There’s No Place Like Home


Sometimes we have to wander far away from the storm, trying to find the rainbow, before we realize the lessons we have learned along the way. We encounter those looking for wisdom and courage and love and want to be a part of their journey. Perhaps we think that if they find it, so will we. And so… we get caught up in the seeking, we are fooled by our own desires.

If we are lucky enough to find out that the little man behind the curtain is only a little man behind the curtain, then we are ahead of the game. But more than not, we seek the answer in all the wrong places. We put hope in the world and we follow the beat of what the world deems popular rather than looking within and finding that in the end, all that we ever needed was always there for us… in our own backyard and that there really is; “no place like home.”

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Like a Humming Bird…


I chose humming birds as my theme for the background design of one of my blogs that lay untouched somewhere in the background of my files. I feel as if they represent a part of me that  lingers in mid air, waiting … but for what, I really can not say. The hope of something more…  I guess.
I have friends who faithfully fill their humming bird feeders. I have joked with them that bird watching is the sign of old age but they laugh as if they have a secret. At the risk of exposing their true age… they don’t seem to mind as they patiently wait as they watch for the appearance of  these magical little creatures arriving for breakfast. It is a delightful sight and as far as ny friend are concerned, the more the merrier. Each little bird lingers in mid air, biding patienly for their turn.

The dance is breath taking. As they slowly get their fill they depart as quickly as they arrived and the moment has passed. Like life, I feel as if I was invited to partake in the dance, I lingered in midair and enjoyed the sweet nectar but just as quickly, it all happened so fast. It is like a sweet memory as the little feeder hangs empty waiting to be filled again.

Writing the last page


Have you ever had an amazing creative surge where you have been going a million miles a minute for days and days. The words just flowed and the juices were plentiful, and then suddenly as quickly as it started, been so stuck you feel as if you just woke up one day to find youself smack in the middle of fast drying wet cement, as you sit there looking at a blank screen?

I think that my being stuck is parallel to my life as I am currently living it. I can’t seem to move my foot and get out and yet I have finally realized that I am only hurting myself by staying stuck. I was told recently that I would know when I was done. “You will only be done when you are done.” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? How do I know when I am done? For me who is all about closure, that explanation just is too abstract. I need a picture. One that has no coloring outside of the lines because lately, in my world, the colors have been outside of the lines. And you know what? It doesn’t feel good anymore.

Where I once did not want to live in a black and white world & needed shades of gray to explain away my pain. I now am beginning to crave the structure of a more controlled world. The secrets and fantasy, the thrill of the unknown, what could have been or what could possibly be are now not so exciting anymore. In fact, t
they are downright exhausting.

I don’t want the ending to be abrupt or in anger. I want it to have a sweet twist, I want it to all be okay for everybody. I want to find the words to know that I am done and my story can find it’s way to the last page in a way that will touch hearts for years to come. A book is only as good as it’s ending; as is life.

Life Is Hard… AND~ Being stupid just makes it harder!


Life is hard… Being Stupid just makes it harder. And I am not referring to someone’s intelligence, I am referring to choices people make in their own lives. I can go right down the list; it can be as personal as the one you fall in love with, to the the people you choose to surround yourself with and it can be referring to the way we handle our finances, or the way we handle our attiude in our daily life. If we gossip or take the higher road and just plain don’t.

Being stupid can be done behind closed doors or it can be done right in the open. On the highways or in line at the store. Have you ever heard yourself say something that you wish you could suck back inside? Or have you ever let something eat at you until you have let it take over your whole day?

Stuff happens to all of us. Job stuff, personal stuff, family stuff, financial stuff,  and the way we decide to handle different situations is our choice. Just like over eating or consuming too much alcohol, we have the choice every minute of every day.

A few years ago, we lost our store in an earthquake. That was one shining example of being out of control or when I lost my last baby. That was out of control. But what comes after it… is our choice. I have been going through some life changing things lately and made some real stupid moves that I dearly regret, and yet am learning about me through it all. I watch as other people make some pretty dumb choices… and someday, hope that my lessons I am learning, my story, may help others not be as stupid as I have been. But I stand by my quote of the day… Life is hard and being stupid doesn’t make it any easier!

Who Is Driving Now?


My last car was a stick shift. My husband predicted that I would be sorry that I got it. But with just a year of payments left on it, I am still loving it. I wanted a sun roof too but that’s okay. I walked past a convertable the other day and my heart skipped a beat. Forget the sunroof! I know what I want next! Smile… and sigh… because I know that is not what I really want. What I really want is my youth back!

I remember once when I was about twenty. My friend’s dad had bought an old refurbished T-bird convertable. He wanted to take me for a spin in his classic car to show it off to me. With a “Kenny Nolan” tape playing in the tape deck we whipped around the hills of Palos Verdes. I remember thinking… he is having an affair. His wife was sick and had not been a wife to him for years. It turned out that I was right. I got some of their furniture out of that divorce for my first little apartment. It was very sad.

I remember thinking how old he was and marvling at the fact that he was listening to songs about new love and feeling that it was all very “creepy” at the time. I look back now and have to laugh. He was younger than I am now and that memory has come back to hit me smack in the face. As I find myself in a legitimate Mid Life Crisis of my own. I am officially grieving my youth.                (I had a 1972 FIAT when I was 18)

Recently I have had the opportunity to go down memory lane with an old friend. And it has felt good. To lose myself in the fantasy of the past and what could have been to help numb the reality of today where all those dreams I had to look forward to were lost like that classic little white T-bird. I play my own love songs now and mourn for something more than just an old love but for the girl I was so many decades ago, driving around the hills of Palos Verdes feeling sorry for the old man in the driver’s seat.