Some Thoughts Reading and Writing on a Cool Sunday Morning

Cool Sunday mornings seem to lead one to contemplation.  There is crispness in the air that relieves a significant amount of brain fog and creates a desire to find something creative and inspiring to fill the day.  It may be finding just the right piece of poetry, an essay that touches the soul, or looking up to see where the sunlight hits the edges of the leaves as they are wind tossed.

I never know what these days will bring.  I want to do more than I feel capable of at the moment.  My spirit wants to climb a mountain, paddle down a river, or ride a horse across a field.  My body wants to crawl back in bed under warm blankets with a hot water bottle and a furry cat.  My travels these days seem to be limited to where books can take me.  Right now I am living in India during the time of the Buddha.  Last week I was in Albania, Syria, and Turkey at the time of the genocide of the Albanian people. For most of July I was in Boston and its surrounding areas solving crimes with Rizzoli and Isles.  This coming week I am planning on going to the mythical land of Westeros.  I will be coming late to that party.  I haven’t read Game of Thrones yet for the same reason I never did heroin.  I am afraid I would like it too much.

This next week I am physically traveling to New Orleans for a conference.  Unfortunately that means that most of my time will be spend in a hotel conference center.  I hope to arrive early enough to be able to take a walk along the river and maybe to the French Quarter.  The New Orleans I want to see doesn’t really exist, though.  I want to walk through graveyards and visit a voodoo queen.  I want to dress in red and attend a mulatto ball and walk the streets with the characters from Isabel Allende’s Island Beneath the Sea or see one of Ann Rice’s vampires in the shadow of a cathedral. 

Reading has been both a blessing and a curse in regards to travel.  I went to England in 2005 and realized the London I wanted to visit was long gone, the blood of Anne Boleyn and Henry IIIV buried beneath the double decker buses and Mark and Spencer’s.  In 2007 I was able to see enough of Tibet to get the feel of what it must have been like to live there before the Chinese occupation, but Lhasa was merely a ghost of its former self.  Alexandra David-Neel would be heartbroken to see the Potala palace surrounded by Chinese military and tourists shopping for Western goods in gated shops, as was I, and is the Dalai Lama.  I am so grateful to those writers who chronicled their experiences during those times so I am able to be there whenever I pick up a book.

What does that mean about these times I live in now?  Will anyone ever want to read about the experiences of a woman living in the late 20^th and early 21^st century?  Will they find my experiences so compelling that they would want to time travel here and be a part of this world?  I don’t know.  I can’t imagine why unless they are interested in a political environment that is so divisive that I only wish I could travel into the future to see how this all ends up.  Or do I?  It is frightening.  Or would that glimpse into the future give me the hope I need?  Would a poor woman, black or white, from the world of the American south in 1840 wonder at my complaints and tell me to get a grip and appreciate that I am able to make choices that they never had? 

I guess that is what reading does.  It gives another perspective.  It may be fiction, fictionalized history, or one person’s view and interpretation of an era.  There is no real knowing.  It is just the reality of the individuals and the expression through the lens of their point of view. 

On this Sunday morning, that is what I contemplate.  My reality changes from one moment to the next.  My history will only be known by me and may be interpreted by others, but no one will truly know my story.  When I do tell it, I will only tell what I want known, what I feel is of value, and I may leave out bits and pieces in order to make myself look better or tell it all in order to explain all of who I am.  But then who would really be interested?  It doesn’t have to be everyone, just enough people who want to know what it was like to be someone like me in this time, at this place.  But it will only be my story.  No assumptions should be made that my story is the same as any other woman during this time in history.  It’s just mine and even my viewpoint changes from time to time, making my story different on one Sunday morning than it would be on another.

Last Sunday in June Musings

I just finished cleaning the apartment. It took longer than usual. I rate cleaning at three levels: 1) Boo and I are happy and I can find everything I need; 2) company clean, and 3) OMG! My mother is coming clean. I almost made it to number three today. No chance that mom is going to stop by in the flesh, but I can pretty much hear her chuckling at the state of my oven. That is the one thing that I didn’t do that would have given me the full #3 rating. I did, however, clean out the tray under the toaster and since the refrigerator is a self-defroster, I didn’t need to worry about that. In the past, my mother was known for asking me if she could defrost the freezer as she couldn’t sleep until it was done. Another time, while we were playing cribbage, she asked me if I ever cleaned out the tray on the toaster. I let her know that if it was bothering her she could have at it.

Since I have real problems being told what to do (#1 reason I am still single), I have been known to leave things undone just because I was told to do them. My ex-husband and I used to do this passive-aggressive thing to see how high the garbage would get before one of us took it out. He didn’t realize that I had twenty years of defiance (including taking off on my own twice during the summer I was two) behind me when he married me and I usually lasted longer than he did, but he got nastier about it. This explains a lot about my son’s teen years, but I won’t go into that right now for the sake of his privacy and to maintain what is a pretty great relationship.

In addition to actually picking up and dusting knick knacks and moving furniture to dust, I went at my closet like a woman on a mission. Everything that was too big has been bagged and will be handed over to a shelter program or Planet Aid. I found two pairs of slacks that still had tags on them that I had purchased on line. They were too small when I got them and I may actually fit into them now. I also got rid of some things I just didn’t like. Now I have enough hangers for some things that have just been tossed on the shelf. I have clothes that fit now, will fit before fall, and some clothes that should be okay for next spring or summer. I may need some new winter clothes when the time comes around. Very cool. I feel very good about that!

I am hoping to get out on my bike today, but the weather continues to look iffy. It is only seven weeks until the MS Ride on the Seacoast when I will need to do 25 miles. I have done half that with no problem but am not sure about the full 25. I need to work on hills. I don’t want to spend too much time walking my bike up hills and I am unsure how many there are.

After increasing my blog posts this past week, writing some haikus, and the Misplaced Modifiers meeting yesterday, I am feeling like I can get back to my novel over the next week. I am setting a goal of finishing it by the end of the year. I think that is do-able as long as I actually sit down and write. I will keep you posted.

Musings on a Rainy Thursday Evening

Sitting here and listening to the rain and the sound of ice cubes falling into the bin in the freezer. Need to remember to turn that off before bed or it will drive me crazy and sometimes I am just too lazy to get back out of bed to do the one thing that would help me sleep.

I could be doing things other than sitting here and typing my stream of consciousness into the computer. I could be reading Denise’s chapters from her novel that she submitted last month to our writing group and that I haven’t gotten around to reading yet. Since I just signed myself up for three summer cello lessons I could possibly practice a bit and be ready to amaze my instructor with the fact that I have conquered second position extended hand position or something like that. I think she would just be happy if I would move my thumb with the rest of my hand as it goes up and down the neck of the cello. I have a tendency to over extend my hand and not carry my thumb with my fingers. I think there is a metaphor for my life there. I am just not sure what it is.

The other thing I noticed today is that I need to start going to a store to buy clothes because ordering them online is just not working. I am losing weight faster than the postal service or UPS can get the clothes to me so I end up with clothes that are too big when they arrive. I shouldn’t be complaining, but it feels weird to have a new pair of slacks bagging off my butt the second time I wear them.

Actually, I think most of my ass is on the golf course that I played on Tuesday. Beautiful place. I would like to go back soon. I think I played the best I ever have and I think it is because of yoga and a new golf bag that is so light I carried it backpack style and didn’t feel a thing on my shoulders. Very nice.

I drove north today on I93. I counted at least six state police cars checking for speeders. What in the hell was that about? It was pouring down rain in most places and I wasn’t even speeding. I usually go about 10-12 miles over the speed limit and know that I am due for a ticket at any time. But today was not going to be the day. I don’t speed when my car is hydroplaning.

The Franconia Notch looked wonderful as I was driving up. I wish I had been able to take a picture. The thermals were rising up from the forest and making new clouds. It was gorgeous. Then I started having random thoughts about the Old Man and the Mountain. For those of you who don’t know, the Old Man was a rock face in the notch that was the symbol of New Hampshire. His face is still on license plates along with the slogan “Live Free or Die”. Well, he must not have been feeling very free, because back in 2003 he slid off the side of the mountain and all you see now is a pile of rubble. I didn’t live here then and while I was driving I wondered how much noise it made and if there were tremors. If the Old Man slides off the mountain, and no one is around, does it make a sound? I asked someone who lived in Littleton at the time and she said that the only ones who heard it were at the mountain at the time, but that it felt like losing a family member. I would have liked to have met the Old Man before he slid into history. I am sure I would have liked him.

I had the joy of spending some time with a toddler today. He is living in a shelter with his mom and is about as adorable as a three year old can get. He introduced me to two garden snakes that were living in the rock wall on the side of the building. Snakes don’t bother me and they certainly didn’t bother him. We had a great time.

So, here I am again. Wondering what to do with the time between now and bed. I could practice my cello, kitchener stitch the toes on my June socks (trying to knit a pair of socks a month), do a Zentangle, or just cut out all the middle activities and get in bed with a book. That option sounds like the most likely on this rainy evening, but maybe I should empty the dishwasher first. Nah. I will do what I usually do, wait until the dishes pile up in the sink. There will be fewer dishes in the washer by then. I think I am compulsively non-compulsive. More on that another time. Thanks for putting up with my musings.

Sunday Musings – Why Moving to New Hampshire Has Been Good For Me

As I drive around this beautiful state I have a lot of time to think about how lucky I am to be living here. Here are the top ten reasons why it has been a great experience for me:

10. The scenery takes my breath away. I don’t have to drive miles and miles in heavy traffic to find someplace that is beautiful and serene. And sometimes I can stop and visit an alpaca farm or two. This animal has become my favorite farm animal for its peaceful demeanor and the fiber it provides.

9. Even though the first job I had when I came here ended up being very stressful, I learned a lot from it. I learned how to keep my head in tough situations and I realized what my work values are. I was able to find a job that fit my talents and values before the stress broke me. I am grateful for a lot of help from friends and faith during that time.

8. The new job at the NH Coalition Against Domestic and Sexual Violence. It proves that no matter where my life took me I was able to use my experiences (both good and bad) to be of value in the long run.

7. Healthier living – There are walking trails everywhere and accessible farmers’ markets. I have experimented more with vegetables in the past five years that I did for the previous forty-nine. I owe a lot to a couple of house mates that loved to cook with fresh veggies. I had a few years during which I experienced some health challenges due to stress. However, after searching out the best holistic medical care available, I am now on my way to being much healthier.

6. Music – It was after moving here that I felt like bringing more music into my life by learning to play the cello. I encourage anyone over 50 to take on a new instrument. It is a good workout for the brain.

5. Boo – I came here with two cats I had to give up due to behavioral issues that made it difficult for me to rent. However, when I made this most recent move to Concord I found Boo at the local SPCA and she has ended up being the best cat I have ever had. She has a great personality and is very loving.

4. Writing – Since I arrived here, I have written more. I wrote a lot of poetry during the first couple of years and am now blogging and working on a novel. Being published is not my goal. The process of writing has become the purpose.

3. Knitting – (and weaving) – I have teased and said you can’t toss a glass of water without hitting a knitter in this state, and I really believe it. I can attend staff meetings and conferences and knit and not be the only one. I have made new friends through knitting and found how the power of just a few knitters can help a person who is struggling. Knitters from Concord and Manchester raised over $2000.00 in one day to help another knitter who is dealing with a medical issue and the bills that come along with it.

2. Friends – I have made wonderful friends here. Recovery friends, house mates, work friends, and knitting/writing friends. I have really been blessed.

1. Family – Being near my grandkids was my number one goal in moving here and it has been wonderful. I have been here to watch Katie and Molly grow into beautiful and smart teenagers and Caleb move from toddler to a bright and active third grader. Lizzie was born within four months of my arrival and being able to be near a grandchild right from the start has been the best. She is starting kindergarten in the fall and knowing she is my last grandchild makes it oh so bittersweet.

Writing, April, and Purple Hi-Tops

I started the first draft of this post while sitting in my rocking chair on my deck. It is a warm and sunny day and I rested my feet on a footstool my parents had made years ago. Boo came out with me and did not have to be banished for trying to jump between the rails. If I had seen her put her head through she would have been swiftly escorted back indoors, but she decided to go back in on her own instead.

For the past few weeks I have been experiencing a serious case of writer’s block. I couldn't work on the novel and it was a struggle to open the Word file on the computer. I was beginning to think that the only way I could write anything would be if I found a cabin in the woods without internet service. I would then be able to write without the distractions of email and Facebook. I became jealous of writers who spoke of their writing cabins. Isabel Allende writes in a little house on her property from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. six days a week and begins a new novel every January. I, on the other hand, write for a few hours on occasional weekends. I do not have a writing practice. I have writing hiccups. That needs to change.

A couple of weeks ago, my writing group, the Misplace Modifiers, got together for our monthly meeting. There are five of us and not a one had produced anything in the past month. I did share that I had managed to get a post done to my work blog and had written a five page report for my performance appraisal. They were not impressed as that did not count toward being critiqued by the group.

Denise brought some writing exercises and after praising Sally for having received her contract from a publisher who is going to put her dissertation in print we started to write. I discovered something. I like hand writing. I like to have my thoughts flow from me to pen to paper. I like to scribble a first draft in my own, unreadable to anyone but me, shorthand. I like the flow of it. I decided to cut out the middle man – my computer – and get back to basics. I remembered that I also have preferred writing implements. I like 8 ½ x 11 spiral bound note books with the spiral on top and roller ball ink pens. At Staples yesterday, I found the last two spiral notebooks with the spiral on top and they were only 50 cents. It was kismet. Or karma. Or just plain luck and timing on my part.

So my deck is now my designated writing area. I am not tempted to check my email or stalk ex-boyfriends on Facebook. I don’t have to write at the place where I pay my bills. I now have a writing sanctuary where I can also read and meditate while listening to the birds and watching the chipmunks skitter through the fallen branches and leaves.

Let the writing commence.

April was an exciting month from the very first day when I had the opportunity to speak to a Women’s Studies class at the University of New Hampshire in Durham. It was one of the first warm days of spring and it felt good to be on a college campus. Groups and couples were sitting on the grass and brick walls and music was playing from dorm windows. I felt guilty for keeping students away from the outdoors on such a beautiful day but I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to talk to such a young and interested group of women. It was also the day that I discovered that there are at least four ice cream stands on the route between Concord and Durham. I hope that I do not make that drive too often.

April 2 was my 54^th birthday. I have no trouble telling my age since it is really only a number. I managed to celebrate over two days – maybe even throughout the month. On the second, I spent the morning visiting my ex (vs. “old”) housemate, Kat, and her brood of felines. I wanted to visit Lucy (see my last post) and check in with the rest of the cats and the beavers out back in the pond. Afterward, I visited Kristen (another ex-housemate) and her eight month old son, Augustine in Peterborough. We sat outside and watched him play on a blanket. It was so peaceful.

The next day I got my best birthday present. My son and his wife have been making noises for a couple of years about moving away from New Hampshire because of the economy and the weather (neither of which I really feel are better anywhere else). This had been causing me a great amount of angst and had put me into a pretty bad depression a little over a year ago. Now I can rest easy. Chris told me that they will all be moving just a few miles away from where they are now into a house that his father has bought and which Chris and Des will be renting to own. It is a ten year commitment for them which means I can rest easy.

The following week I spent at the Self and Family Conference in Santa Fe, NM. This was the best conference I have ever attended. There were speakers on integrative health care, trauma, and substance abuse. I even had lunch with Stephanie Covington, author of A Women’s Way Through the Twelve Steps, whom I consider the leader in my field of women, substance abuse and trauma. She was helpful in validating what I do and helping me clarify some issues. The icing on the cake for that week was being able to rent a car and drive up to Taos. I didn’t get to see much of Taos on that afternoon, but the taste I had left me wanting more.

Another big event during the month was getting my purple Chuck Taylor Converse hi-tops. Remember that I said that my age was just a number. This was proof. I had gotten it in my head a couple of months ago that I just had to have a pair of purple hi-tops. They are a very necessary part of my wardrobe and I wear them with great pride and comfort.

The rest of the month was a blur. I spent two days in Atlanta, GA where I presented a workshop at the Ending Violence Against Women conference and also did a six hour training with child protective service workers here in NH. I also did a lot of driving trying to spread the knowledge I gained at the Santa Fe conference.

I have been in my job for a full year now and still love it. I have been in New Hampshire for almost five years and have come to love it more each year – even when it snows on Wednesday and is 80 degrees on Saturday. I am very grateful to have the life I have here and - for my new writing space.