Feliz Navidad

I believe displaced homemaker is the official term, but it usually means that you get to spend part of the holidays alone.

Because my son was with his dad and I wasn't in the rotation with my daughter and son-in-law, Christmas day was all mine. My friend, who is a third time widow, and I decided to tackle the day together. First on the list was church.

Beautiful. Simple. Peaceful. There were no ushers, no acolytes, no choir, no passed offering, no gigantic flower arrangements. Just the rector and a handful of people who wanted to share the realness of the day. Hark the Herald Angels Sing started the service. A great start to the day. He ended the service with Feliz Navidad, which made me smile BIG.

Then we decided to go to the cemetery to visit all of my friend's deceased husbands. They were buried in the same cemetery, but in different places. We straightened the wreaths she had hung on their grave stones and she told me stories about each one of them while we straightened. Strength is the word that comes to mind.

At this point, we're hungry and we tried to forage for Christmas lunch in a town where IHOP is the only place that's open. The line there was around the building and it was about 30 degrees outside. So, no. My friend, being a very clever survivor, says The hospital. It has to be open. We sacheted into the cafeteria in our Christmas finest and had a very styrofoam lunch. But it filled us up with kind-of-gummy food and lots and lots of laughs.

The next stop was the movie. Of course she, being a very savy southern woman, took her silver flask filled with bourbon into the theater and had some Christmas cheer during the movie. The movie was It's Complicated. So funny. But VERY close to home.

That was it. And the day was finally over. Spent with an incredible woman of immeasurable strength. Merry Christmas y Feliz Navidad!

Coulda Shoulda Woulda

Debi thought my comment on her post was funny, so she changed that post and wrote a new one, linking me again. So......

When I finished my dive in the chamber yesterday, I grabbed my wadded up clothes and was going to the bathroom to change. I had my hand on the door handle when the guy said Hey you dropped something. I was so hoping it would be a sock. But no, of course it was my underwear. A little pair of purple lace panties. Right there, in the middle of the floor, in a room filled only with men. I thought I was going to die right there on the spot.

There were so many things I coulda shoulda woulda done.

My eighty-four year old, really-still-hot friend woulda smiled and said, ever so sweetly, Hell fire, Daaaaarlin'! Those aren't mine. I only wear thongs.

I shoulda said something funny like Liar, liar pants on fire! Or I coulda sung that old song that goes something like... I see London; I see France. I see someone's underpants.

I wish I woulda slung them around my head a few times and shot them in the air.

Instead, I said nothing. Nothing at all.

My eyes got huge, my mouth was open wide, but nothing came out. I just slinked over there and picked them up, with the whole room watching. I was just grateful that they weren't big old granny panties.

When I was leaving, I heard him yell out Mrs. L, have a grreeeeaaaaat weekend!

Colorful Mess

Aghhh! Mi Corizon is a mess today. Playing with

color and not enough time to finish...

That's actually a pretty accurate description of me today, as well.

Milagro

Yes, today was see the doctor day. And I did. And my leg has healed 2 cm in one week. And I couldn't believe it. And the word miraculous was used. And I wasn't the one who used it.

Diving

Well, now that I'm a regular at the wound care center, I know the lingo. The people who work there call it diving. That sounds so much better than THE CHAMBER, which is what I've been calling it. They know all about my family and I know everything their kids are getting for Christmas. I've decided to revisit some of my old fav movies, while I'm diving every day for 2 hours. So far, I've seen Devil Wears Prada, Under the Tuscan Sun, Notting Hill, Chocolat, the always entertaining Ya Yas. Today was Sense & Sensibility.

Tomorrow is see the doctor day. And, I'm excited. I know it's working. A friend hadn't seen me in 2 weeks and he couldn't believe the difference in my whole everything. That's how I feel. Aside from the physical healing, a lot of emotional healing is going on, too. There's lots to think about every day while I'm making that 33' dive.

An explosion of Christmas is what I'm calling it.

For sure. No doubt about it. Never in my life have I EVER put so much stuff around my front door. Last year, I thought I was branching out when I put three cream colored wreaths with brown and cream ribbons on them on my doors. Well, I don't know what happened this year. I got carried away and it just kept on carrying me away. It's gaudy and sparkly and bedazzled and everything I'm not. But, oh well.....

Santa will certainly know where to find me.

I See the Moon and the Moon Sees Me

Last night, I was on my way home from a Christmas party and we rounded the corner to see this. A beautiful moon. It's not a great picture, but it was the best I could do out in the middle of the dark street, in the freezing cold. It was a little smushed on the top and had the most peaceful, yellow glow. It looked like it was just looking down on us, kind of protecting us. So amazing! Kind of like an early Christmas gift. The real kind.

Michael and Me

So much for Confucious.

Where to begin? Let me see...

During the first surgery in June when the doctor cut me open, he was shocked to find lots and lots of rice bodies. Hmmmmm. Really??? Rice bodies??? Interesting.

After that surgery, I was left with a "protrusion" on my leg. It continued to grow to be the size of a golf ball, until the doctor finally said OMG it's about to explode. Yep. Another surgery. A "simple" surgery. When he cut me open, once again he was shocked. He only found few rice bodies, but found lots and lots of crisco. Hmmmmm. Really???? Now my body is making fried rice. Pretty amazing.

The doctor stitched me up and covered my leg with gauze I was good as new. Except that it's now been a month and I still have gauze on my leg. He removed the stitches and then my leg got HUGE. Once again, the doctor looked at the incision and saw crisco dripping out of it. So, now I get to have 2 new doctors - wound care and infectious disease- at the wound care clinic. People in there are missing appendages and limbs and many have come from nursing homes, etc. I only have a hole in my leg, but I do get to go into a room with a door versus a room with a wide open curtain. The doctor comes in and I kiddingly tell her that my friends think I'm going to be like Michael Jackson. They think I'm going to be in a hyperbaric chamber. She just smiles....

After digging around in the hole in my leg, she says OMG!!! What is this??? Unwisely, I sit up to see what the excitement is all about, only to see her holding a rice body in her precious tweezers. After calling in another person to witness the extraction, she very carefully places it in a special bag to go to a special place to be cultured. Then with that same smile, she says Well, hello Michael! Yep. For real. I'm going to be in the hyperbaric chamber for 2 hours every day for I don't know how long. It looks like a clear tube with a pillow in it. Are you claustrophobic? she says.

Merry Christmas to me. My friends say it's supposed to be like the Fountain of Youth. You'll be so rested and rejuvenated they all say. You'll get to watch movies or sleep or do whatever you want for 2 hours every day, like going to a very tiny little spa. I just hope I don't come out looking like Michael Jackson!

Another Thanksgiving

The Table

The Bird

The Fam

The End

I wasn't looking forward to it. We've never had a good one. It was off to a really bad start. But it ended up being a great one. A grateful one. A grateful one indeed. Muchas Gracias!

The Higher Side of Normal

The higher side of normal. Did he really just say that???? Hmmmmm..... What an interesting concept. I'm not sure that I've ever even experienced real normal and certainly not the higher side of it.

It's amazing to me how total chaos, absolute craziness, and subtle insanity can become my normal. And just like that. That fast. I know I've been in the middle of the lower side of normal. For sure.

The higher side. What would that feel like? Probably very strange. I wouldn't even know what to do with it. How to act, much less how to react. I'm thinking it might feel totally awkward. And definitely surreal.

The man who used the higher side of normal was on tv. He was the weatherman. But, he sure did make me think.......and then I figured it out! I took a stroll down memory lane. The photo above is my old driver's license picture.

I lost it and thank goodness I got to get a new one. I recently found the license and it shows that I was definitely experiencing the lower side of normal. The much lower side. The very scary, very lost, way below normal side. And then I got out my old, but newer license. Not so great, but the higher side of MY normal. And, I'm good with it.

The Bubbas

Amigos, compadres, friends, whatever you want to call them. I've acquired some new ones. You never really know when or how or why they'll show up in your life, but my new ones are here. I guess it just happens when it's supposed to?? And it's usually so random! At least these new amigos are. Very random.

I've endearingly named them the Bubbas. One's name is Josh; the other's name is Country. For real. Only in East Texas, right?? Well, they've been doing work on my house. To be exact, the windows. So that sort of makes them voyeurs. Actually , they are voyeurs. They know everything I do and when and how I do it. One of them has now started wearing cologne. Yep, I said cologne. How funny is that?? So interesting. I'm thinking they're thinking Helloooo Mrs. Robinson...

If I had the time, they would talk to me ALL DAY. They ask me all kinds of questions and I give them all kinds of advice. One of them had to go to court and I told him he needed to wear a suit and shave. His trial was postponed, so he came over to take me to lunch. Why waste a clean shave and a kinda new suit? he said. Really. The next day I was so sick with the flu and they wanted to know what they could do to help me. Anything they said. I leave the back door open for them every morning and have their coffee ready. They always text me thank you. It's all too funny. They throw the ball to the dogs until the dogs literally collapse. And yes, I'm paying them by the hour.

Eventually I'll run out of things for them to do, but until then, I'm just going to enjoy them. As Josh promised, he's still going to take me to lunch after his trial. It's on my calendar. In a very simple way, they're PURE. Totally unencumbered by life. Every day is a new day...

The Moment I Wake Up

Dionne Warwick has nothing on me...

Well, here goes. I'm just going to say it. It shouldn't have happened, but it did. And I'm guessing it will never stop? I woke up Saturday morning at 6:00 with a very sick feeling deep inside of me. Way too deep. And I had to act on it.

I've been separated and divorced from this man for 8 years. We were married for 30 years and dated for 6 years before that; we grew up together. He has remarried and we've both moved on. But when I woke up, I knew something was very wrong with him. You know that thing - you can just feel it in your bones? Well I could feel it. So at 6:00 am on a Saturday, I texted him only to find out that he was in the hospital and they had just put a stent in his heart. What? Oh no? How could I have known? (Twilight Zone music is ringing in my ears...)

So many thoughts are still in my head. Will we always be connected in some weird cosmic way, other than children? Am I SUPER intuitive? Whaaaaat??? I've always been able to sense things about others more than others. But this?? Too scary and way too creepy even for me. Because of our history? Or because of our history? Or because I'm not cluttered with millions of hard thoughts anymore and so the true thoughts are able to come to the surface? I don't know. It's kind of like that old Igloo cooler joke How do it know? Well, that's what I'm trying to figure out. How did I know?

But, I do know that when I feel deeply about something, I will act on it now. I promise.

Wonderful, Wonderful Women

My friend Ellen and I were asked to chair the Sustainer Merchant Hospitality Booth for this year's Mistletoe and Magic. We had to put together a committee of women who would help us feed the merchants who were participating in the show for 4 days. Three meals a day, for 9 hours a day. That's a lot of togetherness for 8 menopausal women.

Ellen is a 26 year friend, a sista for sure, and we chose our friends that we've loved for almost that long, but who were also doers. Not a slacker in the bunch. We did feed the people. And we did it well. So well. Of course we gave them unsolicited advice, complimented them on their cute boots or their new do, watched their booths for them, asked them about their home towns, their families and so on and so on. It was a very happy happening place.

Each one of us brought our own gifts to the booth. So interesting. Two were super efficient over-the-top organized pleasers; another one went strictly by the rules and almost measured how much salad they were allowed to put on their plates, while another one just fussed over the rest of us making sure we were okay. Another one talked and talked with everyone who came in and added personality and hominess to our little corner. And I feel certain that the other one could colonize a planet all by herself! I've been trying to figure out what I brought to this group? I got to make signs and garlands and decorate and fluff our little nest. People came to me when they needed to laugh or cry; they came to me when they had a problem. One old friend even stopped by the booth to tell me she had just filed for divorce. On that one we had to leave the corner and go outside and have a little cry. Other friends called me and asked me to shop for them. It was funny.

I'm still not sure what I brought to the group, maybe I was just the gatherer of it all, but I know that I loved the camaraderie of those wonderfully funny, capable, talented women. It reminded me so much of one of my favorite books, The Red Tent. There is really nothing like us. We are quirky and endearing and strong. We are the BEST.

For now, I need the solace of my quiet little house. I cannot even look at another cheese ball, hear any more Christmas music or smile when someone is complaining about not having any crushed red pepper for their free pizza. But my heart is smiling and is very full.

The Rest of the Story

Well, the pool table is long gone. Thank goodness. And all that it represented. Katie felt certain is was affecting my relationship corner in a very bad way. It drove out of the driveway at about 6:30 pm and by 7:00 pm, my phone had rung. And it was a man. A man of interest. And this man of interest asked me out. On a real date. Dinner.

That old fear rose up inside of me again. Dread. Playa. User. Why would he be calling me? What does he want from me? My thoughts right now about all men. I had a reprieve because of my trip to DC and I figured that by the time I got back, his little thought about me would be gone and that would be the end of it. But no. He was persistent. He called again and again and again. We had dinner and it was nice. Really nice. And easy. It's been over a month and he's still calling.

I've had surgery and am still recovering and he is still calling. He didn't mind the golf ball that was growing out of my leg or the layers of gauze (practically a mini pad) that are still covering my leg. He helps me. He cooks for me. He seems intrigued by the "earthiness?" of me. We laugh and sometimes we just be without saying a word. We even play Book Worm on the computer. We debate healthcare issues, organized religion, alternative medicine, buying organic, Fox news versus CNN and we've agreed to disagree about Monday nights - Football or Dancing With the Stars. He is supportive and thinks I should start my own stationery business. He hates my love of the fabulous Latin Catrinas, but he is the very one who has encouraged me to make Reina Esperanza Luz a friend, the soon to be handsome gaucho lova!

I have no idea how long he'll be around. Don't really care. Right now he's here and that's really all that matters. For the first time, I'm not making any future plans at all. Just enjoying the moment or the month. Or the whatever.

Bon Appetite!

I just had a double digit birthday and my gift to myself was a trip to DC to visit Lauren and Will, my daughter and son in law. I was there for 10 days and could have stayed forever. I miss them terribly and it was so great to just be with them and enjoy their new lives. Lauren and I were joined at the hip for days. We shopped, made my oh so favorite thing-stationery, looked at houses, did some sight-seeing and talked and talked and talked for hours. We also drove to Philly to visit a gallery that we've been looking at online for years. We both bought paintings done by outsider Cuban artists. We are kind of clones of one another and usually finish each other's sentences. It was my BEST birthday ever. Her gift to me for the BIG 55 was fabulous stationery that she had made and an incredible paper mache puta! Muy magnifico.

For my actual birthday dinner, she fixed Julia's boeuf bourguignon. She and Will and I all loved the movie Julie and Julia and that's what inspired the wonderful dinner. I had told her when I saw the movie that the boeuf bourguignon was the most beautiful meal I had ever seen. So, that's what she so lovingly prepared. The table was set with such sweetness; the Gypsy Kings were playing softly in the background; the candles were burning, and the conversation was so fun. They told me every little detail about how and when they met. Details I would have NEVER told my mother, but oh well! Dessert was that wonderful chocolate almond cake that's also Julia's recipe. Mmmmmmm so good! Unbelievably good.

When it was time for me to leave, we were in the car on the way to the airport and she asked me what my favorite thing was about my stay. I could barely answer. My eyes were filled with tears and I had a huge lump in my throat, because it was simply that sweet, so very special, boeuf bourguignon. So, bon appetite, with love!

Buenos Dias!

Me llamo Reina Esperanza Luz.......

Reina Esperanza Luz is the Queen of Hope and Light. She was going to be simply the Queen of Hope, but then the glitter took over and she became the Queen of Hope and Light. I made her for Dia de los Muertos and was going to put her on a website to be auctioned off, but surgery and life got in the way and so she is now the reigning queen of my home.

I made her from start to finish. She was a labor of love. I layered each piece of newspaper and sanded and layered and sanded and layered and sanded and layered the paper mache some more. I even used flour and water to make the paste and when it came time for the glitter....Oh my gosh!!!!! It was pure love. Glitter covered every surface in my house for days. Probably still does. That's where "Luz" came in. It means light in Espanol, and she is covered in it, so there you go. I didn't have a saw, so I got out the tree lopers and cut the dowel rod for the base and even drilled the hole in the base. I did it all by myself. Well, really the Queen and I. She's loaded with imperfections and it took me about a bizillion hours to make her. I look at her every day and I absolutely love her. She makes me smile. Now, I've decided she needs a friend, a really good friend. He's going to be a handsome gaucho!

Real Peace

 

                                       Antigua, Guatemala      Semana Santa              

I love my church.  I love it so much that I haven't been to it for a few years.  I didn't like the rector, or some of it's more pious members or the new construction or the lack of parking spaces or the whatever.  But, it's a new year, a new rector, and a new me, so I went to church today.  It was so nice to be back.  I was really looking forward to the peaceful reverence my church holds for me whenever I enter it's old familiar doors.  I love the quiet peace that will always follow.  

This being the new rector's first Sunday to spread the word, the eager parishioners  held a reception for him between services.  Not being a mingler at all, I immediately found an old friend in the kitchen and  went to talk to her.  I had planned on meeting the rector through his sermons.  As I was standing there catching up, I got a chill .  A real chill.  And, I couldn't concentrate.  Then I saw him.  The him I had made the wreath for last year.  The him who safely lived eight hours away.  So much for the peace and reverence the new me was hoping for.  The kitchen was small and we were the only three people in it.  The Big Chill walked right past me  and stood at the end of the kitchen with his back to me.  He hesitated.  He hesitated for too long.  He was waiting for me to call his name.  He was waiting for me to come to him.  With his name on my lips, I took a deep breath and said to myself  No need.  There was too much between us, but really not enough.

The new me.  I like her.  I like her  a lot.  And the blessed peace and reverence that she's finding.

Sacred Dung

This little guy showed up outside my window yesterday.  Right by my back door.  Just waiting for me to see him.  The picture doesn't show it, but he was the most beautiful shade of metallic green.  He sat? there, perfectly calm and very poised  while I took his picture. If I lived in Egypt, he would be thought of as sacred, because he'd probably be a scareb beetle, which the Egyptologists translated as what has come into being, to transform, to become.   But I live in Texas,  so that would simply make him just a plain old  dung beetle.   NOT sacred.  Not even close.  Just a pest.  I do think he's higher up on the beetle scale than the ordinary june bug.  Not being an entomologist and not knowing one, I'm just going to believe that maybe, just maybe, he really was  some kind of sacred beetle. 

 After all, he did come and visit the very day Debi's boyfriend decided to take the pool table.....

And  I am coming into being.  My own being.

Thank You God

Thank you God and Jesus and the Universe.  Thank you Pop-Poo and Ma Ma and Daddy and anyone else who helped bring everyone together in my life.  Thank you for sending Katie to me, who sent me to Debi, who has a boyfriend, who wants the pool table.  I had no idea it would all come together so fast.  Muchas gracias, merci beacoup  and last, but not least,  adios!!!!

My life sans the pool table has already gotten better.  I decided to look around online for what I might replace the pool table with.  A French farm table is what came immediately to mind.  It would be so great for projects.  When I googled it  and clicked on a link, this wonderful blog popped up.     euroantiquemarket.blogspot.com   Beautiful pictures.  Definitely an artful blog. There was a picture of an old French door knocker that's a very cool hand.  I happen to have one on my own front door, but mine is from San Miguel.  Hmmmm.......The quote underneath the picture reads:

When one door closes, another opens, but if we spend too much time concentrating on the closed door we don't notice the open one.   Helen Keller

Is that perfect or what?  Whatever it is that's on it's way is already in motion.  BIG motion!

No More

Okay.  Here it is; I'm just going to say it.  It has to go.  Now.  The pool table HAS TO GO.  It's the last huge remnant of my thirty year marriage.  I've walked past it oodles of times for the past four years.  I can't do it any longer.  I DON'T WANT TO.  It's a constant reminder of a lousy attempt to re-invent the already gone marriage.

Katie, yes Debi's lovely Katie, was here.  It needs to go, she said.  NOW!  Right now!  I've been thinking that very thing for several months, but I just needed for someone to say it to me.   Now I just need to figure out how to get rid of it.  It's heavy and it's big, and  it's making me sick.

When it's gone, I promise I'll never mention the crummy marriage again.  I swear!

The Scurriers

Lance says It's Not About the Bike

But, it's so about the bike.  Completely about the bike.

 

Because of several surgeries, even more of rads of radiation, and an IM rod in my right femur, my right leg is less than stellar, shall we say?  Depending on the weather, the shoes I'm wearing, the ground under my feet, whatever I've just done, the day of the week, or just about anything else, movement has been difficult for me, for about 30 years.  Especially FAST movement.  The doctor just replaced the IM rod with a new, spiffier model and it has taken me 10 weeks to be able to walk around the block, even  at a snail's pace.

My sweet friend, Rose Jayne, suggested that I get a bike.  A bike will help you heal.

  

With tremendous apprehension, I entered the bike shop.  So not sure of anything.......  when a cool-really-into-bikes young guy waited on me.  He spoke a completely foreign language to me. Gears, tire thickness, street riding, seats, and all kinds of other things I don't even remember because I was just wanting to get  a simple bike with regular brakes, kind of like my old Schwinn.  I was just praying I could get on and stay on the thing!  He was a good salesman and I wanted to heal, so I bought the bike.

I wobbled down the street and finally onto the trail at the Rose Rudman with Rose Jayne, who looked like Speed Racer to me. I was scared to death of every jogger, walker, dog, tree, rock or stick in my path.  Every one of them was a potential accident waiting to happen.  But, I did it.  I rode for 15 whole minutes.  I felt better than fabulous.  Until the next day, when Rose Jayne called and wanted to ride again.  Scurry on over, she said.  I was scared to death all over again. I knew it was so hard for me.  Scurry?  I could barely stay upright...and who says that anyway??

The rides have gotten so much better, and I'm now scurrying all over the place, both on and off the trail.  I like that whirrrrrrr sound the bike makes and all of that self-created wind  I make because I'm riding soooo fast.  Really fast.  We ride and talk, talk and ride.  We solve the problems of the world and catch up on everyone else's lives.  It is very healing.  The other day, I rode in my mom's retirement neighborhood.  Trying to look unconcerned, she stood in her yard, in the hot sun, and waited for me until I cruised back into her drive way.  Did she really think someone was going to snatch her fifty-four year old daughter? Probably not, but it was the sweetest.  I sort of felt like a kid again.

I've finally figured out  that moving moves me.  All of me.   It moves all of that stuff inside of me that makes me feel so stuck.  The bike is healing me.  It's moving me forward in my life without pain.  I have a renewed sense of self.  It's giving me confidence in ways I could have never imagined and it's allowing my body to feel the thrill of moving FAST.

It's very much  ALL ABOUT THE BIKE.

He's Back!

Sancho woke up and couldn't walk.  He cried and cried and cried.  I laid down on the floor beside him and just talked to him and loved on him, but nothing helped.  He just continued to whimper and yelp.  He's the most playful of the three boys and there was no play in him.   Sanchie has never been  a complainer, so I knew it must be bad and I also knew that  his being 11 was also not the greatest.  So, I took this picture of him just in case; the vet was impending.  This wasn't his usual hey baby kind of cool face; but was instead a new face, his help me face.    With a lot of coaxing,  I finally got him on a comforter and drug the comforter to the car.  We both cried the entire 15 minute ride to the vet.  They wanted to keep him overnight.  The drive home alone seemed much longer than 15 minutes.

They called the next day with good news, just arthritis.  When we rode home that day, he sat up very straight in the passenger's seat and smiled so proudly the whole way home.  He loved being the only dog in the car and having it all to himself.  When we got home, he wanted nothing to do with his brothers, who had missed him so much.  He was high on painkillers and I think he felt like he had just gotten home from a spa day.  When it was time for bed, he ran into my bedroom, because that's where he planned on sleeping (even though he never had before).  He was now better than his old self.  He was actually feeling frisky...

A Tale of Dos Hermanos

Yes, you're looking at a door with a HUGE hole in it.   A huge hole THE DOG chewed in it.

 I had a blind date with a man from San Antonio. I met him in Dallas and we had dinner.  I  spent the night  with a friend and came home the next morning.  To this.  This lovely new doggy door.  Oh my!  An anger management problem? Or maybe something much, much more serious.  A  fiber deficiency, perhaps??  A friend thinks the hermanos (Sancho and Finley) got into a fight, maybe over a chica?  and one dog threw the other dog through the door.  The hole is kind of in the shape of another perro and Sancho does have a big smile on his face!

I give up.  You decide.  All I know is - there is no longer a door there AT ALL, for whatever reason.  Oh and the blind date.....No bueno.

P.S.  Eleven years ago, both kids got to pick out their own puppies and  choose their own dog' s name.  My 11 year old son innocently chose a bubba dog and named him Finley.  My worldly 19 year old  daughter,who  had just returned from spending the summer in Mexico, chose a very  cool, suave, kind of ladies man dog, who she named  Sancho.  I was just glad she was using her Spanish.  I knew the painters always snickered when I called for Sancho to come inside and the the yard guy always had a big smile when I yelled Sancho! Come in!  It was the gutter man who finally  enlightened  me, with a smirk on his face.   Hey lady, who are you calling Sancho? Sancho (not to be confused with Santo - holy)  means a ladie's lover-on-the-side!  

Nuns on the Roof

I bought this picture on a recent trip to Guatemala with my daughter.  I've always been fascinated by these saintly women.  Who knows what they were doing on the roof??  Maybe searching for more....

Finding this photo again reminded me of another time, in the not so distant past, when I was soooo lost.  I thought my life was  over and I was grasping to find the NEW me. The me who would be bullet proof against life.  

Making the appointment with the very kind Fr Gus was the easy part. With the purest of hearts and with my eyes brimming with tears, I told Fr. Gus  I wanted to be a nun.  I want to join the sisterhood, I said with such CONVICTION.  After his eyes rolled back in his head where they were supposed to be AND when he regained his composure AND when  he was finally able to speak, he calmly and tenderly said, Oh...............................I don't think that's such a good idea.  What???  Hmmmm.  Oh!  Is is because I'm not Catholic???  Because I'll convert.  I'm Episcopalian!  I'm what y'all call Catholic-Light.  So, it's not a problem.  Not a problem for me AT ALL.  But you see, he said.  It is a problem for me.  I don't think the sisterhood is ready for you.  BUT FR. GUS, how can that be??  I'M SO READY FOR THEM.  He wisely suggested that I  wait one year and  meet with him again and then tell him that I still want to be a nun. 

I ran into Fr. Gus at the annual Knights of Columbus fish fry the following year.  He came and found me and I grabbed him and hugged him so tightly ( thinking, oh no! am I supposed to be hugging a priest, because I'm not really sure?).  His little mischievous eyes told me what was coming next:  So Sheila, are you ready to be a nun?  I laughed out loud.  Too loud!  I knew they would never be ready for me and I also knew I would never be ready for them.

I'm still fascinated by the Sissies, as my friend sweetly calls them.  Especially the Nuns on the Roof.  They are a constant reminder of the great time I had in Guatemala, when I took my daughter to celebrate a new decade of her life.  Her 30th birthday.  Thank you Sissies!

What?

The invitation said the dress was Snappy Casual.  Hmmmm.  Exactly what is that?  

There's White Tie for that oh so very special occasion, that over-the-top special occasion.  And then of course, there's your standard Black Tie.  You can wear a  short dress if it's Semi Formal, can't you?  Sometimes the invitation says Cocktail..... fun pants?  After Five.   A brightly colored halter top, for sure.  The serious Business means a jacket, right?   Business Casual.  Is that the same as Nice Church or is it just hurry up and get to church?  Casual.....shorts?  Costume.  The old pregnant nun.  She always works when you're in a pinch!  But just what is Snappy Casual??

I'm so perplexed.   I finally settle on a cute black dress with a fabulous black and white snappy blouse and bright red lipstick.  It's casual, fun and doesn't make my butt look big. Perfect!  Well guess what???  Snappy Casual just means jeans.   

Voila

This is my bedroom.  It's the most sacred space in my house.  We've earned this title.

In the beginning of the crap house, the room  was simply used for storage.  For only the special and fragile things....These pictures are from an email I had sent to my daughter in Chile.  All I was able to write to her was, "Isn't it horrible?  I can't believe I've done this to us."  That room was a fragile yet still still special jumble, just like me.

Because I was a sad, terrified, depressed, overwhelmed shell of a woman, I painted everything - the walls, ceiling, and all of the woodwork of my bedroom the same bluish-greenish color.  I completed the look with the exact same shade for the carpet and for the bedspread.  I had become a monochromatic 1-D person.  I needed to feel safe and blah.

I started to feel just a little bit more than blah, so I replaced the barely worn carpet  with a rich dark brown hardwood.  So racey....  

But then, I  started feeling exhausted in that supposed-to-be-sacred space.  I must have been feeling brave because  I branched out and bought  an all white bedspread.  Very clean and very sterile.  Definitely more than blah, though.  Maybe I was feeling 2-D now???

It must have been a particularly lonely day when  I walked in the LOOMING ROOM and crashed on the bed.  I had seen just one scoop in the mattress.  Oh no!  It was so obvious that I was alone.  I was  feeling just a hair more than blah, but decided  the bedroom represented me too, which meant that we needed to pick up the pace a little.  This time, I went for a still- all- white, thickly quilted, grandmotherly-looking comforter.  Yep, I was really coming along.

Last week, I walked into the bedroom and screamed out loud. So loud. No more!  This room is BORING.  Boring me to tears.  Real tears.  I want both of us to be more!  Sitting in the mailbox that day was a catalogue from Anthropologie.  And Voila!  There was the comforter that was living up to it's name.  A comforter.  So, this is it.  This is US.

Movin' On

Yes, it's almost fall again.  It seems to come at the same time every year.  I'm standing on my front porch, hanging the wreaths I just made on my front doors.  I have my Ipod in and I'm listening to Ann Sweeten's lovely, New Age harp music and it all feels so familiar.  Then my mind wanders down a path, an old path, and I remember last year.  At this exact same time of the year, I was in love.  Madly in love.  I had made a wreath for his door; he lived in a very cool barn and I was driving down the highway,  listening to this same lusty, ethereal harp music. To see him.  To deliver the wreath and to see him for what I knew would be  the last time.

The song changes to the something by the Rolling Stones and I snap out of the past, with a smile on my face.  There's a gentle breeze that blows across my face, reminding me that I'm movin' on.

How Do You Spell Relief?

With a chilled bottle of wine, Chinese take-out and a hot bath...

It's my annual "well woman's" check-up and I'm all all stirruped up when I see the look on the doctor's face and she says Do you feel that? as she's doing the breast exam.  No.  No. Noooooo!!!  I don't feel it; I just feel my rib.  I'm single and trying to date and I'm thinking I can handle the bald look, but no boobs???  Last year I had a biopsy on the other breast and everything was fine.  This has to be fine, too!  Can't I wait just 4 weeks, it's only 30 days, until my annual mammogram??  The radiologist who reads the mammograms then calls and tells me I should come and have an ultrasound now.  Now??  Right now?  This very minute?  The thoughts going through my mind are way too scary to really even be thinking about.  We did the sonogram and after some tears - it's decided that I get to keep my hair AND my breast.  There  is a little lump, but nothing to worry about.  It doesn't get any better than that.  Really.  

So, I celebrate and embrace my good fortune with a glass of wine, a generous helping of Kung Pao chicken and a nice, hot, lavender- filled bath!  And my fortune in those little crunchy, flavorless cookies reads Good health will be yours for a long time.

A Future of Firsts

I just had my first party in my first house that I really own.  It was the first party I've ever given where I didn't really know any of the guests and the first time that some of the food didn't really turn out right. (Thank goodness for Sangria!)  It was a lingerie shower for a good friend who is getting married for the first time. And it was her first party she's had since she was twelve.  So this was a FIRST of many more FIRSTS to come!

A Year of Buts

But I can't be getting a D.I.V.O.R.C.E.  I married him for better AND FOR WORSE...I can't do it!  Yes, you can.  Yes, you can do it.  And you will do it, my soon to be ex-mother in law said.  You are the strongest person I know.

Not only did I get a divorce that year,  BUT I also buried my dad, moved into a "crap" house and  completely remodeled it,  sent my son off to college and put my daughter on a plane to Santiago, Chile, so she could start her new life.  Lost, scared,overwhelmed, alone just about covered it.  Strong???  No way. 
 Yes, way.  I did it.  I did it all.  All by myself.  I started over.  Really over.  I found myself all by myself.  My house is now a reflection of my true self.  I'm still here and I'm still happy.