BOSSY BETTY

Monday Morning Flowers

2012-01-30T04:00:00.000-08:00

Good Monday Morning!

I had a great weekend!

How about you?

Here is your Flower Love for the week.

For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.

--Anne Morrow Lindbergh

FInding the Balance

2012-01-26T04:00:00.000-08:00

Soon after HOB left, I figured out I needed some professional help to sort through the wreckage of my emotional life. I had never been in therapy before, but I was lucky enough to end up on the couch of a very fine woman who has helped me immeasurably.

Early in the process of recovery, I wailed to her, “I am so tired of this. I just want to be the old Betty again!”

She leaned toward me, locked her deep brown eyes on mine, and softly said the exact words I did not want to hear: “You will never be the old Betty again.”

I gasped and looked at her in dismay. She continued, “You will be a different person because of what has happened to you.” In a flash I decided I needed a new therapist, one who would tell me what I wanted to hear, damn it. She said, “You will never be the old you, but you will be a more empathetic person, a person who understands life and people’s pain in a whole new way.”

At the time, it didn’t seem to me that that was a good deal. I was in too much of my own pain to see how this chasm in my life could actually transform into a bridge to other people.

However, she was right. Before when people spoke to me of loss, of betrayal, of the pain of unwanted change, I smiled a sympathetic smile, and said the well-worn phrases that I had learned to say as a bystander of life’s misfortunes and calamities. Now that am a bit of a veteran, I know that just my eye contact, my facial expression, my hand over the hand of another, communicates more than any words could.

Indeed, when I think back to breaking the news to others, there was, in the eyes and the actions of those who had traveled down this road before me, recognition, a concern, an empathy that told me they really got it. They really understood. Also, in that exchange there was the unspoken strength and assurance that came through that I would indeed make a good, a better life for myself. So many of these kind souls added the words I did not believe at the time, “It will get better.”

I will never be glad my marriage fell apart. A part of me may always feel the ache of the exacting and absolute amputation performed on that late August night. I know what it’s like to be holding a rope, to depend on it, and have someone on the other end let go of his end and walk away.

You fall.

You fall hard.

It hurts.

It’s confusing as hell.

You struggle and struggle to get back on your feet, and you stand, bruised and shaken, not at all sure of your path. Then, slowly, just like everyone said it would, it gets better. You regain your balance. You find your dignity and strength restored--restored and even increased.

And that’s when it happens: you come across someone else is hurting and without even considering whether you are strong enough or ready enough, you reach out, pull that person up, dust him or her off and say those words that he or she won’t believe until later: “It will get better.”

And then, you aren't the old you and you aren't the new you.

You are just the person you were meant to be.

Poetry Tuesday: "Neutral Tones" by Thomas Hardy

2012-01-24T04:00:00.000-08:00

Neutral Tones

We stood by a pond that winter day,
And the sun was white, as though chidden of God,
And a few leaves lay on the starving sod;
– They had fallen from an ash, and were gray.

Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove
Over tedious riddles of years ago;
And some words played between us to and fro
On which lost the more by our love.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
Alive enough to have strength to die;
And a grin of bitterness swept thereby
Like an ominous bird a-wing….

Since then, keen lessons that love deceives,
And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me
Your face, and the God curst sun, and a tree,
And a pond edged with grayish leaves.

--Thomas Hardy

Monday Morning Flowers

2012-01-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

Good Monday Morning, My Darlings!

Hope you all had good weekends and are ready to start the week.

I went out in my neighborhood yesterday and picked these flowers just for you.

Here's wishing for a happy week ahead!

If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come.

--Chinese Proverb

Three Men and a Betty

2012-01-21T07:17:00.000-08:00

As you can imagine, going through a divorce and finding out various things about your beloved mate of thirty years that are less than appealing, less than honest, can alter a girl's view on the entire species of men.

I started down that road, beginning to view all men through a skewed lens when the universe set down three men in my path to stop me from making that mistake.

They have all appeared, or reappeared in my life recently to teach me certain things, to make me understand that there are good, solid, decent men out there. They are my three wise men, bearing their own gifts and appearing just when I needed them to.

The first is rough around the edges, but with a heart of gold. He drives a big pickup truck and a Harley. He looks out for me, but never takes away my independence. He grounds me when I need it, and makes me smile with his bluntness and his honesty. He's been through similar circumstances and so, knowing the holidays would be hard, called on a regular basis to check up on how I was doing. He takes me for rides in his pickup to get veggie burgers, always makes sure I have a Diet Pepsi when I need it, and encourages me in the art of swearing when it feels good. He and I are unlikely friends, but we are indeed, friends.

The second is a man I have known for years and years. He now lives on the east coast. When he heard of my divorce he wrote me, sent me a box of healing presents, and a paper hug (his arms, traced out on paper, taped together). He is survivor of divorce and understands the pain of the process. He is also a survivor of cancer, of numerous surgeries, of many of life's trials. Through it all, however, he still maintains a sense of generosity and empathy. He may not know it, but he inspires me with his incredible courage. I recently spent time with him and sitting across from him, eating pizza and laughing, I was reminded how uncomplicated a good friendship can be.

A third man has recently entered/re-entered my life as evidence that smart, kind, patient men exist. Slogged down with all of the emotional garbage of divorce, and the emerging details that threaten my own sense of self-worth, I was beginning to believe some of the negative voices in my head. It was then this friend appeared to remind me that I am indeed a woman of substance, style, value and worth. He lives an hour away, and so I do not see him often, but when we do get together, we take long walks together and talk about everything under the sun. He encourages me on those days when I can't look at one more legal document. He writes me letters that make me smile. He is soft-spoken, and I am not, but we share the same sense of humor. He has brought back my smile, and optimism about men in general. He actually makes me think that maybe, someday, I might be able to trust someone with my battered heart again.

The world is filled with good people, and I am so lucky to be surrounded by them. In my family, and at my work, I have so many examples of good, sincere men of principle. However, I can't help but think that some force brought these three into my life to help me along this path at this time.

Each came, and in his own way helped me to learn a lesson I needed: not to take life so seriously, to face challenges with courage, and to trust in the future and all the incredible possibilities that await there.

My New Year's Trip

2012-01-19T04:00:00.000-08:00

We have some catching up to do, apparently.

For New Year's I flew out to see Sonny Boy and his girlfriend in Virginia. It was the first time I had seen them since they moved. I loved seeing them and their new home.

Since Sonny Boy and Girlfriend do not allow their pictures on this blog, I had to stand in.

Too much Betty in one post?

Oh yes.

I got to visit VT, home of the Hokies!

My friend Steve lives in West Virginia, but came down to see me.

We met in college about 34 years ago and have kept in touch over the years.

He is a sweetie indeed.

Betty and field at VT. It is a beautiful campus!

OH! OH! OH! We got to go to Mt. Airy, North Carolina, home of Andy Griffith and the town Mayberry of the "Andy Griffith Show" was based on.

I am sort of a freak about the show, owning every episode and knowing far too much about each and every one. I had SO much fun going to the museum and the town!

Sonny Boy and his girlfriend were very patient as I took in all the sights and participated in racy activities like the one above.

I couldn't think of a better place to start this exciting new year.

Seeing my beloveds in their new home, exploring this part of the US, and visiting Mt. Airy?

It all made Betty greet the new year with a smile.

Hope your New Year was just as good.

Party of Two

2012-01-18T04:00:00.000-08:00

As most of you know, I was determined to get through Christmas this year (the first one after the sudden departure of my husband, and the first one my son had to miss) mostly by ignoring the holiday. I didn't unpack the tree, nor the ornaments. I made plans to go to my sister's house in another state for the actual day. I avoided heavily decorated streets. I shunned Christmas music whenever possible. I thought I had done a pretty good job of protecting myself from any onslaught of excess emotion brought on by my first Christmas alone.

So, when a retirement party for one of my colleagues came around, I thought it would pretty much be just a department meeting on steroids. No problem. I dressed up appropriately and went to the house of another colleague, ready to have a pleasant time. It didn't even cross my mind that I would have any trouble.

I was wrong. Christmas decorations were all over. Pictures of a happy, intact family lined the walls. My colleagues brought their significant others. The rooms of the house were alive with laughter and conversation. Rich foods flowed out of the kitchen. Everyone was kind and considerate, giving me hugs and smiles from across the room. This kindness and compassion nearly put me under, because, as pure as it may have been, I saw it tinged in pity. I looked at the Christmas tree, covered with hundreds of busy ornaments, mirroring my own cluttered emotions. I was overwhelmed, but I held it together fairly well, even when my beloved retiring colleague sat next to his long-time wife and thanked her for all her support.

Then, I gathered my things, smiled and laughed as I walked out the door, thanking my hosts and exclaiming about what a good time I had. I walked to my car.

Then, I lost it completely. Yes. A complete meltdown. I had not cried like that for months. Emotions rushed over me, swept me away and I as suddenly just as sad and confused as the day HOB left me.

So much for progress.

I had planned on going to a friend's birthday party the next day. I went home, and quickly sent my apologies. No more parties for me.

The next day, a friend I had not seen in years came over for lunch out and a walk afterwards. What I had expected to be a short walk and talk, turned into a long walk, a long talk. We meandered the streets of the town, and the talk flowed freely. Walking in the warm air of a California December, I felt a peacefulness I had not felt for a long time. It was getting near dark and we must have already walked at least five miles, but I suddenly knew what I wanted to do. For some reason, I felt safe to do it.

I, the girl who was avoiding Christmas at all costs, guided my friend toward the street in our town that is known as Candy Cane Lane. The houses there go all out, decorate to the hilt, Christmas music blares from some of the front yards. The street is always full of people in a holiday mood, out for fun. We walked side by side down the street and I wasn't overwhelmed, or melancholy, or aching. I was just simply happy. The complications of my life fell away for a few minutes and I strolled down the street with my friend and enjoyed the lights and the sounds.

I thought about big parties and how we flock to them, prepared to have a good time and most of the time we do. But on this night, I understood that there are some times in life when the best party of all is a party of two. It was simple. It was uncomplicated. There was no pretense or need be anything but authentic.

So, yesterday was my birthday. I had a great day until I had to go to two divorce-related meetings. I came out of them upset, confused, and generally distraught. I had planned on getting together with a group of people, but I called one of my best friends and asked her if we could go out to dinner, just the two of us. She urged me to call more people. She insisted she could gather more friends, but I remembered that day in December and how the best parties are sometimes made up of just two good friends.

We dined, we laughed, we talked, I cried (a little) and we welcomed in this new year of my life.

It was just what I wanted.

It as just what I needed.

It was a great birthday party, indeed.

It's Betty's Birthday And You're My Present! (Apply Bow Now. Wear for at Least 24 Hours.)

2012-01-17T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hello, My People!

Guess who is jumping back into the blogpool?

I have missed you all so very much.

Things here are still a bit rocky at times, but getting better every day. I am eager to start blogging again and catch up with all of you. I can't promise I'll post on a regular basis, and I can't promise my posts will be coherent, but has that ever stopped me before?

So, today is my birthday and my present to myself is the freedom begin to blog again. I want to thank you all for your kind thoughts and voices of support and concern, especially, those wonderful, pesky people who e-mailed me and urged me to come back to Blogland. I will never forget your support and friendship through this time. Truly, I am humbled and blessed beyond belief.

So, put on that shiny bow and wear it proudly. If anybody asks about it just tell them that you are a present to Betty and a gift to the universe.

Because you are.

Sometimes you hear a voice through the door calling you.... This turning toward what you deeply love saves you.

--Rumi

This Scattered Life

2011-12-21T21:12:00.000-08:00

My Blogging Buddies,

When I started this blog three years ago I came up with the moniker of Bossy Betty thinking I could use some snappy persona and write from that perspective, hiding behind a mask of irreverence. The irony is that through blogging and the connections I made with my readers, I found that I couldn't be anything by authentic in my writing.

Maybe that is a strength; maybe it is a weakness.

Recent events in my life have pretty much stripped all remaining pretenses from my life. I find that I have no choice but to be authentic. I have no energy for anything but authenticity.

Unfortunately, that honesty comes with an emotional price. At this point in my life I am trying to deal with research papers, wrapping paper, and divorce papers. I am trying to keep my head above water. Just when I think I have a handle on this whole divorce thing, new revelations come to the surface and threaten to drown me. Just when I think I can't be hurt in any new ways, I find out differently.

So, I am taking a blogging break. I need some time to gather myself, to make sure my sons have some much-needed emotional stability, and to just try and make it through the holidays.

I'll be back, my pretties.

I love you too much to not haunt you with my every observation.

Have a wonderful holiday season and I'll see you soon.

--BB

Monday Morning Flowers

2011-12-19T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday Morning, Everyone.

Sorry I have not been around lately.

It's been a little crazy here.

I hope to get back into my writing groove very soon.

Flowers and treats ahead for you!

Someone's idea of a joke at the Department Christmas Party:

Christmas is a time when everybody wants his past forgotten and his present remembered. What I don't like about office Christmas parties is looking for a job the next day.

--Phyllis Diller

Poetry Tuesday: "A Walk" by Rainer Maria Rilke

2011-12-13T04:00:00.000-08:00

A Walk

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave...
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

--Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Robert Bly

Monday Morning Flowers

2011-12-12T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday to you all!

Here's hoping you have a great week ahead!

My legs are still recovering from the Secret Stair Hike, but it was so much fun!

We passed by some great architecture.

We also passed one of these. Can you guess what it is?

You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

--Steve Jobs

Secret Stair Walk! Silver Lake

2011-12-11T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hi everybody!

Yesterday, it was time for another Secret Stair Walk. Regular readers know these are walks that explore the system of stairs built into the hills in the Los Angeles area in the 1920's.

This time we headed to Silver Lake.

Here are my hiking buddies and me, ready to hit the trail!

This walk had 705 stairs and included this set which was featured in the 1932 Laurel and Hardy movie The Music Box. The duo try to move a piano up these stairs. I managed to move just my body up them and felt quite accomplished.

It was a gorgeous day in Los Angeles. The temps were in the upper '70's.

This Kansas girl still can't quite believe this is December weather.

Naturally, after the hike, it was time to eat! We found a fabulous restaurant called "Local." The food was great. Attention: set a plate of spicy French fries and a bowl of ranch dressing down in front of some hungry women and then, for your own safety, step away from the table.

This was the bathroom attendant at the restaurant. He was a little alarming upon first opening the door to the bathroom, but he was really very nice once you got to know him.

I had a fabulous time on the Secret Stair walk.

Oh! And I found my new builders along the way!

Hope you are all having great Sundays!

Bumpits Explained.

2011-12-09T04:00:00.000-08:00

I mentioned Bumpits in my last post and got some questions.

I see that I must take it upon myself to educate some of my uninformed blogger buddies about this essential beauty product.

My friend who got me the Bumpits reported that she got them at the dollar store.

Humm...could it be the Bumpits craze is over and someone forgot to tell me?

OH. OH. OH.

2011-12-08T04:00:00.000-08:00

As many of you may know, I am doing my best to skip Christmas this year.

Most of my friends at work know this, so when my good friend presented me with string of lights that called out "HO, HO, HO," I glared at her and said, "What are you thinking?"

She quickly pointed out that by flipping them around they read "OH, OH, OH."

Since this is what I frequently say when grading papers (in a groaning voice), it seemed totally appropriate to hang them above my computer.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Yeah. That sums it up nicely. Don't you think?

Note: Why yes, that IS a tiara on my shelf!

And yes, I DO wear it occasionally.

Is that a problem?

And yes, my observant readers! Those ARE Bump-Its to the right of the tiara. After reading hundreds of essays and going a little insane, my co-workers and I sometimes resort to sticking Bump-Its on our heads and puffing up our hair like prom queens while we drink highly-caffeinated beverages and eat candy.

OH. OH. OH.

Is it the end of the semester yet?

OH. OH. OH.

Cranberry Bread Jubilee

2011-12-07T04:00:00.000-08:00

As many of you will remember from Monday's post, I took in mini-loaves of Cranberry Nut Bread to my department meeting.

Many of my colleagues went into a state of rapture as they bit into their loaves.

One even started thumping her hand on the table like a happy rabbit.

Oh yes, Cranberry Nut Bread has magical properties.

Now, in a fit of generosity, I present two, TWO recipes that will make those around you happy rabbits as well.

Use your baking power wisely, my friends.

CLASSIC CRANBERRY NUT BREAD

INGREDIENTS:

2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 cup orange juice
1 tablespoon grated orange peel
2 tablespoons shortening
1 egg, well beaten
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup chopped nuts

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Grease a 9 x 5-inch loaf pan.

Mix together flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and baking soda in a medium mixing bowl. Stir in orange juice, orange peel, shortening and egg. Mix until well blended. Stir in cranberries and nuts. Spread evenly in loaf pan.

Bake for 55 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool on a rack for 15 minutes. Remove from pan; cool completely. Wrap and store overnight. Makes 1 loaf (16 slices).

Betty's Bonus Note: I make this in my mini-loaf pans and it takes about 25 minutes to bake.

True Confession: I didn't want to fall in love with another Cranberry Bread recipe, but I did when I tried this one:

CRANBERRY PUMPKIN BREAD

INGREDIENTS:

1 3/4 cups flour
1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1 cup pumpkin
1/2 cup oil
2 eggs
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries, coarsely chopped

(I throw some nuts in there too!)

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 350ºF.

Grease and flour an 8 1/2 x 4 1/2 x 2 1/2-inch loaf pan.

Combine dry ingredients in a medium mixing bowl. Combine remaining ingredients, except cranberries, in a separate mixing bowl. Add to dry ingredients, stirring just until dry ingredients are moist. Stir in cranberries.

Spread evenly in a loaf pan. Bake 1 1/2 hours or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the bread comes out clean. Remove from pan. Cool completely on a wire rack.

Betty's Bonus Note: Same as above. What? You want a different Bonus Note? One is not enough?

I used to date the lead singer of The Cranberries, but she cheated on me. Turns out she had some turkey on the side.

--Jarod Kintz

Poetry Tuesday: "Journey" by Mary Oliver

2011-12-06T04:00:00.000-08:00

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

--Mary Oliver

Monday Morning Flowers

2011-12-05T04:00:00.000-08:00

Good Morning!

It's Monday! A chance for a new start.

Pass Go. Collect $200.o0

Which Monopoly piece would you like to be this week?

I got my baking ya-ya's out yesterday when I made sixteen mini-loaves of Cranberry Nut Bread. Fifteen of those will be making their way to our department meeting today.

(One of them has already made its way into my stomach.)

In the middle of my baking frenzy, I remembered I needed some flowers for all you lovelies today.

So, I looked out in my back yard, picked up my camera and braved the bitter mid-60's weather to capture these for you.

The recent winds we had did a number on many of our plants, but I found these beauties ready to pose.

Oh! And I found one more apple on the tree! Yay!

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

--Khalil Gibran

Little Lights Everywhere

2011-11-30T04:00:00.000-08:00

The days just after my husband left are pretty much a blur now. I was in so much emotional pain, I could barely see straight.

I do remember, however, my friend, Lori, coming over that first day I was alone in the house and giving me a package of automatic night lights. I remember thinking it was such an odd present.

My world was falling apart and she was giving me little plastic night-lights?

I was sure she meant well, but I was confused. I had never used night-lights. Why would I need them?

I didn't understand. I thanked her and then set them aside.

Then, night fell.

Then I understood.

Lights that guide me.

I put one in the hallway and one in the dining room. Sensing the darkness, those trusty little lights come on at dusk and provide a soft glow for me all through the night. I can see them shining from my open bedroom door. If I need to go out to the kitchen, or make my way out to the living room, they light my way.

Lights that sustain me.

Before he moved to Virginia, Sonny Boy gave me about seven small flashlights he had gotten on sale. He had no idea of the events to come, but those little flashlights, placed all over the house, have been a comfort to me.

I have used them to search in the corners of dark drawers and to look under the bed when I can’t find my shoes. I have one beside my bed and one just inside the door to the garage. I take one out with me when I go walking at night.

Each time I use one, I think of Sonny Boy. He and his brother--my sons--those two beautiful stars in my universe, help me remember my place in the family constellation during this confusing time.

I may not be a wife to my husband any longer, but I those two steady sources of light will never exit from my sky.

By them, I will always be able to set my course in life.

Lights that comfort me.

In a post about two months ago, I bemoaned coming home to a darkened house on the night I teach late, and over and over again, you, my blogging buddies, suggested a timer on my lamp.

You would think I would have thought of that on my own, but at the time, I was dumbfounded and just stumbling through my days. It was a simple suggestion, but what a difference it has made.

I put the timer on and each night my lamp comes on at 5:30 and goes off at 9:30. I love the dependability of my timer. I love the dependability of the blogging community.

How do I get my arms around all of you?

Lights that humble me.

In one of the sweetest gestures, my blogging friend, Inkpuddle, wrote a note to me to tell me that she had remembered my post about my house being dark on Wednesday night. She wrote, “I thought of you and turned on a light in my living room today, right by the window, before I went in for the night shift. I guess I just wanted you to have a light on tonight, even if it was all the way in Atlanta and you wouldn’t really see it; it was all of the support behind it that I hoped you would feel.”

Her kindness brought tears to my eyes. A light in Atlanta. For me. No, I couldn't see it, but I could feel it.

Lights that warm me.

My friend Steve sent me a lovely heart-shaped candle holder and candles from his home in West Virginia to remind me that I am loved.

Another friend wouldn’t leave my house one night until she was sure my automatic porch light was working. She waited patiently to test it over and over again.

Periodically, my phone lights up with pictures of my great-nephew from my niece, or messages of love from my family and friends.

Lights. Lights. Everywhere beautiful little lights.

It is late November and so, now when I am out walking in the evening I am surprised and delighted by the Christmas lights that are popping up all over my neighborhood. I look at all those little lights, each one so little, but each one so important.

I smile as I pass by those displays and I think about these past three months and the things I have learned.

In the past, when my friends have faced difficulties, I have felt that my card, call, or hug, would be puny and insignificant in comparison to the weight of their plight. However, now I know that even the smallest light, physical or metaphorical, can lesson the heaviness of the darkness that will, inevitably, fall in all our lives.

I think back to my first night alone and Lori’s simple gift of those night-lights and I know now they were, of course, the perfect present.

Sensing darkness and automatically responding.

Lighting up a path for the temporarily lost.

Providing light, gentle guidance, warmth, and dependability.

Isn’t that what friendship is all about?

Little Lights.

Everywhere.

Beautiful little lights.

Thank you all.

I am grateful for each and every one.

Monday Morning Flowers

2011-11-28T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday, Everyone!

It's back to our regularly scheduled lives.

Are you ready?

What is the meaning of life? To be happy and useful.

--Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama

Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-24T04:00:00.000-08:00

Mabel: The Cautionary Cat.

Know when you've had enough turkey.

Back away from the table before it's too late.

Sending lots of love to you and yours this Thanksgiving!

The Holidays

2011-11-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

I sort of know how he feels.

With apologies to all those who get all gooey-eyed over the holidays, this whole divorce thing is a real buzz kill during the holiday season.

Betty does not like changes.

This year has been all about changes.

The holidays will be different too. Really different.

My simple plan this year is to get through them.

That's it.

Just get through them.

HOB and I will not be together for the first time in thirty years. In the spirit of kinship, I invited him to eat with Evan and I for Thanksgiving, but he declined.

For the first time, Sonny Boy will not be home for Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving without my boy will be hard enough, but it seems especially hard right now. We will miss him and his girlfriend, but it's too far for them to travel for the short time they could stay.

The good news: Evan is coming home for this first time since he left for college in August! Yay! I will be so happy to see him. I plan to get my Mama ya-ya's out. He and I will go over to a friend's house for dinner. I am grateful for her hospitality and kindness.

I just have to make it through the one day.

I'll get through Thanksgiving.

I will.

OK.

Then comes Christmas.

Oh man. Sonny Boy and his girlfriend won't be able to come home for Christmas either and we can't go there for the holiday. This tears me up.

I am normally a Christmas nut, and start decorating just after Thanksgiving, but when I think about unpacking those ornaments, (so many representing our years together) and unpacking those stockings, (ooooo...the four matching stockings my mom made). On top of that, every year I pack away lots of family pictures I display only at Christmas time. Needless to say, I won't open that box this year.

To tell you the truth, I would just like to crawl in a box instead and wait for the hideous green and red cloud to pass over.

Since we don't live near any family members, I have always made a big stinking deal out of making and sticking to our own family traditions. I usually decorate the house like crazy. I think I should do the same this year for Evan's sake. I want him to have something of the old life we used to have.

But what I really want to do is to turn off the lights, lock the door, and wait for December to be over.

Yes, both of these holidays are wonderful and yes, I am grateful for all I have and recognize how truly lucky I am. I don't mean to sound pathetic, woe-is-me, etc. It's just that these holidays somehow put in stark relief the way things are vs. the way things used to be.

And I have enough of that thing on a daily basis.

(Have I mentioned I really don't like change?)

Everyone I have talked to who has gone through this tells me that the first holidays are the worst, but once you get through them, everything gets better.

So, I am taking it just one day at a time.

Just one holiday at a time.

Poetry Tuesday: "One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop

2011-11-22T04:00:00.000-08:00

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

--Elizabeth Bishop

Monday Morning Flowers

2011-11-21T04:00:00.000-08:00

Everybody knows my followers are astute, sophisticated, and just plain good-looking people.

Indeed, as you look around your Thanksgiving table this Thursday, you have my permission to say loudly, "I am the best looking person in this room."

(My friends from other countries, never fear. You are granted this permission as well even though you do not celebrate the American form of Thanksgiving. )

Looks aren't everything though.

Now, let's boost your intellectual self-esteem with a complex quiz.

Based on your Monday Morning Flowers, shipped to you straight from the land of fruits and nuts, what weather would you say occurred in southern California this weekend?

Come on.

You can do this.

I believe in you.

(If you pass this quiz, you are permitted to claim that you are the smartest person in the room as well.)

Your family will adore you for your honesty.

Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.

--Rabindranath Tagore

Secret Stair Walk! Hollywood!

2011-11-20T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hello, My People!

Yesterday, some gal pals and I ventured into Hollywood to take another Secret Stair Walk.

Some of you may remember these are hikes that explore the staircases built into the hillsides of the Los Angeles area in the 1920's when the idea was that LA would be built around a trolley system.

Here's Karen, leading the pack up one of the staircases.

She was our fearless guide and carried the all-important guide book.

Here's just one of the many staircases. They are challenging, and maybe a little addicting too. There were a total of 421 stairs on this walk.

The hike went through a great neighborhood, full of architectural surprises, like these two orange houses.

This campanile-style tower is actually an elevator for thirty of the residents that live in the area.

It was a relatively clear day and so we went up by the Hollywood sign and got a great view of the city.

It was such a fun day with some fun people!

I can't wait to do another Secret Stair Hike soon.

Hope you are having great Sundays!