Search Me! I Just Stumbled Into It...

I have been busy Stumbling Upon...StumbleUpon...If you haven't visited the service yet, do yourself a favor and check it out. I do have to warn you though, it is highly addictive. I have visited a lot of websites, but this is by far the best choice for creative procrastination. Not only that, I have met some amazing fellow stumblers!

Yes, you have to subscribe and go through the mechanics of creating your own "Stumble Upon" home page, but it's well worth the effort. Initially, you will probably think to yourself, "Why exactly am I doing this?". Tell yourself to be quiet and get on with it. You may not understand the caveats initially, but just click around and remember that when you find a sight you really love, and you know you will, click on the "thumbs up" icon on your SU toolbar and write a review.

Along the way, you'll meet some interesting, geeky, like-minded SU subscribers and before you know it, you'll be exchanging information, greetings and swapping sites and e-mails: Acquaintances will blossom into cyber-friendships - it's an online community that's eclectic and fairly savvy, on a global scale.

As with most communities, there are sickos and bozos around, but all you have to do to avoid the occasional weirdo, is simply click on the "block this user" button and voila - you can't, and won't, be bothered anymore. They will no longer exist.

As I mentioned, I have swapped some interesting messages with people interested in the same things I am as well as people who aren't! I've had a string of intense deadlines in the past couple or three weeks, and because of this, I have spent a great deal of time staring at my monitor and wondering which word should go next. To break up the tedious aspect of writing, I have also surfed and stumbled my way through any number of websites I would never have discovered otherwise. For the occasional insomniac or professional procrastinator, this site is a "must see".

Thank you for time well wasted...

And finally, to fellow stumblers Miss-Parker, Yola, Gmkii, Crimewriter, Dbarndt, Contour, Starbuck1, Glenede, Orca-wild, saar, gcl, Outoftheblue, boomcrash1, pseudonym, ncoutlander, Cheaphits and Nicky187, thanks for making me feel welcome, sending me kind words, encouragement as I dither over deadlines drawing nearer, making me laugh when I should be asleep and sharing some points to ponder, long after I move away from the monitor. You guys rock!

Walking in New York...

You don't skip a beat
when you're hittin' the street,
Walkin' in New York
There's a kind of heart
You become a part of,
Walkin' in New York.

Me and my friend,
Just walkin' and talkin'.
Walkin' in New York...

There are times that will always stay
Somewhere in your thoughts
One of mine will always be,
Walkin' in New York

All you need is one good friend,
And some time to spare.
Stoppin' for coffee at some cafe,
Life without a care...
~ Brenda Russell

I've had so many people in my corner over the years, every single one of them quirky and talented and loyal beyond belief. I wouldn't be here without them. There is one, however, who I think of every single time I read something I wrote in published form. I know that if it were not for this fine, talented, gifted writer-in-his-own-right, I wouldn't be in print at all. Of this, I am certain.

In March 1997, I was excited by the prospect of finally meeting, in person, my e-mail friend of nine months. Michel was making his first flight to the United States, and what a gift that turned into for me. Poor Michel! I wonder if he had known what he was in for, if he would have still made that flight? I'm so glad he didn't know, because he has been such a "don't miss" experience for me - in a variety of ways.

Michel is one of the kindest, most gentle and compassionate gentlemen I have ever met, who comes equipped with an accent that could melt butter, but make no mistake, this man is serious about writing and has never hesitated to take me to task if he didn't think I was giving something my very best effort. There have been times he has constructively and correctly criticized a piece I have e-mailed him for review, and I have wanted to declare war on France, or at the very least, Michel! It would have made no difference and he would never have changed his opinion if I had possessed the capacity to declare war. He's stubborn beyond belief. It's what drives me crazy. It's also what makes him a true and precious friend. Bouf! (Hey Cowboy, you might want to leave the hat back in France...you know how those NY'ers are. They might not cotton to that kind of attire. People get killed for less than that in NYC!)

One of the things I dislike most about him, is that he's generally always right, and when he's directed me to go back to the drawing board (or keyboard), there has always been a good reason(s) for it and when I finally shifted my ego aside and thought about what he was recommending in terms of my lackluster effort, whatever I was working on, was infinitely better because of it.

Michel is the reason I somehow found the courage to pitch my newspaper column and snag my first paid writing gig, but he had to nudge me hard. I remember talking to him on my cell phone on the way to my meeting with the editors at the newspaper in Texas, and no matter what protestations I presented, he shooed them away and told me to basically get over it, and myself, that I was capable, and I could do it. As it turns out, the man was right - but I distinctly remember walking out of that editor's office, proposal accepted, and thinking..."Wow...what do I do now?" How does one write a column?". It was sort of surreal, in a good way, of course.

He held my hand through the first several and I think it was a good two years into my five year run, before I would submit my work to the newspaper without first running it by him. So my column generally appeared in Texas, by way of France. I love technology.

And why not? Technology, and AOL, brought me Michel! Nine years later, and several trips back and forth across the Atlantic, we're still friends, though his position is more that of a member of my family.

In fact, I sort of helped Michel see more of America, because I kept moving. We met in Miami in March 1997, he went house-hunting with me later that same year, in Charleston, South Carolina and, 18 months later, I found myself moving to Texas. Six months after that move, Michel saddled up and visited West Texas. It wasn't long before I got antsy again and August 2000 found me buying a home in Wilmington, NC - Thanksgiving of that same year, found Michel sharing Thanksgiving Day with my family and making his first foray into North Carolina. This move must have taken (knock on wood!), because six plus years later, I'm still here and very happy but Michel has always had a yen to make it to Manhattan which Katie was kind enough to take on this move and give us someone to visit, a young lady who knows her way around the subway system, buses, big yellow taxis and provides an "insiders guide" to the craziest city in the world. I guess she inherited the gypsy gene, and she's off to a fine start! I couldnl't be more proud of her wandering ways.

So, in the name of reciprocity, Michel is flying to NYC and Katie has agreed to be our personal tour guide, just as he took such great care of us the times we were in France. Of course, he's a few steps beyond brilliant and, knowing him and how he hates to fly, he will spend the flight studying NYC guides and walk off the plane knowing far more about where to go and what to do than I ever will. He's smart that way. I will do well to remember this is a man who stepped off a plane in South Carolina and, after flying quite a few hours, sat down with me to a game of Scrabble and right off the bat, used every single tile. No small feat, particularly given that English is not his primary language. That really stung and I'm still trying to get over that one.

It's going to be a fast-paced trip and we intend to pack as much as we possibly can into a handful of days. In addition to visiting with Katie and John, we are having lunch with one of my favorite editors at one of my favorite magazines. Erik will join us for a meal and I know wherever he chooses will be fantastic, just as it was in May. I'm sure Michel will enjoy meeting someone involved in major magazine publication, particuarly one with the international reputation PC Magazine enjoys, and I believe Erik will find it interesting to hear about Michel's work. Me? I'll simply be thrilled to be in the company of both these guys, grateful to have a seat at the same table.

Katie has informed me that we chose a weekend when John's beautiful mother, Nina, will also be in Manhattan and we will be honored to join Nina, Katie and John, in addition to Nina's sisters, Melanie and Daria, and her wonderful husband Bill for dinner. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to hooking up with this crowd again. I loved meeting them when I was there in May, even given the private turmoil I was dealing with, and I know it's going to be even more fun, because much has changed since my last visit. My life is so much better and I feel grateful that things are just the way they are.

After Michel flies back to Paris, I'm going to corner my Katie so that we can indulge our vices and drink copious amounts of coffee and really catch up like old times. I'm also looking forward to visiting the Humane Society of New York and meeting the people she works alongside. I'm told it's going to be chilly and I can imagine, late October, New York will be gorgeous.

An open book...er....magazine

Coincidentally, the piece I wrote for the 17th October issue of PC Mag will hit the stands while I'm up there, and Erik has promised to give me a couple of copies. I must admit I'm interested to see how it's received. I was invited to write a very personal piece, and at first it didn't seem like so much, but it's dawning on me that with a paid subscripition of 5 million readers, there's potentially a large audience for true confessions. I know I've always said I was an "Open Book", and I guess this confirms it.

I also just finished a feature that will appear in the November issue of a local magazine on a topic I know a little about, "Women & the Internet". I had a few different options on how to work this one, but it turns out that my perfect interview subjects and resources, appeared just when I needed them and I'm very proud of how it has turned out. I had so many accomplished women who made themselves available (and a wonderful UNC-W Professor - Thanks Jonathan!) , to work with, that it would have been difficult to mess this one up. I hope all who chimed in will be pleased with how they are represented. It means a great deal to me that they feel I did them justice. I couldn't have done it without every single one of them.

As I mentioned, I just finished a feature story focusing on women and how they have come to incorporate the Internet in terms of their professional careers. Now, I'm fairly pleased with my writing, but for some odd reason, titles have always eluded me but for some reason, this time, I had a vision. I don't mean to boast but at 4:00 AM on the very morning my story was (over)due, I had the a mental power surge and came up with the title...ready?..."High-Wired Women Working WITH a 'Net". Where this pre-dawn titular epiphany came from, I cannot say, but even I liked it.
My esteemed editor also asked me to discuss blogs, in the form of a side bar. She suggested I incorpate my own personal blog as an example. I was very pleased to share it, but I notice that as I begin an entry now, I think about who might read my "off the record" words, and what they may take from it and, in a way, I miss the "off the cuff" dispensation with which I used to write my entries. I am working through this reticence and trying to remind myself that the whole reason for this blog in the first place, is to just type what pops in my mind; The freedom to elaborate on life and the changes that inevitably occur is just one of the things I've enjoyed about this medium. So WHAT if I dangle a participle or end a sentence with a preposition...My thoughts sometimes dangle lots of participles and I've been known to think thoughts in prepositionally terminated INCOMPLETE sentences. Oddly enough, the world hasn't come to an end...yet.

Perhaps what is core to so much revelation and personal exposure, of both me and my blog, is the fear and vulnerability that come attached with stripping away some of the layers, the veneer we all self-construct to hide the flaws and focus attention away from whatever weaknesses we deal with and, don't kid yourself, we ALL have them.

For me, I know that part of what comprises my personality, colors my mannerisms, affects my attitudes and directs my course-corrections are the weaknesses and challenges, one of which is about to appear in print. Somewhere inside of me, I'm coming to truly believe that, blemishes and all, I'm OK. I'm working on it. I'm making progress and most of all, I am doing the very best I am capable of doing, and this is probably one of the first times in my life that I can unequivocally make that declaration in complete honesty.

I know I smile more, I laugh from a deeper place, and I feel things much more succinctly. I have plenty of character defects to work on and major items that need improvement, but I also recognize the positives that have been borne from focus and self-discipline, something that doesn't historically come naturally to me. When I look back at where I was three years ago, there is not enough money on this planet that could entice me to ever go back (and I'm a huge fan of money!). When all is said and done, considering what could have been, I'm so delighted to be alive and been allowed the chance to work on anything, myself included.

Most days, I really do love being the "me" I am now, so much more than the "me" I was then. For a woman genuinely trying to "do the next right thing", that's got to be a good sign. It is coming to be my experience, that nothing feels as gratifying as slipping into my own skin, and realizing that it fits...that I am finally comfortable where it counts most; inside of me. You can't buy that no matter how many trips you take to the mall. Hard work and realignment will take you there and, once you arrive, you know that you are home. I really did find home.

I can't wait for winter...

Today has been a bit on the exasperating side and from all quadrants, I might add. Perhaps it's just cumulative, but for some reason, it feels a little more pronounced today.

I am generally known as Ms. Perky. I twist on the smile, generally hit my marks, and am expected to overlook slights, unfulfilled promises, and conform to the schedules and desires, wants and perceived needs of people in my concentric inner circle. This evening, I'm considering shaking up my inner circle - and only because I'm sure that I need to reconsider the pecking order of a few people in my life. It doesn't happen very often - but this evening, I have decided that it's perfectly OK to be annoyed. And so I am. Definitely annoyed.

My gosh that admission felt deliciously empowering!

In all fairness, I do have a couple of deadlines dangling in my immediate future and I do tend to feel a little extra stress when one of those things are breathing down my neck - so a small part of my annoyance may well be attributed to that, but not all of it.

In the past almost three years, I have discovered something and I am probably as surprised as those around me appear to be: I'm much more honest when I feel someone is taking advantage of me, and I've even found myself sounding rather forthright when I decide that I don't like the behavior of a friend or relative (or stranger). I kind of like it that I feel more at ease in speaking my mind and have stopped letting things slide in order to keep the peace, because that can't be healthy. Maybe it's a sign that I'm growing to respect myself more, by disallowing someone else to disrespect me with their words and actions. It can't be all that good for a person to continually stuff it, when that is exactly the two words you really want to say to the person you find yourself annoyed with. Who hasn't felt the inclination now and again to simply say, "STUFF IT!!"?

On the way home tonight with my friend Vanessa (who, FYI, I am not annoyed with), we had a nice chat about things and she most definitely is someone who's opinion I respect and who I just plain admire - mostly because with Vanessa, you know where you stand. She's an amazing woman. There is no fuzzy gray area with this strong-willed force of life! She calls things like she sees them and, in many ways, she reminds me a great deal of my mother. Tact may not always be her strong suit, but when all is said and done, she's usually right on the money in her opinions and beliefs. Her batting average is off the charts - and the same can easily be said of most of the opinions belonging to my Mother. Both of these women are valuable, blessed fixtures in my life, and I am grateful for their example, and the direction they unwittingly offer.

My father is also someone who is just about as close to an ideal role model as one can be. Though he is a bit more tactful and soft in his delivery, than my Mother or Vanessa, in his "kinder, gentler" way, he accomplishes the same result - of being someone worthy of anyone's respect and definitely worth emulating. This is someone I find it literally painful to disappoint. I just don't like going there.

To be honest, I need look no further than either of my parents to find a pair of the best people on this earth, in every single category imaginable, to color and influence my life. If I do need to go further, I've always got Vanessa. OK, so my Dad and Vanessa have some "mild" OCD issues with things like mowing (length of a blade of grass) and putting everything back to its original place, almost before you're even finished using it, but no one's perfect right? My Mom isn't nearly as OCD and she's softened quite a bit through the years, to the point where I don't even think she hates cats or, perhaps, she's just learned to peacefully co-exist with them. Felines notwithstanding, you could use any or all three of the aforementioned individuals as a compass for general behavior, and if you listened to them, you could be fairly certain of what you should and/or shouldn't do. Like I said, their collective batting averages are off the charts. I am really quite fortunate to have such benchmarks in my life.

Today, I wanted to scream out of sheer frustration at any number of things and, I may be wrong but I think I have a fairly high tolerance for irritation and, generally, I am well-practiced in the fine art of compartmentalization: In other words, it takes a lot to even register a spike on my "Miffed Meter". I watched a new employee at work spend the day with a cell phone seemingly physically attached to her ear, and when (nearly) everyone else was busy getting things stowed away for a couple of days off, she sat there oblivious to the activity around her, and never once appeared slightly interested in lending a hand - I dunno - maybe she was afraid she'd break a nail or something. I know I have a high energy level, but watching this individual was literally like watching a video in slow-motion. I got the distinct impression that she operates on two indistinguishable speeds: "Snails Pace" and "Molasses".

Add to this, that there was an overabundance of highly dramatic, overbearing individuals in my vicinity and so much drama! I know, we are on the waning side of a full moon and, with no disrespect to my best dog Cassie intended, I could only wonder to myself..."Who let the dogs out?". I don't mean that in anything resembling a flattering way. It was a little too flaming hot for my taste and please, feel free to read into that what you will. Have at it. Be my guest.

[Before I go any further - here's a handy FYI: For the "arm-chair detectives" among you - though I am not naming any specific names, none of the following has anything to do with "romantic-interests". A romantic interest would hardly qualify for inclusion into my circle of trust.]

And then there are a few people close to me, that can rock along and seem to be following a fairly reasonable path, who have a few odd "components" in their lives that I simply do not understand for the life of me and probably never will. I'm not a prude, at least I don't think I am, but I do find it all a bit perplexing because it doesn't seem to fit with the philosophy these select individuals profess to believe in terms of maturity and a distaste for those exhibiting really lame behavior. And I do mean, really lame - over the top on many levels, none of which are remotely flattering or attractive.

As I have come to discover over the years, in the end, it is the choices one makes and the people one chooses to run with that speak far louder than diatribes describing what they "pretend" to think and feel. I am embarrassed for them because of their choices, and I'll remain that way until they have the good sense to become embarrassed for themselves and jettison the trash. Garbage is too polite a word. Trash works much better here. Trust me on this.

Like a lot of people, I think I'm probably too trusting. When someone close to me tells me something, I tend to believe him/her, regardless of circumstances that might fly in the face of what I know to be a fact. I still stubbornly hold onto a belief in a person even if a great deal of evidence points to the contrary. In reality, I need to learn to trust the facts, even if it means that someone close to me doesn't merit my respect. I've always bought into flimsy excuses, doctored documentation and bold, outright, "in your face" lies - because nothing is worse than doubting someone you care about, people you think the absolute world of, and want only to feel the most respect for in every circumstance possible. I guess sometimes we want so much to see only good things that we allow it to skew our vision just a bit. I think that's probably just part of being human and I'm sure we all do it, regardless of what reality may tell us otherwise. I think it's part of human nature to want to look for the good, right?

But the reality is, (and I don't exclude myself from this) that people do make mistakes, they do lie, and even the folks you care for and love aren't always deserving of your complete trust. Hey, it's just the way it is. You remind yourself not to be so completely gullible, and you move on, and hopefully wiser as you move along. If you continue to be bothered by it, no longer can it be qualified as the problem of the person who duped you - it becomes your problem (the duped).

Basically, I'm really tired of being the "duped". I'm tired of all talk and no follow through. Of promises made and forgotten. Of a few relationships that are all take, take, take and no give. The disparity is wrong. I may have been heard to say "welcome", but I choose not to be anyone's door mat, no matter who they are or what place they may hold in my life. I'm not OK with being "taken" - for granted, or otherwise.

I just need to shake myself off and wake up to an industrial blend of STRONGER coffee (Thanks Chelsea!). I can do that. I have a commercial coffee-maker. Though it may take a lot to raise my ire, it does happen and though I don't enjoy feeling this way, I'm not quite the spineless shmuck I used to be. I've experienced a few situations that remind me that I did, in fact, come equipped with a fully operational backbone. Perhaps I need to use it a little more often. I need to look into that. It may smack of sounding a little too "Stuart Smalley", but it's true that I do have control over how much I allow myself to be (mis)used. I think perhaps I should set a few healthy limits, and then I should make certain they are respected. I can do that. I really am capable!

I've even made the executive decision of walking away from this desk later this evening and having dinner downtown and cutting myself a break from irritations, annoyances and deadlines. I hadn't really planned on it but why not? I may even get completely crazy and turn my cell phone off while I'm at it. I'm starting to hear that thing in my sleep so much so that I have decided I either need to change ringtones or cell phone numbers, available only on a "need to know" basis. OK, so I probably won't go THAT far, at least I thought of it. Progress...not perfection. :-)

So I guess the final result of this oh-so-mysterious post, is that I have become disenchanted and even disappointed in a few people lately. I'm sure at some point I will find my way around it, and I'll be back to my perky self - but for now, I am going to allow myself the rare luxury of guilt-free disappointment and mild-to-moderate levels annoyance.

The really GOOD news is, I've been asked to write about what constitutes a "blog" and my own blog is going to be the featured guest. (I guess that means that I'll be "interviewing" me. Gee, I wonder if I need to make an appointment with myself?). I need to get this "disappointment" entry out of the way and replaced by something far more uplifting, enlightening and positive, so that by the time the article on "what exactly is a blog?" is published, visitors who read the magazine will have something nice to discover after my blog address is published. Since most people know that I don't write fiction (much), hopefully all of my misplaced faith will be restored and life will be skipping along on a happier note. This particular magazine won't hit the stands for about four weeks, so that should be enough time to find something warm and fuzzy to blog about. I don't stay terribly annoyed for too long. My irritation tends to have a very short shelf life. Here's hoping...

Actually, it should be a cinch. I had lunch the other day at one of my favorite Chinese restaurants (the one with the dirty fortune cookies) but I chose a cookie out of the "politically correct G-rated" basket and, since I am certain you must be on the edge of your seat in anticipation for the fortune, it stated, and I quote: "When winter comes heaven will rain success on you." It is only for this reason, that I no longer dread the fall or the winter. I have no idea what form this "success" will take, but I know that after December 21, 2006, the future is going to be so bright, I might have to buy myself a new pair of Armani shades. I am certain I will have scant time or attention to be bothered by a few mild annoyances in my life.

I never thought I would say this, but I can't wait for winter. :-)

My Finest Contribution...

No matter what I write, how well it is or isn't received, whatever accolades may be forthcoming or completely ignored, will never compare to the gift of being granted the immense privilege of being known as "Mom" by Justin and Katie. I can't imagine what my life might have been like without them. Let's just say it's been an adventure. It still is.

YES! There have been times I have felt like tearing large tufts of my hair out (there still are!). YES! I have now and again wanted to scream in frustration by some action they have taken in spite of my loudest protestations (I still do!), but when the scores are tallied, the positives leave the negatives in the dust. Most days. OK, more than half the time.

Hey, I could have done worse, right?

Thank you Justin and thank you Katie, for teaching me so much along the way, and reminding me that it all shakes out in the end, eventually.

Well, most days, right?

Needless to say, these two not only have my heart...they are my heart. It should also be noted that they know exactly how to take advantage of that fact, and still do on a continuing basis.

These two really do make me proud.

More times than not.

I love you both.

Mom

Mark your calendars for August 26th - Living with "The Katie Effect"

[You may click on the photos to bring up the "fine print".]

I know that I should be accustomed to being the mother, to live in the knowledge that I brought forth a celebrity, to understand that I was part of greatness by sheer virtue of having given birth to a legend, on August 26th, 1983. But how could I know, fathom, possibly understand that when Katie finally made her way into this world, taking her own sweet time and arriving on "her schedule", that she would evolve into a force of nature the likes of which this world has never seen? But to be confronted by the sort of "unrest" and "chaos" that is going on in the world this past week, and to know that I was but a miniscule part of a much larger picture, humbles me when I "Stumble Upon", photos like the one I found on the Internet, a mere few minutes ago.

Sure, I knew within days after bringing her home and reconciling myself to the fact that there was no "hospital mix-up" that she was, how shall I say, "different". However, a global impact never truly crossed my mind. Well, so much for my lack of forward thinking! I should have known, should have expected, that it was never a question of would she assimilate in Manhattan, but the more pointed query should have been, "Would Manhattan survive Katie?". Obviously, the proverbial jury is still out on that one. Manhattan's probably a little confused. Welcome to my world!
As we lesser mortals might expect, though I can't speak from personal experience - having never been a national treasure - I can speak as someone who raised one and as the humble mother of a prodigy, it's not all fun and games. Though even I can't know the pressure that goes with assuming a "mantle of greatness" as Katie has had to deal with pretty much since she finally decided to take her first breath. Now that I think about it, that must have been the reason behind her hesitancy to breathe the way babies are supposed to in that delivery room, long, long, long, long ago, back in Charleston, West Virginia - CAMC Memorial Division Hospital. Even as a newborn, she had to have some sort of inkling that there was a spotlight just waiting for her to step into, already ready and waiting - with her name on it: Katie...not Katherine, Kathleen or Kathy...this was a real Katie. I wanted to keep it simple in case she had issues with spelling. When you think about what was lying in wait for her, it almost makes the rest of us feel thankful for our mere mediocrity.

Suddenly, it occurs to me, "Am I now responsible for world peace?" Everywhere I walk, protesters, seemingly out of nowhere, - protesting what I can't tell you - approach me with glaring looks - "Have you bought her a present yet? It's only six days until...you know...THE DAY!", and they don't look at me with kindness in their eyes or ask if I need an extra $1000 to make the right gift choice. It's apparent to me that if it feels as if I have the weight of the world on my shoulders it's probably because, well, I have the weight of the world on my shoulders and do you know how hard it is to sleep with that kind of pressure? Yeah, thank God for chamomile tea, only I don't have time to give slumber any more than a passing consideration. Not all of those tree-hugging protesters are as harmless as they appear and while I love tomatoes in a salad, and what would spaghetti be without them, I don't like wearing them! What happened to pacifists?

When I finally got home, I flipped on the news and found this photo flashed on Katie's favorite (not!) news station, "Fox News"...apparently these three servicemen had sent a humanitarian appeal, in the form of a telegram, to Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity, not to send greetings to their families or girlfriends or the last women they met in whatever port they had just sailed from, but as an "official" greeting to their icon, the woman that gives them the courage to rise each morning and fight sand fleas, rough seas and really bad food. You can imagine how stunned I was to see this photo...

So it was no surprise when the Commander-in-Chief himself somehow found my E-mail address and threatened to draft me if I didn't post his own special salutations...Here you go George, I know she'll just be thrilled beyond words. I would venture to type her expected response, but my father reads this blog and he frowns on profanity, but you get the "picture". Katie, I am just the messenger, take a deep breath and curb your enthusiasm...

I still have a little birthday shopping to do, but I'm not sure I can top GWB's greeting...knowing what this will mean to my daughter, anything more I could do feels so anti-climatic.

Katie, I have August 26th marked on my calendar - I'll see if I can get something together in honor of your special day. I'm sure you'll have enough fanfare without something from your hard-working, simple, boring mother, but I'll do the best I can.

As for me, I'm considering life as a brunette and, should that not work out, I may look into the Witness Protection Program.

We love you, Katie! I hope you have a wonderful birthday week. :-)

Love,

Mum

The truth about cats, dogs, iPods and adjusting one's sails...

"My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am."
Unknown



I have a confession to make: I am jealous of Cassie's ability to grow blond hair. Cassie is a natural blond...and let's...just leave it at that. But she IS gorgeous and barks (scoffs) at the idea that blonds are of very little brain. She's just as sweet as she is beautiful and I try not to hold it against her that she doesn't have to have her roots touched up every 6 weeks or so. Personally, I do subscribe to the theory that blonds have more fun...I know two, at least, who do.

I don't know if too many people happened to read it, but a couple of weeks ago I read a news report, courtesy of a link on another site, which went into great detail, in words and pictures, of how Chinese officials in one particular province decided to handle a rabies "epidemic". I was stunned at the barbaric treatment of these dogs and wondered how a country, from which many of our possessions are made, could find their actions acceptable. Residents were offered 63 cents for each dog they turned in to be destroyed, but neighborhoods were canvassed and if a dog was found, even if that dog was attached to a leash and was being walked by it's young owner, it was seized and beat to death on the spot. Nevermind that it appeared healthy and in fine condition. No waiting around for those efficient government officials - they beat and bludgeoned the dogs to death. The photos were difficult to look at, and it certainly didn't give me a warm feeling with regard to the Chinese government, not that I ever had one, but who ARE these people? Thanks to my buddy Keith for the link, hard as it was to read and look at the accompanying photos, it's important to know what's going on out there and, I must admit, whenever I see something I own or pick up with the words, "Made in China", I want to bludgeon it.

Starry, starry sky...

A light rain fell for the better part of Saturday until around 6:00 and then the clouds parted and out came the sun. Things looked hopeful for the Perseids, I thought. I went to an incredible meeting Saturday Night and was warmly "Welcomed" with many hugs and lots of catching up with people I haven't seen in almost a year. It was fantastic to see so many friends I've been away from for much too long. It felt like going home and, in a way, it was exactly that. After an incredible hour and many touching moments, an old (in a good way!), dear, wonderful, friend took me to The Oceanic for some dinner and possible star-gazing.

Even though it was 10:30 at night, I had never seen the pier of The Oceanic lit up so brightly - wouldn't you just know they installed high-beam, illuminating lamps which are great if you dropped a contact or decided to look for sharks teeth, but a little overpowering if your desire is to scan the sky for shooting stars. However, I can't complain, because just before we took our seats, there was this gorgeous, amber-tinged moon which looked as if it was climbing right out of the ocean. It was breath-taking and it made up for the fact that we couldn't get past the ambient lighting to catch a dark patch of the sky. Every few minutes, we'd glance toward the ocean and the light dancing off the waves looked as if a path was being uncovered, giving the illusion that you could walk right out to the horizon.

The other noteworthy item, besides an amazing dinner, was that the wind was kicking up a cool, cool breeze and there we were, almost shivering in mid-August. How strange. When we got in the car after dinner, my friend reflexively turned the heat on in his SUV and looked at me and said, "Am I really turning the heat on and it's August?". Strange, indeed.

We headed for my house and obviously, we needed to warm up which could only mean I had to fire up the coffee pot! In exchange for a pot of coffee, the iPod I was so graciously presented with a few weeks ago, but was clueless to program, was magically brought to life, along with new songs that had been sent to me courtesy of an iTunes gift certificate - so now I can (legally) listen to Sting and look cool doing it. Amazing! I also had a very detailed lesson on how to download songs but I'm not sure I could do it without technical supervision. There is something about an Apple product which feels foreign to me. I think maybe it's the fact that the instructions are too easy and I try to make them much too complicated, having been aligned with Microsoft for much of my computing life.

Speaking of computer-related products, did you realize that yesterday was (August 12th) was the 25th anniversary of IBM presenting the first home personal computer? I can't honestly remember not having at least one, and usually more, computers in the house. How quickly they became a standard feature in most of our lives, both working and personal. And, while most of us have come to embrace computers as part of our lives during both work and non-work hours, interestingly enough, IBM recently sold off the division that makes PC's to a Chinese company. Kind of ironic.

Today was a lot of fun as well. I went to see "Talladega Nights: The Legend of Bobby Ricky". It was very funny - and there's no way you can't love Will Ferrell, but I'm not sure I loved it more than "Anchorman". My daughter and I may be debating this for some time. I did, however, laugh a lot and it felt so great.

While Will Ferrell & company were completely entertaining, Mayfaire Cinema was followed by a sumptuous dinner at Bluewater, sitting outside, watching the boats stream past on the ICW, and really great prime rib was topped off with coffee and a gorgeous sunset. No chill bumps this evening - the sun was almost back to its normal self, and it couldn't have been a nicer. I did bring home leftover tuna stuffed with spinach and goat cheese and Cassie was most grateful. I had a few bites of it at dinner, in exchange for sharing my prime rib, and it was almost too delectable to eat.

I've been tenatively offered the chance to sign on as first mate (think Gilligan) if a friend of mine decides to move his sailboat down from Oriental to a slip at Carolina Beach State Park marina. The funny thing is, he put his name on a waiting list in October 2003 and this past Friday he received a call out of the blue that his name had popped up. Not that Oriental isn't a perfectly beautiful spot, cell phone reception is spotty at best, and there's not a heckuva lot going on other than beautiful scenery (and some blood-thirsty mosquitoes) at that particular point on the Pamlico Sound. So, it looks as if a sailboat relocation may be coming up.

Now, I was very forthright and admitted the obvious, that my sailing credentials were basically nonexistent. I'm sure I could only cause problems on a beautiful boat, even a really well-equipped vessel who goes by the name of "Victoria" and who's dingy is named "Secret"...clever, huh? Those crazy globe-trotting computer geeks. But hey, if someone is silly enough to think I can take direction and orders, even after watching several episodes of "Gilligan's Island", who am I to argue? Some people just have to learn the hard way. :-)

Personally, I think the obvious lack of judgment in asking me to even step on a beautiful sailboat may be due to brain damage. Though it's rarely discussed openly, I can't help but wonder if some people suffer serious neurological deficits after spending way too much time in Australia and hanging out with Koalas and Kiwis, but I googled it and there's no real hard data or a study that's been done which might support or refute my theory. I wonder if it has anything to do with the exposure of watching water circle the WRONG WAY as it escapes through a drain? That's got to mess with your mind even more than people driving in the wrong lanes. Oh I know, I know...it's beautiful, yada, yada, yada...Whatever.

In prosperity, our friends know us; in adversity, we know our friends. ~ John Churton Collins

The past few weekends, whether enjoying the beach in the middle of the day, walking around downtown after a late dinner, or getting back on track in other areas of my life, it has almost felt as if I drew a "get out of jail free" card in a repetitive round of Monopoly - you know, when you're in the middle of that game and you start to get the feeling it will never end and it just goes on and on and on and you arrive at a point where you just want to SCREAM?

My summer started out feeling that way, but after some tough choices, life began looking better. Although with the recent infusion of energy and new activities my Sudoku game has probably suffered, I most certainly haven't and I savor these days - in ways I could never have appreciated had I not had a tough few months leading up to this point. Don't get me wrong, I still love Sudoku, but for a time, while hiding away in my office to avoid conflict and because I generally had nothing else to do, I played more Sudoku than one might normally play in a couple of years, just to keep my mind focused on something other than the sheer insanity of a difficult situation so, clearly, it had it's place and I'm grateful for those mind-bending puzzles, but just now, when I see the familiar grid in Newsweek or USA Today or the NY Times, I get a strange flashback and I usually opt for something else. I'm sure that will dissipate and improve with time. Most things do.

And in a final note to Miss Katie, Sylvester and Cassie wanted you to know that they, along with Felix and Princess (wherever they are), wish you a happy birthday MONTH because, as we know in the Parker/Cook family, we don't simply celebrate the "day" of our birthdays but, in fact, the entire month. So when you look at these photos of Cassie and Sylvester, just know they were thinking..."HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! THANKS FOR ABANDONING US!!!!"....ooopps, they told me not to write that last part, but again, I don't tend to listen.

It's going to be a crazy week, but it's been an exceptionally relaxing and fun weekend and for that, I am most grateful. Life is fun again and new adventures are springing up all over the place.

It is friends, both old and new, that make these days so much easier than they might otherwise be. Unexpected daisies, movies, iPods that suddenly appear in my life, crazy text messages from special daughters (who are aging at alarming speed!), and a family that smoothes out the occasional rough patches with love and kindness, somehow knowing when I need those things the most.

One final footnote in the form of a serious request:

I don't mean to be combative or rude, but to the person, and you know who you are, constantly sending me text-messages and e-mails and making attempts to sign my guestbook, knowing those messages will find themselves deleted, I would appreciate it very much if you could make good on your promise to please cease any attempts at trying to communicate with me. Surely you must have better things to do and, if you don't, perhaps this might be a good time to find some better ways to fill up your time and direct your energy toward a pursuit that is healthy and doesn't border on stalking. I realize this is a difficult transition for you, and I know it will require a period of readjustment, but you will get to where you need to be sooner, if you simply let this go. Thank you in advance - I know you must truly want to "do the next right thing". Your life really is waiting on you to step into it, and I wish you the very best - it's time to move forward.

Ok, I'm done for today - grateful for yesterday and looking forward to tomorrow! Enjoy these summer days and squeeze everything you can out of them. Time is flying by at an incredible rate!

Sunny, not-so-sentimental, Sunday

"I watch the western sky,
the sun is sinking.
The geese are flying south,
It sets me thinking...
I did not miss you much,
I did not suffer.
What did not kill me,
Just made me tougher..." ~ Sting

Sunday was a beach day which, literally translated means, Sunday could only be wonderful. Anytime I find myself with a clear view of the ocean, feeling warm waves lapping at my ankles, tasting salt in the air and being able to look out and see what resembles forever to me, it is a good day. Sunday was a good day, indeed. It was a beautiful thing.

The beach has figured prominently in my life this summer. I live a mere ten minutes away from the ocean, but I didn't see it once in May or June, except for one lunch on Wrightsville Beach with my son and that wasn't so much fun because I kept getting unwelcome and randomly bizarre text messages every five minutes or so, each one more inane and pointless until it reached the point where I simply turned my phone off. It is curious how much time we waste on annoyances and interruptions, until we realize that there is a power switch. This summer, I found my power switch in more ways than one. I also learned how to use it.

Today when I was staring hypnotically at the horizon, I thought about all that had transpired this summer. To say that things were crazy this past year, would be an understatement. I sat there running through an emotional inventory and I guess that was completely understandable given where I was standing, and remembering events of just over a year ago. It was the first time I'd been back to that spot of sand in months.

On the way there today, I wondered if I would be met by a flood of memories - would I feel sad? Would the sight of the gazebo bring a torrent of emotional regret, triggering painful memories and wondering if I had done the right thing or made a huge mistake? I also took the liberty of giving myself permission to feel whatever it was I might soon feel. After all, this particular beach was a prominent fixture and landmark of what had been. Go ahead, I said to myself, be prepared to feel some sadness, let the tears fall if they threaten, it's good to allow these emotions to run their course. It would be unhealthy not to, I reasoned.

There was no torrent of tears, and oddly enough, no flashback of memories from the past two years. I have no real explanation for that, but it felt so empowering to be savoring my present, with no distractions of the past. It was almost as if the whole of the past two years had been washed away with the tide and really, it made an interesting sort of sense. I came to the realization that the foundation of it all was no more stable or substantial than a sand castle, so why wouldn't the tide take it away? It stands to reason if you think about in those terms, and those are the terms I choose to use.

I have felt so devoid of feelings in the time since this relationship ended, and I couldn't help but wonder if, on some level, I had been compartmentalizing my emotions in order to deal with the work at hand, meet my deadlines, hit my marks, until I found a time when it would be safe to process all of the feelings I feared might be waiting to unfold. The oddest thing, something I don't even truly understand, is that there was nothing to compartmentalize - nothing to divide which, in an odd sort of way, resembles the reality of the relationship that is no more.

The good news is, that by virtue of the "nothingness", this couldn't be a messy break-up in terms of who gets what, because nothing was shared. Things were lopsided from the beginning and in terms of material possessions, a home, furniture - the "remains of the day", remain in place, and remain with me. And in some way that really is a metaphor for the entire 11 months and one week - we retained what we put into the union - and I still have everything I did before, with the added bonus of a little more wisdom and a lot more gratitude. In hindsight, it could only go one way, and if it was destined to go there, I'm glad for both of us that more time wasn't wasted.

It is so surreal to look back on something and view it almost as if it never was. I almost wish it hurt, that I felt a heart-tugging absence, an emptiness, a missing piece - and in reality, I know that by all rights, I should feel those things; I don't think I mourn the relationship as much as I mourn the reality that there never truly was a viable relationship. I guess you can't honestly miss what was never truly there, and I am sad to say that I believe we must have been "missing in action". Maybe we were never present. How unfortunate for both of us and yet, no longer enough to elicit a tear. I never would have imagined that the real pain isn't the pain of something lost, but the pain of something that never was.

I thought about that for a time, and then I caught sight of a magnificent flock of pelicans skimming over the water, perfectly aligned in a V-formation. And with those pelicans, so went my thoughts, and then the present came clearly into view before me. I am so grateful to have my "now", to be present in the "present".

After our walk on the beach, Stephanie and I headed for The Artisan Cafe at Mayfaire. We had a sumptuous dinner, sitting outside and watching the sunset, finishing things off with the decadence of a dessert called "The PMS Brownie" and it took chocolate to a whole other dimension. I'm going to revisit that place very soon and skip the entree and head straight for the dessert.

This is an important week and I hope to find myself back on the beach in a few days. The Perseid Meteor Shower is slated to peak on the 12th and 13th and I love searching the sky for shooting stars. I now know I can safely go back to Fort Fisher and sit on the beach and look up at the sky without staring back into the past. When I looked toward the past today, there wasn't really anything there, and that's almost more disturbing than if there were lingering, bittersweet memories - but it is what it is. I guess that means the coast is clear and it might be a good time to look into making some new ones.

I never pass up the chance to wish on shooting stars; I made them two years ago and I will make them again but I will bear in mind that it is good advice to "be careful what you wish for", however, the experience wasn't so disturbing that I would be remotely afraid to make new wishes. I'm much too obnoxiously optimistic to give up an enchanted evening of star-gazing and forfeit the chance to make a wish. Maybe 2004 was just a bad year for shooting stars. This year looks, and feels, so much better. There is hope and, a few months ago, it would appear there was nothing. If it's all the same to you, I'll take the hope.

I can see clearly now. I think the vision was always clear, perhaps my eyes simply needed time to adjust. Regardless, I am so greatful for the clarity. I don't even mind the hindsight.

It was such a gorgeous day to be near the ocean, not a menacing cloud in the sky, but lots of puffy white nonthreatening ones, and I just breathed it all in, watching little squiggly creatures diving into the sand in the wake of each gentle wave. Everything looked so bright, so shiny, so completely unspoiled! I wanted to walk along the shore for something like forever. I felt very much as I did when I was small, afraid that someone would call my name and tell me, "don't go too far, it's almost time to go!" Fortunately, no admonition was forthcoming; I was charting my own course.

The only regret I felt, was that it had been much too long since I had seen the sea, and I made a promise to myself not to go so long between visits. It makes no sense not to be there more often. I always feel as if I have had my batteries recharged following a coastal communion, trying to take it all in, and knowing that it's just not possible to do so. It feels so free.

So do I.

What makes a fortune, fortunate?

" I've been in this world awhile
And I've seen a lot of country
Many days and many miles
All various and sundry
I've had my way and I've had my fun
And I've had my chance to run free
Burning hot beneath the sun
Freezing cold and wintry" ~ James Taylor

I had lunch yesterday with two wonderful friends. We settled on a Chinese restaurant near the office of the Magazine for whichI am currently writing a couple of features. Of course, this is one of those restaurants that have the "nice" fortune cookies, the kind you could share with your family and friends without blushing, but it also has the naughty fortune cookies, the ones you would most probably, ideally, share with someone very close to you - like if you were married or something along those lines.

Wouldn't you just know that my "naughty" fortune cookie came with not one, not two, but three fortunes - one more risque than the next! Never before had I managed to score a fortune cookie with three directives that are way too frisky to print on a PG-rated blog.

I then turned my attention to the basket containing the "nice" fortune cookies. Most of these don't have fortunes so much as little sayings, reaffirming truths you already know by heart. But mine was a little different, which sort of made-up, only slightly, for the fact that I had to give my "frisky fortunes" away...I think I'm holding a resentment here! :-)

But I loved the sentiment I drew. It was sweet, optimistic and it bespoke of something to look forward to. I like having things to look forward to - well, I like having positive possibilities looming in my future. Who doesn't?

Now, I'm not saying I live my life according to the dictates of a fortune found in a cookie in a Chinese restaurant, but why not believe it? If I choose to believe it, what can it hurt? Maybe there is a pleasant surprise waiting for me! Maybe anything is possible.

"Pleasant" has been the best descriptor of the last week and unexpected surprises have popped up from the craziest places imaginable. Of course, this hasn't been an easy run of late, but it's by no means been miserable - considering everything that's been going on. Work has been fine...and funny - and I've had enough freelance assignments to keep me out of trouble, but not so much that I haven't had time for a swim here and there, or tea with friends.

Maybe what I notice, most of all, is the startling absence of tension. I didn't really understand how tight and stressed my life had become, until everything, including my outlook, began to relax. It suddenly feels safe enough to take a deep breath, inhale the glorious scent of summer, and kick back just a little. It must be akin to how a turtle feels when he pops his head out of that hard, oppressive shell. It feels tenuous at first and you wonder what might be lurking that might qualify as an unwelcome surprise attack, but when you poke outside and realize that there is nothing to be afraid of, you really do feel an enormous wave of relief and, if you have been preoccupied with unhappy events, you can't imagine how amazing that feels. It IS like sunshine and it feels very warm and you begin to feel just a bit more brave - that shell is starting to feel almost weightless. I don't even think I need that shell any more.

Sometimes, you just have to stop and smell the daisies that you didn't even realize were in your path. That's a great thing! Of course they're white, with yellow centers...the best ones are.

You can be certain I will be on the look-out for anything resembling a pleasant surprise - as the stress begins to recede, it leaves in its wake room to notice all kinds of nice things, such as how wonderful it is to slice through the water on a late summer afternoon and rinse off the whole day in a series of flips, or how precious it is to make, and nurture, friendships, both old and unexpected new ones from a place I'd all but forgotten, and oddly enough find so nice (and funny!) to remember.

"Good things happen when you least expect them." Good things HAVE happened, and I had no expectations. I plan on being immensely grateful for the many pleasant surprises that have already littered my path this week. Everything else is gravy...and I really like gravy.

And, of course, I am grateful that Alta Vista still has an Italian translator!

You're a daisy if you do...

...I'm a daisy and I will!

What just happened here?

That's the question of the day. And it's a valid one, maybe even one I've been avoiding like a writing deadline on a topic I have no interest in, because I knew the answers wouldn't be so forthcoming or painless to revisit. But I've spent a lot of time looking back. And I absolutely needed to do just that.

I stay very busy, and that is quite by design. It's the whole uniquely human coping mechanism called "denial". Now, it's not been so much a question of denial because, truth be told, I am the one who decided it was time to throw the towel in and move on, but that should not for one-second be mistaken for an action that was impulsive, frivolous or made on a whim.

The weeks leading up to my recent split were painful, confusing and comprised of some of the most unpleasant days I've ever experienced. The past few weeks since the break-up have been spent reliving the last, wheezy moments of life in a relationship that was almost pre-destined to fail.

It's been easy to stay busy - since the split of 24 June, I have had a lot of things on my plate and I've placed many of them there because I kind of figured out, after months of working a gazillion Sudoku puzzles, that when I am busy working them or living my life with lots of tasks and appointments competing for my attention, not to mention a cadre of friends determined to keep my mind on what is and what might be as opposed to what never really was, I've had hardly any real time to examine the pieces and try and understand how it all fell apart.

When a relationship, particularly a marriage, ceases to be, it's a death. Something that once held a lot of promise and was steeped in hope and optimism, just plain didn't make it. What I've been doing these past few weeks is very similar to what it's like when someone you love dies - there is the initial shock, the wake, the funeral, the visits and arrangements and managing of details such as opening new bank accounts, taking that ridiculous hyphen off my name and even changing the signature on my E-mail settings. There are things that demand immediate attention and that's a good thing, because I wasn't ready to look back quite yet - it would be way too painful and I would hurt, possibly cry and eventually become angry - and of course I KNOW I have to walk through all of those steps before I arrive at the threshold of the door to acceptance. Duh!

In all fairness, however, I grieved the demise of this relationship many weeks and months before its final hours. The last three weeks before it all went south, I felt sort of like someone who's been told by the doctor that someone precious is basically brain-dead and it's just a matter of pulling the plug. The EEG's, the CAT Scans, the thorough search for any possible signs of life have been exhausted. But as we all know, such a barren vegetative existance can stretch on for days, weeks, months and even years. Sure, there are always the occassional stories of miracle recoveries, patients who have been in a coma, death seemingly only a power surge away, who actually come back to tell the tale. But that's a rare event, probably on a par, statistically speaking, with winning the powerball lottery on the same day you're struck by lightning...for the third time.

These days, I find myself rearranging my clothes in a closet that suddenly has a lot more room, and "a lot more room" takes on a life of its own because many things suddenly become more spacious - the furniture, my driveway, the dining room table, and my bed. Even the attic now has room for more junk.

And yes, even my name is suddenly shorter. I never truly was a hyphen kind of woman and maybe that hyphen was subconsciously essential because there were things that never felt quite right. Or maybe I just liked the sound and appearance of Susie Parker better than Susie Perry or Susie Parker-Perry. Who knows?

But after the crowd disperses, and the guests take their leave, and my daughter boards a train back home to Manhattan (she only flies if it's a European Itinerary), life settles into a strange routine - strange in that something or, more to the point, someone is missing. There is a vacuum - an empty space - a bare spot that used to be taken up by a whole person and whether a break-up is inevitable or premature and unnecessary, when someone moves out, space is created and you have to readjust. There's just no way around it. Like the elephant in the living room that everyone pretends isn't really there, you can only look the other way for a finite period of time.

When my kids were small and it was time for a booster injection or an unannounced flu vaccination, they would initially protest and then beg for a few minutes to get ready and steel themselves. I usually gave them a minute or two so they would feel as if they had some control over the proceedings and then, in spite of the repeated protestations that they weren't ready yet, I would nod that it was time. Of course, all that extra pre-shot time did was allow them to become more tense and deal with the dread a minute or two longer, when in reality, the pain of the injection was never as bad as their imagination lead them to believe, and it was over with before they knew it. They were always so pleased with themselves following the shot - relieved beyond belief to have THAT over with, and proud of how brave they were. However, before they arrived at "I'm glad that's done!", they had to experience the sting of the needle. There was no way around it!

It feels very similar to what I feel right now - the last of the possessions are no longer in my home and if you were to walk through the rooms of my house, you would never know that anything was different. My bedroom contains only my clothes, the bathroom doesn't hint that there used to be two Sonicare brush heads where there is now one, and there are no photos on display that might hint a marriage had taken place, or that one had recently fallen apart. The tangible elements are erased, but it's those intangibles that aren't quite so easily swept under the berber carpet or disposed of with the kitty litter.

Even when it's the right thing to do - "when it's too late, baby, now it's too late. Though we really did try to make it...", as Carole King sang many years ago, it doesn't mean that it's not heartbreaking, painful, difficult and, while you can hide those photos on your Flickr Account and make a choice not to revisit them, you can't always turn-off the slideshow in your mind so easily. There is no software program with which human memory can be deftly and spotlessly eliminated. It's just as well, really, because if there was, I would probably need an updated driver and be on the phone to tech support for who knows how long?

And eventually, I find myself alone and finally with some time on my hands, and I start to look past the last gasping days of a marriage, and I remember that a year ago on this day, I was returning from a honeymoon on the Outer Banks. Life was exciting, exhilarating and everything felt possible. It was fun trying to figure out where to put wedding presents, what photos to place in frames, and it was even cool to find someone else's clothes in my closet because I stepped into a marriage with every intention and expectation of success.

Who knew that all of those "firsts", were also the "lasts"?

I look back at all of those things, "One year ago today, we went to the beach!", "One year ago today, we attended "The Lost Colony" and drove around for at least a couple of hours following the play, trying to find a local restaurant still open because we had forgotten to eat." One year ago today, we had bright yellow sheets, vases and vases filled with daisies still fresh from our wedding and there was a red VW Beetle in the driveway. We would come home from work, chop up a salad and head for our room, eat dinner and watch an old movie on Turner Classic Movies, and I'd usually fall asleep before the movie ended and have to find out what happened to Jimmy Stewart or Cary Grant the next day. One year ago today, I had happily abandoned my practice of sleeping with the light on, because I was no longer sleeping alone and it felt right. One year ago today, I had hope.

One year later, I still have hope, but in something different. A future. And a determination to enjoy the present.

Of course, I miss the good things. In between the really dreadful and, ultimately, irreparable circumstances, there were nice moments, happy times and it was so grand stepping off the dating game. Never in one-million years would I imagine that one small year later, I would be back to sleeping alone with the light on, trying to figure out which remote works the DVD player.

Now I know that much of what was going on was a lot of smoke and mirrors, and that the facts and figures that were reluctantly turned over to me, uncovered the unwelcome reality that life as I knew it was about as stable as a house of cards in a hurricane. Hardly anything was what it was supposed to be, and try as I might to make sense of a lot of it, I couldn't explain it all away because I am, at my core, no fan of fiction and eventually life requires clear vision and the truth eventually wiggles its way out. Thank God it does!

This weekend, I have been going over events in my mind, recalling moments, revisiting photos, and playing scenes from something that looked so promising, but never really was. The experience of doing this has been, quite honestly, cathartic and I know I had to have this weekend and indulge these memories and look at them for what they were and, even more importantly, what they were not. I'm not exactly thrilled by the prospect of being single again, because I'd been single for ten really long years and I'd had enough dating for something like three lifetimes. I was never a fan of small talk, and nothing is worse than sitting through a four hour date that shouldn't have lasted more than five minutes. I hate that I'm going to have to be polite and gracious and find myself not returning phone calls again. I am not looking forward to dessert when I want to leave before the salad.

But what I would hate even more, would be to continue with a relationship that was about as stable as sand, and living each day in fear of what new, unwelcome surprises might pop up and take me down even more. What happened is much easier to deal with today, than it would be three, five or ten years down the line.

The other day, I asked Katie how long they thought it would be until I should consider dating - just how long should I be in mourning? She both laughed and said, ummmm...like...now. "It's over, too bad, so sad, get on with your life.". My friends and daughter tease me and nudge me forward, challenging me to get on with it - go have some fun, they say. I will in time, I promise.

I was married just long enough to know that I was in a doomed marriage, and reaffirm the fact that I still respect and love the institution and I refuse to ever give up on meeting the right man, at the right time, in the right place. I believe it will happen someday, and probably when I least expect it and I look forward to that, but for now, I am re-learning how to be single again. It's a lot like riding a bicycle, right?

Fortunately, in a dark sort of way, I have enough reminders not to expend too much time wasting the present by mourning the past; In the form of messages, e-mails and folks around me who, should I be completely brainless enough to wonder if this really had to happen, will swoop right in and reiterate for me that it absolutely did. "Look toward the future!" they will encourage me, and I will do just that.

But I am grateful for this weekend of introspection and even the happy memories that have conspired to make this a bittersweet collection of hours and a skip down a bizarre memory lane. I needed this time alone with myself, my thoughts, my memories, my regrets and my hopes for the future. I am glad nothing was so pressing that I would have, yet again, been too distracted from engaging in the inevitable. I am glad I have saved chats from the first innocent days of our relationship, the ups and downs of our courtship, and the queer wedding proposal that was wrapped in way too much drama. I am absolutely no fan of drama or histrionics and I try to avoid those who practice such traits whenever possible. I am glad for the memories and easily accessed written words, both sent and received, that reaffirm my decision and serve to jog my memory should I wonder if this was the right thing to do.

"Everything happens for a reason!", says Vaness and Katie. "If you hadn't got married, even though it didn't work out the way you had hoped, you wouldn't have been working here and you wouldn't have formed the bonds that are real and solid and dependable," and I wouldn't have had the opportunity to live many experiences that have made this a wild and crazy twelve months. As crazy as it sounds, even during this weird year, the positives are far ahead of the negatives. It's not even close.

I come from a family of stubborn, obstinate people who really do know how to adjust their sails in the direction of favorable winds, and I am so grateful they don't tolerate self-pity, because few things are more unattractive and unappealing. There are no victims here and I bristle when people express too much sympathy or offer too many condolences or go on and on about how terribly unfortunate it is that things turned out as they did. I find it annoying and while I am a lot of things, an object of pity will never, ever be one of them.

Thank God I work around strong women who feel the same. Thank God my genes are infused with resilience and a practical durability and would never support descriptions of "frail" or "weak". I am drawn toward strong people, and I come from the same. I may occasionally need prodded, but pampered and indulged? Thanks, I think I'll pass. I don't accept invitations to attend, nor do I host, pity soirees. Life is too short. I'll take laughing over crying every single time.

It's OK if you feel like expressing your sadness over the painful dissolution of a relationship - sure, go ahead and tell me that you're sorry it worked out the way it did, but then let it go. I certainly plan to and if I can, you might as well join me. And for both of our sakes, please don't tell me you saw this coming. I've never met anyone with dependable psychic abilities and the truth of it is, even if you didn't have a lot of hope that the marriage would endure, do us both a favor and keep it to yourself. It will save me from having to make an amends and it will save you from hearing what I might say that would necessitate the need for me to apologize to you later. Actually, a couple of people have made this remark to me, but I would most certainly wager they won't make that mistake again. I'm just saying...

I started this post with the question, "What just happened here?", and I've spent the weekend examining the answer: Newsflash!!!!! It failed - things weren't as they seemed and not all surprises are good surprises. Period. I hate that it happened but I am at peace with the decision. It couldn't be repaired. End of story.

Do we all stop living and be glum for the rest of our lives? Not a chance.

It's time to get on with it. I spent the requisite time mourning and grieving the demise of the relationship and, while I know it was necessary and a step not to be skipped, I have read enough old e-mails, old chats, and goodness knows more than enough bull shit and it's time to move forward because, frankly, I'm really bored with it.

"What just happened here?" I looked at things from every facet and they all pointed toward the same answer. It was unanimous. The tribe has spoken.

Maybe it's no huge mystery why I love daisies more than any other flower - they are strong, sunny, perky, sturdy and the darn things will grow and thrive just about anywhere.

Just like me.

Safe Travels Katie - We love you

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened!" ~ Dr. Seuss.

Indeed, it was a week brimming with lots of things to smile about. Today wrapped up Katie's visit, and what a fine week it was. I think we squeezed just about as much fun and activity as anyone could from seven precious days.

All too soon, it was time to take Katie to Fayetteville to catch Amtrack, the train which is now taking her back to her new "home" in Manhattan.

What a change this evening was from the experience of saying goodbye to her when I left her in Manhattan on May 17th. I can't remember crying as hard as I did on that lonely day at the hotel we were staying at and I can't recall feeling more alone. It was worse than being alone. The only word I can use to describe it was feeling bereft. I wasn't alone on the return trip to Wilmington that painful day, but I might as well have been.

Tonight, when it was time to hug goodbye, of course I was sad to see her leave, but what a difference two months and completely different circumstances make! There were no tears, no feeling of "aloneness" or the horribly empty ache in the pit of my stomach. The lingering bleakness that I felt on the flight home back in May, was blessedly missing as we made our way back to Wilmington. I felt more in control, my life feels so much more manageable and I truly do feel like I am on the right path. I made a painful course correction, but it needed to be made in order to move forward.

Rather than bemoan the reality that Katie is NYC bound, I am grateful that she is happy, filled with joy and eager to see her incredible boyfriend. I am so thrilled for her, for both of them, in fact, because I have a sneaking suspicion that John is as anxious to have her home as she is to get there. What a wonderful feeling that is. How could I wish for anything less than her happiness? John has all of my respect and admiration. Katie has all of my love.

Thank you for a wonderful week, my dear. John, thanks for sharing this sprite with me.

Katie, your love and support, along with so many others, has made these past few challenging weeks so much easier to handle. Your sardonic, deliciously dark sense of humor made yesterday, what could have been a really difficult time, a downright fun day with new memories that are precious and sweet to recall.

Next month will find Katie's father, Tim, Justin and Stephanie, experiencing NYC for the first time and how much fun that will be for them! Katie should be rolling back into town some time in October and as for me, I need to come up with a good excuse, as if I needed a better one than I already have, to make it up to Manhattan at some point in September. It is so fantastic to have something wonderful to look forward to.

A tale of two goodbyes...

Tonight, I looked at a photo of the angst-ridden, sad "me" who told Katie goodbye on May 17 and the "me" who told Katie goodbye this evening. I completely recall that May 17th photo and I remember the pain and discontent swirling around inside of me; few times I can remember feeling so much despair. The photo taken tonight barely looks like the same person and, though it was a heckuva tumultuous two months, it had to happen or, as they say in AA - it took what it took. Not only did my watch start ticking, but I swear someone turned on the lights, opened the shades and finally allowed the sunshine to wash over everything.

17 May 2006






17 July 2006

It's stunning how beautiful everything looks after a storm. Life is an exquisite adventure.

It's a brand new day.