Happiness Is…

•Crisp parchment paper•
•Old fashioned ink pens•
•The sound and smell of wood crackling in a fire-place•
•Birds and their songs•
•Black and white horror films on Halloween•
•Sappy love songs•
•Barry Manilow (don’t judge)•
•Surprises just because•
•Old world charm and manners•
•Chivalry (towards me of course)•
•Singing in the shower•
•I have a crazy desire to collect hand-made soaps•
•Coach purses•
•Naming everything•
•Alone behaviour when I’m not alone•
•The Quiet•
•Old Buildings and their stories•
•Books and their smell•
•Deep penetrating kisses•
•Equestrian events•
•The wind in my face•
•Individuals who understand girls like me•
•Pink Depression glass•
•Deadliest Catch•
•Nick and Nora Charles•
•The sound of a heart beating•
•The sound of the ocean•
•Learning to be patient•
•The thrill of instant gratification•
•Searching flea markets for hours•
•Spontaneous trips•
•Secret places•
•English gardens•
•Pretty Bungalows•
•Diet Coke•
•Ritual of all kinds•
•The scent of burning incense•
•Strong hands that heat my skin•
•laughter that bubbles forth from ones soul•
•The smell of Tuberose•
•The way chocolate melts on my tongue•
•The way words feel as they slip from my lips•
•The feel of snow flakes on my eyelashes and rain on my lips•
•My obesession with lipstick•
•Pink, sparkly things•
•Magic wands (if only)•
•Hostess Cherry Pies•
•Being read to•
•Wearing a mans shirt•
•Being objectified (fun)!•
•The Dark•
•French Champagne•
•Being still with myself•
•Blue Alerts•
•Crushed ice•

There But For The Grace Of God Go I …



While in a parking lot yesterday, I came across a woman. 

I was sitting in the car when I noticed that she was standing a bit away from my window.  I rolled the window down and smiled. 

She was sunburnt,  her lips were blistered and she looked weary and sad.  She apologized for possibly startling me and then her lower lip started to tremble.  She wondered if it would be possible to help her.  She was trying to buy a bus ticket to Placerville to go to a women’s shelter. 

As she asked, tears formed in her eyes.  Her hands shook as she kneaded them together.  I smiled and gently tried to reassure her that I was not frightened or upset.  I let her know that I didn’t have much cash, but what I did have I would willingly give to her. 

She began to thank me, but I stopped her.  I told her that it was okay.  That there are times in all of our lives where we have to do what we must and there is no shame in it.  She smiled at me and I could see a bit of relief in her eyes. 

As she began to back away I put my hand outside the window and told her it was would be okay.  Again she smiled, turned and walked off. 

But I wondered, would it really?

Was she going to make it to that shelter? 

Would her parched lips know liquid? 

Would her wounded soul someday be filled with peace and love instead of fear?

I worry lately about finances (as many of us in this economy do).  But I have never been alone. 

I have always known that my family would be there for me in times of great need. 

I have always known love and support. 

I would never be homeless. 

I would never go hungry. 

I would never be on the street. 

No one should live on the streets. 

Such sadness shouldn’t exist. 

Anthropologists will tell you that there are many cultures that don’t understand us.  They don’t understand that we “own” land.  Land that others can not touch or rest upon.  They don’t understand people going hungry when so many have so much.  I must say that I don’t understand it either.

Charity starts at home. 

I think this is a motto that we, as Americans, need to embrace. 

It’s time that we started taking care of our own. 

It is time to help those who are afraid, hungry and in need. 

Help without humiliation. 

Everyone is somebody.

They have a story.

A name.

A reason.

A will to live.

Acknowledge it all.  Bring light and love into all of your moments.  Be gentle with others, especially those in need. 

Humble yourself.

That is humanity.




I am willing to do anything.  Anything, that is, that will keep me from studying. 

First, a sock drawer cleaned. 

Then there was the mid afternoon fruit water break (shared with Lulu The Princess Bean)

Then of course the requisite walk for Lulu (which was a bit longer than normal). 

I believe now that I need to run an errand.  What this errand is will remain a mystery (I suppose) until I’m in my car and heading in that direction (whichever direction I feel I should go).



Uh huh.

Life’s A Stage…



The ugliest word in my vocabulary these days. 

I’m saturated with it lately.  So much so that it feels as if it’s seeping out of my pores. 

The past year has been decidedly exhausting and words can not express how much I long for a bit of a respite. 

Being extremely ill last Summer and the 11  or so months it took to heal to a certain point has robbed me of most of my energy. 

I just don’t feel like ‘me’ much these days. 

Maybe the problem is that I will never be the ‘before’ girl again.  But this is hard for me to fathom. 

Maybe if I stop swimming against the tide I’d feel more afloat.

It seems that I have an amazing ability to turn things off as well.  I believe it’s more like a life saving mode that switches on. 

It’s detaching.  

Funny, I still know all the things that are causing the distress,  but I no longer feel anything about them.  It’s as if I’ve turned off my emotions. 

Have you ever watched something from a distance?

Or possibly seen an event happen through a tunnel?

If so you’ll know what I’m speaking of.  

Sometimes I think that I should worry that I’m so detached.  But why? 

I wonder when I’ll return to the emotional me. 

Will the switch flip like a fuse that is reset?

And, if so, will emotions flood me? 

Will I find myself once again interested in emoting? 

Honestly I don’t know. 

Right now I am simply grateful that life seems like a movie.  

What will the lead actress do next? 

Will she kiss the man? 

Does she know who she is? 

Is the face cream really working? 

Will tears smear her mascara? 

When she laughs can others tell it’s hollow? 

To cry does she cut up onions before attempting a scene? 

If she looks 3D isn’t that enough?

Does it really matter?

A Few Late Bits …


Have you ever just felt swept away by life? 

That’s how I’ve felt as of late. 

It’s as if the seconds, minutes, hours and days simply roll into one another.  I find that I’m having a difficult time differentiating between them. 

I have a list of a thousand things that need to get done.  Some little and others rather large. 

I want to clean the carpets.

Finish the patio and make it pretty.

Finish this class and ace the final.

Rearrange the furniture in the living room.

Hang pictures and put out bits of pretty, so that the place feels like a home.

Get up early every morning and walk Lulu while it’s still fresh and cool outside.

Bake banana bread.

Finish the four books I’ve started and so much more.

Lately I’ve been frustrated with myself.  

I seem to put everyone and everything ahead of what I need (and always have).  But sooner or later we have to gather the strength and say “me first”.  

I have a new mantra:

I will be happy. 

To do this I need to put my house and life in order.  As soon as I do I believe that a bit of the chaos  that I’m feeling will dissipate. 

I’m not used to putting myself first truth be told.  

But I’m going to give it my best shot!




I just bit into the juiciest nectarine I have ever encountered.

It was plump, enticing and tantalized my taste buds before they had even sampled it.

The sweetness immediately intoxicated me and elicited little sighs of pleasure. 

Delightfully  fragrant and somewhat sticky juice, slowly dripped from the ripe fruit. 

At that moment all I knew was pure bliss. 

How could something so simple be so life affirming?

Should God really have punished Eve for taking a taste? 

Shouldn’t we all (taste life)?

 It was as if I suddenly knew all the beauty the world held. 

Simple, unadulterated joy. 

Brought forth by a piece of fruit? 

Have I lost my mind?

Is life so provincial?

No, I don’t think so.

I believe that  my heart was open and briefly unencumbered.  So much so that I was able to truly experience the beauty of the moment. 

A few seconds of something simple yet ever so complex.  


Time, How Quickly You Move…


I have a birthday today.

Truth be told I’m not ready for it. 

When I was a little girl I used to cry when my birthday was over.  My mother would always find me curled up on my bed filled with sadness.  She would ask me why I was sad and I would tell her that all the ‘special’ was over.  There was no consoling me.

Strangely, I’m still like this at most holidays.

The only difference now is that I tend to find myself in existential crisis before and during my birthday. 

Yes, I realize that it’s a life celebration.  And, I’d absolutely abhor the alternative.  But I can’t help but feel as if I’m not quite there yet.  You know?

Rationally I know I’m loved.  I’m blessed with true friends.  I have a warm home.  A family that I adore and a puppy that is my heart. 

But I long for more.  Does that somehow make me selfish?

For the past few days I’ve been detached.  It’s self-preservation at its finest.  No emotion.  It’s all stored away in a nice and neat compartment somewhere inside of me.  To be unlocked and released, but when?

Oh yes and what about time?

I don’t understand it.  It moves to quickly, so much so that I feel as if it’s taken my breath. 

Where did the days, months and years go? 

When did I wake up 40?

Why do I have turn 41? 

Why won’t time stop, so that I can catch my breath, reassess and step back into the flow?

Will I ever feel fulfilled?

Can a spot of cake make it all better?

It Seems…


Bespectacled Me


Dear gentle readers, 

It seems that the world is conspiring against me.  

My beloved and much-needed spectacles have come to an ugly and quite painful demise.  

Hence, I am at this time unable to truly write.   This is unfortunate as my mind is brimming with thoughts to share. 

Will the girl be sighted again soon? Only the shadow knows! 

Stay tuned…

Ever So Still…



It is quiet and still.

The inane chatter of the world has disappeared and once again I am at peace. 

I long to immerse myself in the earth and let ancient vines wrap themselves around me.  Becoming one, with that which is most holy. 

I want to feel the vibrations of harmony resounding on my fingertips.

 I wish to turn my lips skyward and silently beseech the moon to infuse me with her lunar rays, until the essence spills from my pores.

I wait for the stars to softly whisper their desires in my ear. 

In the cool, dark, damp night, I am free…

Cape Cod Longing…

A Walk At Low Tide


I miss Cape Cod.     

The last time I visited was in September 2009.  It’s been much too long.      

I remember it was stunningly beautiful in the Fall.      

The sunlight was dappled and welcoming.       

The Indian Summer air was warm and left lingering remnants of salt on my lips.       

I recall a red moon rose on the first night and it’s reflection was caught  in the wetness of the low tide.      

The lobster was delicious and decadent and the streets bustled with vibrant energy.       

There’s something romantic and endearing about this area of the country.  Mysterious and historic as well.       

And just to touch on a bit of the historic: Most aren’t aware that the Pilgrims first landed in Province Town before the Mayflower came to rest at Plymouth Rock.       

Some of the oldest Pilgrim cemetaries in our country our located there.  I love to walk through them, reading the names and epitaphs on the crumbling yet amazingly interesting head stones.  In the oldest parts you can find bits of the headstones that have fallen off.  Shards of layered stone that tingle when you hold them.  As if still emitting energy from the past.      

The magic begins the moment you start your drive on the Cape.       

I’m always so excited to see the wild turkeys on the side of the road.  So much so that I squeal and want to stop the car to walk with and photograph them.       

I love saying the names of the towns out loud as I pass the signs that direct you to them.  It’s just fun to think of living in a town called ‘Sandwich’ don’t you think (just a bit of history: It’s the oldest town on the Cape and one of the oldest in the United States)?       

But my favorite moment is when the sand dunes come into sight.  There’s something so magical about them.       

One day I hope to own a cottage there.  Somewhere to simply ‘be’ and ensconce myself in pure, quiet beauty.      

Yes, I’m longing for the Cape…