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.