Posts

Unless you never leave your house and don't turn on your TV, computer, or even radio, there's slim chance that your world hasn't been somewhat impacted by the loss of some major public figures in the last week.

Farrah Fawcett.
Michael Jackson.
Billy Mays.

Even if you aren't overly emotionally impacted by the passing of these celebrities, their last adventures color your world. They're all the talk over water coolers, grocery store lines, bar stools, blogs and neighborhood fences. I'm not the type of person who dwells much on celebrity figures. But yesterday morning when Lee and I woke up and were lying in bed channel surfing, we paused on a station that was playing video after video of Michael Jackson's greatest.

Always the moonwalk in those white suits. Always that crazy thing he did with his arms. Always the robotic but somehow fluid back-up dancers. Always those Scotland-yard looking policemen chasing after the truth about Billy Jean or The Smooth Criminal.

I couldn't help but think of the impact he had on my pre-teen and teenage years. Him and Farrah both, actually. I remember being glued to MTV and as fascinated by the Thriller video as any other kid my age. I remember getting a Farrah haircut and being so darn proud of my "feathers." I remember wanting to be one of Charlie's Angels and me and my friends making silly juvenile references to "Beat It."

I never understood how people can become so attached to celebrities that they'll camp outside their homes and wail and mourn over their passing. When I was growing up, my friend Kim's mother's had Velvet Elvises (Velvet Elvi?) all over her living and dining rooms. I learned to pick my own steamed crabs at their dining room table. Once, I pulled a claw too hard and a piece of crab meat flew out and smacked a Velvet Elvis on the cheek. I thought Kim's mom was going to smack me upside my head. When Elvis died, I recall her lying on her couch, sobbing as if her world had ended. She had a strong drink of something and took a valium.

I don't get that, but I do get the sense of sadness and loss and the feeling that there's a big empty space left by these people who somehow end up in positions to so dramatically impact and change our culture.

But you know what? Celebrities are not the only people whose passing will leave sadness and loss and emptiness in their wake even if you never "knew" them in the seen-in-person sense.  At least not these days.

I've never met Karen, otherwise known as CosmicCrayola or Cosmic. But through a little corner of the online world called Diaryland - the place where I still keep my private journal today - we've known each other for years. Karen was one of the first people I began reading after starting my own journal there, and we've remained part of the same small-but-big circle ever since, in spite of lots of changes in both D-land and our lives since those early entries.

Cosmic fits her so well. She couldn't have chosen a better moniker for her diary if she'd tried. She is so grounded and real, yet so way-out-there funny and inspiring in her shining and even everyday moments. Since I've been granted access to a slice of her world through her writing, I have come to know a woman who has been through incredible medical struggles, both her own and her husband Terry's. Sometimes it seemed their lives were a roller-coaster of one or both of them battling illness and hospitalization. Yet through it all, most of her journal entries have been about those moments we all hold dearest to our hearts. Family visits. Movie nights with the hubby. Good food. Jokes that hit us all in the funny bone. Daughters and grandchildren. Writing and publishing her book. We've emailed back and forth about a friend of hers getting a ferret. 

Many Diarylanders have met in person along the way. I've formed my share of friendships that transcended our online presence through the site. Unfortunately, I haven't had the chance to meet Cosmic. Others have. I wish I'd been there. But I didn't have to be to be touched by Karen and have her crack me up even on some of my worst days.

I've been behind in my Diaryland reading. So I was a bit stunned when I saw a Facebook status update from Golfwidow that sent me to Karen's diary. There, in the slice of colorful online space where she has written countless entries chronicling his medical battles - with the love, fear and humor that only she could - her husband Terry had posted an update letting us all know that Karen's longtime struggle is winding down. She'd been given just days, and that was a few days ago.

I may not get what I call "extreme celebrity mourning." But I am well aware of how much we can be touched by people we've never actually met through words and screens. Karen is my friend. Because she is still here, I pray for a miracle and hope that this isn't a farewell post but rather just an observation about how much people we haven't met can come to mean something good to us and change our lives. There will be an empty space in my heart that was usually filled with a laugh or a smile courtesy of Karen if she goes someplace where her regular routine doesn't feature blog updates.

It has been a strange week. And in our little corner of the online world, Karen is a shining star who will leave a huge empty space if she does take that journey alongside Michael, Billy and Farrah. I pray for her, Terry and their family.
 

It has been a really good weekend. Nothing in particular, really, so much as just appreciating and really being in the moment for lots of little things. That's what life should be, of course, but I feel it so much more right now because for so long, I really couldn't. I couldn't break away from my stress and worry about work enough to be the moments life is made of, and I was missing them.

Friday, Lee and I trimmed The Vinster's claws and gave him a bath. Not something His Weazness enjoys, but a necessary evil for him and tons of fun for us. Well, maybe not the nail clipping part. But there's nothing funnier than a freshly washed ferret rolling furiously around on your bed to dry himself off. And perhaps to punish you just a bit for plunking him in the tub by getting your sheets all damp.

Isn't he so cute all clean and fluffy?

After Vin's washing-up, Lee headed to bed. He's working this weekend at the PT job, and gets up at 4 a.m.! The good news for him is that he's done and home shortly after 9. I headed up to The Pub with the family. Friday marked the 3rd year anniversary of the death of a very dear friend of ours. His wife and several of our friends who were also close to him were there, and we toasted him and shared stories and remembered and did a lot of laughing and a little crying. It hurt and felt wonderful all at once.

We did the kind of shots HE used to do, which are much stronger than what we'd usually choose on our own. Mom laughed and said he was looking down on us and getting a huge kick out of watching all of us get simple for him.

This morning, I slept in until Lee got off work. Then I went out in the yard with my coffee and found my first jalopenos were ready for plucking from the garden. Just two so far, but one of them is a BIG pepper!

We went shopping later in the day, for our yard and for Father's Day gifts. We found the coolest quirky little store, a garden shop that also just sold all sorts of homey things from fireplace accessories to hot sauces and apple butter. The "greeter" at the store was a beautiful cockatiel, who shouted "HELLO!" at us from his cage the entire time we were browsing. I love places like that.

Later, we went with Lee's daughter and her boyfriend to a birthday dinner for one of her friends, and got to meet some of her crew. At some point during the meal I missed a called from my friend in Florida. She was calling to ask me if I would be one of their references as she and her husband go through their adoption process. Nothing would make me happier. They will be such wonderful parents, and she'd all but given up on that ever happening.

Life is good in so many ways. Freshly washed weasels, meals with family and friends, toasts and laughter and tears in memory of one who left too soon, bright green peppers plucked from the garden, talking birds in off-the-beaten-path shops, and a miracle for a friend who has waited so long for it she thought it was only a dream.

In such big and small ways, the world is a wonderful place.

 

Ya know how I've been talking about those freelance writing goals?

Well, here's my start: Pam's EduBook Page

For those of you who are also interested in this kind of writing opportunity, here's what I've found so far:

1. Unlike other "freelance content" sites, they review some writing samples from you before accepting you as a writer. I actually found this encouraging, as it means they have standards.

2. You don't get to write about "whatever you want." They assign you article topics in batches of four. However, when I applied part of the information they wanted was what my areas of interest are in terms of writing, since they do consider this when doling out work to their writers. I said "career development, writing, education, relationships and pets" and so far all the assignments I've been given relate to one of those categories.

3. They pay $5 per article, and want 500 word articles (not much at all if you are as wordy as I am!)

4. The manager and editors are very responsive and communicative. They expect articles to fit a certain style (concise, heavy on keywords related to your topic, etc). The editor gives very encouraging, friendly and helpful feedback.

5. They pay as soon as they approve your articles, via Paypal.

Granted, I've only been involved for a little over a week, but I'm very pleased so far!

 

 

My ex-husband and I got the short end of the stick when it came to neighbors. I don't know how we missed it when we bought this house, but we signed and sealed ourselves to living next door to people we quickly came to call "The Asscracks."

I had gone to school with the Asscracks, although I didn't remember them. They had 3 kids and a revolving door of dogs that came and went. The dogs were usually mean, because they received about as much affection as one would expect from an amoeba. The Asscracks never cleaned up after the dogs, and in July and August our entire street took on the lovely odor of sweltering pooch poop. When the children would go out to play and step in crap because they pretty much couldn't get across the front lawn without doing so, Papa Asscrack would yell at them and call them retarded.

And that was some of their BETTER behavior.

So you can imagine, we were beyond thrilled when the Asscracks put a "for sale" sign on the lawn and actually cleaned up so that potential buyers wouldn't run screaming from Poop Palace. We did a happy dance when they actually packed up and moved. And we were even more thrilled when we met our new neighbors.

I've written about C & T before. We hit it off immediately, because they moved in with a brood of ferrets. Weasel people always rock in my book. But it was so much more than that. They were warm and friendly and funny. We went from avoiding our neighbors to having chats over the fence and popping in on each other now and then. We watched in amazement as they turned the barren, poop-scarred yard the Asscracks had left behind and turned it into a beautiful haven for themselves and local critters. We were even more amazed at what they did with the inside of the house.

When the ex and I split and I was here by myself, I never felt totally alone because they were next door. I'd often come home from work to little notes or gifts from C in my mailbox, or find a new book to read waiting for me on the porch. If they were ordering dinner, they'd call me and see if I'd join them, and we'd sit and chat and chow in their kitchen and I'd feel like I kind of had family to come home to. T would do little things around the yard that he knew I didn't know how to do myself, without asking me first. And when I had to travel for work, they would happily take in my ferrets while I was gone.

I grew to appreciate how important good neighbors are in that time period. So many people, me included, spend more time talking to distant friends online than they do the people who live next door. Having C and T in my life let me know what life was like in the less wired but somehow more connected world of an earlier time.

I'm thinking about them today because they STILL look out for Lee and I. He's been trying to start his own side business doing lawn maintenance and landscaping. As soon as C found out, she insisted they hire him on to give T a break since he's been working so hard. And then she promptly told every single one of our other neighbors that they should do the same. She's gotten him two additional regular jobs so far, with the possibility of a third. Since she's a homemaker and usually around, she's made a point to get to know all of our neighbors and everyone loves her. Her recommendation goes a long way with people.

I feel extra blessed because I live in the best of both worlds that way. I'm part of the wired age, where I can get to know people who are far away from me and have an extended "neighborhood" I'd never have otherwise. But I'm also taken back to a calmer, gentler time when people took the time to get to know and be part of the lives of the folks living right next door.

Maybe my good luck is karmic payback from living next to the Asscracks for so long. Or maybe I'm just fortunate.

 

It has been an interesting week. An interesting two years, if I really think about it. But we’ll just stick with the week.

I always said I would never be one of those people who settled. I knew far too many people who spent the bulk of their waking hours like hamsters in a wheel, doing work for which they little passion. For some, this did the trick. It allowed them to keep a roof over their family’s heads and food on the table, and maybe spend a week each year at the beach. A few even chose wisely enough to have time and energy away from their hamster wheel to pursue the things that brought them joy. Hell, a handful of my friends even earn their livings doing what they would do even if they weren’t getting paid for it.

Well, when I said I wouldn’t be one of the settlers, I lied. To myself and maybe even to people who believed in my ability to be more. But it has been myself I’ve been hurting the most. Because not only did I settle, but I didn’t choose wisely. I landed myself in a job that required far too much time and mental and emotional energy to leave enough of me left over even for dreaming, let alone for trying to pursue those dreams. I landed there, and even though I wasn’t quite happy with the view, I settled. For years.

If you’ve ever not had money, you know how easy that can be. You find something that allows you not to have your heart get caught in your throat every time a bill comes in the mail. That feels good, sometimes even good enough that you can convince yourself that you are happy.

I envy self-starters, the people who know what they want, won’t let their lives turn out any other way, and go for it. I used to think I was one. As it turns out, though, I’m one of those people who needs to be kick started.

Fate, or God, or something in between them must have recognized that. Because over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten my kick start. Just to make sure I got the message, it has been delivered right in the butt. After two years of being told and making myself believe that things would get better, I finally saw the flashing neon sign that said “Sweetheart, get real. This is gonna suck forever. Why are you clinging to it and giving it everything you’ve got instead of using what you were given to be what you want and maybe actually do some good in the process?”

The details of how that message has been delivered may not even be important. The point is, I finally got it.

So for the last few days, I have been working hard. And for the first time in eons, I’ve been doing that work for myself. I’ve polished my resume. I’ve explored all sorts of possibilities. I’ve sent out a few inquiries. With each little thing I do, I feel the mental wall that has kept me from creating words for over a year now start shifting. There are only hairline cracks in it at the moment. But the cracks are there, proof that the wall can come down if I let it.

The things that have happened were bad. The outcome, not so much.

I see glimpses of a teenage girl, a girl who had said since she was an elementary schooler with a notebook and a pencil that she was going to be a writer. I see her tall and lanky and awkward and sun-browned, poring over college catalogs and daydreaming. I see her laughing and alive, surrounded by friends who all had dreams of their own, outside somewhere on a muggy summer night where lightening bugs flickered and mosquitos bit and no one had school or work in the morning.

She’s me. And she’s in the mirror now, just a shade sometimes, but there. Her eyes shine behind those in the reflection. The lines beneath and around those eyes, thin markers of laughter and tears and far too many hours doing things that made them burn with exhaustion, they don’t hide her anymore.

A kick in the ass can do good things. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

　

As promised, here's our new girl, Tweety.

Lee did the "kiss me baby" part. He says her lips are always puckered up like she wants a kiss. In fact, we thought about naming her "Pucker" instead. But knowing how we are, I didn't want to give her a name we where we could so easily change one letter and entertain ourselves. Besides, "Tweety" is kind of a unisex name so if she turns out to be a boy like Sly did we're covered!

Speaking of Sly, this isn't a great pic, but it shows them together just so you can see how little she really is:

It has been a good weekend. Lee and his brother went fishing yesterday, and he came home with five big catfish. The skinning and filleting them part I could totally do without. I am such a squeamish girl that way. He wanted me to watch so he could explain everything he was doing as he went, and I was like "ugh. Fish guts. No thanks, babe."

He also brought home two box turtles he found on the road near the park. One had narrowly avoided being squished by the car in front of him. We put them in the backyard, and when I came out later they were making funky turtle love in my veggie garden! Later, I went out and the male had taken off. Guess he was a love'em and leave'em kinda guy. But the girl is still hanging around. We're calling her Shelly. I know, original, huh?

Earlier this afternoon we went to a local annual art fest with my mom and niece. One of the bartenders who works at the family pub is also an artist, and had a booth selling her paintings. We bought two matching seascapes for the bedroom. We each found a necklace we wanted too. We would have stayed longer, but it was cold and windy today, so after a quick duck into the beer garden to say hey to some friends, we headed homeward.

Now, I'm just relaxing and pretending that:

- Tomorrow is NOT Monday
- I don't really need to clean my bathroom.

Happy Sunday!

 

From here.

Seriously, I don't mean to be this lame. I meant to do a lot of writing while I was on vacation last week. But being me, I didn't do jack in that respect. The vacay was far from a wash though, because I did:

- take the camping trip described in the previous entry.

- got a new kitten (photos to come). Lee's daughter's cats had kittens and we brought the littlest girl home to live with us. At least we think she's a girl so far. We all know how that went with Sylvester.

- started our veggie garden. Tomatoes, sweet and hot peppers, scallions and squash, here we come!

- go with Lee to get his tattoo (also photos to come).

- Spent lots of time (probably too much) at Ye Olde Family Pub.

- Had a great Mother's Day with the family.

On the downside, a dear family friend passed away. He had been sick and recently put in hospice, but that doesn't make it easier to see someone so good and so loved go.

I'm back at work this week, so of course I picked tonight to try to do a little writing. Big mistake. Big time writer's block is still firmly in place when it comes to anything but blogging. So I gave up and went outside to water the garden instead. As soon as I finished, it started raining.

Oh, and on the way across campus to a meeting today, I was nearly crapped on by a flying goose.

Cosmic messages from the universe, or just signs that I'm already ready for the weekend?

 

I've been an atrocious blogger of late, haven't I? Almost two weeks have gone by since I last wrote.

Rather than start with a recap (which would mostly just be the incredible busy-ness of daily life anyway), I want to get this last weekend down for posterity.

Lee's 41st birthday is tomorrow. We hadn't really planned anything in particular, other than that I'm getting him a tattoo that he really wants as his gift. So yesterday morning, he decided that what he wanted to do for his birthday was take a weekend fishing trip. Even though we'd made zero plans, his brother was free and able to go with us. So we headed out to Conowingo Dam, about an hour from here:

Our original plan was to camp at Susquehannah State Park. Their web site said the campsite opened in May. We'd hastily packed the tent and all the camping equipment we have, which really isn't much. But when we got there, we found the campsite wasn't opened for the season yet. See what I mean - no planning at all!

Not to be stopped, we headed to the bait shop anyway. Actually, we went there BEFORE we knew there would be no campsite, since we also hadn't figured out WHERE the sites were and needed directions. The bait shop reminded me of something out of the movie "Wrong Turn." The guy working, presumably the owner and the only person around, looked like he was a hundred and had never left the woods, and had long white hair that seemed stained yellow in places. But he was a very sweet guy, not a psychokiller, and although it took the 3 of us to decipher exactly what he was saying with his strange accent he managed to give us decent directions to the camp.

Which of course, was closed.

We decided to hang out anyway and just find a spot along the river for them to fish and me to chill out, play with the camera and read. The first spot we tried was a bust. And as we explored the wooded trail along the water, we came to a wreath on a tree that said "In loving memory of Mom and Mike." We wondered aloud why it was there. Was this a favorite spot of the family who put it there, or had whatever happened to "Mom and Mike" actually happened there?

Between the quirky bait shop and that, my writer's imagination was going into overdrive. So I was kind of glad that Lee and Cliff decided it wasn't the best fishing spot.

We headed up the road just a little farther and ended up here:

Those pictures were taken much later in the day, of course. We spent several hours there, them fishing without much luck. I finished a book and started another, watched a fishing crane out on the water, and several rowboats meandering around.

We contemplated trying to stay there overnight, since we had all the camping stuff. But it was too close to the road, and traffic was rare but loud. It was drizzling on and off, and in spite of the fact that I have hillbilly roots I prefer camping sites with indoor places to pee. So Cliff suggested he get us a motel room for the night as his birthday gift to Lee so that we could stay out at late as we wanted without having the drive home ahead of us. We hung out till about 10, then headed off in search of a motel.

With some help from a store clerk where we stopped and got a bottle of wine, we found a motel. Armed with wine and a bucket of chicken and fixins' from KFC, we settled in for the night. The guys were soaked and muddy and had to rinse their clothes in the sink and dry them using the air conditioner. KFC gave us no utensils and we didn't realize it until we were in the room, so we ate like neanderthals. But the wine was yummy and mellowing after a long day outdoors and we sipped and talked and crashed out on the 2 double beds and watched a Sopranos rerun and all fell asleep.

The next morning dawned chilly and filled with an all-day pouring down kind of rain. Since we were there, they wanted to go back to the dam and fish there before heading home. We stopped at the quirky bait shop again so they could stock back up. The same old guy was there, this time with a cute little chihuahua who he put on the counter for us to pet and play with. The little dog acted like it wanted to follow us home, even yipping and sort of growling at the guy when he made him get down and go back behind the counter.

We stopped and checked out a few other places before heading to the dam:

Ignore Lee's goofy gesture there in the one with his brother! I'm not sure if it was intended for Cliff who was ragging on him or me because I kept trying to retake the picture LOL!

Anyway, the rain just kept getting worse, so I left them to go get soaked at the dam while I curled up in the van with a book and watched the river and the fishermen until they were ready to roll. We got home a while ago, Lee and I took a wonderful nap, and I'm now just enjoying the feeling you get when you've got a great weekend in your tail lights but still have a week off ahead of you!

Rainy Days:

- I'm still in desperate need of a vacation. It's still a little too far away.

- Too many things needing fixin' and not enough money to fix them.

- Splinters

- The smell of cat butt in the morning even though Lee just did the litterbox

- A day of non-stop rain - the kind that slants because of the wind and makes an umbrella pretty much useless - on a Monday.

Sunny Skies

- Sleeping in just a little bit on a Monday to make that first day back to work slighly less like hell personified.

- Pirate Fests and parrot rescues!

- Going to a flea market on a whim with Lee and his daughter and finding the PERFECT Steelers shirt.

- Getting the garden ready for flower-time.

- Another department at work putting on a free breakfast for us because we let them use our suite of offices for an event last week. A very nice rainy Monday gift!

- The Sex and The City movie. I hadn't seen it yet and my friend and I sat and watched it Saturday night. It sucked us in so much that we never actually left to go see the movie we were planning on catching.

- My city. A trip downtown always reminds me just how much I love it in spite of its foils.

Looking Forward To:

- A weekend in the mountains this weekend.

- Vacation on the horizon. 

 

So, just to show that my life isn't ALL work and no play, here are a few shots from the Pirate Festival, otherwise known as Privateer Day.

We got down to the point early in the afternoon. It was a perfect sunny day, high 70's with just the slightest hint of a breeze. I left the festival with a sunburned nose and shoulders. The venders were all set up in the square, selling pirate gear and pirate books and pirate just about anything. But a lot of the shows took place right along the waterfront. This is just a shot of people wandering around the harbor enjoying the day and waiting to be entertained with piratey goodness:

 

We avoided gorging ourselves on fried festival food by ducking into the Wharf Rat for a quick lunch. The place kind of fits the pirate theme AND has really good microbrews.

Afterwards, we went wandering again. There was a guy roaming the fest who had dressed up to look JUST like Jack Sparrow. He did the hair and makeup perfectly, and had his sort of mincing, foppy walk down to a tee! I wish I had gotten a picture of him, but he was so quick I missed him. I'm not even sure if he was part of the entertainment or just a dude who had come to the festival in style. But we did catch a pirate duel:

And I think my favorite attraction was The Wilson Parrot Foundation (http://wilsonparrotfoundation.org). They rescue and rehabilitate parrots, and had several of their charges with them at the festival:

I'm not sure if they were actually giving this guy the lemonade that came in those cups or if they'd gotten him some water, but whatever it was, he was lovin' it!

The other animal attraction, I'm pretty sure at least, wasn't technically part of the festival. We ran into this guy while watching one of the pirate shows:

I don't know if you can tell from the pic, but I was both fascinated and a little scared! Believe it or not, the snake actually felt very soft and smooth, not what I was expecting at all. I kept looking down at his flickering little tongue though and thinking "dude, stay cool while we take this picture, okay?"

My friend Shan got a pic with him too. After her shot, the snake didn't want to unwrap himself from her shoulder! I think he liked her.

All in all, it was a great day. And posting the photos made me feel a little less crappy about it being Monday now.