Sunday, February 23, 2014

If Marilyn Monroe Was Alive































February 23. 2014

Claire and I went to Starbucks for our Sunday artist date. I brought my notebook and Flair pen. Claire brought her razor-thin tipped pen to work on her growing sketch of Main Street. 













We like to sit on stools facing the street. It helps us feel like we're somewhere else, a city maybe, where things are happening. 

I often want to be somewhere other than where I am. 

























I'm working on this. 

Practice presence and all that. 

And still I long for














But going to Main Street with my kid, the two of us on stools listening to conversations, eating our multi-grain bagels with cream cheese, drinking tea, coffee, hanging out. 

I don't want to be anywhere else.

Behind us three men were chatting.

One man said, 


If Marilyn Monroe was alive she'd be considered overweight.

Second man said,

Not at my house!












First man said,

Not at my house either. 

The third man was just listening. 

Then second man said,

I was talking to a young woman who didn't know who Elizabeth Taylor was. I couldn't believe it! I once held Elizabeth Taylor in my arms. She was getting out of a pool and was afraid to slip. It was a photo shoot. She was probably in her fifties, still gorgeous.

Hearing them made me happy. I wanted to hug them. 

 ***     

Ann and I were on the phone. She was looking at some paintings that she'd dug out of a closet and hung on the walls of her bedroom. She had painted them years ago and was happy to see them out in the open, a second life for her art.

Ann said,

I have a painting that looks like a mouse on a luge.

I thought her observation was timely with the Olympics and all. We kept chatting about all kinds of things until we both sighed. That's how we close up shop until the next talk. It's easy stuff.

Ann said,

Maybe that's just me.
Maybe I'm just always going to be a jumble of things.














Hearing that made me happy. I wanted to hug her.

***

Dad called. I was saying how I'd been trying to get out to see him but the ice and snow was too much. The weather's been so crazy and all that. 

I couldn't muster it, Dad.

Dad said,

No worries. Nothing can separate us. 

Hearing that made me happy and I wanted to hug him. When I got off the phone I kept saying it to myself. And the dog and cat(s) and maybe I told Claire about it. It made me feel happy.


 nothing can separate us nothing can separate us














It's true. 

nothing can separate us. 

namaste.


xo b


Sunday, February 16, 2014

Right About Now




February 16. 2014

Right about now I start thinking about flowers and dirt under my nails and wearing a hat to keep the sun off my face. Right about now I start thinking about open windows, white curtains fluttering in the soft summer breeze, stretching out on my big bed, freshly showered after working in the yard all afternoon. Bare feet grass-stained no matter how hard I scrub. 



Right about now I start thinking about sitting on the back steps with an ice cold beer on a hot afternoon, butterflies dipping into the the butterfly bush fed all these years by my mother's and Homey's ashes. Mom and my old orange cat folded into the soil with prayers and wishes written on squares of construction paper: pink, red, green, blue wishes. Somewhere I have a photo of Homey sleeping on Mom's stomach while she reads on the red corduroy couch. 

There's that question: 

if you could have dinner with anyone? 

mom.

Right about now I am not thinking about Pee Wee Herman



From a mental health perspective, I call this a victory. Really.


We've been doing some shoveling, a lot. no kidding. I dug Jesse out of a snowbank, not Jesse herself, but her little red car, which left me feeling quite good about myself ~

Wow I'm pretty good at digging people out of things.

My body feels strong + a little like I've been involved in a round of weekend cage fighting so it's lovely to write from the big bed, home of warm blankets, books, notebook, tea and sweet old Owen.

ain't life grand? 






Right about now I am sending you blessings on this winter morning + a simple prayer which I end all my yoga classes with:

May you be happy
May you be healthy
May you be peaceful
May you live with ease

pass it on.

namaste.
xo b


Sunday, February 9, 2014

We Missed Our Window






















February 9. 2014

Gosh, it's been way too long. 

I think the last time I wrote, Joan as in Crawford was dogging my ass, as only Joan can do. In the midst of the Polar Vortex and plunging energy levels, Claire and I were lucky enough to fly to sunny San Diego in celebration of Johnnie's  88th birthday ~














my mommy-in-law

While I was away I kept thinking write write

but all I wanted to do was 

breathe breathe 

and put my bare feet in the sand and surf 

which in retrospect seems like the most perfect thing to do ever. 



















I've been dreaming a lot lately. 

Clearly a cry for dream analysis ~

I'm on a date with former Secretary of Defense, Robert Gates. He was wearing a red hoodie and had taken me out to dinner (along with one of my high school students. Let's call her Kiley.) I didn't want to be late for the movie we were planning to see which caused some impatience on my part, so not like me. 

We were going to see Frozen.

I like sitting in a dark theater, whispering and watching the trailers. Seating is extremely important too; another reason to get there early. My preference: back row, aisle.

Bob was a dawdler. 

I told him in a very nice way it was too late. 

I said, Bob, We missed our window. end of date










There's a list of things I want to spill about:

-  Dad seeing men in uniforms coming off the mountain
-  Another hospital experience for Jesse + how we could not stop laughing
- the one night I turned on the tv in California and what should appear, no shit 

 Whatever Happened to Baby Jane


+ the burning question 














why do I watch football?

My February mantra is:

Don't worry about anything
Pray about everything

~ a challenge for this seasoned worrier. But I'm up for it.

I am pledging to show up here once a week, every Sunday, maybe sorta possibly as a way to get grounded and stay connected to you lovelies out there dreaming your own dreams.

Note: Bob's already taken...

Happy Year of the Horse! 



















namaste
xo b