The Magic of Creativity

There's nothing like it in the world!  The magic that occurs when friends congregate to create.

This last Saturday, the doors of my studio/cottage (my home) were opened to friends with the invitation of participating in a day of creativity.  "Bring your projects or just come prepared to make something!" were my instructions.

A cold, blustery day, I wasn't expecting much of a turnout.  But, the misty and windy afternoon didn't seem to dampen our spirits.  In my tiny little studio/cottage, all of about 600 square feet, were several artists, teachers and creative spirits, working hard at making beauty.

With holiday music in the air, Wassail cooking on my hot plate in the kitchenette and hors d'ouvres on my hand-painted coffee table (reflecting the image of the birth of Venus), the makings for magic were in place.  We laughed, sipped, ate and created.  After the wassail was gone, we enjoyed a beautiful glass of Cabernet while working hard to finish our projects before the evening set in.

Silence, at times, would be broken by sparks of genius, ignited as someone breathed in air with the final solution to a conundrum in their project.  Glee expressed at the completion of another.  Ideas were shared, beads were shared and most of all, encouragement and appreciation were had by all.  It was magic.  It was enchanting.  It was creativity at its best.

Sharing was key.  "I need pearls for eggs in the nest we're making over here," I said.  "No problem!" offered Sandy,  and Regina, at the same time said, "I have some!"  Arms were moving and people bustling around to accommodate the need at hand. "Goddesses" was the term Maya used in reference to us all gathered together.  Goddesses were in my cottage!  We were what creativity was all about.  There was no competition, no grasping for ideas.  We just tapped in and turned on.  It was pure.  It was fun.  It was loving.

I am blessed to have these friends of mine:  Sandy (Artist and teacher extraordinaire- working with such peace and confidence)  nude drawings; Regina (Her shy and beautiful face bent over the most wonderful necklace) - Exceptional Jewelry Designer; Maya (Expressive and Gorgeous Painter) - Surrealistic Painter; Angela (Beautiful Angela, soon to be mother of two) sat and experienced the energy in the room as she watched her just as beautiful daughter, Brooklyn, fit right in with The Goddesses, decorating a bottle and making drawings that would melt your heart, right away.  And with the promise of coming to the next event, my awesome friend, Chase and her Mother, also my friend, Amy, stopped by just to get a peak at what was being concocted behind my studio doors.  :)

Great fun was had for all and I can't wait to do it again!  ...just need some time to recuperate...perhaps this spring!  :)

Walking the Path of Gratitude

O-ma-gosh! I've been busy. :) And grateful. :) Work is abundant for me right now and I am so happy. Recently, my mother went back into the hospital but was out the following day. Pleurisy was what showed up on some tests and then the next day - all was clear. She's a freaking, walking miracle and I am so grateful for that. Home now, mam'ma is doing well.

I couldn't be happier for my friend/spiritual dad, Tony, who has the manuscript for his book sitting on the desk of a "somebody" who is in the business of making movies. It's such a thrill to know that he completed a "page turner" action/adventure book with a bit of a twist to it. Yay, Tony! And his beautiful wife and my dear, dear friend, Myrna, has successfully painted yet another beautiful painting. Her talent just amazes me. They had me over for Thanksgiving Holiday and we had a wonderful time.

This time of year just pulls it out of me. Creativity, love, laughter and joy. I feel like it all radiates out beyond myself and I am both touched and inspired by those around me.

My clientele has changed a bit from the people who want perfection but aren't willing to pay for it to the people who understand what art and craftsmanship is about. Attached are a few photos of some successful projects that are a result of this understanding. I am so relieved to have these clients in my life right now because, instead of managing control issues and fears, I can stay focused on what I do best, which is bringing the beauty forward, honoring the client's vision. :)

And so, I am walking my path with all these thoughts of gratitude in my heart and a smile on my face.   I look at what I have and how I am blessed and I can't help but let it come forward...thank you...thank you...thank you, with each step, I say, "thank you."    :)

Signs and Messengers

As I sit down and think of what I wish to write, I am conscious of the fact that my mam'ma has been in surgery for quite a few hours. A quadruple bi-pass. SURPRISE! Who knew? Totally unexpected and urgent. I've yet to hear anything. 3500 miles away. Or is it 4200? Oh, the conundrums for the dyslexic.

Just an hour ago I engaged in my morning ritual of driving to my favorite coffee shop for a cup of breakfast tea. I wind through my neighborhood of Rancho Santa Fe. The roads are beautiful and serene. It is the perfect start to any day, including this one of such serious and sober thought and prayers for my mother. Upon my return, I received a sign from the Universe. "What?" you might ask. If you have a minute, keep reading and I will explain.

Long ago - like twenty years or so - I was seeing a psychologist - the reason doesn't matter for this story. I was asked, in the comfort of her office, if I could be a an animal, which one would I prefer to be. I said, "The Blue Heron or the White Crane." When asked to support my choice I said, "They're majestic, powerful and although able to fly, remain close to the ground, but just high enough not to be bothered." Gosh, I remember this so clearly. Says alot about me, doesn't it? Attached, to my family, but just far enough out of reach. Engaged in long-term relationships, but never fully committed. Hmmm....Run my own studio, but have no employees, have tons of friends, but they're all married and very involved in their own lives (I will have to reflect on this at a later time).

Anyway, I digress. Ever since that session, whenever there is impending change in my life or a milestone of achievement (change), the Blue Heron or the White Crane show up in my life. And I mean SHOW UP. For instance, once a white crane flew over the hood of my car as I was attempting entry to the freeway. Roughly 15-20 miles an hour. It hovered over my car for the length of the on-ramp and then some. I never increased my speed, but just slowed enough to have us remain in tandem as long as was possible. It was incredibly beautiful and meaningful. You see, it was the day I lost my job at Modern Postcard. Change.

Another time, I was driving down a Carlsbad street only to have to come to a full stop, put on my blinkers and direct traffic around a grey heron, standing in the middle of the road. Taller than myself. It waited for me as I directed traffic around our situation. And then we walked to the curb. It hopped up, and I stepped up (my arms wide and in the air). Calm and in sync. No fear. Just one creature helping another. I gently walked my friend onto the grassy hillside overlooking the Batiquitos Lagoon where it slowly picked its way to the edge overlooking the water and quietly, ever so quietly and naturally, took flight. Sinking low over the water and the grasses. Mystical, really. I felt blessed. This was the day that I had won the bid for my first faux painting job, which set the pace for an 8 year career.

Another? Yes, I have more. Many more. All marking change and growth. These majestic birds flying next to my car or in front of my car or showing up in the river beds (which in California look like creeks with reeds and tall grasses instead of running waters) next to me as I walk. Fear is never a part of the experience, and they are so very close to me - usually within a foot.

This morning upon my return home, driving down the winding little roads, I went around a curve at about 20 miles an hour and there, heading straight for me was a blue heron. HUGE, blue heron. And just when I thought it was going to hit the windshield of my car, it veered off to my left, exposing its belly and legs all cranked up underneath. Grace was involved in this meneuver. 45 degree angle, for sure. It landed on a branch in one of the huge eucalyptus trees that shade the riverbed. I couldn't help but think it, too, had gone home after its morning ritual. As this friend and I were making our connection, the song playing on the radio was, "Closing Time" by Semisonic. I pulled over and took note.

I can't help but wonder what the message/sign is from my spiritual friend. What the change is. Will my mom be okay? Is she still going to hang around for awhile and fill the rooms of her home with her magnificent presence? I would miss her so much if it were her time to close up and leave. Then again, maybe I'm being told all is well, she came through it just fine and life will change a bit. Perhaps in healthier choices and ways of being. My mother has this innate ability to influence and bring anyone along for the ride of her life. She is powerful, opinionated (sure. who isn't at 69?) and strong. I think these qualities are incredible ones to have and are an asset, increasing her beauty.

I sit a little taller when I think of my mom. Stand stronger. I embody her when I need to stand up for myself or cross confrontation. I think to myself, "WWJD - What Would Jackie Do?" And then proceed. I am me, because of her. Gratitude rings through my heart...even for the arguments and the moments of painful truth...who better to deliver than one's mother? Never. And I mean, never, have I questioned her love for me.

Here's to my mom, may she be okay, and come out of surgery with the opportunity to extend her exciting life. And here's to my friendly, soulful birds. My messengers of change...thanks for keeping in touch. And here's to my sisters, we'd better stick to the wagon of better health 'cause I want you to hang around for a long time! Love you all. Deeba.

Walking the path of creativity

Last weekend I woke up early, packed up my chalk, a pillow, a flat dolly and water and drove to the annual sidewalk chalk art event in Carlsbad, CA, known as ArtSplash.

As I made my way down the long street, Armada Drive, by LegoLand, I remembered that last year I had vowed not to participate again. Hard on the body. Two days of glaring sun. Sitting on hot tar. Creating a three dimensional image with accurate perspective while crawling around the square (or scooting around on a dolly). Tough on the back, the hands and knees.

However, this year, I walked with a bit of excitement in my stride. I hadn't made up my mind on what I was to paint (in chalk). I was going back and forth between several designs, but felt I wanted to do it in black and white (I was the only artist who didn't use color). I asked for a small square this year 5'x2.5'. Last year: 8'x8'....too much for one little artist. As I sifted through the crowd already gathering, I made my way to the registration tent. The excitement started to grow from within. I could feel a certain amount of confidence (my fifth year) and joy about being out with hundreds of people, sharing the experience of art and creativity.

I spoke to would-be artists, parents, kids, anyone who stopped by to view my work. People would stand for minutes at a time, as if entranced by the magic transpiring on the street. Talented artists laid chalk to tar in an effort to create life-like images. Successful with their endeavors, the artists continued with pride and confidence. And for some, amazement at their own achievement. Colored dust gently danced across the surface as artisans blew and rubbed their chalk pastels into masterpieces for the endless parade of families to experience.

Joy, laughter and conversation rose up over the crowd and carried east on the ocean breeze from the west coastline. Every now and then I would have to stand, sip some water, brush my hair out of my face and chalk from my cheeks. It would be at this time that I would look west over the flower fields to the water - so bright - so blue - and thank the Universe for the experience of sharing my gifts, my talent. These are hard times for everyone (myself included) and to take two days out of the stress of managing affairs, just two days to create something for others, well, it makes everything else worth enduring.

As people stopped to talk about the piece I was drawing, I would share the importance of the program, their participation and the excitement of fund-raising for such a worthy cause. It was a way to say thanks for coming out and supporting this endeavor. Funds were also raised through silent auctions. I created a hand painted clock this year that was auctioned off for about $120. Yay! Three birds with instruments on their way to play. Many beautiful clocks, skim boards and painted chairs brought in lots of money! And those who won the bids walked away with affordable, original artwork, forever marking an annual event for their community and for the arts.

And such talent! Young artists, old artists, quiet and bold. Designs of such beauty! Tradition is to honor The Masters, but some break out and reveal creations of great invention and intriguing perspective. Each artist experiencing the pressure, the beautiful pressure, of performing before an audience. Of working out one's psyche - the battle - the tug and pull of perspective and proportion - and the surrender, eventually finding the sweet spot of allowing the artwork to just happen. It's an incredible dance between the artist, the image and the audience viewing, sometimes helping with advice, to get the artwork to be the best that it can be.

At 3:00 pm Sunday afternoon, I packed up my stuff, said goodnight to the spirit of ArtSlplash and limped to my car with a smile on my chalked-up face, a joy in my big heart. I could already hear next year calling me. With each step I released my image, knowing that everything was to be washed off the pavement by early morning light. Just in time for the cars to roll down Carlsbad's beautiful Armada Drive. It gave me a strange sense of release, perhaps only an artist can relate to....

Yup, I'll be back. To do it all over again. I wonder what image I will conjure up for next year's event.:)

Monkey Business

Recently, I spoke to an old boyfriend who is becoming a new "guy"friend. Well he has this saying, "It's all a bunch of monkey business." His phrase when exasperated or trying to calm down his kids: "Stop that monkey business!"

I've started using the phrase. Much to my surprise. I use it when describing the rules we make for ourselves. For instance, I'm just not so sure about all this "monkey business" with religion, politics, workplace. Sit down, stand up, pray for this, don't ask for that. Oh, you have to behave this or that way to get accepted. Chant this way, worship that way. The actions of our politicians discussing our health care issues, pushing through bills. Scandalous monkey business.

Just a bunch of monkey business. War: Monkey business. Hate: Monkey business. Anger: Monkey Business. Aggressive defense: Monkey business. Intentional suffering and pain: Monkey Business. Greed: Monkey Business.

I can keep going but am bored with all this ... monkey business. oy!

Old friends, New friends, Golden and Blue friends

Recently. I started to contact friends from my past. I don't know. Maybe it's because some of my old friends have passed on. Maybe it's because of the lumps and bumps my doctor keeps excising from my body. Life moving quickly...tic toc, and all that jazz.

I do think it's important to talk about our power to effect/affect. To acknowledge and appreciate the selfless acts of friendship. So much can happen with a few words or actions...an experience...a look exchanged with joy, sadness or just knowing. And, because we're busy or uncomfortable, we don't acknowledge and appreciate the magic occurring. "Never to be squandered, the miracle of another human being." Perhaps we're not meant to because then it all becomes weird. Uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, I began calling, looking up on the Internet and talking with those who might help me find others. It's been interesting. The process. Easier than I thought. Which, having been raised with George Orwellian stories of the seventies, is not that comforting. We are all so "available," now. I'm not sure I like that. Which is why I am anonymous, somewhat, on this blog. But, I digress.

It has been fun talking with people from over twenties years past. Children have been raised, careers defined and marriages either dissolved or still going strong. I prefer the "going strong" message as it appeals to my romantic nature and belief in the power of love.

For me, friendship has been one of the strongest threads running through the blanket of my life. Perhaps it is because I've not married or because I'm romantic. But whatever the reason, I know that I am the happy and fun woman/artist of today because of my friends, past and present. They have marked moments of change and growth. For this, I am grateful. My goal ,before I leave this planet, is to let them know. It is my hope that I am touching the hearts of those who have left already and that they know they meant something...to someone....without even trying.

:)

Wuv, true wuv?

This past weekend was a whirlwind of love (wuv). Two dear friends' daughters were each marrying the love of their lives. ;) I wink because these couples are very young. They were getting married; same day, same time. Saturday night was hot. I was in a full length halter dress (the '70's are back enforce in fashion). And I had to carry a fan to keep me cool. It's an antique....nice compliment to the outfit.

The first wedding was being held in San Juan Capistrano at a beautiful church, as well, the wedding. Celtic song in string and harp, singers, the bride (oh my!), the groom (reow!). Families, love, joy, whispers and grace. Bowing of heads and hearts. Celebration for two. Love and light in the dimly lit sanctuary. Pastries and joy awaiting the witnesses after. The bride, a petite and beautiful soul in a stunning dress. Beads, as if a belt, hung low on her size - 2 hips. She was perfection in action. And her groom was tall and handsome. Distinguished with happiness around the edges. His attire showing off the big shoulders that will carry their dreams, hopes and desires to fruition. So beautiful, these two, who are now these "one."

Driving back from this experience, I was impressed with the tradition and strong threads of love from which the bride and groom were composed.

Upon my return to Rancho Santa Fe, I witnessed joy and laughter. Dancing. The singing of hearts, old and young; the embracing of bride and groom with greetings of happiness: "So glad you could make it!" Charm was in the air! The reception was being held in the back yard, poolside, garden-side of a small mansion-like home. A home where I live, renting the cassita (pool-house) which, because I am French, I call my cottage - it looks like one inside. These are my landlords and friends. I was happy to see such beautiful joy occurring outside my door!

Glass jars harboring light were hanging from trellises and in trees...twinkling soft and bright simultaneously. Music. Dance floor. Floating candles in the pool, white, brown and green flowers and plants spilled in abundance across tables, foot paths and patio. The bride in a dress that tumbled to her feet...the word aplomb comes to mind. Spilling around her tiny hips and down toward the floor. The groom's charm, more his attire than the suit he wore. Happiness was everywhere.

Okay, waxing and waning, I am. But, give me some slack. Never been, you know. I give these young couples a wink and nod for their courage and belief in their love and their ability to be together. Their commitment to "give it go." :)

Is the grass greener? I don't know. Oh, I hear it's a lot of work. But, on this side of the fence...the single side of living... it's kind of boring (notice in photo, I'm taking a pic of myself...no one to do it for me). I'm a true believer in love and marriage, just timid. Looking. Waiting. Soon.

My thoughts and well wishes go to these brave couples and their parents, my friends. Love and joy to you all.

I accept!

I accept! the challenge before me. I just finished painting a landscape in the ever so popular (out here in So-Cal) impressionistic style. That was yesterday. The day before, 3 suns. Today, I am painting an abstract. Three days ago, I painted a miniature ensemble. Whenever I experience anyone else's work, I first acknowledge the fact that the artist said, "I can do this! I accept" A fearless approach with brush in hand results in courage on canvas. :) Later amigos.

"YES!"

Recently, very recently. I was reminded of the practice of breathing in life and breathing out death. What does this mean? The breath we take, fills our body with one more moment of life, living, thinking, feeling, experiencing....being. As we breath out, we expel toxins, used air, emotions and expired energy...in essence, we are expelling the death of what we've breathed in. And so, as my friend and spiritual father (I like to call him that), Tony, explains, we participate in the continuous cycles of life. Of receiving and releasing.

I like this analogy. Takes some of the fear away when contemplating one's transition from this reality to the next, i.e., life to death.

Okay, my family thinks I'm kooks. Yup. However, I'm not that alone in my kookiness. :) I believe the experiences I have refine my spiritual acceptance of my human way of being. Or is it my human acceptance of my spiritual way of being? :)

Well, I have realized that one can breath in and out about anything in life. From something as simple as watching a butterfly land on a blade of grass to understanding the complexities of relationships and our co-existence on this planet of ours.

I like to think that a hick-up is when you breath in more life than you let out. It's then, a brief moment of enlightenment may be experienced. :)

Breath in - Breath out
Accept - Release
Say "YES" to life and all that you experience! Breathing out becomes easier. :)

Artistic expressions

Art is about so many things. Impressions/interpretation of the artist. And that of the experiencer. A message/thought/idea that needs to be conveyed/experienced. Emotions. Expressing what isn't "there." Or what "is." So many things go into a painting, a song, the written word, the oral story. And it goes on. Home furnishings, building design, car design, etc. We are surrounded with our artistic desires and expressions.

When I paint for myself, I push. Beyond the appearance of something in front of me. I paint with all kinds of feelings about my subject. I'm sensitive. I've been told I have a minimalistic sense of design. Some think I don't push enough, others think too much. Or that my textures are wrong, colors too saturated, form not accurate. Have heard it all. My response? GO PICK UP A BRUSH!

Once you do, the critiques diminish. And truth is experienced. The sane and insane approach you have toward a blank canvas staring you in the face translates into anxiety, fear and courage. For me, blank canvases are not the problem. I'm almost manic with designs and ideas. My books are full. I am a romantic, minimalistic painter, trying to find her voice. Not anyone else's.

The challenge. You see, my job is to paint for other people. That is how I earn my living. And so, I have the ability to adapt to the request. I actually enjoy the challenge. However, in the process, I have lost the direction of my own personal work. Is this bad? Nope. I know this and I have direction because of it.

I think the general public gets turned on when they see realistic work because they marvel at the accuracy required to replicate. Me? I say, easy stuff. But what about it's soul? What about the movement? Texture? How does it make you FEEL? Another thing? When you look at a painting and you see something missing, or not defined, or defined, whatever. If it bugs you, don't think the painter was wrong or didn't do something right. Trust me. It's all intentional. For me? I leave stuff out to get down to the bones of the subject matter. The feelings, the truth I wish to convey...as I see it or experience it. Know my friendly experiencers, that each brush stroke has great intention behind it. Nothing has been missed. It's all purposeful. And is the case for most artists.

I am not about details. Never have been. Global thinker. Big picture. I haven't the patience to get busy with the minute. It's not important to me. (ask my ex-boyfriends!) I mean, I was trained in the '70's and early '80's. Impressionism, abstract realism, surrealism, etc. were on the agenda. It influenced me. Pollack, Escher, Dali, Turner, Whistler, my father.

Eh, I'm just griping. It's been a rough week.

Okay. Rambling. Point is. I'm out there, I have talent. Stretching boundaries. And I've only been painting for 8 years.

What more can I ask of myself? It's up to the viewer of my work to get the most they can out of it; they are 50% of the experience. It's a relationship. Art. And, I'm happy to be a partner.

Courage

Courage. An interesting word. Full of charge. Strong and bold. Actually, I'm courageous each day as I exist in the world of surgery modified bodies and anorexic/bulimic individuals. You see, I'm curvy. Round. Chubby, I guess. I'm short. That's the deal. I look wider than I am. Oh, but there I go, justifying what is a natural way of being. Well, it takes courage to be a live Ruben painting.

I would hear all the skinny girls' theories of what to eat, what not to eat, the latest, greatest exercise or combination thereof. For the last year or two, I would bring up the subject so as to avoid hearing it come from them. Oh, but the experts on skinniness would wait for a word or a morsel of food I was ready to consume and then begin with the diatribe. All the while knowing they are on a race with the clock and wrinkles and bulges, themselves.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm pretty. I have beauty inside and out. My heart goes out to those who aren't or don't believe they are. But I'll tell you, I have been working on not paying attention to my tummy or backside as I move through the actions of the day...as a size 12.

There, I said it. Size 12. Can you believe it? At 49 years of age, I am worried about being a size 12? From now on, I am all about being courageous, walking on the beach or by the pool, for all to see what an honestly beautiful menopausal woman can be like.

For too long, women have abused and neglected their natural way of being and it has confused our men. It's confused us. We have little girls looking like their moms. Or is it that their moms are looking like them? We chastise men for dating younger women and yet we cave in with appeasement, surgeries and youthful clothes. Sending mixed signals. It's actually quite pathetic. I know a woman in Minneapolis who is in her forties is so proud of the fact that she shared her 13 year old daughters clothes. I looked at her and saw her joy. Wondered what went wrong for her to want to become a child again. Here's to courage! Here's to being yourself! Here's to being perfect in every way, without edit. Let the true beauty shine through!

Why are there so few good men?

Recently, the front left wheel on my cute little CRV went flat. Desperation was an immediate emotion for me. Helpless feelings grow quickly when one is without transportation. How do I get to my jobsite? What if I need supplies? How am I going to change this thing?

Do I have a jack? was the next question as I read the ops manual from the glove compartment. The answer came quickly. Quicker than I would like to admit. No, but you do have a cell phone!

And so I proceeded to call several friends. Guys. Alas, all too busy to come to my aid. :( I ended up calling my dear friend, my "spiritual father," I like to call him. Always there for me to help me understand life, spiritual and otherwise. Tony, is his name. Tony came through for me! Yay! He helped me to get through most of the changing of the tire. My eighty-year-old friend guided me through the changing of a tire.

Alas, darkness came and I had no choice but to leave the car up on the jack and without a tire on the wheel. Why? You see, the jack was in the wrong place on the car. So there wasn't the proper amount of lift to provide space for the spare to be put on. And, no light. I had to abandon my car. ugh.

But! Alas, my landlords/friends went out and put the flat back on and lowered car. Safe. My friends, Amy and Ray, assured me it was better this way. And they did this and then called me. How nice! (I had been inside my cottage praying that nothing would happen to the car while it was up on the jack). Thanks to Amy and Ray (2 weeks out of surgery), I slept that night.

I'm single. Boy did I feel the negative impact of what that means. Well, the next day Amy and I changed the flat and put on the spare. Flat. My arms went up and quicker than you could say "hey!" I dialed my cell and told a colleague, who will remain nameless, what had happened. He came over straight away and gave me assistance. Yay! He also wanted to get a little somethin' somethin' for his trouble. INAPPROPRIATE! No worries, nothing happened.

It really makes me wonder. Why are there are so few good men. Thank you Tony, Ray and Amy for your efforts and support on my behalf. My CRV thanks you as well. :)

Strange things seen on California Highways, Byways and Freeways!

Recently saw a truck stop in the middle of the road, a guy got out of the passenger side, ran around to the sidewalk (construction site). Grabbed a couple of bags of cement. Threw them in the bed of the truck and drove off.

It took a moment to register: I just saw two guys steal. Cement.

Cement...Really?

:(

A man was walking with his wife. They had a stroller. I rounded the corner and casually looked inside the bonnet of the stroller. It was a dog!

!!!!!Oh! By the way, they were dressed in black and white...so was the dog.

:)

Driving home. Interrupted a dinner with my car. What I thought was a bag of trash turned out to be a hawk and a bunny. The hawk took flight to the nearest tree, watching his dinner hop off to the side of the road. This was the first time I saw irritation in a bird. It looked like it was pissed at my car!

:)

Menopause Moment:

I was driving down a parking a lot, and came upon a cross walk where a guy was waiting to cross. I stopped (phone in my hand, ready to make a call- ear piece in place - which he didn't see). The guy starts walking through the cross walk giving me a dirty look and shaking his head(re: my cell phone in hand - illegal here for hand-helds).

Wrong day for this dude to judge me! I waited until he crossed, smiling the entire time, and when he got to the other side, I honked my horn!

You should have seen him jump! I put my hand to my mouth, tilted my head, raised my eyebrows, and then said, "I'm so sorry!" Giggling, I proceeded down the lot to the street!

That was a fun moment.

From the first bird to the moonlit night

I wake up early each day to hear the first bird tweet. Funny, isn't it? The one thing I accomplish for myself each day. Reassuring that my day is beginning fresh and new that very moment.

The beginning to a day of my making.

My mantra during the day: The Underdog cartoon from the 60's: "Here I come to save the daaaaaaay!" I hear those words differently than intended. Imagine savoring each experience/moment as much as possible. To save them.

At the end of the day, I search out the moon in the sky, note its location. Close the curtains. Snuggle in to the sounds of my owl "who" sits in the neighboring trees.

Remembering my heroic charge into the making of another "super fantastic day."


Peace out, mon ami's.....Frenchie

new life

My nephew, Bradley, become the proud father of two boys today. Thus the impetus for my previous blog. Birthing on the brain. Bradley is a twin. Now the protector/teacher of twins, Bennette and Jayson. My heart has grown. 2 more inches.

Welcome boys! :)

Amber. The beautiful mom of Bennette and Jayson. A great trouper for bringing these two into the world. They came, I hear, right side up and upside down. :) What an interesting beginning!

Hello, Mom are you out there?

My first posting on my first blog. Exciting. A woman of many words. I find it odd, when I attempt to write them down, I have few. Patience, please. I promise to grow.

My latest entertainment: Thinking about the idea that when we are separated from our mothers at birth, we spend the rest of our life trying to get back into the womb. Back to source.

We'll try to get the same feeling we had floating inside. I've learned that other people (boyfriends included) aren't very good "stand-ins." Achievements, titles, and the acquisition of things don't do it either. And, sad to say, sex, chanting and meditation fall short...believe me, I've given them all intentional, focused time and effort.

"mmmmmmommie," I cry out as I'm thinking about this in my car. Highway 5. Sunny San Diego (It's raining right now).

In my heart. The sweet, sarcastic voice of Mom comes through, "Oh, lovie...the door is closed and locked." :)

" 'k." I reply as I barrel down the freeway.... I swerve. Miss a car. Get cursed by the driver next to me.

"Oh grow up!" I shout at the driver. Your mom's not letting you in, either, I thought.

Separation Anxiety stinks.