And A Dog Shall Lead Us

    I have just returned from the church of Starbucks, with eggnog latte, the size of my left thigh!! and a Christmas Album, by Mary J Blige, thank you Jesus.
    Just about ready to get my Christmas cards started, but I had to set the stage.
    Ready, set, begin.....well now I am distracted, and have to sip and sing!
I have had several blogs in my head, so maybe I had better jot it down. These days you never know when the thoughts will just leave your body, like a demon! Poof, gone and then you look around to see if indeed your head turned like in the Exorcist!
     My blog for this perfect day, is about Lucy.
     Lucy Mae Baron, our black lab, that rescued my family.
     When we lost our beloved son to the chains of drugs, we died with him. I know we all have grieved differently, but all was lost. Our boy, grandchild, brother, uncle, cousin, friend. These fall days, that are so special to so many, makes it harder for me to breathe.
   There was a time, the first two years, that I woke Bill up on many occasions and asked him to take me to the nut house. Whatever you call a place for "Crazy", I need to go. I could not see how I could continue to live. Bill, in his calm way, his only way, would say, " What could they do with you?" "For You?" I had no answer, then he would just pat my back. This was just too much, and I was going to a place of no return, I had to get busy.
   I began to look for a dog, Yes we needed a dog. Something we could love and take care of, who needed us. Who would allow me to think of something else, beside how much I hurt.
  The family was not fully in my corner. Forever we have had animals, but at this time, we were dog-free.
  They were probably thinking it would be too much of a burden for me, I was unable to care for myself  or others, how could I take care of a dog!! They should have known me by now, I was getting a dog, period. I had a plan.
   Went online and did my research. I needed a smart dog, truly I was not in any shape to train a dog. Little did I know that she would train me. Miss Lucy would give us hope for another day, make us get up and take her out, play with this puppy, give us some relief from this horrible pain.
   This black lab angel dog, came to stay and lead us out of the deep hole of grief. ( I just screamed shi*, fu*k, while Mary J was singing, NOEL!!! my computer went blank, and I lost it!!) ( Now I have returned to my holy place!!)
  Bill walks Lucy, Hart plays ball with her, Emma takes up the slack and I get to love her, as we all do.
 I am thankful for this gift, who sheds all over, weighs a ton, and loves us to pieces.
 She is out back right now, hunting down her squirrel friends, and then will sit at my feet while I get my cards ready.
  Grateful and lucky, that's me.

  

Enormously Full

  Dreary Saturday, full of blessings.
  My cup runs over, with gifts galore.
  So I shall take a moment to reflect, and pass it on.

  You know where I sit, and write. I have shown you the left side, and behind me, also on the table with me.

This is on the floor, to my right. The wooden tool box, is very old and marked with 'tool history'. I believe I purchased it in Yardley, Pa. at a big flea market. Of course it called my name, and I have hauled it to Georgia. This jewel holds my wine bottles, that I like to glance at it. I pick wine out by the labels, not by taste.
I like wine, don't love it, but the labels..of course speak to me. ( Bought one the other day, called Bitches and Witches, that is just too good not to have!) ( The plant in the photo, just comes inside during the winter, its just visiting for the moment!!)
  Something else, I love is how the sun shines in this, my spot.
I think your spot is important, and I love mine. ( also love shutters, my Auntie Frances had shutters in her bedroom, that I remember as a child.)

Is that not amazing, serene and peaceful. Surround yourself with things that speak to you, and be aware of the light. Its a beautiful thing.

Now you see several angles of my gratitude! I share this with few, but if you are reading this blog, we are almost!!!!intimate. You know my secrets, or a few.
    This gloomy day, with football on all TVs, dog is asleep AGAIN, cats are asleep Again(animals have a great life, many naps! then eat!) Adult children, are hanging out, Husband has done grocery store stuff, and I have a date with some girlfriends to see Sir Elton John tonight.
  Life is good, think that should go on a shirt?( oh yea, already done!!)
  Life is.....life, as per Homer!
  Life is enormously full, at least in my spot.

Thankful for the Years

  I guess most generations think theirs has been the best.
  My years have been so full, and so wonderful to live in. My mom would probably argue this fact. Times they were a changing and I was right in the middle of it. I went from Madras to bra burning in a wink of an eye. A buttoned up cardigan, to long skirts and beads.
 I was a child in 52, and by 63 my world was shattered.
 Fear of communism and death hovered ever so closely, with the drills in elementary school. Anxiety was my partner in life, and then the president was shot.
 My mom, ran to our school, and into my room , crying telling Mr. Edwards that the president was shot, I don't think she used the word dead. ( we did not use the word pregnant either!!) I went home. It was quiet in our house, and things proceeded as usual. Kids did not ask questions, and barely watched any news. However I watched my parents faces, and I could not breathe. I remember blowing kisses to God, every night, so that maybe my family would be safe from whomever these bad people were. I was all of 11, mom still picked out my clothes, and I grew up really fast after that day.
 I was never a little girl again, my heart hurt and I could not process what had happened.
 My mom ordered a book, with all the details and photographs of the time. I devoured it, and have to this day.
 Just fifty years ago, seems so near and real, yet I know time has continued.
   Iam so thankful that I keep things, that help mold me. The book, The Torch Is Passed, has been dragged out every year, and I run my fingers over the pages. My children have sat with me, going over how young their mommy was!! Emma sat and briefly watched Killing Kennedy with Bill and I last night. Her biggest thought , mom was in elementary school and dad was a senior in high school, " That is just wrong!!" to quote my child with devil horns!! " Why do you watch this sad stuff?" said Lucifers angel. "IT IS MY LIFE, MY WHOLE LIFE changed that day!" quietly speaking to my love child.

   Your generation is you, all about you. We had big sorrows, and the Beatles. Music saved our soul, and of course organized religion ! We were from the south, religion is our bread and butter.
   The woman's movement and birth control changed my very being. These things were big, life altering wonderful happenings in my life. ( again Iam not so sure my mom would be on the birth control band wagon, back in the day. BUT she too has changed with the times, she rocks!) I am beyond proud to be a woman.

   This November, let us remember all the moments that changed us. Celebrate each year with Thanksgiving.
   Lucky am I, this I know.

Thankful for Pat

 On this Thursday afternoon, the sun has decided to peep out, and I began to stir.
 Normally I would leave my book reading until the end of the month, so I can fill you up, as books have filled me.
  This will not wait.
  So very thankful for Pat Conroy and his screwed up family. ( Note in my blog title, I use just his first name, I think we are cousins, or very close friends)
  I know in the past I have written about Pat, his way with language, reminds me of the smell of coffee in the morning. That first sip, warm java hitting your stomach, and then you breathe. Pat Conroy is one of our southern best. He is sweet tea with extra lemon, and a shot of white lightning.
 I do not under any circumstances understand how he has survived growing up, but I think writing saved him. At least it gave him some rope.
  The Death of Santini: The Story of a Father and His Son, is charming and undone.Exquisite prose, that comes from a hideous start.
 It helps if you have read his other books, you will understand his relationship with his family and how his life is the foundation of his work. He also refers to his family history as a wound, that he remembers even from diapers. Fascinating horror that produces this master writer.
  He describes his parents marriage as composed of terror and great violence, storm-tossed and seasoned with all the terrible salts of pain. ( He is a genius, a broken genius with words)
 Pat tells of love in his family that came to them veiled in disturbance-they had to learn it the hard way, cutting away the spoilage like bruises on a pear. ( The poet in him speaks volumes)
 When talking about his mom, whom he loved deeply, he said, "She could camouflage the blade of beauty in the folds of a matadors red cape." What a way to describe a women who could use silence to declaw her husband, her ungovernable husband! ( These are his words, not mine. I wish they were mine!)
 Here are a few more words about his mom.
      She lacked the quiet confidence that comes from the leisure and gracefulness of coming up right. Fashion and style were not tests you could study for. Your birthplace is your destiny and it hunts you down in whatever cotillion you've run to hide in-it is a bad tattoo that is defining, accurate, and irremovable.
   His mom lived in southern shame, and married a mean man. Their family was a vessel of pure madness(still his words, all of these are his words) The Depression pollinated every corner of her personality with the dark ash of insecurity she would take to her grave.( lord have mercy)
  Hard to believe that the book is Mr. Conroys goodbye to his demons. He lays out the family tree, and all of its badly lit crazy people, and forgives and closes those chapters.
  His father, whom I met at a book signing years ago, was the most horrible parent. He was a Marine fighter pilot, need I say more. Seriously these children should have gone to foster homes, years ago, but that was back in the day, where all was swept under the rugs. Mental illness, beatings, verbal abuse, sexual abuse, all lay under the rugs in many households. The Conroys, are in a league of their own.
  From the Chicago Irish Catholic, to the Alabama snake handlers, this combo, this DNA was toxic and yet..
Pat Conroy's words.
   He dedicated this book to his brothers and sisters, who knew how bad it really was.
 Out of the pain, comes......its all about choices.
  Thankful for my Pat, and his stories.

With Gratitude

  November rolls along with much gratitude.
  To say I have the best friends, does not do them justice. Iam so thankful for my friends, near and far.
   Just this week, Sunday night and Tuesday night, I supped with the girls. Bistro Nikko and  Marlowes were so lucky to have us. We talk and talk and talk, and throw some food down. It is always my pleasure to be surrounded by beautiful, strong, funny women. I love them all, even better then the concert that some of us watched. I will say, Allison and I had the best seats in the house to see House!

and as I write, I must note that my number four son is sitting across the table from me, eating, and of course not talking to me, because Iam working!! Its fun to have him home, in the middle of the day. He is moving into a new condo, and taking everything in my house that is not tied down!! So this is not a relaxed blog, I have to keep my eyes on him, like a hawk! precious adult children????

 There are a couple of things I want to lift up to my blessings, my sea glass, from Lucie Hamner. Also my daddy's canes, from Homer! two things I can see as I type, that touch my heart.

Mrs. Hamner bought me sea glass that she collected off the coast of Washington state. Each summer I would beg her for some, so it became a treat that for many years, she would pass on to me. I love each piece, I have turned them all over in my hand a million times. It fascinates me. One year for my August birthday there was a bag of something on my front porch, just a brown bag. I was hesitant to open it, but what the heck...it was full of sea glass from Lucy, no note, just my bag of glass. I will cherish the pieces of glass and our friendship. ( She now lives on "Glass Beach" in Washington) She taught me so much. So thankful.

I get to look at my sea glass while I type, but I confess I have to turn my head to see daddy's canes going up the back stairs. Those are Ward's stairs that lead to his bedroom, I do not think any of us use those stairs, they are solely his. Guess they will be always be his. I thought my daddy's canes would help Ward travel the stairs if he ever chooses to visit. ( I guess spirits don't need walking sticks, but he would appreciate the thought of pop-pops many collections, on his walking path)

I never allowed guns, even toy ones in my house,so I would tell the kids, to just grab a stick. Multiple uses, for intruders, or each other!! just watch out for eyeballs!! ( Note: no intruders ever, or sticks used on each other!!) My dad had hip replacement surgery starting in his early fifties. He had many, and required walking canes, he never found the right one. Lucky me, I get them all, and love them so much. Thanks dad for being particular to the point of hoarding canes, your number one daughter is thankful!

Those are my joys of the day, plus a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, gosh you forget how good that taste.
With gratitude.

Surround Yourself with Love

 Love encircles me, it is a well thought out plan.
 You cannot come into my home, and not see me.
  My joy is in every nook and cranny. Mixed in with animals, children, a hubs, great crazy love surrounds me.
        This November, I will take you through my home, and share some of my favorites things. This is the season to be thankful. You know that I adore my children, love my Bill, and pamper my animals, as if, they were all royalty. When in fact, the queen always rules! You would think that would be enough, all these jewels in my crown, but....I like my castle to have a little bit of my love, with stuff that will make this queen happy so I can share my love with all my subjects, I mean family members!
     You know I sit in my kitchen to write my blog, I love my spot!! In our big family, five kids, two adults and a cast of animals through the years, I have always had a spot. You have to carve out your spot, and put up a sign! No one talks to me, when I write or read. Mom is in her spot, is serious!! I am so very thankful for my area, and that my family has given me space of my own.

This is what I see , to the left of where I am sitting right now. I love it!! My marbles in this vase!! It may represent the marbles I have lost over the years, or just that I like to collect things that are not used much anymore. I feel sad, that marbles are a thing of the past. A game of long ago, and they deserve some love.
The vase, I bought at an antique store, and it is heavy and deep, not sure what it was used for. I put flowers in it once, and the vase overpowered the flowers, so I let the vase be on its on. It is a piece of art, sitting on a treasure.

It sits on top of an old card catalog case, I bought  in Vermont. I miss libraries and looking up where a book may be on the shelf. I wish that I had an entire wall of card catalog boxes.When the kids were little, they all had a drawer, to keep their secret stuff. If you look closely Hart's name is still on the left, bottom drawer. Lord knows what is in there, something special, I hope.    So thankful on this Sunday morning, for a couple of neat objects, a spot to think and a family for letting me read, write and buy fun things.
   More to come.....