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 |   Nadanother blog...sheesh, I guess I DO blog. Completed. |
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I've had a rich past, yet am making a new one with plenty of life's experiences to draw from! I invite you to come along and see what trouble I get into. I'll blog about my life, present, past... whatever comes to mind at the time. I'll try not to be too serious most of the time, heck we get enough of that just living. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Happy New Year! For the mirroring blog series we do on Saturdays:
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| Reading another person's remembrances of you is like peeking at your obituary in a way. I say that hopefully. As a result of sharing some of my memoirs in the blogs I have written (over the past three years} some wonderful things have happened as a result. I have touched people and I have been touched back. You never really understand how far reaching these entries can be. As a woman who never sat still for long, I have a string of pearls in the jewelry box of my mind. Each one represents someone I have known, each one touched me in some way. Every once and awhile I discover I have touched one of those people in my past also. Today I was given a glimpse of me through someone else's string of pearls. I'd like to share how this person sees me, some 40 years later through excerpted parts of a letter I received a few moments ago: "I was in my garage looking though hundreds of pictures, trying to figure out what do to with these pictures. They go back over 40 years of knowing so many artists that I have worked with. Lo and behold (I never know what that phrase really means) I found a picture of a very sweet young girl sitting up against a wall looking somewhat lost, starring down with a glance off to the side. On this picture it said (and I will try and read what is says as best as possible). ' I have enjoyed you, as nobody else, and will remember the relationship we had as a unique and wonderful privilege. I'm hoping your life will have what it takes to bring you all the success you desire. I will help in anyway I can! Love, Sheila' Why did I save this picture? Why was I rather sad just now when I found the picture? It brought back many, many memories. This picture and the words made me sad for many reasons. I always felt I never treated you as nicely as I should have. I was never mean to you that I know of. As I look back at that picture and remember our time together more now. I knew then that I liked you a great deal and always had a hard time expressing it then. You were so full of life, love and honesty, you were the most refreshing girl I had ever known at that time. I have always had a hard time expressing my true feelings, but with you it was harder for me. I got more from you than I gave and I swear to you this has always bothered me over the years. This picture made me stop and think about what happened to us and why it happened the way it happened. Why it didn't go further? You will always be one of my most treasured loves of my life. This picture made me realize how special you were in my life, how sweet and wonderful you were and still are. I was not ready for anyone as giving and as open as you were when we first knew each other. In many ways I was very immature and you were the strong bright one. I thought I knew it all but I knew nothing." ***** I hope nobody sees this as a self-serving entry, because I have a reason for sharing such an intimate letter with you. Sometimes when you look back on your life, you filter out things about yourself, or maybe you never saw them in the first place. In the series I have been writing, I deal with some of my life in snippets, of course through my own eyes. As you know, we are most critical of ourselves. I am not in contact with the people I grew up with, even my brothers. I have to rely on my "string of pearls". So when I receive a "pearl" back, from someone in my past, illuminating for me how another remembers me, it is a restorative moment. I use the word restorative because through this telling of my story, sharing darker sides of my youth, this allows me to share the good part I don't always see. Through their eyes I can see that I do leave an imprint. It serves to remind me how it does pays off to be true to yourself. How often do we get such lovely reminders? I knew exactly what photo he spoke of, because a friend of mine had asked me to let him shoot a roll of pictures of me at the beach in Northern California. He was an amateur photographer, and I have recently run across some of the photos. I probably have the exact shot somewhere in my boxes, but this will give you a feeling for the day. I was all of twenty-one, divorced and full of it. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
"I Second That Emotion"~Part 7 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "I Want To Hold Your Hand" Sung by The Beatles 1964 Please follow the link to find this entry:
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| Look but please don't touch. Ever notice how a simple sentence like that practically invites a touch? Of course you do. Think of all those signs that say WET PAINT or those little tapes in our heads from the time we were barely able to take a step, "Don't touch that, it's hot. Don't touch that...it will break" and a thousand other Don't Touches. Two days ago I was sitting here writing something or other when I got a call from Cesar. "I'm down at the pool, could you come down? I want to show you something." Hmmm, usually when Cesar calls me to ask if I could go anywhere he is it's not a good thing. There was the last time he wanted me to go to the pool. As I recall it was because the entire pool was a slime greenish black mess. Then there was the time rats had eaten a hole in my pantry wall. Perhaps you can understand my hesitancy at closing the computer and running down to the pool. Obviously Cesar has a very short, if existant, memory of these incidents as the silence on my end of the phone must have indicated because he added, "It's beautiful." Again, if I recall accurately, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, the last time he said that it was when I had paid several thousand dollars to drain and acid wash the pool. It was finally filled and a clear, if not expensive, deep blue. Never mind it is part of his job to keep it that way, along with the poolman who comes by once a week to ? Sensing I'm not going to get out of it, "Sigh. Okay, I'll be right there." I save whatever I was writing (see I have learned something) and head down to the pool. I got to the top of the ramp down and looked down, expecting...heck I don't really know what. "Mrs. Nada....LOOK!" His flaying arms finally pointing one hand down to the colored cement deck about six inches away from his big old stomping boots. "It's an EGG! From a DUCK!" Sure enough it was. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "DON'T TOUCH IT!!!!" I scream at him. "Where did it come from?" "I saw our friend the duck...the one that comes here for a swim, like at our other house...it was sitting on it but I scared it away." GAWD! "Why did you scare it away?" "Because I needed to clean the pool." Well, since when did he get so conscientious? "You are not to touch that egg, no duck omelet, no taking it home, no stepping on it, NOTHING. You understand? She will come back, just hurry up." "Ok." I swear I heard disappointment in his voice. "Oh, and don't let the dogs come down here either. One way or another nature will take its course." Yesterday morning I went upstairs to my son's room, he has the perfect vantage point of the pool. Much to my surprise the duck was there...except he or she was standing on the very edge of the pool NAPPING! I know this because her head was tucked into her left wing. She was a foot away from the dang egg. Incidentally, this bears no relationship to the DUCK-NAPPING incident of David McClain   's Dirk a few years ago. I just scratched my head and came back to my room. Needless to say I waited an hour and back upstairs I went. Yep still there, only now not sleeping, just standing guard a foot away. Now this bothers me for a few reasons: 1. Don't they need to be sitting on the egg? 2. Why is there no nest? 3. Why is the egg out in the open? 4. How long can it be left unattended? I'm thinking fox, raccoons, coyotes, crows and all sorts of "nature". 5. How long before the egg cooks in this 95º air temp, not to mention the heat of the concrete? So, I asked Hubby who said, "These must be questions only ducks know." Gee, thanks, that was a huge help. Gotta go check on my egg e-r-r-r-r..omlette. |
Have you ever procrastinated by asking yourself this question? I know I used to, but now I have the answer. Yes. Of course something better will come along, but until we stop looking for the elusive "something better" we will never appreciate what it is we have. Think about it. So often people are hesitant to take what is right in front of them for fear they will be missing out on something better. Well of course we will, but are we going to spend our lives wondering or are we going to take inventory of what we have, and find some new ways to appreciate it? The same thing could be said of blogging. I find myself wanting to say something, but thinking if I hold off I'll get a better idea. Well, that doesn't always happen now does it? So here goes today's topic, it's all I have. As many of you know, we moved back to the ranch last June 15th. It was meant to be a temporary step (OMG...a deer on the lawn right now!) before we build the new house here. Last year I was just beginning to look around for a house for us to move to, when Hubby had the heart problem. That search came to a screeching halt. I've just come back from looking at a brand new home, just down the street from our last home, lol. It has been for sale since we moved (so probably a bargain now), and apparently fallen out of escrow a few times. Gawd it is beautiful. It also has many of the requirements that we need, wide enough halls, separate quarters for live-in help for Hubby (down the road). It is also larger than the last one.  Larger, but it feels smaller, as it is a better layout. Now I want to move. I hate putting our lives on hold for what will probably be two years of stress. There are no guarantees on what the future holds. I'm eager to get on with the business of living, and even moreso as the years creep by. I want to get nesting. I just want to get settled I suppose. The world is so unsettled, I want mine to be.I'm thrilled that we got to come back here for this past year, but I wonder if this is the best place we should be as we get on in years. It's somewhat isolated. Oh well, I'm sure these are all questions that will get answered. Hubby will probably take a look at the photos I took and that will end that.  |
| Isn't it funny how you can be blogging along and forget the rating system? I mean, I just had the rating of my blog changed today because of my entry over a week ago. I was informed it was because my entry dealt with the rape of a child. The raped child was me. Was I salacious about it? I don't think so. In fact I did not even mentioned any body parts. I could have named the rapist but I chose not to, just in case he has children. I suppose I understand why they did it, and perhaps I should have thought about the rating, but I didn't...except to see that I did have it rated 13+, which apparently is not high enough. I wonder, did they actually read the piece in question? I'm not all that upset, rules are rules. I should have checked it out. Remember, the word "rape" and the age 13 do not go together in this perfect world of Blogville...afterall they are ...gasp...words. I'm still very glad I included it in the series, because it gave many women an opportunity to contact me, whether as a comment or in a private email and even by telephone. Thanks to those who shared their own stories with me, most I'm sure will never make the light of day, but for my entry. It is much more of a prevalent occurrence than even I thought. It had been difficult enough to share, even so "clinically", but the support I received and the shared feelings I heard about will linger with me long after my blog ceases to exist. I apologize to anyone who felt the least bit offended by the 13+ rating. I just didn't see it as being much different than a news report. How often I wish they would come with ratings. Well, I wonder what other rules these memoirs of mine will trigger. Time will tell. You can be sure I'll keep an eye on the rating for the entries....or not. If an 18+ year old hasn't heard any of the kinds of things I mention, they must not have any friends, tv, cellphones, or internet. I seem tame in comparison. Just one humble blogger's opinon. |
I Second that Emotion-Part 6 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "It's My Party" 1963 Sung by Lesley Gore Please follow the link to find this entry:
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| Yeah, yeah...squeak, squeak...I'd recognize that sound anywhere. The sound of tennis shoes on a wooden basketball floor. Oh well, I knew it was coming. This morning Hubby said to me, "Don't write your blog until I get home, the Lakers are playing." He might as well have said, "I'll be ignoring you tonight." Oh, I just remembered I have an iPod to plug into my ears, hang on.....(makes a dash for the iPod before this page disappears) Okay, I'm back. I will be looking up...but dang, I just found out Jack Nicholson is NOT there. Well heck, I love looking at his mug...Hubby says I'll have to wait until Tuesday, if it goes that far. HUH? Ohhhh, he means the playoffs. Ok. I won't be holding my breath. But dang...Jack is soooo sexy, lol. Hey, you men had enough guy talk here? I'm spending the time I have doing the blog for tomorrow, and trying to think of the Blogville Newsletter piece. Supposed to be funny...guess I have a few days to do that. I have not seen the sun since last Saturday...cold, gray, drizzly...harumph. I'll try to be patient, but I'm so ready for sunshine. Wanna know what songs I'm listening to? If not...click out. 1. You Should Be Dancing. 2. Black Magic Woman. 3. Maggie May. 4. If You Could Read My Mind. And so many more, but I won't bore you. Time to go check Cesar's spicy chicken strips with Ranch dipping sauce, french baguette, and watermelon...mmmmmm. Hope you have a fine night!  |
| Today I started my torture exercises. I'm not a very happy camper at the moment. How many of you bribe yourselves into doing something that is good for you, but you either procrastinate forever or you ending making a bargain with yourself...AKA the deal? Oh I know we all have made bargains with God ..."if you will do this I'll do that." Uh-huh, I think we all know how those turn out. I'm sure writing falls into that sort of category for many of us. I figure if I'm blogging I'm writing. So what if it isn't what I should be doing? Speaking of procrastination....I was talking about exercising when I digressed there for a bit. Last week I mentioned I bought some ankle weights to go with my dumbbells. Now there is another blog topic...but again I digress. Anyway, I decided I should really stop shuffling them around my closet every day and actually strap them on and do something in an effort to tone up the jiggle. I had just moved them for the umpteenth time from one shelf to another when one fell on the floor. A message to my way of thinking, as it got about as close to my ankles as it had been, since the day I first tried them on. That day it was to make sure they would fit. The guilt moved in. I was standing there in my bathrobe, about to go take a shower when it hit me...there is no better time to start working up a sweat than just before I go get cleaned up for the day! Okay, I'd made myself a deal...no exercise, no shower. So maybe it wasn't a true eureka moment, but it was enough of one to strap those puppies on and lay down in the closet. Hmmm, now what? I mean I had no plan. Oh well, plan shman. I put my now blue-ankled legs together and lifted them into a leg lift. Anyway that's what my brain said I was doing, but my legs wouldn't budge! Dead meat with blue ankles...gawd! Who knew I was so out of condition that a three-pound weight on each of my ankles would make it impossible to lift them straight up? Obviously not me, so I huffed and I puffed, my stomach muscles tightened and still nothing. Great, just great. Then I tried doing one leg at a time...and I saw, to my amazement, the leg was in fact lifting! Encouraged by this movement I did twenty lifts with each leg. Then I rolled over to one side and tried it again...oh yeah, this is a piece of cake...so I did another twenty per leg. Still encouraged I rolled completely over onto my stomach and lifted both legs from my knees another twenty times. Buoyed by my success I then remembered a certain move where you stand up against the wall and slide halfway down and hold it. Supposed to be a great butt lifter. I backed myself up against the wall and slowly slid down...and down....until plop. And this is how I came to be blogging from the floor of my closet. |
First I'd like to thank you all for your sympathies and sharing about yesterday's entry for the series I am doing with Scarlett  . A few of my male readers expressed the disgust they felt for being a part of the gender that inflicted the painful situation I wrote about. We haven't shared our individual stories until they are out in Blogville, so neither of us is aware of what the other is going to say. If I'm going to be true to the intent of this serial story then I have to write what comes forth when I think of each song we have chosen to write about. The truth is, there were/are always several songs we could write about. I'm afraid for me, being raped at 13 far outweighed most other memories that year, no matter what the song. When we decided to write this series of blog entries I was afraid, because of our age difference, sometimes my blog would be more...sensational than hers. Obviously this was one case. I feel it extremely important to have hers as a balance to my bad ones. One day in the future perhaps it will be hers that can lean on mine for erasing a foul taste, like she did for me. I don't have an "agenda" in mind when I write each week. I don't hate men as a result of this event, or any other contact I have had with men over the course my life. My inclusion of that event was not to point out deficiencies in the male gender, but to throw some light on how these things can be swept under the rug, instead of being dealt with. The consequences can be devastating to someone who is fragile. I've never thought of myself as being fragile, though I am at times. Looking back now and then seems to soften the blow of the event on my psyche. My readers are 75% women, and to those women who have experienced any kind of rape, you have my heartfelt sympathy and understanding. I know we did nothing to "deserve" it. Several of you were concerned that I blamed myself...but I know the "what ifs" are a normal part of the processing of the crime. I mentioned about my surmising perhaps if only I'd given them the booze...maybe it wouldn't have gotten out of control. I don't believe that now, and I didn't believe it then. But...I'd be remiss if I did not express what my feelings were at the time. It was a part of me doing my 13 year old justification for keeping it quiet. Wrong, of course, but we do what we have to do to get past things. Thank you to the sensitive men who read and commented publicly or privately to me. I know full well the differences between you and them. I celebrate your sensitivity and willingness to share your feelings with me. Now to veer off in another direction, finally! The first installment of the series I spoke of the family portrait taken when I was 10, in 1958. I had searched for a photo I described but couldn't find it to include. Several expressed a desire to see the photo. Well, guess what showed up this morning? Of course when I wasn't looking. So here it is: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Have a great Sunday! |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Sheila"~1962 sung by Tommy Roe Please follow the link to find this entry:
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I just reminded myself of the time you did jury duty!
