house/dog-sitting when i return. of course, that could have been saved for groceries, however, there is nothing like a great tee shirt and who really needs to eat? ill just eat the, uhm, 2 corncobs, 1 tomato and 3 watermelons that are close to being ripe in the garden. or perhaps there is someone out there who would exchange a meal for some good conversation?
really, its not as bad as all that. im actually in the middle of making some oatmeal cookies to send to my aunt betty. i got the idea after baking the banana bread this morning, since i realized, even after freezing some for later, i would have too much on my hands. i do so love banana bread. im also using the vegan trick my brother taught me, a mashed banana instead of an egg. ill let you know how it turns out, andrew.

im also in need of a strong arm to mix this; thats what i get for forgetting to put out the butter to soften.

bear does sentry duty for my pc

breaking hearts never looked so cool or how come im so oblivious to these things?

it must be me because they are certainly normal, nice people. they just exhaust me.

heres the reason: they feel the need to just focus on me. i get told the stories. i get asked the questions. im the one who has to decide what type of dinner to get. who wouldnt get tired after even an hour? and its not like i just met them either. ill contribute to the conversation, just dont make it all about me.

it could be the family thing - everyone else there was related, so anybody new is, well, new. i can see that, but come on. i know it can be hard for others (i nearly wrote outsiders there, which probably has more truth to it) to be around my family. we make each other laugh, we are quick and witty. (im not saying that other families arent funny, because they probably are too.. but to us, we are each others favorite comic. no one makes me laugh as much as my family. now, to you, maybe not so funny.) but, when we are together, and there are others there, we do not inundate them with explanations about old inside jokes, or trouble them with stories from years ago. please, please, just talk about current events or hobbies or the weather, even. if you want me to just smile and nod for three hours while i invent reasons to leave in my head, then by all means, continue telling me about the time your mom put all the ketchup in the heinz bottle and your brother in law had no idea.

doesnt the glazed look on my face give me away?
seriously, listen to what my eyes are telling you.

the telling of stories, of course, has its own place. i have told my small share and heard a million of them from aunts, uncles, grandparents and the like. it occurs to me that perhaps that was their goal... to make me feel part of the family. or worse, make me actually part of the family at some future time.

i suppose ill just have to set everything straight tomorrow. but how to do it?

i thought i would take some pictures, but when it came down to it, i didnt even take out the camera. familar roads were different somehow and i realized that it was because the treeline had changed; old oaks that once canopied the streets had been destroyed by the hurricane. within 5 minutes of being in the local store (read Wal-Mart), i ran into an old co-worker - she was the cook, i was the server. she was nice enough not to mention all those recipes of hers i sorta ended up with when i left. i also saw someone i recognized as an old friend of my older sister; it just happened to be a reunion weekend. she was striding purposefully down the aisle and i hid behind the shampoo. i saw a ton of people that knew me as a kid and that somehow, amazingly, still cared about me and my family. i chatted with my aunt and we exchanged cat stories.

the old house is a wreck; honestly, the worst house in the neighborhood. i drove by slowly, noting the trees that were only saplings when i left, the garage roof looking shabbier than ever, and this clenched my heart a bit, the little playhouse my grandfather made us, tilted drunkenly to the side; it seemed the ground was gently rising to catch it. that tiny house probably still held my secrets...there were little slots along the ceiling, not meant to be shelves or even pockets, but we made great use of them. code names like nancy drew, bess and george were written in and thats where our "mail" was delivered. my cousin greg smashed his fist through the window that one and only time i locked him in. i can still remember the look his mother gave me when attending to his bleeding hand. there was a giant frog that took up residence one summer and didnt mind that we kept buckets of tadpoles we captured from the ditches in there, too. it was a place i went to think, even as a teenager.

and now as an adult, i feel its loss.

where is your boy tonight? i hope he is a gentleman.

i am such a sucker. nancy drew stationery? how could i be so taken in? anyone like a letter?

and so it is...

i was in bed.

fresh bursts of winds are shaking the trees outside my window and although i cant see the tops of the cedar trees near the road, i see their black shadows swaying on the ground. the rain has been constant, leaving drops of water twinkling like stars in the light from the neighbor's house. i just lay there at the edge of the bed, and try to make out which way the wind is blowing.

its hard to sleep.

he doesnt want her, but he just wont let her go

now all we need is a good name and some talent

you can barely make us out; we are dwarfed by the tree trunks we stand on and the white sky behind creates a glare that puts us in shadow. theres andrew, foremost, lounging against the largest tree and emanating a cool aloofness. em's face, on the opposite side of the same tree, is in the darkness, but her body is angled in such a way that you know her eyes are flashing and her mouth is set. deb is behind andrew and looking off into the distance, rebelling from the camera, with her hat nearly over her eyes. and finally myself, off to the side, nearly off this island of trees, with a wool hat and suede jacket with the collar up.

if only melissa hadnt been behind the camera, this picture would have been complete.

never ending open wound that started from a simple scratch

im not reminded everytime. but occasionally, it seems so recent, so new, and the hurt surprises me with how sharp it still is. no warning really; and i know thats what i meant to happen - that i could just glance at my arm, and see a thin, white sliver of a scar and relive the pain of that day. the pain of those months that year so many years ago.

"travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness."

-mark twain

William Yeats, The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

really, what is it with some guys?

i am not going to be impressed by the size of your semi-truck.
dont wait for me at the stop sign.
slowing down to ask me if im exercising is a waste of my time (and probably a waste of yours).

i have mastered the disinterested-straight ahead-focused on my music-look.
of course, i mastered that look in several forms a long time ago.

Madame Bovary, by Gustave Flaubert (1857)

a few exerpts from the book:

"but a woman is always hampered. at once inert and flexible, she has against her the weakness of the flesh and legal dependance. her will, like the veil of her bonnet, held by a string, flutters in every wind; there is always some desire that draws her, some conventionality that restrains."

"love, she thought, must come suddenly, with great outburst and lightnings - a hurricane of the skies, which falls upon life, revolutionizes it, roots up the will like a leaf, and sweeps the whole heart into the abyss."

"everything seemed to her enveloped in a black atmosphere floating confusedly over the exterior of things, and sorrow was engulfed within her soul with soft shrieks such as the winter wind makes in ruined castles."

"since no one can ever give the exact measure of his needs, nor of his conceptions, nor of his sorrows; and since human speech is like a cracked tin kettle, on which we hammer out tunes to make bears dance when we long to move the stars."
madame bovary, Flaubert

momma, im coming home

the town where i grew up is small and small-minded. the first time i was pulled over happened there (and the second time, too) and the cop said there was too much dancing going on while driving. oh, and the music was kinda loud. we lived across from a small airport and i waited tables at an antique-y tea shop. it was quiet, and had long, flat and dusty roads, stretching deep between orange trees and cattle fields.

in a few weeks, im going back for a weekend. question is, should i order the famous tea room salad or just have key lime pie?

nearly a week ago, i booked it. and with debbie's encouragment, i will be gone a month.

just a few photos i found and tried to brighten, darken and otherwise make presentable.

me like me. 

me in charcoal. 

me in watercolor.

memories, of the way iowa was