Category Archives: my life

skywatch friday

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I couldn’t bring myself to post another snowy, barren winter scene… I am sooo over winter. My poor backyard is all brown mud and pools of gray snow, it’s covered with sticks and dried leaves and ringed by wilted and neglected clematis vines.  I’m feeling a bit wilted and neglected myself after a long, cold winter (and a long, grief filled year) and I need a dose of color.  So here’s my little park across the street before the snow and cold swept in this year. Happy SkyWatch Friday everyone!

So it’s been kind of a long road, but it was a good journey altogether. ~ Sidney Poitier

skywatch friday

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I captured this shot when I got up this morning. I liked the way the sun was lighting up the flag and silhouetting the porch against the clear blue sky. Tomorrow it will cloudy with a chance of five to eight inches of that white stuff. We were going to get together with family for a winter birthday birthday bash but cancelled because we have some family with long drives. My sister is one of those and seeing the flag this morning got me thinking about her son, he may be in that next wave of Marines going to Afghanistan. So this post is in honor of Charlie and all the other brave men and women who serve in our military.

more cheese please

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The other night while at a friend’s house for dinner I sampled a cheese and fell head over heels in love. Now I’m not a particularly cheesy person (so I like to think anyway),  and I’m even a little lactose intolerant, but this cheese was so yummy I made Sarah write down the name so I could pick some up. It’s called Dubliner and has a slightly sweet, nutty taste. I like it sliced thinly on gluten-free crackers, but it’s also great with apples, wine, and even beer. I’ve read that it melts well too so I plan to try it in some recipes. So move over George Clooney and bring on the Metamucil, this babie has a new crush;)

Age is not important unless you’re a cheese. ~Helen Hayes

strength vs fear

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When I was growing up, my mom often took on responsibility for two of her brothers who suffered from mental illness. My first trip to New York City was to visit one of those uncles on Staten Island in the hospital. I remember riding the subway in the city, taking cabs for the first time, and skimming across a blue-green New York Harbor on the Staten Island Ferry with my mother at my side. It was all a grand adventure as far as I was concerned and it never occurred to me that my mom was under any stress; wondering what kind of shape she would find her beloved big brother in, being forced to talk to strange doctors and make arrangements to get him back to Michigan. My grandmother always turned to her youngest daughter for help when the shit hit the fan because Carol was the “strong” one, the one who could get things done. I was surprised while talking with my mom in later years when she mentioned going to the doctor to get a prescription for Valium before she had to go to court to commit her other ill brother to a mental hospital. I suppose that was one of those eye opening moments when I really looked at my mother as a person, not as an all-powerful and all-knowing parent.

One of the characters in my latest book makes the following statement while talking to a friend, “…and the thing about strength is, nobody faces a potential heartache and thinks, Hey bring it on, I’m ready. It just doesn’t work like that Susie. We do what we have to do when the people we love need us and it’s damn hard sometimes. I don’t really buy into that idea some people have more strength than others.” So I’m wondering if you agree with her, are there people who are by nature stronger than others, or are some people simply more willing to act despite their fear? And do we pay a price by acting when we are afraid, or do we gain strength?

Click on the label to make your own:)

one more hug

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A few nights ago I was dreaming that I was in strange apartment at some kind of family get-together. There were small round tables set up and I was scanning the people at the tables, looking for my mom. I walked over and peered around a half wall and saw her. She appeared how I remember her at the end of her life when she was very ill and I didn’t want to see her that way so I went back and sat down at another table. When I looked up she was sitting across from me, healthy and young, younger than I have conscious memory of her. She tried to say something but I couldn’t understand her so we got up and moved toward each other and we embraced.

I was going to tell her that I wanted her to give me a sign or come to me in my dreams so that I would know that she was okay. But as I wrapped my arms around her and  felt the softness of her short curly hair against my left cheek, I suddenly understood what seemed to be happening so instead I simply said, “I just wanted to tell you that you were a great mom.” I woke up with my lips moving and I heard my own whispered voice speaking out loud, “…a great mom.”

skywatch friday

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Winter Sky

It finally feels like the holidays are over today and a new year has begun. Over the past couple of weeks, as 2008 wound down, I started to feel that big bad cloud of sadness and regret gathering over my shoulders and at first I let it, I figured I deserved it, didn’t I? A little wallowing, a few what-ifs? I mean, this has been one helluva year of stress and loss and heartache around here. But after a few days of it (and a few sleepless nights too) I realized that I was going to have to make a conscious effort to choose between sorrow and happiness, between gloom and optimism. And I knew that there might even be days when I would have to fake it to make it, but that’s okay, I can do that. Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to feel sad and only remember the bad days every time I look at a photograph of my mom, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to believe anything other than the fact that come July 1st I will be holding a healthy little grandbaby up to my face and breathing in the sweetness of a new life, a new beginning.

skywatch friday

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The other day I was driving home from running errands and I saw that little patch of blue sky peeking through a blanket of lead colored clouds. During the winter, the landscape around here seems to lose its color. But I think maybe we sometimes simply lose the ability to see the muted colors of the season. That little bit of bright blue sky reminded me to look a little harder, to look past the naked brown branches of the trees and the withered flowers in my garden. I went across the street and photographed the fishing pond in the park again, frozen now, but rimmed with bronzed grasses and crowned with just enough blue sky to renew my fragile faith.

Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies. ~Mother Teresa of Calcutta

sunday rerun

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I was thinking about Julie today and her husband’s sudden death and I remembered a post I did on my old blog. I had a tattered copy laying around and it being a lazy Sunday afternoon and all I decided to rerun it. I did the neat old movie animation on Mr. bookbabie’s photo at LunaPic.com, a fun online photo editor and animator…

On our way home from Whole Foods today, my husband and I saw an accident just minutes after it happened. A large SUV had run off the road, hit a ditch, and smashed into some trees. Several cars had already stopped to help but the police hadn’t yet arrived and we saw that someone had opened the driver-side door. Inside, a woman lay slumped and unmoving over the steering wheel. She had short blond hair like me and she was wearing a red coat with a fur collar. Maybe she was out running errands we said, or maybe she was on her way home from a holiday lunch. We tried to convince one another that she was “just” knocked out from the force of the airbag, that the front end of the car really didn’t look that bad.

As we drove, one, two, three police cars sped past us, lights flashing and sirens screaming. Then two ambulances and another police car passed us and we suddenly realized that she probably wasn’t alone in that big SUV, maybe she had a car full of friends – or children. As we opened the trunk at our house we could still hear the wail of sirens in the distance and I turned to my husband and said, “Every day when I hear you…” and that’s all I got out before the tears started and the words caught in my throat. But what I wanted to say was this, “Every day when I hear the door open and I hear your footsteps coming into the house, and I hear your tired voice call out ‘hello’, that’s the best part of my day, that’s the moment I would choose to have back one more time if anything ever happened to you.”