Talk Thursday – Saying Goodbye

I’ve been trying to remember how long Talk Thursday has been around, I’m fairly certain it’s about two years. Sacred Sister enlisted JA and I to play along with her and well that is the beginning. Then Sacred (my Valley Sista Surfer Chickie) moved on. Sad, I miss her.
Just as she was saying Adieu, Angie and then Sid were signing on. Sid recruited Eddie, Lyn Blossum, and Jenniphur and then JA was gone. Sadly we’ve not been able to recruit more people who want to share and address a topic each week. Please leave me a message if you’re interested… because I’m fairly certain we’re interested in you.

Now Angie is leaving us for her life. I hate when I come second to real life. Bummer dude. She’ll be missed, but the truth is she’s been saying good-bye for a while now. A single mom with a burgeoning life – that frankly, calls. I understand. Good luck and bonne vie, bonne sante, bons souhaits. No, I don’t speak French.

Strangely, yesterday afternoon I over heard a conversation being held loudly via cellphone that somewhat is connected to the topic; it might ring eerily familiar to events in your own past, it does in mine. To paraphrase what I heard

“I was so over her and going to break up, but she broke up with me first. I was devastated. I mean she dumped me, I was depressed for a good three weeks.”

Now what is wrong with this “Saying Goodbye” senario? It isn’t about the splitting up, it isn’t about being “so over” it is about being dumped.

Oh, I know the dumped end of breaking up. I think I broke up with boyfriends a whole three times, maybe four, could Keith get back to me on that? Scott was pretty pissed by my 14 year old daughter beat his ass at chess that I don’t think he noticed the break up amid his temper tantrum. When I realized Steve was in actuality a stalker, who – yes folks, got that close to me, called me damaged goods for months. Being in radio isn’t without its draw backs…who needs a possessive stalker anyway? And then there was Greg. Damn that is the one that hurt, but I couldn’t take his drug problem around my daughter. As for all the rest they dumped me.

Dumping is nothing new to me, boy friends, girl friends, husbands – been there, done that – got the diploma. For all the dumping I am stronger, clearer minded, and self-dependent. Saying Good-bye isn’t an end, it is a new beginning, for you, for me, for those who move to new paths. For those moving into this path, welcome; to those moving on good luck.

After all life is about saying “Hello,” and “Good-bye.”

Sith,
Cele

Letters From Home – Memorial Day 2009

While the majority of Americans enjoy a three-day weekend, I work – radio stops for no one, accept for the random “Act of God – Mother Nature.” It’s not a three day vacation most of our nation’s (or any nation’s) armed servicemen.

Those who know me even the smallest amount, know I am pretty much against war. It doesn’t mean I don’t know that at times war is a necessary evil – WWII is the perfect example. But while we were helping one people we were doing harm to some of our own through prejudice and fear.

"The only thing we have to fear is fear it'self - nameless, unreasoning, unjustified, terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." FDR upon his first inauguration.

I am not the only Quaker who thinks this way, not the only American, not the only human. But I do honor our veterans, those who have joined our armed forces for whatever belief, reason, or cause. I honor you. I honor your memory. I honor the comforts and loves you left behind to do what you thought what right. I honor you.

My father served. My brothers have both served; the youngest will retire after twenty plus years of service to the Air Force – all over the world, in two years. My father joined to escape a nowhere life of poverty and violence. My younger brother, well I’m not sure why he joined. And my youngest brother found a world wide traveling life that has taken him to the highest ranks of the enlisted. For whatever reason they joined, had war called I’m sure they would have done what they signed up to do. I know Buddy has. I honor him.

This morning I play songs that honor the sacrifices of our soldiers, citizen soldiers, those who give what I haven’t.

Letters From Home – John Michael Montgomery

I hold it up and show my buddies,

Like we ain’t scared and our boots ain’t muddy, and they all laugh,

Like there’s something funny bout’ the way I talk,

When I say: "Mama sends her best y’all"

I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,

Pick up my gun an' get back to work

An' it keeps me driving me on,

Waiting on letters from home.
written by: David Lee and Tony Lane

Florence has erected a Veteran’s Memorial Wall in the new Veteran’s Memorial Park on the Siuslaw River. It is simple, even stark, and somehow peaceful. My mom, Ducky and I have purchased three bricks to honor my father and bros.

This weekend I took Burp down where he made etchings of each brick Furby brick and one that was purchased in the memory of his other great grandfather, who until that moment I’d not known had served in India. Hmmm. We took an extra moment to remember my father and discuss a story of his from his stint in Panama. Now Burp wants to go see a Panther.

Having lived during the Viet Nam era I remember the revulsion that greeted our veterans when they returned answering a call from our country’s leaders. I am heart broke at the hatred they found upon their return home. I mourn the loss of all that they were. I revile the old men who sat cozy in their air-conditioned offices, thousands of miles away from harm, making decisions that kept then safe while sending tens of thousands of men and women to their deaths for oil and greed.

“We have met the enemy, and he is us.” Pogo

I sincerely hope we have learned lessons by revisiting our own personal history. I hope that despite what our personal beliefs we honor our veterans.

To those who serve,
Thank you,

Cele

Photo Friday - Shiny

I know later I'm going to have this "Ah, Ha!" moment about what picture I should have posted. For now I am stumped and the lighting sucks. And it's sunny. pfft!

The color of this car can only be described as "Vesuvius". It was all pretty and shiny, and I really, really wanted to take it home. I think Ducky would have noticed had I put it in my pocket.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: What It Is…

It is everything, it is nothing, it is the past, and it is the future. Most of all it is whatever I want it to be, what ever I make it.

It is the want to be thinner, as someone once said, “There is a skinny person inside of me wanting to get out.” Yes, I am fat. It was not by choice, but maybe it was by karma – and those pesky little jeans. All those times, in my thinner years, I noticed someone’s wide butt, cellulite legs, a paunch and thought, “I won’t ever let myself become that big.” Darn, darn, darn now I own them all. I did not say when I grow up I want to be lumpy and sad, but here I am. Maybe what it is …is young, thin arrogance. Maybe it is ignorance, I definitely know it is seemingly impossible to be rid of.

It is the wish to be kinder. I have an opinion, despite Madonna’s mantra that everyone is entitled to her opinion, not everyone needs to know mine. Those self-abusive enough will stop by my blog, read three paragraphs and then run in the opposite direction without leaving a comment. I don’t need to slash and burn with my words, but I do need to give my compassion, love, and patience to those who are bruised and in need; to become a better person through the osmosis of the best of my spiritual family. What it is should be easy.

It is a wish to share the best of me with those I love and who love me. To accept and love them for their faults and who they are, not who I want them to become. To remember that often what I dislike in others are the very things that can be found within myself. What it is …is the conscious decision to rebuff and countermand hatred and disparity.

What it is, is what I make it. It is what ever you make it. I will not harbor anger over what I alone cannot change, but I will patiently work to change injustices, wrongs, and prejudices one person at a time. It takes one person, one step, one smile to open the door to the next. What it is, is something I can do with the thought in mind that I too can change the wrongs and misjudgments inside of me.

Sith,
Cele

Rhododendron Festival – 2009 Pacific Wonderland

I live in heaven, I love where I live, I live where I love. Florence is a small town to most, sometimes too big to me, but it offers all I want. And my husband is willing to commute eighty miles each way to work. Thank goodness.

On the third full weekend each May Florence celebrates our native Macrophyllium – Rhododendrons.

And some not so native, but beautiful all the same.


We do this with an annual festival that is three days of sun (oh please lord), classic cars, and a parade.


My job is to run all over town on Saturday of the festival, interview people, and remind everyone of the sights they don’t want to miss, bring them the sounds of what they are missing, and remind them to cross traffic on Highway 126 at signaled intersections. In Florence there are only four.

This year I had a two hour break mid day so we started by visiting the car show.
Over four hundred entered this year’s event at Three Rivers Casino. What a cluster !&#! of a traffic jam… but the cars were divine.














Ducky and I have a Rhody tradition. After I get off work Saturday afternoon… usually around 6:30, we go to old town Florence and watch KCST’s Classic Car Cruise.



After we sit and watch the first two or three circuits the cars make, Ducky and I begin walking.

Now, true Florence is not large, Old Town is even smaller, but it makes for a nice walk, we stop and chat with old friends, watch the cars and make our way to the west end of Bay street for a Mocha. Then we walk all the way to the east end of Bay Street (wow, three blocks) and have an elephant ear from the carnival and find a bench on the boardwalk and enjoy the evening.

For the week or so before Rhody Festival I write a parade script. Spend the majority of Sunday of Rhody Weekend broadcasting said script in all its hometown Rhody glory.





BTW, it’s really hard to take pictures while you’re broadcasting the parade.

And then I go home and crash.

I’m at the crashing part.

Sith,
Cele
PS just 363 days until Rhododendron Festival is here (May 22nd – 24th 2010.)

Photo Friday - 2009 Self Portrait

I have been thinking about participating in Photo Friday for a while. Steve always post some kewl pictures. Then I found out my new friend Maya at A Day In The Life does Photo Friday (psst her artistry scares me.) But Tewkes' (honey you may run, but the name sticks) always does Two Things Photo (her eye boggles my mind, I wish I had a smigeon of her talent) and she does 100 Strangers which is a lot more than photography. They all have the big, kewl cameras, I've got just my little Fugi thingie, and my Pentax (if we waited for me to develop film it we'd be past the second coming,) but I want to play.

I'm still contemplating Two Things.

My first Friday Photo: 2009 Self Portrait


At first I wasn't happy, and then I thought about the textures behind the glass, the obfusticated quality it lent the "portrait." Kewl, what lies underneath.

Cele

Talk Thursday: I Never Thought I’d Be….

This incredibly late… on just about everything. The older I get it seems the less adaptable I have become. Eight months ago… or so my work schedule changed by only 90 minutes, but I now seem to have little time for blogging. Throw in a community festival or three, Home and Garden Show, new garden, Radio Auction, and damn where did the time go? I should be a large white rabbit with a pocket watch and spinning head, ushering little girls out of the garden who want to dine on my mushrooms and new blooms. But again darn I was late and the rabbit’s gone.

I use to read my growing length of favorite blogs, comment, because you know me, I have to put my four bits worth in. Come home peruse my favs again and yeah more comments. Now I barely get my make up on in the morning, purse loaded with lunch and my bed made before I am almost late for work. I might get to check my blogs again before Ducky gets home from work, but usually it’s not until after dinner. Argh.

Age is not really a problem for me, accept the days, months, years, crap decades are flying by. I look forward to what awaits me on other plans of existence, but I am enjoying all the things here. Not that I get to choose the time I move on, but I’d like long enough minutes, hours, days, weeks, and yes, years to savor the moments and people. Savor like a wonderful wine or chocolate that you hold on your tongue to take in every little flavor bud and relish it with zeal.

This was specifically brought home this morning and last night. I had wonderful visitors, two delightful people I would love to tuck in my pocket and keep forever. But our visit was so fleeting, (insert heavy hearted sigh) sadly I have not one little picture of their visit. So Janet and Maya will have to come back soon. I need pictures. Delightful, wonderous, cheerful, funny people I want to savor. And damn, time was short and fleeting. I hope they come back soon.

Sith, (Scottish Gaelic word for peace) (Irish Gaelic for Banshee that fits too I hear)
Cele

PS if you think this isn't late.... again it's last week's topic. (shakes head in shame and disgust)

Talk Thursday – We All Make Mistakes

Boy, am I late. I don’t seem to have any energy. Is that the problem with my TT post? No, that would just be an excuse. Thing is I have no energy. What I do have aplenty is fodder for last week’s topic.

We do all make mistakes; one of my mantras is “A mistake is worth making if you learn from it” which goes right into my other two tenets of life 1) Where we’ve been is who we are and 2) It’s all about the journey. Circular logic.

When I was young, I thought I was always right when the reality, as I see it now, is I was right about thirty percent of the time, with the ratio going up daily dependant on the lessons learned and retained. I learn through my mistakes- made many, many times over. On the other hand my daughter Psam seemingly learns from my mistakes; Misery learns just like me-fall on my butt time and again until the lesson is pounded in. I’ve always try to remember the mistakes I made and realize that my girls are where I have been, let them learn. Thing is they are learning much better than I ever did.

I have always given with my whole heart. My father would point out this friend or that who he felt was “using me.” I never truly understood, I still don’t, and I’m thinking I never will. Am I naïve? Could be. I want to think that people are as honest and open with me as I am with them. And yet, even I know that is somewhat fool hearted. I want to see the best in people, the honest endeavors, the pure emotions and revelations because that is what I want others to see in me. When I find myself motivated by something less than pure I fall in my own esteem. Honesty has become a personal benchmark in my life and personal growth.

I have also come to value friends more than maybe I had in the past. I’ve always made friends quickly, but they weren’t always fast friends. Now I know quality in my friends is far more important than quantity. My pages at FaceBook and MySpace are becoming a reflection of my importance in the word and meaning of friend. I idon’t just say yes to a “Make me your friend request. Especially on FaceBook when you see my friend listed, they are my friend. Maybe in a different degree from one to the next, but they are people I have met, people I have spent time with, people I value with my heart. Some are new friends, some are old and endearing friends. But one mistake I have made that I can’

A River of Time has created a chasm between now and then with many early and mid-life friends. I grow, or they grow more, we grow apart because the land in between was not tended with care and respect, value and devotion. Sad, that is the mistake I regret.

My friends, I value you.

Sith
Cele

A through Z --- Get to Know Me…

Yesterday my friend Bob aka Jonas’ ball boy, tagged me on FaceBook. I am known to love me a MeMe and his answers were delightful. Now I have known Bob for decades, infact he’s the first person I met at school when I moved to Florence. In the first class (advanced composition w/ Mr. Danielson) I sat down in an open desk and the boy in front turned around and looked me directly in the eyes and said, “Marsha?”

To which I responded, “John,”

He has much been my friend ever since… I’m not sure when I learned his real name. Now we work together. He’s a pretty solid person. Now my answers to his MeMe.

A through Z--- get to know me!

A - Age: 53
B - Bed Size: My share or the actual size?
C - Chore you hate: Mopping
D - Dog's name: Arlo Peppertree the retalatory pisser (he was once known as Tank)
E - Essential start your day item: Hot shower followed by pots of coffee
F - Favorite color: Green and Vesuvius (Landrover orange / cinnomon)
G - Gold or Silver: Silver (but I mix)
H - Height: Shrinking (it changes almost daily) at one time I was 5’11”, I’m much shorter now
I - Instruments you play(ed): I always wanted to learn piano, my mom could afford guitar (waste of money, time, and finger nails.) Now I’d like to learn Hammer Dulcimer and Auto harp
J - Job title: Operations Manager / Program Director / Sales Rep / She who comes when called
K - Kid(s): Yes, one and two halves
L - Living arrangements: We agree to legally live together and mutually like and love each other beyond the intended extent of the law
M - Mom's name: Mom, duh. She actually changed her name and like me goes by her middle name. Vicki
N - Nicknames: Cele and Tanglefoot (oh unless you’re my Mom, and then it is Beast, Grace) Debi
O - Overnight hospital stay other than birth: Is that my birth or hers? None.
P - Pet Peeve: This is Bob’s answer, but it is so excellent, I’m going to expound on it. “People that don't take the time to learn how their public services are funded and organized. Police officials that make it damn near impossible to reach them in a timely manner. Public servants that don't... serve”…. expounded part… Public officials that don’t think alerting the immediate local media about “Incidents of Public Concern” so we can disseminate important information for public consumption… like not being able to get home because someone killed his neighbor and the only accessible road (for most people) will be closed until the wee hours of the morning. Or how about the electrical systems on the draw bridge burned up and we can’t lower the draw bridge so you can’t go home in a timely manner.” just sayin’
Q - Quote from a movie: "Snakes. Why’d it have to be snakes?" (Harrison Ford, Indiana Jones – Radiers of The Lost Arc”
R - Right or left handed: Right.
S - Siblings: A Pinecone, a Butch, and a Buddy
T - Time you wake up: When my eyes open and I smell the coffee
U- Underwear: Under where?
V - Vegetable you dislike: Okra
W - Ways you run late: People run? By choice?
X - X-rays you've had: Teeth, Dex
Y - Yummy food you make: Well my fat ass says I make lots of yummy things. Ducky is partial to my tacos, chicken enchiladas, and chicken fried steak / mash / gravy
Z - Zoo favorite: hmmmm, the visitors.

I’m not tagging anyone but if you want to play tell let me know so I can learn more about you.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday – Found What I Never Lost

There are moments when it is easier to go with the flow, treading to keep a float until a moment to breathe, a space of peace, or a glimmer of hope floats by. Darn, don’t you usually find, before that happens life takes over and you are flapping those feet faster and faster, while your arms swish your hands back and forth trying to keep up? Swarmed, swamped, swooned. The struggle to get a firm footing once again, beyond the class four rapids that have become life, seemingly lasts an eon. Oh, heck why minimize…not an, but eons.

Last weekend I got to garden. In fear of becoming that old biddy with the pruning shears down the street, may I say, “Oh, joy.” Yes, I had work to be done - my grandma’s meds to dole out, my mother’s lawn to mow, and a book that I was in am in the midst of editing, but to get back to me all it took to become grounded and serene was a bunch of sod, some four packs, and a hand trowel. Okay, there was a shovel, a hand fork, and my new garden bench, but who’s keeping track? Ducky worked to pull out (hack up into bits and pieces and throw away…with a wicked gleam in his eyes and joyous glee) a dying Rhody and I dug up weeds, dead headed some tulips, smeared chicken manure (hmmm maybe that’s where the pink eyes came from?) around, and planted a lilies and cosmos.

It was glorious and suddenly I was back to me, dreaming my garden, burrowing in the soil, and smiling all the while. Well until that chicken manure flew into my eyes. I think I never really lost sight of what I wanted, what I needed, and what I have, but maybe I miss placed it buried under all the harried minutia of work and winter.

Spring may bring warm weather, outdoor recreation for others, for me it brings me peace, grounding, and immense joy… and like Eden, yes there's a devil and a snake in my garden, but one I married, the other eats the bugs.

Sith,
Cele

My First Gardening Weekend of 2009

Spring is here, oh la la. It felt so good to get out and work in our yard, my mom’s yard, and put my new bench into my soon to be cutting garden.

We started the morning out cutting my mom’s lawn. This is something we have done every warm weather weekend since my father passed. It is enjoyable, my mother’s property is like a huge park, with a broad lawn,
little sitting nooks,
and different trees and gardens.
Right now it needs pruned something fierce.

Then we came home and worked on our own yard. As I’ve said many times before, I’m putting in a cutting garden… it started with the lilies Harley (one of my dj’s) gave me for Easter (what a sweet heart) and some new lily bulbs I bought dirt cheap at Bimart. They are right behind my new bench.

Knowing better I left my tulips from last year in ground… dumb, only a few are giving me blooms. I am destined to buy new tulip bulbs every year, it seems only the bright yellows and reds have any staying power year after year. And yet my snapdragons are hale and hearty, a perennial that has always acted like an annual for me. My echinecea are setting up new shoots (woo kewl) the lilies appear happy sending new shoots all over my garden.

Next weekend I will begin laying out my new cutting garden, beginning with a blue stone path. In the lily garden the blue stone path is greened with corisca mint, I am thinking about using a different creeper this time. Four cosmos sit to the east of the new bench in memory of Ducky’s dad who always had a ton to cosmos. My chain tree is waiting at the nursery for planting next week.

Oh, I feel the earth and green running through my veins and I’m estatic. So show me your plants, I want to see your green.
Sith
Cele

My Birdfeeder

Okay, just one of my birdfeeders, because the other should be called a bear feeder. A few weeks ago Fii had some great pictures of birds at her feeder. I remarked that it was just like the last one my dad and mom gave me (extremely amateur birdwatching was something we shared.)

The next morning I hear this knock, knock, or heavy peck, peck at my bird feeder and I am thinking, damn jays. But it wasn’t, a woodpecker was at my feeder. Wow, a woodpeck – I wasn’t certain but I thought it might have been a Hairy, which are fairly common around my woods. Before I can get my camera he is gone, no picture.

As I’m sitting the next morning at my computer and I hear knock, knock, knock (definitely knocking.) I get excited, grab my camera, and run to snap a picture… and it isn’t a woodpecker, it isn’t a stellar jay, no it’s a flicker (cousin to the woodpecker and very, very common in my neighborhood.) My damn batteries are dead. Deader than a door nail. I take them out of my camera, put them in the charger, and then into my camera that night.

No more large birds on my finch feeder. Bummer dude.

Until today, when Ducky getting ready to rip sod out for my new cutting gardens excitedly tells me there’s a woodpecker at my birdfeeder. And a very indulgent one at that. She (I’m thinking) allowed me to walk fairly near to take her pictures.


Now I’m thinking she’s a Three Toed Woodpecker because of the laddering on her back and spots on her wings.

Sith,
Cele

Happy Easter!!!!

Everybody Sing....Here Comes Peter Cotton Tail
Hopping down the candy trail,
Hippity Hoppity, Easter's on its way!!!

Peeps that come in pink and blue, purple ones are just too new.
Hippity hoppity Easter's on its way.
Yellow peeps are right for me, you can have the pink you see,
Hippity hoppity EASTER'S On it's WAYYYYYYYYY!!!!!

Easter's here, and I think you stink,
To request your Peeps yellow or pink,
If you want your Peeps, then take it or leave it!
Cuz’ I got purple, YES! Believe it!

Hop to it!!
Support Purple Peeps!!
PURPLE PEEPS ARE PEOPLE TOO!!
From the Committee To Promote Endangered Easter Purple Peeps - CPEEPPS

Talk Thursday: Paper Thin Heart

When I was young and stupid all I wanted to do was give my heart to someone who would treat it with unending passion. So I gave my heart away, far too young. To someone who was nowhere ready for the task at hand, the heavy load that is the heart of a young girl ready to love.

So I cried, I yearned, and mourned for what would never be. The unrequited love of my paper thin heart.

Years and tears and self torture later I found a man of deep hued eyes and heavy hands. In no time at all he took my heart, stomped and tromped, and wore me down until I fled the very town and place he was in.

And I cried, stronger for the experience. And much wiser.

I waited, not so long as maybe I ought and gave away my heart again. A little thicker with a calloused skin, preparing for his hate. The years passed inside our home, from where he'd longer gone, roaming in the forest lands. Away from me and my love. Until the day he said, “Enough, I was wrong. For you I have never loved.”

Oh, I cried. And wept some more, until he said, “I think I made a mistake.”

And then I laughed a bitter pill, “Oh, yes you did. Live with it.”

We didn't have any make up sex. We didn't cuddle in the night. I got over the loss, the misplaced trust and started over again.

On new ground, ground I'd laid myself, years later when I wasn't looking love came in. Nested, and grew, nourishing not one, but two calloused hearts. Rubbing off the layered scabs and protective crust to reveal again a paper thin heart ready to receive the love it gives.
Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Paper Thin Heart
When I was young and stupid all I wanted to do was give my heart to someone who would treat it with unending passion. So I gave my heart away, far too young. To someone who was nowhere ready for the task at hand, the heavy load that is the heart of a young girl ready to love.
So I cried, I yearned, and mourned for what would never be. The unrequited love of my paper thin heart.
Years and tears and self torture later I found a man of deep hued eyes and heavy hands. In no time at all he took my heart, stomped and tromped, and wore me down until I fled the very town and place he was in.
And I cried, stronger for the experience. And much wiser.
I waited, not so long as maybe I ought and gave away my heart again. A little thicker with a calloused skin, preparing for his hate. The years passed inside our home, from where he'd longer gone, roaming in the forest lands. Away from me and my love. Until the day he said, “Enough, I was wrong. For you I have never loved.”
Oh, I cried. And wept some more, until he said, “I think I made a mistake.”
And then I laughed a bitter pill, “Oh, yes you did. Live with it.”
We didn't have any make up sex. We didn't cuddle in the night. I got over the loss, the misplaced trust and started over again.
On new ground, ground I'd laid myself, years later when I wasn't looking love came in. Nested, and grew, nourishing not one, but two calloused hearts. Rubbing off the layered scabs and protective crust to reveal again a paper thin heart ready to receive the love it gives.
Sith,
Cele

Life is Leap of Faith

Of late my family has been a bit bemused or curious at the description or definition of my faith. My faith and belief in God is firm. But, I assure you, not necessarily in the way a “church” or maybe even my upbringing taught me. Although in all fairness to my mom, she didn't really instill a specific belief in me, she let me discover my beliefs myself.

The Bible, to me is a history – not a verbatim, because it told me so. I believe it was inspired by the love of God, not by his mandate. I do believe the words in red are worth their weight in gold. The Golden Rule wasn't taught by Jesus alone, I will not go to hell/purgatory/the Outer Darkness (which I don't believe in) because I have a tattoo, get shots with needles, a blood transfusion, believe in a woman's right to chose, have friends who are sexually active with their own sex, or eat meat on Fridays (Fast Food Friday's requires beef or chicken prepared in an unhealthy way.)

I can not believe in a God who hates and condemns based on birth, sanctions hate, or rewards people who loudly go to church Sunday after a night (week) of living other than rightly. I do not, absolutely refuse to, believe that God “does things to us.” To me that is a belief that is just wrong on so many levels, I am sure it works well for a multitude of churches who want their parishioners whipped into line. How can people believe they are good when they treat others unfairly, cruelly, in hatred, and believe they are above others? I cannot believe that way.
Yes, this post is all about me. It is not about you, although maybe discussions with you have made me rethink my position (which is a very good thing.) Maybe this post (and I) will anger you. Maybe it will make you think about your own personal norms, mores, and foundations. If so, excellent.

When I was in my 'tweens my little brother died. It was a surprise, because no one saw it coming. I remember the morning my father gathered us in the darkened living room to say my mother was in the hospital, and that David was not born healthy. Pinecone and I both remember him saying David was born “too blue” and with holes in his heart. My mother does not remember this. What I do know is that David's death brought us together as a family. God did not take David to make us a stronger family, God had nothing to do with his passing. But I do believe that how we reacted to his death makes all the difference in the world. There were lessons, lessons to be taken to heart, embraced, and made into my own beliefs. I honor my brother's passing with this tradition, that I should find the silver lining in all things.

To hold the sorrows and why- me's to my bosom (although a mighty bosom it be) is not me, does not make sense. I don't blithely write people off when they are done on this plane, I keep them with me daily, then are never far. But I know that passing is a part of life, it is the inevitable conclusion to birth. I know in my heart that I will see them again, they can see me now, and finally they are without pain and horror. I do not leave them any day without telling them I love them and appreciate them. For I know I may not see them again in this life.
Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: A Dense, Wet Fog

This week’s title certainly fits Talk Thursday. I seem to be operating in a fog. Having a title/topic/thought each week inspires me, makes me stretch my wings, wet my writing nib. Sometimes it leaves me it exactly in the middle of a clingy, wet fog unable to turn left or write.

This morning is sunny, the coast is commonly hampered by a wet fog in the early morning hours. After doing the taxes, because who doesn’t wait until the last moment (when they don’t owe money,) to do their taxes? I will garden. In the sun, the glorious sun, removing the clinging dirt from the roots of weeds to plant my seeds and greenlings.

I have a saying, “If it’s not windy by 10(am) it will be by 2(pm). Well unless it’s foggy.” Most especially the fog comes inland after three days of heat in the valley. Often in the early morning hours pea soup moves inland laying a quiet blanket over the coast, deadening all sounds, except that of the buoy. Living a mile from the beach I can hear “the Whistler” at night (the buoy a mile off shore or less) singing on the dense marine air. Oft times in the middle of the night, even over the white noise of my fan, I hear the Whistler’s Circe’ song calling.

In the city pea soup feels dirty and stifling, on the coast the fog carries the salt scent of the ocean further inland (which is nice unless there are dead whales or bluesail on the beach.) In the high desert, dense fog turns into a suffocating white sheet of tule fog. In Utah my friend, Jenny T, assures me that a fog of weeks long inversion will suck the life out of everything, depress feelings and moods, and becomes quite dangerous. On the coast we know it will clear into wisps of mist that wrap sensuously around the dead snags in the sand dunes and coast pines before receding under the warmth of the sun, leaving the sky crystal clear blue.

Sith,
Cele

I Did It! Argh!

I resisted for a long time, but finally gave in last night and signed up for Facebook. Did you know it works better when you put a picture with you registration? Yeah, so I am told. But I don’t look like I’d like to look. Sad, sad.

Natalie tried to talk me into it a several months ago. I thought, I’ve got my own website, I have four chatrooms, I’m signed up at Classmates, I have two blogs, and a Myspace page. Crap how much more does a girl need? I read a zillion blogs when my time allows and Facebook will just suck up my spare time.

This I found out last night in aces. I talked myself into it, really I thought I needed to sign up because I’m trying to put together this reunion. What I found was that Pam was one of three people I could find – and I already talk with her. Lillian is on Facebook, but I have her email. Bummer, I sucked up three hours last night deciding I liked Myspace better. The positive side of it is that I got to chat with Natalie for a few minutes so my time wasn’t a total loss.

Now I just need to get a picture that is acceptable to me and not a lie as to what I look like, (i.e. pleasant looking but not a blimp.) I think my eyes are great, but annoy the heck out of people.

Oh, and don’t get any ideas, I’m still resisting Twitter, Linkened, and whatever new thingie is on the horizon.

Sith,
Cele

31st March Another Month Down and Other Rampant Thoughts

There are those moment through life where most of us realize time is flying by, today is one of those days. It’s March 31st, I am itching to get in to the garden, I’m half way through my latest critique, and Rhody Festival starts next week and I’m no where ready. The reality is Rhody Festival isn’t until May 15th, but crap with how time flies it will seem like I was thinking these same thoughts just last week when Rhody rolls around.

What I have realized is that we have taken down the Christmas tree (in a timely manner for once.) Rung in a new year that is almost gone. Celebrated a trio or more of birthdays, visited the Vet numerous times, warded off uncountable nameless colds, and are not farther progressed in our accomplishments, it appears, than I had hoped to be. Not that I know where I should be accomplishment wise or what I’d hoped to accomplish, but some how I am behind. Clueless in 2009 and voted most likely to be clueless in 2010.

What I have decided so far is that we will be vacationing this year in Las Vegas… probably October, because I am working on a neighborhood reunion. In my developing years (ideals, morals, and Id) I lived in La Mirada. Tanfield is a small double cul-de-sac neighborhood of approximately sixty houses, houses full of the people who make up a large chunk of my childhood memories. This autumn we shall meet and find out if we like the people we turned into. I’m excited.

Last April I traveled to San Francisco for Sid’s birthday and was treated to not just a week with an awesome couple (Sid and Scott,) but with their extended family. I also got to meet JulieAnn (whom I love dearly) and her wonderful Wanker, but also Julz & her Bill, Lyn Blossom and Jenniphur, Eddie, and Steve. This April I will get to meet the wonderfully talented Pompy, who moving north of me. Life offers up the most splendid opportunity and I am eager to meet each and everyone of them. Last year I got to meet Jazzy, this year I get to meet Fii. It is a wonderful life.

Over a year ago, hmm about 18 months, Sacred Sister started Talk Thursday. Yes, the group is still alive… barely, but we are. This week it’s Jenniphur’s turn to pick the topic. Sadly I’ve been having problems writing on the topics, I’m not sure why, I just seem to be losing inspiration. If you’re reading this and interested in Talk Thursday let me know… you’re in and your topic will be next week. Just warning you – Jenn’s the turn-around.

Hmm, well now I am off to close out March for the FCC… argh the hoops you must jump through. Until April.

Sith,
Cele

I have been a bad blogger. And you my friend have come here looking for words from me. The words are too quiet. No inspiration. I think about a topic and it dies a withered death in the dark space of my little writing heart. My word womb is barren.

The rains have kept me from taking flower pictures in my garden...that is running rampant with weeds. I could try to weed, but the clinging tendrils of root refuses to give up the ground they have burrowed into. Therefore I remove more of the precious soil from my garden than the nasty little rooting greens that run amok of their own accord. Is that redundant? All this might be a plot of Mother Nature hatched to take back the tilled ground of my flower garden and return it to a savage forested state.

My hoe and I shall prevail. I will have new gloves and sharpen my blade (okay that was just poetic license, the blade to my trowel is quite dull actually) and I shall over come winter's devastation of my garden... and the lawn next to it.

And then I will hot tub. There.
Sith,
Cele

Surprises

Thursday afternoon I went to the post office. For most this is a normal everyday occurrence, for me it happens once in a blue moon – and yes I have a post office box. My rarity in picking up our post drives some people crazy. My husband because he misses his flyers from the men’s toy store, Sears; people who live and die over their junk mail; and probably those people who send me things that require either a phone call or a thank you note (I’m really bad at thank you notes.)

Thursday’s mail held three weeks of junk mail, credit card aps, a few bills, a book I ordered from Amazon, and a box – a big box that came all the way from Georgia. My birthday had come and gone and this box sat as a reminder of my 53rd milestone. My sister in law had packed it with a kewl partridge, earrings, cocoa, s’mores, a table runner, two Christmas ornaments that will hold pictures of Burp, and one of these kewl little tablets that I love to carry in my purse (ha, ha I hate carrying my purse, but if I am the tablet is a must have.)

The surprising birthday box required a thank you phone call and it had been a while since I’d touched bases with the Kiwi and Buddy. Sometimes, when I actually think about calling, the time difference keeps me from dialing. But I was well within my time limits. The first 45 minutes I chatted with the Kiwi, her accent is so cute but once in a while I can’t wrap my head around a word she says and the sentence is lost. Then I chatted with Buddy. Our lives are so different, but I miss them, I don’t think they will be returning to Oregon when he retires.

After hanging up I started thinking about my sister. Pinecone had left me a birthday message on my cell and I’d not called her back. Yes, folks the mail gets picked up more often than I call my siblings. The really sad part of this is I enjoy talking with my sister, she’s a hoot, and while our lives are very different she always feels like home to me. We discussed all sorts of things for over an hour… oh she called me. That happens often I will think about calling her and the phone rings. We’re connected that way.

Being raised independent has its features we were and are encouraged to make our own paths, our own families, our own traditions. But it also means that when you marry you hopefully meld your independence into your spouse’s family beliefs and traditions. My husband has a hard time understanding that Pinecone (or my daughter) and I don’t talk to each other at least twice a day or even twice a week. His family must get together every holiday, he chose Thanksgiving to do with his siblings and aunt (we are almost always the ones that travel,) and we spend Christmas at home, they are all welcomed but we do not travel. I don’t have to live in my sister’s pocket, I am comfortable with who I am, with who she is. I feel my sister with me all the time, and we are both happy in our lives.

But yes there are times when I miss my sister. This is funny considering I made her life holy hell growing up. But there were the times that we were a cohesive unit too. She has been there for me during my very dark hours and shared her brightest moments with me. Isn’t that what sisters are all about?

Sith,
Cele