The fabulous chairs project.....it was an overwhelming success!

There were 18 chairs in all - all either donated by Walpole Woodworkers or sold to sponsoring businesses at cost - What a generous, giving company, especially in this economy! This first chair was painted by Jim Hammond who patterned it after an Icelandic jacket that his late daughter had as a child. Jim's chair is displayed in front of the salon where his daughter worked.
This one is a lady going to the local Egg Festival by Pam Peltier Dickinson of Detroit. All the chairs gathered Friday night for wine and cheese and schmoozing. Many of the artists had not met each other so it was really a great time! Pam's chair is in front of the town office.
This is Connie LaGross's chair - which fittingly is at the town's library! so special...
Glass artist Alyssa Oxley did up this beautiful pastel chair - it's at Mill Pond Pizza.
This one is by Jill Schwartz, the art teacher at Maine Central Institute, our local high school. It is at Bud's Shop 'n Save.
My good buddy Hazel Mitchell's chair is none other than Humpty himself! It is also at Mill Pond Pizza.

Bonnie Mitchell took an old photograph of the original Peltoma Bridge and rendered it in black and white....what a history lesson. It is at the town office at the special request of the town manager.
And here is Russ Cox's creature - we put it at the library so the children could sit right in its mouth!
What a group of talented people, right?
I started this community art project as a goodbye gift to the people of Pittsfield after working there for 23 years as their reporter. The project is called "Get Comfortable In Pittsfield,'' which is just what I did and I hope people will use the chairs to also get comfy there! They were a gift to the town and in the fall, the council will hold a silent auction and the highest bidder for each chair gets to keep it - the proceeds will benefit the chair replacement fund at the community owned theater.

Aren't they spectacular....aren't I lucky to know or get to meet such creative, artistic and generous people??? This project turned out to be a real gift for me, to get to see the spirit of the town, the companies that sponsored the chairs and the artists that brought them to life.

One more day of rain....that's all I can stand.

This is my poor bird bath, getting pummeled by rain - big rain. Do you see the size of those drops???? And notice that the columbine has gone beserk with all the wetness and is trying to drown itself...Even a rock has thrown itself into the water in despair.

29 days of rain in June.
rain every day so far in July.
eye yi yi.

Everything here is so wet - the rugs are wet, the towels won't dry, what hasn't rotted in the garden is stunted from lack of sun and heat, the doors won't open and if you get them open, they won't close. There is mold in the shower - attacked daily but it grows back in minutes.
There was a murder of crows in my back yard this morning and they were brazenly walking and eating - a slug was every two inches, an entire yard for a buffet.
I washed a scatter rug and it took four days to dry on the clothesline and even then, I had to finish drying it over the back of a kitchen chair.
And if I hear one more joke about building an ark....

Last Saturday night a brilliant moon peeked out for six minutes. My friends that were visiting from P'field and I jumped in the car and drove 8 miles to the beach, hoping for a view of the sea by moonlight. By the time we got there, it was raining again and we had to settle for a peek by the light of Donna's mini-flashlight. (It amazes me how prepared for everything Donna is. Need a Band Aid? She pulls one out. How about hand sanitizer? Coming right up. A bologna sandwich or a refreshing beverage? No problem.)

Yesterday it was 52 degrees in Eastport and the wind was howling off the bay so hard that I thought it would blow the hairs off my head. I built a fire in my woodstove when I got home but nearly killed myself out getting some wood because my deck is so wet that it is now covered with a fine layer of mossy mold and has become a 24-foot Slip 'N Slide.

I have had it. I'm ready to do a sun dance naked on the top of Cadillac Mountain if it will only stop. And believe me, no one - including the sun - wants to see that. I think when the rain finally stops, thousands of Mainers are going to believe they have suddenly gone deaf...no drips on the metal air conditioner housing, no rumble through the gutter pipes, no hiss from the roadway traffic, no shhhhhhh from the leaves on the trees.

And then we will finally be able to hear it - it's coming closer, louder, nearly on top of us now:

The Drone of the Mosquitoes.

Finally I slept...

I have been having some sleep issues here in Paradise. Sweet Pea Cabin is dark and cozy at night, the window by my bed is always open and if it is not the sound of rain lulling me to sleep, it is the sound of the Machias River through the woods....sometimes I can hear night birds calling too.

So, it's not the setting and it is the setting. I think since the job is unchartered territory for me here, I'm being hypervigilant and I just can't shut it all off when I go to sleep. I think: did I call Calais today? Have I checked with the Machias cops? When is the next meeting...interview....call....story....

Yesterday, I awoke at 2:30 a.m. Wide awake. Of course it didn't help that the Coast Guard shouted out a bulletin about a disabled ship every 15 minutes.....I was so used to the sounds that my old scanner made that it never woke me unless it was important. My brain even filtered out the useless stuff and could kick in only when a dispatcher or cop's voice sounded a bit urgent. But here, it is all new: the voices, the sounds, the call numbers. And even though it is far less busy here, with lots of empty air time, that scanner is driving me cuckoo.

Washington County is the size of Delaware and Rhode Island put together. That is a lot of territory for one person.....I think I'm just going to have to accept that I can't do it all and just do the best I can. Knowing me, however, that is a lot easier said than done.

Last night, though, I really slept. I was sacked out by 10 and didn't wake until 6:30....a solid, hearty night of sleep. Thank goodness. Today the kids and baby leave for a little trip to Portland so I will really have a quiet night (no playing tag before bed, no splash fests at bath time, no more little feet coming to visit me in the office for the next five days) I'm also leaving on Friday - headed back to Pittsfield for a special project (pictures will follow soon!) and a much needed visit with friends. Dominoes, laughter and hugs all await!

Let's hope I can sleep in my son's guest room!

P.S. Yesterday I stopped in The Commons in Eastport (a don't miss for anyone traveling up there) and while I was looking around at the extraordinary art work for sale, I found two handmade bowls created by my dear friend Renata. It was like a hug from home - I could have cried. Sometimes those little touchstones in the midst of a lost day can really work...

What did I do when the interviewee lit up a cig and popped the top on a PBR?

I smiled.
I said, sure, it was okay. After all, it's your business.
And I took a shower as soon as I got home!
That was the bad part of the day.
But then I thought about where I was......see above and below. And I smiled for real this time.

I'm back! Did you miss me? Here's what I've been up to...

First - here is the anchor that I ran over in South Addison Harbor. Scraped up the fender. Tire okay. The entire anchor was 22 feet long - how did I miss that, anyway?????

Look! It's Janet, Marian and Donna at Quoddy Head Light - I had my first summer company this weekend. This intrepid trio came up late Saturday, we had a big dinner and a bit of a slumber party and then Sunday hit the road for Lubec. We did the lighthouse, visited some art galleries, watched children hold relay races carrying a 20 pound salmon (Could I make this stuff up?), walked on the beach and had a dinner out. We came back to Sweet Pea Cabin for blueberry pie and then they left......suddenly Sweet Pea is so very, very quiet!

This is the entrance to one of the beaches at Lubec - the Rugosa roses are all in bloom and the air is heavy with their scent.

Janet and Donna scanned the Lubec harbor for seals and eagles (or were they looking across the water for hot Canadian men???) while the remants of a dory and a lobster pot are trapped in the seaweed at low tide.

Yup - that's a dead old salmon in his arms. I told ya.

Good food, good laughter, good friends. Add a beach, a lighthouse, and the scent of wild roses.
It doesn't get much better, does it?

Unbloggable!!

Here are the bride, Cassie, and the groom, my nephew David. For their first dance they sang the love song from Moulin Rouge and she sang the girl's part to him and he sang the boy's part to her - as far as those two were concerned, there was no one else in the room. So romantic!! It was a fun, lovely wedding - lots of dancing, laughter and surprises. Cassie is a swim instructor at a huge YMCA in Connecticut, and Dave is a swimming and diving coach at Central Connecticut State College. They recently bought a home and have spent most of the winter and spring renovating and doing a spectacular job! They are just wonderful people!

For the past two days, Blogger wouldn't let me in to download these pics - sorry for the delay!

This is my daughter-in-law Amanda and my daughter Faye watching that incredible first dance at the wedding.
Isn't she just such a beautiful bride?

Things here are chaotic!! I relocated on Tuesday and have worked my arsky off every day since. Work had to come first so you can imagine the looks of the house - even though I'm working this weekend, it will be at a slower pace than the last three days so I should start putting things in order. My son-in-law is getting the washer/dryer/air conditioners out of my office today so I can start straightening there. This will be a much needed improvement! I don't know about you, but I need my work space neat and in place before I can work. If not, my thoughts are all jumbled!

I haven't had a chance to enjoy the coast because it has rained every day and today we are completely socked in by fog. Is this almost July??? I had to wear a jacket last night and this a.m. I have a sweatshirt on! I will say that all this dampness has my flowers positively exploding - for first year growth they are truly impressive! But inside the house, I can't open some doors and can't close others. The deck is so damp that moss has started to grow on it!

The other bad thing is that FAIRPOINT - the spawn of the devil - still can't find my house. I'm pirating the Internet from my son-in-law next door. I have no Internet, fax or land line for work. urg.... Let's hope next week brings the sun and the Fairpoint service man!

The good ( ?), the bad and the just plain ugly.....

My sons Russell and Daniel - now known as The Blue Brothers - think that my brother Christopher is the funniest person on earth. Apparently, from these expressions, he is. We had a great time at the wedding and I'm only sharing the worst pictures....The pretty ones will come tomorrow. No - there wasn't a two-for-one sale; Danny lives in Maine and Russ lives in New Jersey so the twin blue shirts was a pure coincidence.
This the Y of YMCA - too bad everyone forgot how to spell it after this.....
My daughter Faye was apparently suffering from a bit of gas...
And my little sister Robin, Mother of the Groom, was thoroughly disgusted that she forgot her breasts.
And here is the final bonus: My grandson James and the Amazing Tower Of Onion Rings. James - 0, Onion Rings - 1.

Today I leave my beloved Pittsfield.

Well, this is it...Today I leave for the family wedding in
Connecticut. At first I looked at this as if it were the worst of
timings - I finish today in Pittsfield (You should see my car -
I look like a homeless person who now lives in her
Chevrolet) and start work Tuesday in Machias. But now I am
hoping for a respite, four days to breathe. I'll get to hug
brothers and sisters, love my sons to bits and take my
grandsons to the movies.

It is also absolutely amazing that a mini-reunion has been
set up for Saturday in CT. During my pre and teenage years,
I was a member of the Windsor Locks Cavaliers, a color
guard extraordinaire!

We marched all summer with the drum and bugle corps, but
in the winter we competed on our own with dozens of other
color guard drill teams and we were good, really good - for
many years we were the reigning New England champions.

I started off at about 10 years old as a rifle. Was promoted
to flag (whipping them around took some strength!) and
eventually got my saber! I KNOW - you are quaking in your
boots at the thought of me whirling around a sword. You
should be, too.

Oh the stories from those days: mooning a car load of nuns
from the back of Joyce Asselin's father's station wagon;
learning to smoke from a very hot bugle player; stabbing
captain Terry O-Donnell just under her eye with my saber;
spinning that same saber but losing control until it flew
through a closed window on the second floor of the practice
hall and ended up spearing the lawn - just feet from the
sidewalk; being able to throw myself completely into an
activity that for just a while, enabled me to forget a
miserable home life. This was my teenage sanctuary.

Whenever I hear a song with a terrific beat (some of the
new hip hop stuff has actual snare drumming) I cannot help
but march around the house. I still remember the counts
from our last drill: 12 forward, turn right, eight
forward...and don't even get me started on the movie
"Drum Line."
Today this type of activity might be thought a bit nerdy. But back in the early 60s, we were the absolute coolest - walking the halls of the high school with our Cavaliers' jackets...we were hot!

Ten of us are meeting for lunch Saturday - can you imagine?
We have not seen each other in 40 years! I'll definitely be
posting pictures for you...

Between the wedding, the reunion and the move, posting
here may be sporadic for the next few days. Forgive me - I
will be having the time of my life crying and laughing all over the place!

Two new paintings are headed to their new homes.

The first is a pair - a journey from the owners' home (bottom left) in Pittsfield, to their camp on Unity pond. This one was lots of fun - the dancing trees and the oversized daisies give it plenty of movement and each of the buildings has special meaning for the owners. My patron is picking it up tomorrow - I hope she likes it too!
And then there is "Forget-Me-Not, Trudy,'' a gift of a bouquet of forget-me-nots for my BFF Trudy. I'll give it to her before I leave for my new home.....I KNOW she'll never forget me, silly, it's symbolic of course!

We had a "Not Going Away Party"

There was of course the most amazing food - plus veggies, meat on the grill and lots of good wine!
And the dearest friends anyone could have....
We gathered all evening, it wasn't maudlin. I made no speeches. No one cried - we would hug and say, not goodbye, but see you soon.
We ate and drank and had a delightful carrot cake baked by Karen (how fabulous!) I was given a Home Depot gift certificate to continue remodeling Sweet Pea Cabin. Midway through the evening I felt a hand on my shoulder and there stood Dustin! My BFF Trudy's son who has been in France this semester! What a surprise and a beautiful sight!
Nearly the last to leave was Trudy and we didn't want to let go of each other but we managed to keep it all together.
Four more days and then a family wedding and then I'm in Machias. This is getting kind of scary.

Thanks for all your kind words...Miss Emma is well.

Just like someone flipped a switch, all symptoms are gone. She's still a bit tired but recovery is here! When I got back to Pittsfield yesterday, I built a big fire in the fireplace and she curled up on her pillow and cooked herself well. Snored like a jet plane. Farted to beat the band. But didn't choke, didn't reverse sneeze and didn't chew her little feet. WAHOO! Crisis passed.

Thanks to all the kind words about my vet experience...I've decided to make an appointment with the vet once I'm settled in Machias, update her on Miss Emma's allergies and reactions, and tell her what happened when I sought treatment last week at HER clinic. I want a GUARANTEE from her that if I come running in with a dog in distress, that dog WILL be treated. I won't settle for anything less.

I really didn't need that mess on top of everything else. I'm like a split personality right now:
I have one foot in Machias and the other in Pittsfield - trying to think in two places. My brain is scrambled eggs and I feel like I'm not accomplishing much in either place. 12 more days and I'm permanently in Machias. I hope things settle down then. But of course you know the rub: that's just 12 more days of saying goodbye down here. Actually only 7, because I head out of state for a wedding before I make the final step to Machias. How about this for a schedule: next Thursday - I work in Pittsfield; Friday through Sunday - I visit family in Connecticut; Monday - I come back to Pittsfield; Tuesday - I leave for the last time for Machias. Who's on first? Who's on second? Where did I pack my underwear?

Meanwhile, the best thing that happened today was meeting my friend Hazel for lunch and having a great dish of shepherd's pie. I loves me some shepherd's pie. And I loves me Hazel too.

Hazel and I have made a swap: she's going to watch Emma while I go to my nephew's wedding, and in return I will stay at her house and watch her dogs and her horses when she and Mike want to get away. Isn't that a great deal? Maybe I'll make her a shepherd's pie and leave it in her refrig as a little surprise!

I am shocked at the treatment we didn't receive...

Miss Emma has been in the throes of an allergy attack for two days. I have been dosing her with children's Benadryl (per my vet's advice) but yesterday afternoon I felt this choking and breathing problem had gone on long enough.

I had my daughter call HER vet - since I'm up here in Machias and 2 1/2 hours away from my beloved vet - and she explained the situation and the breathing problems and how Emma should get a steroid shot asap. The vet's asst. said she needed to see the dog right away.

We drove lickety split to the vet and were told WE HAD NO APPOINTMENT!!!!
We said it was an emergency.
We said there was difficulty breathing.
We said the dog was clearly in distress.

Sorry, the vet tech said - with a smirk, I might add - you don't have an appointment.
Drive to Brewer, we were advised, which has an emergency clinic, because this vet had no time for non-appointees.
Brewer, by the way, is about two hours away.

If the dog had been hit by a car, would the treatment have been the same?
If she had STOPPED breathing, would the treatment have been the same?

To put your mind to ease, we dosed her with a higher level of benadryl and she seems to be breathing much better. (Since there is no other vet up here our options were limited. I will be home in Pittsfield tomorrow and take her to MY vet for a shot.)

You can see that since I am moving here, and this is the only vet for hours, I am beyond thrilled at this lack of care......what to do. what to do. I think I will be dropping the vet a note, explain what happened and ask if this is the kind of treatment I can expect for Miss Emma if I choose her as my vet....and I will still be exploring other options.

My heart is heavy today.

Sea Cup - Lili's amazing entry in the Bra Project

This certainly speaks for itself - inspired, inspiring and just plain gorgeous! This is Fearless Nesting's entry in the Bra Project. She titled it Sea Cup and added this little script:

Adrift and lost, amidst sea creatures and Mermaid tears,
I return,
washing up on shore at your feet.
You are the one that can help save me.
You are my cure.

Everything she used was found on the beach of her seaside home in Maine. Just superb.

Of carnivals and shadows and Lili by the sea -

The Amazing Kiley rode on a mini-train today at a small carnival in Machias with her friend Faye-bulous, and then got to go in the bouncy house and down a big puffy slide. But it was nothing compared to the joy she found when she discovered her shadow....At first she was a bit concerned that it kept following her, but she quickly decided she had found a new friend. She ran all over that parking lot, clapping her hands and squealing! Look at those turquoise socks....what a sense of style that girl has!

Yesterday, on the way to Machias, I stopped at Fearless Nester's (a faithful reader of my blog whom I had NEVER met before - please go visit her blog and see her amazing Raku pottery) to pick up her bra for the breast cancer auction. I'll post a picture tomorrow - you are going to be amazed and awed!
This sweet new FRIEND baked a banana cream pie (oh my goddess it was spectacular) and we toured her beautiful home and gardens by the sea. We talked and laughed and the visit was much too short so we are going to have to do it again really soon! It was so great to meet you Lili - and thanks a million for the tip on the antique shop in Dexter!

I spent much of today gardening (I planted a bleeding heart given to me by my dear friend Sue - "every liberal needs one,'' she said) and put a whole bunch of lobster compost and cow manure around the gardens. All that rain last week has everything looking so lush - there are 42 blooms on my begonia - all peachy and beautiful. I was going to say there were 27 blooms but I thought maybe I was exaggerating (who me?) and so I just got up and went outside and counted them. 42...so so pretty.
I also spent a bunch of time getting my office in order. It is all set - just waiting now for Fairpoint to get off their .....es and hook up my phones and Internet. Luckily I can pirate a wireless signal for a while from my daughter's house next door....

My desk(another gift from the Stunning Sue) is right in front of two large windows that look out into the woods. There is a small section of lawn right under the window and I plan on making this a bird station with bird houses, bird feeders, bird baths, bird carnivals....whatever will attract them and make them happy. Wait! Wait! How about a bird spa for the ladies and a bird dude ranch for the gentlemen...or space camp. I could even create a mini-McDonalds, complete with a fly-through window for their Egg McMuffin in the morning. (OH MY GODDESS!!! EGG McMuffin??? What was I thinking?)

Any ideas for bird feeders or feeding suggestions will be much appreciated!! Right now I have just one feeder, in the back yard, and although the chickadees came last fall, the only thing I seem to consistently attract is crows!

I never could keep those boys from climbing on things.

It's my beautiful Eric - standing proudly atop one of his helicopters in Afghanistan. I mean, really, couldn't he have just stood by the door or posed in front of the nose or even peeked out from underneath?
Considering all the crazy stunts he pulled in the past (canoeing the Allagash in APRIL???? at just 17??!) I'm surprised he didn't tether himself to one of the propellers and go for a spin.

Ooops. I may have just given him a new idea.
Prayers and love, my sweet Eric. Stay safe and Christmas cannot come fast enough!

The move is official!

I will be leaving The Mansion and heading Downeast to my Sweet Pea Cabin before the end of the month!

I am replacing the Calais, Maine, reporter, who is retiring, and starting a Washington County Bureau in Machias - all for the same paper that I have worked for these past 23 years - the Bangor Daily News.

I'll be working right from my home...just think, if a winter storm rumbles in, I can report the news in my pajamas. Miss Emma can sleep at my feet as I work and the Amazing Kiley can toddle over for a pb&j! And before I have to write about mischief and mayhem, I can take a pit stop on the beach and sit for a while.......heaven....

We are moving the office itself this Friday and I will be up there getting acquainted with officials and meeting with my new editor on Tuesday. Then I head back to Pittsfield, work for the next two weeks, cry my way through a good-bye party (which my friends are calling the "I'm not saying goodbye" party, and go to Connecticut for my nephew (the superior swimming/diving coach) and his beloved Cassie's wedding.

My last day of work in Pittsfield will be the 18th and by the 23rd, I'll be writing from Machias. I'll be a bit schizophrenic for a while since I will be covering some things in Pittsfield via phone and email until they replace me.

I am so excited: how challenging is this to explore new territory, meet so many new people and gather such new stories. All with my family next door!! It will be invigorating and I'm sure it will shake me out of my comfort zone...Sweet Pea Cabin here I come!

The downside is saying goodbye: the fire department in Pittsfield recently invited me to their annual supper and gave me a plaque and a standing ovation for chasing them around for more than 20 years. I told them it was my HONOR and they are my HEROES, and I meant it. The work goodbyes are hard - these are some of the finest people to work with. They have opened their homes, their offices and their hearts to me. So I'm saying goodbye to them:

"For the past 23 years, I have served as your local reporter
for the Bangor Daily News. As I prepare to relocate to
Machias and new writing and life adventures there, I want to
thank the thousands of people that I encountered while
here.

To the troopers, police officers, deputies, firefighters, EMTs
and rescue personnel: my admiration for the heroic work
you do knows know bounds. For the many times you let me
tromp through fire scenes, get too close at accidents and
provided me with critical information, I thank you.

To the town managers, council and select persons, state
legislators and town clerks: I could not have done my job
well without your cooperation and assistance. For the
unselfish dedication you have shown while serving your
fellow citizens, I thank you.

To the farmers and others in Maine's agriculture community
who have let me wander through your barns, welcomed me
into your kitchens and walked me through your fields, I
thank you. You are the heart and soul of Maine and your
work often goes unnoticed and unrewarded.

To all the artisans, craftspeople, business leaders, and just
plain people next door, I am so grateful that you let me into
your lives and allowed me to share your joys, your sorrows,
your successes and your work. It has been my pleasure to
tell your stories.

To all of you that called with information, tips and story
ideas, you were my backbone and I thank you.

It has been my great honor to have written the history of
Central Maine for the past two decades and tell the
remarkable stories of the people who live and pass through
here. I hope I have treated you fairly and have adequately
represented the amazing people that live here. There will
always been a large part of my heart running up and down
the back roads of Pittsfield, Detroit, Burnham, Skowhegan,
Newport, St. Albans, Hartland, Canaan, Corinna, Plymouth
and Palmyra - and beyond. I will sincerely miss working side
by side with many of you.''

But the goodbyes to all my friends - my dear ones - I cannot put that into words.

Just tears. Lots of tears.

Remember the bra project?

Well, here is the first submission!!!! It's called Twin Peaks and has little clay lemmings on the front, straps and inside. Sorry, the flash washed out the rich colors...

Hazel Mitchell, a book illustrator and a dear friend, created it! She sewed wire in the bra and along its edges to keep its shape and then applied four layers of Plaster of Paris. She sanded it, created the little lemmings and then painted it. She wrote an inspirational little note that is attached.

For those of you who don't know, 42 women are creating bra art projects for an auction to benefit breast cancer. They are being made of glass, steel, beads, quilted, floral, etc., etc. We have a retired fashion photographer who has volunteered to photograph them and we will soon have a website.

The auction is not until the first week in August - but we need plenty of time for publicity. I really am excited about this project and I have to admit, it was pretty emotional to see the first bra. This is real - dozens of wonderful creations are under way!! When I first started the project and put out a call for entries, I was hoping for about 20. I figured at $20 each, we could send in about $400.....Now, my goal is way higher. Some of the bras should be exhibited in galleries - they are that special. Every one of them represents the sincere efforts of someone that cares. We have 42 entries coming from Connecticut, Florida, Maine...I am amazed.

I can't wait to see everyone else's efforts to save the ta tas! I'll keep you posted with pictures as they continue to arrive!

And speaking of toenails...

I like mine blue. I have been painting them sort of a shimmery, light blue for about two years now. I just like it. It makes me smile.
Red makes my toes look like they are bleeding and pink is just so wrong. I've tried green but that makes the little piggies look like they are growing some sort of fungus....

Let me defend toenail polish.
I don't wear makeup. My hair is so short it is hardly hair, really just a fuzz now. I don't paint my fingernails or even get a manicure. Sometimes I go MONTHS without shaving my legs and my lip gloss is used only to stave off chapping. I wait so long between eyebrow shaping that I often can't even find my tweezers.

But, I really like my toenails painted. It's the one girlie concession I make. I feel good with my piggie toes all shiny and new. Even if the little toe has now completely disappeared under its neighbor. Ahhhh, age.

So, I like the blue. Problem is, some people feel the need to comment on my color choice in a professional setting. You know: open toed sandals, board of selectmen, "OhMyGod, Your toenails are blue!"

Like did they think they weren't when I hopped in the shower and, sort of like mood rings, changed color after I dried off on the towel?

Today, however, it was all made right. A little old lady, a really OLD grammie, like about 85 or 86, put her little crepe-y hand on my arm in the grocery store and whispered "I just love your toenails dear.''

There you go, you stuffy little town clerk. Blue it is.

If you like real life, REAL life, this book is for you...

Little Bee was hard to read at times. The gruesome truth of Nigerian oil wars and the status of refugees; the impact on those around them; a woman's choices that destroy her family and nearly herself...and a hard-hitting ending.

Okay, I've warned you. But the language. Oh my word, the language. It is a beautifully written book and I highly recommend it for those of you who like REALISTIC reading and not fairy-tale happy endings.

I am so engrossed in this book!

"Little Bee" by Chris Cleave - unbelievable. I cannot put it down. It is an extraordinarily beautifully written ( I just love good words!) story of choices, everyday choices and extreme choices, and how they affect our lives. Gotta keep going - I'll tell you about it tomorrow.

By popular demand = PANTS WINE!

picture this....I forgot to give it to you yesterday...

This is a blueberry barren - millions of low (8-10 inch) bushes, topped with blossoms being furiously worked by a gazillion honeybees....Click on the picture and you can actually see some of the bees in the air. Some of the blossoms are white, while others are pink or creme - it depends on the variety of the bush.
Wait until August when I'll take the same picture but everything will be blue as the bushes will be laden with berries. Then I'll take another for you after the frost has hit and turned the fields scarlet. These are wild blueberry bushes (although they are managed by farmers who de-rock the fields so the bushes can spread, control weeds and bring in the commercial bee hives) and Maine - mostly in Washington and Hancock Counties - produces more than anywhere else in the world. There are so many that native bees cannot keep up and commercial hives are trucked in from Pennsylvania. Just before they came to Maine, the honeybees were down south in the citrus groves and apple orchards. When they leave here, they head to New York to pollinate pumpkins.

If you eat a 1/2 cup of blueberries a day, they can help stave off cancer, high blood pressure, heart disease and high cholesterol. Those Native Americans really knew their stuff, didn't they? I prefer to take inoculations of blueberry wine, sweet and cold; or blueberry jam on hot biscuits; blueberry muffins, pancakes, crepes, pies......yummmmy any way you fix 'em. If you don't know the difference, wild blueberries are small berries, packed with flavor and goodness. Commercial, high bush berries are much bigger and plumper but lack the intense flavor.

Some fields are harvested with mechanical processors but most are harvested by hand. Workers, bent in half, use a big scoop with long metal tines. They pass the scoop through the bushes and the berries are pulled off. It is hard, hot work.

And since many of the fields are remote and not near any kind of development, theft is a major problem. People sneak in under the cover of darkness and steal TONS of berries, selling them on the sides of the road as their own. Me, I'd be afraid of those bears that roam the fields (you can't see it, but there is an electric fence around that stack of bee hives in the picture.) I learned this week that the bears aren't after the honey - they actually want the bee larvae. Stupid bears. BTW - we only have black bears in Maine. No grizzlies. Grizzlies skip the bee larvae and go right for the humans.

There. Now you know all about blueberries. And stupid bears.

What a weekend: Pants Wine, fires, candidates, horses and potato salad!

It was a great Memorial Day weekend - weather cooperated, a great cookout was held and I invented "PANTS WINE.'' Pants wine is what happens when you have a HUGE potato salad in your left hand and a HOT broccoli/cheese casserole in your right hand and you NEED to carry the very large bottle of wine. Stick it in the back of your pants! From this day forward, we will be having Pants Wine at all affairs....

The weekend began when I hit the blueberry barrens to do a story about commercial bee hives - there are millions of them arriving in Maine this month to pollinate the blueberry bushes. It was fabulous and beautiful : 8,000 acres of low bushes blooming with white, pink and cream flowers. There were so many bees working that the bushes actually hummed!

I had just sat down at my kitchen table in Machias to write the bee story when my daughter called that smoke was pouring out of the building across the street from her deli! Off to the fire - I have not had a chance to see the Machias firefighters at work and I am impressed...the contained the fire to minimal damage and remained incredibly focused, even when one of their own men collapsed. The next day, I attended a forum for seven selectmen's candidates...it was a great opportunity to see what people felt the issues were.

The rest of the weekend was spent planting flowers, playing with the glorious Kiley (who is trying to say Queenie and it is coming out knee-knee-knee), eating, painting and spending time with my daughter and her husband. It was restful, relaxing and very much needed. Especially the Pants Wine.

P.S. I discovered an incredibly easy but delicious casserole:
1. cook up a couple of heads of broccoli (cauliflower and/or carrots would also work)
2. put them in a casserole dish
3. make a sauce by blending a softened package of cream cheese, about 1/2 cup of milk and a package of the ranch salad dressing mix (the powder stuff) - blend well. Add more milk as needed to make a smooth, thick sauce.
4. pour it over the broccoli and liberally sprinkle shredded cheddar on top
5. bake at 350 degrees for about 25 minutes

EVERYONE, including Kiley, raved about this at the cookout. If you try it, please let me know if you liked it.

Oh, I almost forgot - it is best served with Pants Wine.

Well after yesterday's mystery post, anything will be an improvement!

I could not post. Blogger just wouldn't let me.
The result was a bit like constipation - my words got all backed up and today I can't get rid of them fast enough!

Yesterday was never-ending: Two fires; a truck pulled down a telephone pole causing a chain reaction that dropped two more; there was no quorum at a town council meeting; but one of the councilors walked with me to a nearby ice cream stand and bought me sherbet. Nice. Lemon. Not the councilor, he's a giant sized state trooper and father of two sweet girls. The sherbet was lemon. The councilor is also nice, but he's definitely not lemon. I'd have to call him rocky road with nuts.

Today I spent a ton of time packing - I'm headed up to the house in Machias for the long weekend and am taking all non-essentials from The Mansion. This includes dishes, plants, artwork and painting gear, warm clothing, the big t.v., a bench, and I don't know what all else. I do know there is no room left in the car. Only one spot for the dog.
I've left myself two plates, two coffee cups, one glass, three forks, a knife and a spoon. A saucepan and a frying pan.
And two half empty bottles of wine. That should do me nicely for the next few weeks.

The Mansion is getting very empty and echo-y and there is a tremendous excitement building in me for my move. At the same time, there is a ribbon of sadness running through me and pulling me down and making me cry over stupid stuff, like this morning's news. Did you see the story about the lady that rescues all the dogs? Had me on the floor.
This is such an emotional roller coaster. How will I say goodbye to my friends, my son that lives nearby, the places and people I know so well.
Once I'm settled in the Sweet Pea Cabin, who will meet me for breakfast on Tuesday mornings?
How will I replace Holly at the library, who knows what I want to read even when I don't?
How will the new restaurant know when I walk through the door that I want a chicken Ceasar salad with no bread and a bottle of peach iced tea?
How will a new hairdresser know that I have two cowlicks and my hair grows sideways in the back?
No one will call me by name in the stores. No one will wave at me when I'm walking down the street. No one will call me up for an impromptu game of Saturday night dominoes.
I can see that I have to build a new circle, new friends, and I know that will take time, but the gratitude I have for these ones here in the Pittsfield area will not wane - I can see I'll be coming back VERY VERY often! It has taken decades to develop these friendships - that really doesn't even seem like the right word. I LOVE these people. This is not a house of sand - these relationships have a solid foundation and I hope they all know just how often I'll be taking advantage of all their offers to sleep in spare rooms.

Tonight, however, the firefighters have invited me to their annual dinner - this is getting so hard. Now I have to say goodbye to all my local heroes! Let's hope the 11 o'clock news tonight doesn't focus on children, puppies or grandmas. I'll be a real goner.

I have no snakes...but I do have 42 bras!

SOOOO sorry to disappoint all you reptile fanciers but there were no reptiles this weekend. I ended up at a town meeting instead. I know! How disappointing is that!

Anyway, I am very excited because one of my favorite high school students is giving a presentation at school tonight. He is so gifted! He read "Their Eyes Were Looking At God" and then composed a piece of music to tell the story! It's Jin, of the apple pie at Thanksgiving success.

I am some excited this week about a face-to-face meeting with "Fearless Nester,'' a fellow blogger and artist here in Maine, who has created one of the bras for the art bra project. I'm going to meet her Thursday and pick up her bra! I saw a picture of it in mid-creation: shells, seaglass, etc., hanging from a beautiful piece of driftwood.

If you don't remember the bra project, we have 42 women decorating and creating bras for an auction to benefit breast cancer research. Some are glass, some are welded steel; there are beaded bras, quilted bras, even a cartoon strip bra! Some of the decorated bras belong to breast cancer survivors even. It will be amazing. Right out of the blue, a retired fashion photographer volunteered to photograph them and the hubby of one of the bra artists is creating a website. As soon as we confirm the address, I'll post it here and you can check out some of the wonders (and possibly make a silent bid?) for yourself!

Off to school now, to hear the beautiful music. Wearing my bra, of course. Where else would I hide my cell phone and keys?

Snakes and such...

I'm working all weekend and it starts today with a reptile event. Should be interesting, she says in a sort of shaky voice while backing away....
Then I go to an annual 10-mile yard sale and a town meeting. A very full day.

We had a party at The Mansion last night, probably the last one I'll have here before the big move.
Food was superb, as usual - everyone always brings their best. We had jambalaya, dips, enchiladas, salads, including one with fresh local greens and another with tortellini, and three different kinds of brownies. By the looks of the pile of empty wine bottles, it was a great success! Trudy narrated a slide show of her trip to Europe - it was fabulous. She's a great photographer and her shots were not only wonderful, but oh so interesting. Including shots of what she ate! The food was amazing and its a good thing she walked miles and miles each day!

I invited a new couple - they moved here from Pennsylvania. He is an artist and began talking about starting a local Art Club. Two of my other guests are also artists so something exciting is brewing. It was interesting to watch all my OLD friends with NEW people - they were so welcoming. They each took turns getting acquainted with the new folks, chatting them up and finding out common interests.

I am thinking of this as my goodbye party, although BFF Trudy says they will have an official goodbye party in two weeks, because it was not maudlin or sad. It was a fun, laughing, silly, celebration of having my friends together in my home. Surrounded by good wine, great food and the best friends I could ever have asked for and love so much - what could be better?

Well, it could be better if those snakes I have to interview today are all asleep and are not interested in me at all...

I was bitten by a tick

and really, this is scary. Apparently the little bastard climbed up my sleeve while I was raking leaves and dug in just behind my armpit. I never felt it there, even in the shower. But I did feel the result: a saucer sized, raised welt that really, really hurt. It was absolutely disgusting to think he was there and I didn't know.

My best friend, Dr. Kathy, prescribed me antibiotics and the swelling and pain in the bite area is WAAAAAY better but the drugs make me feel like I fell off the house. Achy. Grumpy. Nightmares. And I went asleep in my chair yesterday afternoon in the middle of the day.

So today I head out to a horse farm - I'm doing a story on the impact of the horse industry to Maine's economy. What do you want to bet there will be more ticks there?

I'm going over myself with a magnifying glass when I return.

By the way, does anyone know if I can drink alcohol while on antibiotics? I definitely think that would help.

temporary beauty, long-lasting destruction

The tiny little snowflake seeds of this dandelion are so tricky. Tricky, tricky, tricky.
Get close, really close, and their beauty is staggering. Thin filaments with little rotors on top to propel the heavy seed on the bottom to its new home. And the dandelion flower that preceded it - wasn't that the first one you ever picked for your mother? And the first flower ever presented to you by your child?

Well, GET OVER IT! The lawn here is COVERED with dandelions and I feel so bad for the homeowners. They put mulch on a flower bed in the front of the yard two years ago and the ENTIRE thing is covered - it's a carpet, I tell ya. A feast for the bumblebees. You can't even find the tiny purple violas in there!

And it will be doubled or tripled for next year. Every one of those creamy yellow blooms contains about a million seeds.
Beware - there is deceit in those beauties...

Sweet Pea Cabin - or home sweet home..

Here is my front door: an old pew, some pots still awaiting spring annuals, a rusty witch hanging from the eave and the "sweet peas" sign. Last year I put moss in a blender with beer and poured it in all the cracks around the paving stones. I think it is working - little mosses seem to be appearing this spring. You can see the pile of pine cones and needles in the background. I rake them up and save them in buckets to start the woodstove - they work amazingly well!
This is my living room. And no, that is not dog pee on the rug. I had to wash up some spilled soda. When I peeled up all the floor tiles I found an oak floor - why do people do that? - and so I'm having it refinished this summer. The drum is from the University of Maine marching band and there are four of those long windows - two on each side. The side walls are chocolate and the end walls, where the brick is, are copper. I want a larger carpet (this one has big loops and Miss Emma keeps catching her toenails in it - ouch!) Any color suggestions?
This is one corner of the living room - you can really see the chocolate and copper walls here - and some chairs I picked up at a flea market for my grandchildren. The cupboard is painted with goddesses and was inspired by the winter solstice. The drapes look white but they are really a dark tan see-through. And isn't the lampshade attractive all tipped over like that? Tsk.
Here's my shotgun kitchen. Would you believe this was all dark brown paneling? I painted it three shades of green, tiled the backsplash and will replace the sink and floor this summer. I'm also hoping to get a new window for by the kitchen table. I'm also on the hunt for a retro red and chrome 1950s kitchen set - I think it will fit perfectly and I can't wait to replace this mismatched set.
MY STUDIO!! This was my former kitchen table but it is much too big for this house so it has been pressed into duty in the studio. This room is on the front of the house, overlooking a wooded area, with light on three sides. Great for painting, tiling, any craft project. This room sold me on the house - my own studio!
And here is half of my bedroom. OH DEAR LORD look at those tiles! Couldn't you kill yourself? They are coming off this summer and I'm painting the floor white with wide light blue stripes. Eventually I want a wood floor but it is not in the budget this year. I made the whimsical goddess that hangs over my bed and the pillows are cut from old chenille bedspreads. The rugs are also chenille. The other side of the room is sort of a sitting room, reading space. I love all the ocean colors and I'm hoping to make some plain white valances for the windows.

So there you have my house in Machias - where I have been trying to move to for a year and a half. The good news? It looks like the move will only be about a month away!! YAY WHOOPEE AMAZING FINALLY STUPENDOUS FANTASTIC THANK GODDESS WHEW and did I say YAY?

Oh, and why Sweet Pea Cabin? My grandmother always called me sweet pea and I've taken to saying that to Kiley, who lives across the driveway. I found the sign in an antique shop in Cherryfield and it was perfect - a place for sweet peas to gather, love and thrive.

Creme brulee French toast with fresh berries: do I have your attention?

That was the fabulous Mother's Day breakfast my son-in-law made for my daughter and I. I got to travel to Machias and visit my little house! I was able to hang these bathing beauties I made in glass class in the kitchen window. See the grass? It is already turning green!
Today I had to go to a funeral so I'm cutting this short....HAPPY Mother's DAY to all of you mom's out there! Tommorrow I'll post some pictures of my house - Sweat Peas Cabin. You will love it!

Rain is green and so solitary.

It is raining as I drive through the woods of Maine this morning, headed west, and the greenery is exploding.
Trees are popping their leaves before my eyes, a kaleidoscope of colors: yellow, red, every shade of green. I know how the deer, the cows feel: this green is so tempting I want to eat it, to rip the little budding leaves from the branches and swallow them.
The water has made the tall evergreens so dark that with their limbs tucked so close, they seem to be tightly hiding secrets in close to their trunks. I can't see, but rather sense, the little birds weaving and weaving a safe little home of twigs and string and other bits of refuse for their lovely blue eggs.
Flowers, freshly bloomed, bow their heads under the weight of the rain, genuflecting to Mother Nature in awe of the spectacle she has wrought.
Fog lingers along the edges of the fields, slowly retreating into the forests, and there, right there in the water-filled ditches, the wood ferns are unfurling their stiff stalks.

The car windows are wet and it mutes and wobbles the view. I stop at an intersection and the neighborhood and its little houses become a Monet.

The truck ahead of me tosses up the water from the roadway in little misty clouds while my wipers beat a steady rythmn: wap, wap, wap, wap.

I am thinking how lonely rain can be. It puts me in a solitary state of mind. Reflection is almost a requirement.
I must drive slower, slower still, so as not to miss a single color, a single tree or flower that is awakening for me. Everything is clean, fresh. Renewal. Rebirth. A chance to start again, perhaps to get it right or do it better this time.

And so I drive on, accompanied by the hard splat of rain on the windows and Vivaldi on the radio.
I am lost in the rain,
lost in my thoughts,
lost in spring.

This is a great day. A great, great day.

This is so important that I'm offering up the formal press release.

I could not be more proud of Maine - the fifth state to legalize gay marriage. As a dear friend of mine said "We make California look like Texas.'' Amen.

AUGUSTA – Governor John E. Baldacci today signed into law LD 1020, An Act to End Discrimination in Civil Marriage and Affirm Religious Freedom.

“I have followed closely the debate on this issue. I have listened to both sides, as they have presented their arguments during the public hearing and on the floor of the Maine Senate and the House of Representatives. I have read many of the notes and letters sent to my office, and I have weighed my decision carefully,” Governor Baldacci said. “I did not come to this decision lightly or in haste.”

“I appreciate the tone brought to this debate by both sides of the issue,” Governor Baldacci said. “This is an emotional issue that touches deeply many of our most important ideals and traditions. There are good, earnest and honest people on both sides of the question.”

“In the past, I opposed gay marriage while supporting the idea of civil unions,” Governor Baldacci said. “I have come to believe that this is a question of fairness and of equal protection under the law, and that a civil union is not equal to civil marriage.”

“Article I in the Maine Constitution states that ‘no person shall be deprived of life, liberty or property without due process of law, nor be denied the equal protection of the laws, nor be denied the enjoyment of that person’s civil rights or be discriminated against.’”

“This new law does not force any religion to recognize a marriage that falls outside of its beliefs. It does not require the church to perform any ceremony with which it disagrees. Instead, it reaffirms the separation of Church and State,” Governor Baldacci said.

“It guarantees that Maine citizens will be treated equally under Maine’s civil marriage laws, and that is the responsibility of government.”

“Even as I sign this important legislation into law, I recognize that this may not be the final word,” Governor Baldacci said. “Just as the Maine Constitution demands that all people are treated equally under the law, it also guarantees that the ultimate political power in the State belongs to the people.”

“While the good and just people of Maine may determine this issue, my responsibility is to uphold the Constitution and do, as best as possible, what is right. I believe that signing this legislation is the right thing to do,” Governor Baldacci said.

Yes, John, it is the right thing to do. And the right thing is not always easy. Thank you for hearing the thousands of people in this state that wanted the right thing to finally be done.

100 Free Pizzas!!

My daughter Faye owns The Fat Cat Deli in Machias. Tonight, from four to closing, she's giving away100 free pizzas to thank her customers for sticking with her this winter in a tough economy.
The sauce it will be flying!

Can you imagine if Toyota decided to say thanks with 100 cars?
Or Sears with 100 washing machines and dryers?
How about the local grocery store, it could give away 100 meals, from soup to nuts...
Or businesses could give away 100 fishing poles to children, or 100 pairs of sneakers to teens or sit down for 100 hours worth of card games at a local senior citizen center...
How about 100 cleanings at a local pet shelter?

What could you be challenged to do 100 times?
Or maybe it is what you could be challenged NOT to do...

How about walking to the store or the library 100 times rather than drive the car?
Or how about picking up debris or litter, 100 pieces worth?
You could read 100 stories at a nearby day care center.
You could make 100 thank you cards and send them to everyone who has touched your life.
How about 100 kisses for a special someone?

Let me know what you think about this 100 gratitude expressions idea....

Me? I'm going to make sure I say ''thank you" 100 times over the next two weeks to special people....the first one was Amanda, my daughter in law, who called this afternoon to tell me she and my son Danny were having a boy!

Here is my second: thank you faithful readers for giving me a place to ramble, think and brag...THANKS!

I was totally poopified last night and went to bed as soon as Movie Night was over.

We watched Bride Wars which was cute and made us laugh a couple of times, which was the point since we have been sobbing over the past three movies.
So everyone grabbed their eggs (not THOSE eggs, silly... I sell organic eggs at Movie Night for my ex-husband, the farmer). I went to bed with Miss Emma curled comfortably behind my knees.
About 3 a.m. I awoke to a NOISE, a tiny little noise that sounded very much like chewing.
"What is that?" I quietly asked Miss Emma.
Snore, snore, snore, she replied.
"Does it sound like a mouse in the kitchen?" I asked.
Snore.
"I left a bowl of peanuts on the counter," I whispered.
A grunt, a sigh, another snore.
"I think there is a mouse eating my peanuts,'' I breathed in her ear.
More snoring.
So without my 12-pound watchdog to assist me, I took matters into my own hands.
I grabbed the tennis racket by my bed which I know you all have too, strategically placed there to whack the dreaded bats that I hate and fear and appear each spring to torture me.
I began creeping out of my bedroom with the racket ready to whack.
I creeped through the foyer.
I creeped down the hallway.
I peeked around the corner into the kitchen while simultaneously turning on the lights.
"I'm blinded,'' I shouted, which would have scared any sneaky mouse to death, but

No mouse.

What I heard was the sound of the rain dripping off the eaves. You know, it was almost a let down after all that careful creeping.
Seems as though the snoring Miss Emma figured it out looooooong before I did.
Next time I'll pay attention to those little snores.

Jasper Beach and Russell hugs...aaaaahhhhhhhh

Sunday was spectacular and some of my family (Matt and Kiley, Faye, Taryn and Russell) headed to Jasper Beach - miles of coastline that consists of finely worn rocks, all tumbled and tumbled until they are smooth as silk. Everyone that goes comes back with their pockets filled with beautiful stones.
Kiley and daddy got to feel just how cold the water can be in Maine!
And we all got to see how beautiful it can be....
Russell found a driftwood saxophone and played us a tune...
And Kiley spent a happy hour picking up stones and putting them in daddy's hand.

We also had a rock throwing contest targeted at a driftwood log but SOME of the kids got carried away and began throwing them at me while I was taking pictures. The one that hit me in the head was small and Russell said he was very sorry...

Sunday ended with a wonderful meal - meat on the grill, roasted onions, white and sweet potatoes, a big salad. We drove on down to The Shake Pit but I was so full I couldn't even fit a baby cone. Taryn got a "black and white" which we learned is vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce (or the reverse) and it took her three times to explain to the teenage clerk what she wanted. I guess the Downeaster didn't speak Jersey.

We collapsed on the sofas and in the morning, Russ and Taryn left for the horrifically long drive back to Bayonne. I will never, ever let this much time go by without seeing them (six months!) and I'm already checking plane fares for mid-May.

A highlight of the weekend was early Saturday morning, when Russ woke up and came into the kitchen and wrapped me in one of his big bear hugs. "I don't get to do this often enough,'' he said.

So to all you mothers out there that are being kept up all night by crying babies, or are wallowing in the terrible twos, or struggling through the horrid teenage years, I promise you there will come a Saturday morning when you will get your special hug.
I promise.
And it will be so incredibly, overwhelmingly worth it.

The luau was fantabulous!

Here's the birthday girl with her frosting face, celebrating the great age of ONE!
Could there have been any more presents?!?!?
These were the fun flamingo and palm tree cupcakes that were the birthday cake - just the right size for a baby's hand! Lots of fun, good friends, my wonderful sons and their wives/partners, amazing, amazing, amazing! No time today to write, though - will fill you in tomorrow!

Of vists - unexpected and excitedly awaited...

Here's Buddy, one of the many squirrels in my yard. He's robbing the bird feeder. We call all the squirrels Buddy in honor of one that used to visit our window. Miss Emma and Buddy had quite a love affair going on - nose to nose through the glass - crying for each other. We identified Buddy because he had a unique ringed tail. Circles of white hairs shone clearly on the grey.

One day Buddy stopped coming and we told Emma that he had moved to a farm in the country....she was never the wiser. But she was heartbroken. She pays absolutely no attention to any squirrel at the feeders now. Not even a look. She won't even pick up her head. Love scorned has turned her into a bitter, bitter bitch.

Tonight, around midnight, my youngest son Russell and his sweetie Taryn will arrive!!! WAHOOO!!! They live in New Jersey and I haven't seen them since last November!!! I was so excited that I went to bed at 6:30 p.m. last night - it was still light out! But I got 12 hours of sleep and I am ready and raring to go for this weekend.! We'll head out Friday or Saturday for Kiley's birthday in Machias. PARTY TIME!!! See you next week - if I survive!

It's Miss Emma's big one! She is 35 today!

Clearly she is not impressed - with her little face buried in her quilt. "Go away,'' she is saying. "I'm no longer young and beautiful.''

Did I ever tell you the story of how I got my sweet Emma? Five years ago today, I went to the circus in Augusta to do a story on alleged elephant abuse (See? That's how you can tell I'm a real reporter - the use of the word "alleged" right there).
My daughter was with me and she took my hand and dragged me over to a herd of puppies.
Yes, I am admitting it here - and maybe that is why Emma's face is hidden in shame - she comes from performing folk.
Her mother was Angel.
Her father was Bambino.
Of course they weren't performing when we saw them. Bambino was no where to be found (oh how typical!) and Angel was lying there desperately chanting "Will someone please come and take these puppies so I can fit back into my tu tu?"

Emma was one of about eight puppies going CRAZY for us. Well, Emma was actually the only one NOT going crazy. She was sitting back from the rest. Her little bowed legs making her look a bit like a duck. She kept tipping her head this way and that way, wondering what all the excitement was about. I know now that she probably couldn't see us very well. She seems to be very near-sighted.
Well, I hemmed and I hawed. Then hawed a bit more and finally my daughter convinced me.

I have the smartest daughter in the world.

Emma was just what I needed as I was suffering from the worst case of empty nest syndrome ever diagnosed.

We brought her home - all four pounds of her - and here she is, the real queen of the household. She's never chewed anything except a pair of flip flops she thought were a new toy and my daughter's invisible braces. She sleeps behind my knees and snores louder than a roaring freight train.
She's afraid of thunder, afraid of riding in the car, afraid of half-opened doors and is the-dog-that-hates-water. And when she is stressed or thinks I've left her, she'll have an accident (can you call a deliberate poopie an accident?) She's massively allergic to bees and cats and I have to put lotion on her poor dry belly all the time. She never really grew and stayed the runt - she weighs a whopping 12.5 pounds now.

And she loves her rotisserie chicken. I'm headed out right now to buy her one for her birthday supper.

Happy birthday, my sweet girl. You have enriched my life beyond measure, saved me countless times from oppressive loneliness and made me laugh when I wanted to cry. You've snuggled your little head under my chin to catch my tears and literally dance around the house when I sing. (Maybe it's my voice?) Six times you have warned me that a bat has invaded the house yet you sweetly won't bark at the deer in the backyard.

You deserve an entire farm of rotisserie chickens.

It's raining, it's pouring.

And yes, that is green grass outside my window! The tops of the trees are so fuzzy that I can almost imagine the leaves bursting forth... the weather is expected to stay wet until Thursday afternoon and then voila - 70s!!!!
Won't that be perfect for the amazing Kiley's first birthday party Saturday?

It's not hard for me to look past this rain in expectation of my youngest boy Russell arrving here with his sweetheart Taryn on Thursday night. WAHOOOO!
We are going to head up to the party and spend the weekend in Machias. My daughter Faye is planning a luau. She has party lights and flamingoes to stick in the cupcakes and little grass skirts to put around the glasses.
I'm making my famous Ooey Goey Pineapple Cake.
Well, okay. You caught me. I'm lying.
I do make a famous Ooey Goey Pumpkin Cake for Thanksgiving and it has an alternate pineapple version but I've never made it. Cross your fingers!
I'm making the crabmeat purses that I made for Easter dinner (Matt has requested them!)
And I'm making a big pitcher of Jamaican Hammocks - an amazing rummy fruit drink.
The kids are setting up a burger bar and cooking on the grill, and there will be a bunch of salads.
We are all supposed to wear Hawaiian shirts and I have a raspberry muu muu...It ought to make for great pictures!
So for now I'll watch the rain, celebrate the greening it is bringing and most IMpatiently wait for my Russell and Taryn to arrive.

A Pittsfield landmark, struggling for survival.

Miss Emma and I went back to the shoe factory today - it's an enormous building. Boarded up. Vandalized.
It sits on one side of the Sebasticook River while a keeper's house sits across the Waverly Dam, spring waters crashing over the top.
The front door of the factory could be on a church....If I were to win the lottery I'd buy the factory and turn the first floor into restaurants and artisans' shops and make the top two floors into lofts....what a reclaimation of the past, a reincarnation of the forgotten it could be...

What a difference a day of sunshine makes!

To just stand for a minute this morning and capture the azure sky washed my bad week completely away. To be outside, feeling the breeze on my cheeks, the sun on my skin, was restorative and calming. Peace - so elusive at work this week - filled my heart and I just stood and smiled.
This morning the dog and I headed to an abandoned shoe factory that lies along the river that runs through Pittsfield. There are acres of park land around the old mill and I can tell you, it was a sweet and relaxing excursion. No worries; no deadines; no pressure. Just a slow easy walk through the trees with the sound of the rushing river as accompaniment. A few birds yelled warmings that we were there and the sun played hide and seek with us.

Miss Emma was in heaven - there were a bazillion scents to follow, lots of space to run in and new places to explore. I have always thought her vision was compromised and this trip really confirmed it. I called her to me at one point and she lifted her head to find me but couldn't see me. I was about 600 feet away and it wasn't until I moved that she finally spotted me and came running. What a fine time she had and it did my heart good to see her off the leash.
What a surprise! Someone had hung little homemade bird houses all through the park...how absolutely lovely and unexpected.
Everywhere there was evidence of the final passing of winter - a little bridge over a stream was littered with pine cones and needles, blown from the trees in fierce winter storms.
No one was home when we visited but birds (?) or others have made this tree into an apartment building.

This little trip was a gift - and just three minutes from home. Sometime the sweetest treasure are right in front of us...unseen, unexpected and often unappreciated.
You know Miss Emma and I will return again and again.

you have no idea

how close to killing myself I am.
Today was five hours of Legislative testimony on genetically engineered crops.
Yes, yes, I know - it is a passionate, serious topic.

But I can't take any more. And on top of it all, my BFF Trudy left today for two and a half weeks in Europe. Without me.
And my other BFF Donna, left for Texas. Again, I was left behind.

I'm going to eat an entire package of Reese's peanut butter cups and then take the dog for a walk.

Look into my eyes...

Another all-day event today - a symposium on the ethics of raising animals to eat. It was a fabulous discussion: religious leaders, farmers and a roomful of vegetarians, all contemplating food with a face.
I was reminded how uncomfortable I used to be when my dad cut into the roast every Sunday and he would "moooo."
I have to honestly say, though, I LOVE meat - give me a big juicy steak, nice and rare; give me a crispy fried drumstick; give me a pound of hot Italian sausage or a Parmesan cheese encrusted pork roast; give me bacon, lots of bacon. I even like bologna with mayo and lettuce on white. And cappicola...yummmmm. And Thanksgiving turkey (even the leftovers)...double yummmm.

And since I traipse through barns and pastures nearly every day of work life, I can say that Maine's farmers are the best stewards ever. They do it right. I can honestly say that I have seen a few cleanliness issues but I have never, in more than 25 years, seen outright animal abuse at any of the 100s of farms I have visited. Well, they wouldn't let you visit, you might say. Ha - got you there = I also have never been turned down by a farmer when I requested an interview or farm visit. One of the farmers at the symposium today said it best. "I don't have a relationship with my animals,'' she said. "I have a responsibility.''

Still, after hearing all the talk today, I may bite into my roast beef sandwich and see some big cow eyes staring at me. Or hear a chicken peeping while I enjoy my chicken enchilada.

Maybe I'll just stick to salad for a week....

Get along little doggie, get along!

This was one of those days that being a reporter is not only NOT fun, it is trying. I sat on the floor (on the floor, her creaking old bones said) in the state Legislature's Agriculture Committee room and listened to five and a half hours of testimony on dog bills.

You heard me. Dog bills.

Should kennel owners get to vaccinate their own dogs?
Should the definition and fees for kennels change?
Should their be a surcharge for rabies vaccine?
Should cats and dogs be licensed like dogs?

woof. woof. bark. bark.
For five and a half hours.

I'm dog tired. Throw me a bone and I'm headed for bed.

There's an air of expectation around here.

First, I spent some time painting - this was the first day off I've had in 14 days and my paintbrushes had been crying...This is called The Swim Team. I just love these ladies, especially the fat one in the black suit, trying to hide her extra weight by wearing black...I still have some subtle shading to do but so far I'm happy with my girls. (And please notice my poor pitiful easel being held together with duct tape...how sad.)

And then I was cooking all afternoon. This is my special carrot cake recipe with cream cheese frosting and hazelnuts...


Tomorrow is a HUGE family dinner at my son Danny's house. I also made an appetizer: a mixture of cream cheese, scallions, tiny shrimp and fresh crabmeat that will be cooked in tiny puff pastry purses. I made the always required green bean casserole. And the cake is for Matt, whose birthday was last Wednesday.

Now here is a special surprise: Danny and Amanda are having a baby!!! I am ecstatic - they are smart and funny and loving and will make great parents! Poor Amanda has been pretty sick this past week (she had to have fluid therapy at the hospital several times) but she seems to be better on Friday and today after getting some anti-nausea medicine. Most of the rest of us are doing the cooking so we've ordered Amanda to stay on the couch and let us wait on her!

She might as well take advantage of it now - come Thanksgiving, it'll all be over....

It was a poop-fest and I loved it!

What a fabulous place! Trucks going in, trucks going out - municipal biosolids (poop) from wastewater treatment plants gets mixed in a recipe with sawdust, paper flakes, etc., and then gets cooked for six days in a concrete tunnel at 167 degrees. What is left is turned, allowed to age, screened and by then it is black gold: the richest, blackest compost you ever saw. And not really a stinky poo either - sort of like an aura of mild cow with overtones of dirt...really. It's kind of amazing to think that this stuff was dumped into landfills just 15 years ago and now is a premium, recycled product that is used on golf courses, new housing developments, athletic fields and by landscapers all over New England.

Literally from poo poo to production line - I love American ingenuity!

BTW, going off on a tangent and randomly changing the subject, if you want to see a great movie, watch "The Boy in The Striped Pajamas" which has a heart wrenching, very sad ending. Now, I don't really want to make you cry, but the acting in this is so superb that I have to recommend it. It prompted a lengthy discussion about history and perception at last night's Movie Night. If you hate sad endings, don't watch - this one will stay with you for a long time.

BTW again, what the heck happened to just having popcorn on Movie Night? Last night there was a pretzel/cheeto mix, some amazing pretzel rods that had been dipped in melted chocolate first and then rolled in crushed chocolate chips, caramel chips and nuts, real made-by-an-Englishwoman hot cross buns, a fabulous sugar-crusted lemon bread, and.........popcorn. We are getting ridiculous.

Does this sound like dieting to you?

We have gone to hell in a handbasket.

Speaking of poo, little Kiley will be here for spring (easter) dinner Sunday and will stay until Wednesday. WAHOO - I just got back from shopping and bought four new books and a little pair of Crocs for her spring basket and I can't wait to have in her my arms... Happy spring to you too! Don't eat too many marshmallow peeps and jelly beans! Save some for movie night!

What can be wrong with me?

I'm doing a story today at a composting facility.
And I'm excited.

You can take the girl off the farm but you sure can't take the farm outta the girl!

Today was not about creativity. It was about work.

Lots of work today - three stories, first interview was before 10 a.m. and I just finished - 9:30 p.m. A long day.

In between, I got the oven cleaned.

Oh get over yourself, Queenie - it's a self-cleaning oven.

Well, I did clean out about four pounds of papers, coffee cups, empty water bottles and one pair of socks from the floor of my car. There actually was one of my granddaughter's diapers in there too - just a wet one, no poopies - but I wasn't going to admit that. Okay, I know, you hate me now.

Then I went on a marathon errand ride: post office, bank, gas station, police station, card store, grocery store, redemption center and back to the post office to mail Easter cards to my grandsons. And I still forgot to buy mayonnaise.

If it would only stop being so dismally dark and rainy. Maybe I could get something done.

Two chicks wearing high heels went into a sushi bar.

Check it out! My latest foray into the world of fused glass. I love me some chickens! These two fine girls are wearing yellow high heels... They seem particularly spring-y and happy this morning, even though it is raining - again - here.

Today I began the day with real inspiration: a speaker at the local high school was Enthusiastic, with a capital E -
But he imparted some wonderful advice for the kids. These are the tools he said they will need for their life journey:
* good health
* curiosity
* people skills
* books and reading
* education
* travel
* analytical skills, and
* an enthusiasm for reflection.
He said "Surround yourself with stimulating people. Don't spend 10 minutes with boring people because that is 10 minutes of your life you will never get back.'' He said to take risks and get out of your comfort zone.

He said that in the final stage of life, you begin to ask yourself "Have I lived the good life?"
Let's reflect:
I have six of the most wonderful children I could ask for, three amazing grandchildren, a job I love, incredible loyal friends; I can cook and sew and paint and write; I'm overweight, which I've taken as a sign that I'm living a VERY good life.
Okay - I'm blessed
"Life is neutral,'' this guy said. "The way you see it is everything.''

Today I see a smile on my face. I see a peace and happiness filled day. I'm going to smile at everyone I meet and find the good in every corner....I'll let you know if it works...It seems to be working for my two chickies.

I recently made a decision that hurt someone.

After a dear old friend had asked me why I was distancing myself from her, I thought long and hard about a reply.

I waited an entire week before answering. I weighed the options; to tell, not to tell, and the ramifications of all. I talked to four friends about it, including my daughter, who has always been a wise one.
In the end, I felt that honesty was the best answer and took the chance that the friend - who had ASKED me for honesty - was open enough to receive it. She wasn't.

She is hurt and angry and it is absolutely understandable.
We don't really want to know the truth about ourselves, do we? I think most of us would prefer to believe our own version of ourselves. We don't want to know if we have failed as a friend, a partner, a co-worker or a parent or child.
And believe me, I understand that it is not my place nor my job to "fix" someone. But when I felt that this person's actions were becoming more and more unacceptable, I pulled away.
She reconnected and wanted to know what was wrong.

I could have lied. I could have said I had just been busy. Or she was mistaken in thinking I was pulling away. And I have to ask myself whether, in looking back, that would have been a smarter response.
But for me, it would not have been the TRUE response. I would have been living a lie, and as so, would have felt part and parcel to her actions. I truly believe that there is no place for lies between friends - none.

This friend said true friendship is unconditional. That our friendship should have weathered her absence of years, her distance when involved in other things, as well as hurtful actions she has taken. Yet I think the very definition of unconditional implies that friends don't abandon friends, friends don't disappear for years, friends stay connected, despite everything else in life.

I do not want a friend that hurts others. I do not want to share my life, my secrets, my most innermost self, with someone that is so selfish that her own needs, desires, whims, replace friends and family, and she doesn't even see the hurt she is causing. Isn't the first and most important rule of real friendship to do no harm?
But, in being honest, in telling her the frank truth of why I put distance between us, I have hurt her. Wasn't that what I was so upset about in the beginning? That she hurt others? And by hurting her, haven't I now become the one thing I said I can't accept?
Despite my desire to have an honest, true relationship, my brain keeps shouting:
"You hurt someone."
"You hurt someone."
"You hurt someone.''

In the end, I guess, I feel I hurt a friend that I had already lost. It was clear in my heart that there was not going to be any way to salvage this friendship. And so now I must live with that - that I hurt another. My worst fear.

Would you have done differently? Please share your thoughts...

Dear friends, I may have been a bit optimistic about both the owls and the handsome scientists.

WHHHHHOOOO - no, the stuffed owl cannot hoot.
Neither can the dead owl being dissected by Unity College students.


I got home at 1 a.m.

1 a.m.

I'll say it again. 1 a.m.

The rain didn't help.
That there was no coffee or cookies or even a damn piece of wet toast didn't help.
And the scientists?
I want you to close your eyes and picture the type of man who would get incredibly excited about dissecting dead owls in the woods of Maine on a cold rainy SATURDAY night..
Yup. You got it. You know the physicists on the t.v. show Big Bang Theory? They had nothing on these guys: one studies the effects of arousal and excitement on sweat.
Another is developing software that will allow our cell phones to recognize by sight who is calling...or something like that. A lovely young woman studies the effects of PTSD on elephants (at least I found this topic slightly interesting!)
This was a classic case of the engineers met the biologists and it all went down hill from there.

I could have been snuggled in bed with Miss Emma warming my toes and the t.v. on and a bag of hot popcorn.

I could have gone to a hoe-down, or a jamboree, or a jazz festival or a dark, dirty bar and ordered sweet rum drinks with wild abandon.

I could have visited my son and let his wife feed me the state food of Maine: whoopee pies.

I could have lounged in a bubble bath and given myself a pedicure with the most lovely shade of blue polish I just bought from Nicole.

I could have built a fire in the fireplace here at The Mansion and I could have toasted marshmallows and watched the coals and contemplated the state of the world.

Did I do any of that? OF COURSE NOT! Instead, I watched college kids - who I think had more than one beer between them - dissect owls and play with their parts. They delighted when they found not one, not two, but THREE mice in the stomach of a Great Horned Owl.
They plucked and cut and it was disgusting. And extremely stinky.

And the trip to the woods to call and possibly hear back from the birds?
wet
cold
no owls.

Owls are WISE, remember? They were smart enough to say inside, paint their talons blue, enjoy a warm bubble bath and devour bags of popcorn mice.

Tonight will definitely be a HOOT!

I'm headed into the woods of a nearby college to find owls with a bunch of scientists from MIT...

As your award-winning, go-anywhere, do-anything, dig-and-scratch-until-I-get the answers-I-want, never-to-give-up newspaper reporter with an inquiring and steel trap mind,
here are my burning questions:

Why are we trying to find owls?
How will we find them?
What will we do with them when we find them?
How many do they think we'll find?

and the most important:
How cute will the MIT scientists be? and will there be coffee and refreshments?

Last night was a blubberfest.

Seriously, we saw "Marley and Me" for movie night.
Now, I have to tell you that I thought we were going to view a comedy. That's what all the commercials seemed to portray, with dogs running willy nilly and puppies getting into mischief.
That's what all the other Movie Night women thought too.

WRONG!

If you see it at your house - get out the tissues.
We went through a full roll of toilet paper, passing it around the room.
Everyone EVERYONE was blubbering. Hazel blew her nose so loudly we couldn't hear the dialogue! Jean rushed out of here like her pants were on fire because she said she had to get home to hug her own doggies... My own dog, Miss Emma, was so disconcerted by all the crying women that she actually left the room...
The movie is a beautifully told story of marriage and dreams and goals. It takes a couple from their wedding day to mid-life and how they struggle with their ideals and egos along the way. The only constant in the movie is Marley, a very naughty yellow lab.

There is no gratuitous violence. No raunchy sex. No swearing. No guns, espionage or terrorism.
It is a sweetly told, real story.
That makes you cry like a banshee at the end. And then for hours afterward. And even the next morning at breakfast. Except for Hazel, who said that after going outside and picking up a plastic bag full of poopies from her three dogs, she was definitely over it!

You asked about the pattern...

Here's the next dress - a floral with a pinafore apron of Scotties!! Notice the sweet buttons.
Here's a fanciful kitty pattern, with a matching headband. This one was really fun.

I didn't have a pattern (have you seen them lately? They are outrageously priced!!) So I unrolled some Christmas paper - a lovely shining green - and turned it over. I sketched the pattern on the backside, measuring the width and length. I then wrote my own instructions right on the paper and began cutting and sewing. It was really easy - I do not own a button holer (the machine goes frontwards and backwards and that is it!) so I either sewed the shoulder straps shut with buttons or cut them on a taper so I could tie them. Each dress has four parts: a front, a back and two linings for the top. I just cut them the same as the front and back, sewed the right sides together, turned them right side out and then sewed the front to th back at the side seams. I did the hems by hand. Once you get started, the dress takes about 20 minutes (not counting the hem!) The hardest part is picking the fabric.

Today I'm headed to the Maine Press Association Spring Conference in Augusta - I'm really looking forward to spending some time with colleagues....

Isn't it nice to have a job where you really like the people you work with? They are some of the smartest, kindest, most caring people I have ever met. Doesn't that just fly in the face of how newspaper reporters are portrayed in movies and on t.v.? Those images are such crap.

We are moms, dads, grandmas; we get scared at accidents and cry in the bathrooms of courthouses during trials. We mourn for losses and worry about our neighbors whose homes burn. We must watch our small town politics unfold with NEVER expressing our own feelings or opinions. Our primary goal is to record history, whether it be the history of our towns, the history of our state, our businesses, our people. We are ALL after nothing but the truth of the word. And if we print the truth and you don't like it? Kill the messenger.

Wow - where did that soapbox come from?

I finished five dresses and I'm working on the sixth.

Here is Kiley's birthday luau dress - made from a man's Hawaiian shirt. The headband has a kind of wild tropical flower on it...fun...
This one is because she loves fishies! It's made from a very lightweight flannel. I stuffed one of the sharks and put in on her headband! More fun....

I'm working on one now that has adorable little Scotty dogs on it and I found Scotty dog buttons! This is the most fun I have had. I finished her dolly yesterday and have two outfits for it as well.
I'm hoping to have enough Scotty material left over to make a matching outfit for the dolly...oh my, isn't being a grandmother just the most fun....

I have no pictures of the boob bowls.....but....

Check out this art bowl - vanilla glass, shot through with holes the way the sea erodes the shells...so organic....AND I MADE IT!
Here is a closeup...
The boob bowls didn't get made - my idea and the artist's idea weren't exactly the same so she worked on her special project and I made two new ones for gifts. Next time, I will make the boob bowl I had in mind....sort of a frosted glass, white or clear frosted, with a blob in the bottom for the nipple. I promise I'll show you!!

My two projects last night were a rectangular plate with a black and white striped edge and two fanciful chickens on a translucent green background. The second project was an experiment. I constructed it the same way I did the vanilla art bowl above but used translucent glass strips and bits. It's very tricky - you don't just lay scraps down, but rather must be carefully put together like a puzzle. Every bit of glass must be touching another bit and you can go three layers high. You want the holes to accent, not take over and that's tricky too. Then the whole piece is kiln-melted flat and then put in the kiln again to be slumped over a bowl mold. The vanilla one was sandblasted to give it a matte finish but I don't think I'm going to do that with the new one - I'll have to wait until it comes out of the kiln to see. It's always a surprise and so exciting!

I am so busy today and all I want to do is play with glass! I'm also sewing a dolly for Kiley for her birthday. I made her six little summer dresses (pics will come tomorrow) and matching headbands. I had some fabric left over so I'm making dolly dresses - really simple little shifts. This is her first doll! And I can't wait to give it to her.

Why o why does work always have to get in the way of fun? I had a veggie conference this a.m., a festival meeting this evening and then a night meeting with the federal EPA regarding a SuperFund site.....I'd much rather cut glass and sew dolly dresses!

Tonight will be spectacular!

Four of my favorite things will be involved:
1. crabmeat dip
2. wine
3. boobs and boob related stuff
4. art

Remember the bra project I invited you to a while back?
And remember the glass classes I'm taking?
Well, artist extraordinaire Alyssa and I will be making BOOB BOWLS!
They will be frosted glass with a small dark blob in the bottom...
We will sell them on the silent auction table at the bra project auction....

I CAN'T WAIT! and I promise to take pictures all evening and entertain you with them tomorrow!

Off with the lights and on with conserving.

Last night, in the midst of fun discussions and a good card game at my friends John and Sue's, we turned off all the lights in honor of Earth Hour. We kept playing and talking by candlelight and just slightly touched on the topic of energy conservation.

But it really got me thinking this morning. We all know about energy efficient light bulbs. We all know about water reducing shower heads. But I question whether I am doing enough...I want to leave the smallest footprint possible on this glorious Earth. I wonder if I am even doing my share.
I admit that I run the dishwasher probably too often. I certainly could wash by hand each day (It's just me, after all!) And I keep lots of stuff plugged in when it's not is use: televisions, cell phone chargers, coffee makers...I'm going to try to remember to pull the plugs all the time.

How about trip consolidation to save gas? Now that the weather is better, I can walk to the post office, library and office from my home. I need to be more disciplined with that. I think I do a good job of running errands on the fly: if I'm driving by the hardware store, that is when I'll stop; I combine many stops into one trip. I think I'll give myself an A for that.

How about consumerism and the packaging of what I buy? I get an A here too. I really am aware of plastic containers and always try to buy glass (it can be recycled easier and at a greater return for our town) I reuse jars and plastic bags (fruit and veggie ones) I use cloth bags when I shop. And I won't buy a product that has plastic, wrapped in plastic, wrapped in plastic over cardboard. So wasteful.

I am an avid recycler. I am really REALLY careful and I am so lucky to live in a town that not only allows recycling of ALL kinds of plastic, glass, all cardboards, newspaper, office paper, used oil, metals, wood, and tin cans. I also toss out some of my waste to the birds in the park: lettuce scraps, veggie peels, etc.

The one area that I can't seem to get away from is paper. I seem to get a lot of mail - press releases, etc. - that can be done through email. I get probably 15 to 20 individual pieces of paper mail each day (just for the office) and two newspapers or more. I am going to make an effort to contact each of these organizations and suggest email and may cancel my subscription to some of the marginal papers and read them online.

Any other ideas out there?

You've noticed I'm not talking about the diet.

But first, I felt like being random so here is a happy picture of my daughter, Faye, and little Kiley at an aquarium in Connecticut. Those are Look Down Fish...imaginative naming, huh?

Okay, I am being dragged - kicking and screaming - back to the diet.
Here is what I ate yesterday:
one cup of coffee with milk and sugar
a bagel with veg. cream cheese (and then ate another spoonful of cream cheese)
a salad
two handsful of pretzels (I have SUCH a thing for pretzels)
a small bowl of popcorn
five glasses of caffeine-free Coke with ice
two chicken sandwiches on rye with lettuce, mayo and cranberry sauce
1/4 bag crunchy cheetos

WTH was I thinking? of course, I WASN'T thinking. I was eating, reacting.
My diet has self-destructed.

I'm going to take the weekend to reflect, clean out my frig of all IMPROPER foods, and refocus. I just don't understand why I sabotage myself at every turn. My motivation was pure; my determination was strong; I was doing well. And then - like a switch was turned on (or off?) I just started eating whatever I wanted. Emotional eating, of course. I am better than this.

I haven't weighed myself so I don't know how much damage I did.
I'm going to think of this as a rest stop: you know, you are cruising along the interstate, doing about 72. The music is good on the radio, you are comfortable in your seat.
And then you make a rest stop.
On the way out of the car, you step in gum.
Once inside, the sound is really echo-ey and unpleasant.
The bathroom is messy and there is no paper. There are no towels to dry your hands so you end up using the butt of your jeans.
No one will look you in the eye. The coffee is too hot and too strong and cost $4 and you can't wait to get out of there.

That's it - this mess is a pit stop and I'm getting back on the road. Grab the wheel, Sharon, after all - YOU are in control of this ride.

sheeeeee's walking!

There she goes, my little 11-month-old (already?) Kiley, walking across her Uncle Dave's kitchen floor. Apparently she is holding her own hand for support....she started a week ago with one or two steps and now there is no stopping her! See the Irish sweater she's wearing? We call it "The Sweater" - I bought that sweater in 1966 for my brother Christopher, who was born on St. Patrick's Day. Every child born in our family since then has worn the sweater and then passed it to the next baby. It got to the point that family members trying to avoid pregnancy wouldn't even touch the sweater.
This is my grandson James, sporting a brand new permanent tooth that looks so HUGE in his little face. James is in second grade, loves skateboarding, dancing like Michael Jackson and sometimes goes by the name of Tootie. He has a hysterical sense of humor. He also wore the sweater.
This is my first grandson, Joseph, trying on his serious, deep-thinker look. Joey is a gifted skateboarder, a great student in school, plays guitar, and is wildly popular at school. He is the thinker - a bit more quiet and reserved than James, but can also be hysterically funny. He also wore the sweater.
So did Terry, Robin, Sarah, Jessica, David, Tobin, Amelia, Danny, Faye, and Russell.
Thirteen babies in 43 years - a heritage sweater. I can't wait to see who the little person is that will wear it next.

Thanks for all your support yesterday. It meant a great deal and I felt your well-wishes and even that hug, Libby. I think it did me a world of good to sort of spew out my feelings - writing things down always puts them in perspective and makes them much less scary.
It also helps that today is beautiful - I'm headed out now for a walk with Miss Emma.
I'm much, much better today - more focused and purposeful. Wrote a couple stories for myself and helped a fellow reporter with some background for one of her's.
Tonight is movie night (watching The Savages - it should be funny and warm) and it will be good to have friends in the house...
oh, and don't forget how good the popcorn and wine will be!

Today was all about the sun...and cheese.

These beautiful tulips were greeting the sun on the kitchen table this morning - a gift from my dear, sweet daughter. There is nothing like tulips to soothe my spirits. They watched over me as I ate, drank my coffee and did the crossword puzzle, sending a softorange reflection down on the paper.
Miss Emma found a sunny patch in the bedroom and dreamed of dog bones, digging holes and chasing her tail! Seems like she's been cold all winter. Now - it's just after four as I write this - she is laying on the dining room floor on my painting cloth, again enjoying a warm patch of sun.
And the cheese! This is an artisanal cheese created at Diversity Farm in Troy, Maine. I interviewed Farmer Bob today and visited his farm - an Old MacDonald kind of place with horses, cows, rabbits, chickens and cats dancing in the hay. He makes 7 different kinds of cheese, including this delicious cheddar, and ages them in a cave below his cheeseroom. They develop a breathtaking mold - one looked like silver feathers! - and the rind is delicious as well. He doesn't live too far away and I can see that I will likely be a regular customer!

Oh the sun today! In just the last hour, as I sat here at the computer writing my cheese cave story, I have seen so many signs of spring:
*the dog walkers are out in the park in full force - the dogs are leaping and jumping and so happy to be off leash.
*three young men walked by dribbling a basketball, headed for the courts in the park.
*two of those young men were wearing short sleeves!
*enough snow has melted in the front yard that the realtor's sign that disppeared sometime last December has just reappeared.
*children on bicycles are EVERYWHERE!
*the entire girls' softball team from the local high school just went jogging by.

Also, between here and the farm in Troy, I saw THREE clotheslines filled with flapping laundry...ahhh that smell...
And the good news? Tomorrow is supposed to be even nicer. Finally. I needed this weather and the sun today.
I'm still having trouble processing my son's stabbing.
I can't get past that someone tried to kill my child. That someone slid a knife into his belly button as if he wasn't a friend, a son, a father, a brother - a person that MATTERED to other people. As if he was a chicken sandwich or a chocolate cake or something that didn't cry or laugh or tickle. If this had been an accident, like a car crash or he fell off a ladder, well, somehow that would be so much easier to deal with. But to think that his life, his pain mattered so little to someone. That whoever did this had no thought that this was a human being, a living breathing person he was stabbing....it's hard to get my head around that.

My thoughts are a bit fractured. I'm making mistakes (I upset my BFF Trudy yesterday because I wasn't paying attention) and I can't seem to focus on anything. Yesterday I couldn't manage to write a single story, when usually I'm good for three or four.
I'm flitting around like spit on a griddle and last night was the first night EVER that I can remember I was afraid of being alone and so after supper, I went out to my son's and visited for a while...

This odd, shaky feeling is better today than yesterday but I still catch myself sort of stopped in mid-work or mid-thought, sort of comatose - just staring vacantly and trying to jump start myself again.
Tonight I'll try sewing for little Kiley's birthday next month and hope that will get me smiling again. If that doesn't work, I'm drinking the other half of Monday's bottle of wine!

How many Kiley women does it take to bathe one baby?

Apparently, we discovered Saturday night, it takes eight.
There is little Kiley, having a tubby because she had ziti and meatballs and sauce from head to toe.
And there is the peanut gallery: my sister Robin, my neices Jessie and Sarah, my brother's sweetheart Margie, my daughter-in-law Amanda, the baby's mother Faye, and myself. All crammed in one tiny bathroom, sitting on the john, the countertop, the floor and piled in the doorway.

It was wonderful! And I knew my mom was right there with us, laughing and joking. There were only three men at the get together for supper and they didn't get it: didn't get why we were all in the bathroom. Didn't get what was so darn funny. Didn't get that this gathering together was a hug. A group hug. We don't get to see each other often enough and giving Kiley a bath was just the excuse we needed to get as close as possible. To smile and laugh and be a family.

Although going to Connecticut was painful, there were some real bright spots:
Getting to see the dress my baby sister has selected to wear to her son's wedding this June.
Visiting in my niece's new home and having bagels and coffee with them.
Catching up with my brother and his sweetie (and mine) Margie.
Sharing a homemade dinner with my son and daughter-in-law.
Having all five little cousins at the same dinner table, smeared in spaghetti sauce, fighting over the garlic bread and hugging each other at every turn.
Spending some very special time with my two grandsons, Joey and James.

It was also educational. My grandson James (who is in second grade) imparted wisdom willy nilly all weekend. Did you know that the first names of the Wright Brothers of the First Flight fame, were DeJuan and Tootie? He swears it's true.

Oh yes, it was just like a hug.

Can life possibly throw me another curve?

Go ahead, universe, hit me again. After this past week, I can handle anything.

Please forgive me for disappearing - my son Mark, 35, who lives in Connecticut, was stabbed last Thursday. He was in the passenger seat of the car, which was being driven by his girlfriend, Chris. They stopped at a light (in a not so nice neighborhood) and a man pulled open Chris's door and tried to drag her out of the car by her hair. It was a carjacking! My son ran around the car to stop him and he stabbed Mark right next to his navel.
The wound was very small - but the knife was long and was twisted when it entered. His bowel was cut.
You know that meant emergency surgery - at 10 p.m.
There was no way I could get there at that hour so I waited until the morning and hit the road. Six hours later, my daughter, her baby Kiley and I arrived at the hospital (after getting lost three separate times during rush hour traffic!)
He is doing well.
The surgery went fine, the infection is under control and he is even farting (which is a very good sign) and yesterday they finally allowed him to drink broth and eat Jello.
Today my daughter and I and the baby drove back to Maine.
I am exhausted - physically and emotionally - but I also have some fun stories to tell. I"ll be back tomorrow after a 1/2 bottle of wine and at least 12 hours of sleep.

I'm inviting you to share in a very special project.

Here is a press release that appeared today in our local paper. I was actually FORCED by the Goddesses of the Universe to head this project after a friend sent me a link to some of the artwork. FORCED by my love for my Aunt Babe, my friends Wendy, Peg, Renata and Beth, and for countless others I know that have been waging or have lost a battle against breast cancer.

Once I saw the amazing beauty and FUN of this project, I could not stop thinking about it, I could not forget it, I had to act. So...I'm inviting any one of you that think you might want to join the fun to read on...If your interested is piqued, check out the website that inspired me: http://www.quiltersofsc.org/artfullbras/artfullbras.htm
and then give me a call. After all, as I said in the release, we all have boobs. This is OUR disease.

CENTRAL MAINE MORNING SENTINEL SATURDAY, MARCH 14

PITTSFIELD -- Brassieres as art?

That's the idea behind a fundraiser to support breast-cancer research under way in central Maine and the organizers are looking for some creative, artistic entries.

Each entrant is asked to decorate a bra -- one of their own, a thrift store find or possibly one from a breast cancer survivor, in any outrageous manner, said event organizer Sharon Mack of Pittsfield.

And the more creative and unique, the better.

"Beads, quilting, feathers, papier-mache or other any medium is acceptable," Mack said in a release. "There are only two rules: Each entry must look like a bra, and each entry must be created by hand."

Inspiration can be found at any number of Web sites that feature art bras, Mack said.

"Every one of us has been touched by breast cancer -- a sister, mother, friend, daughter, or possibly ourselves, and I can't think of a better cause," Mack said. "We know there are a lot of talented women out there that could create some amazing works of art -- bra art."

Mack said she was prompted to spearhead the project, which is called "Bra Babes," after seeing photographs of a similar project conducted in South Carolina.

"The bras were unbelievable," she said. "They were such works of whimsy and imagination. Each made a statement of its own."

Nearly two dozen women have signed up for the project, Mack said. They come from Florida, Connecticut and from all over central Maine.

"Some are breast cancer survivors, others are creating bras so their daughters will never know the fear of breast cancer," she said. "Let's face it, we all have boobs. This cause affects all of us."

The deadline for submissions is July 1 and the goal is to have 40 participants. The bras will be displayed at various locations in central Maine and will ultimately be auctioned off at a special event with all of the proceeds going for breast cancer research.

For more information or to sign up to participate, contact Mack at MaineBraBabes@ hotmail.com.

Five photos of an absolutely amazing, stupendous day!

This is the stupendous part: That is Eric, who limped through the door yesterday and got acquainted with his niece Kiley. He's home from Afghanistan until the 18th. He is well except for his feet, which are all cracked and broken open from wearing boots all the time. When he goes back, he will be there until sometime around Thanksgiving or Christmas. I don't even have the words for how wonderful it was to hold him again and have him close...
Here's the ridiculous: Kiley sucking up a beefaroni - what a mess! and what fun! She has been here since Sunday and goes back home tomorrow....boo hoo
While she is here, she is learning how to climb stairs. Her own house is all on one floor and she's got the going up part down pat...it's the coming back down part that needs work!
The last two pictures are a treat: they were some of the food at Saturday's Full Moon Party III. Hazel, the British Marine, made chocolate chip meringues with orange zest and carmelized orange wedges with red pepper....oh so good!
And BFF Trudy made puff pastry squares topped with carmelized onions, fig puree and goat cheese. Amazing!
So, with baby here and son home you may not see too many posts over the next couple of days...but think of me exalting in all this ! I am a happy, happy woman today!

Mr. Barkless and the case of the bazillion homeless dogs.

Here is my "walk 100 steps and make a photo" challenge today. Mr. Barkless, who holds my pens on my desk, and apparently is guarding an empty notebook. And can you see that tiny little fly on his stinky little butt? And the outraged look he is giving that fly? Clearly that fly is not his neighbor, his pet, or even his friend. If I were the fly, I'd haul ass.

Since Mr. Barkless is barkless, which likely means he cannot speak either, I'll tell his story:
I was asked to create a "treasure box" for the Bangor Children's Discovery Museum fundraiser a few years ago. The museum provided wooden boxes (quite large, actually, about 12'' high, 18'' long, 12'' deep) to a group of artists and we were left to our imaginations.
I thought I would make it like a doghouse, with dozens of dogs all over it. The treasure box full of "guard dogs" would protect and watch over any child that became its owner.
So I went on eBay and Craig's List and through every bric-a-brac shop within 100 miles and bought every porcelian, china or stone doggie I could find. I have about 100: big ones, little ones, a small dog sitting in a pee pot, two dachshunds with heads that bobble, dogs playing musical instruments and Mr. Barkless...I have dog pins. Dog brooches. Dog medallions. I literally went to the dogs.

Now, I wasn't going to put Mr. Barkless on the treasure box (which would have been covered with broken china and glass tiles in a reckless kind of doggie pattern....upon reflection, what the heck is a doggie pattern?) but I couldn't resist his little face, which as you have already noticed I'm sure, because you have nothing better to do than listen to me prattle on about every detail of my life, his face looks just like my little EMMA! (see my Nov. 12, 2008 post for confirmation of this amazing look-alike coincidence which has nothing to do with the fact that ALL Boston Terriers have the same face.)

And then I changed my mind.

And I did a tea party. A tiny china tea set was on top and it was all done in pink and white and green. It really did come out well and was the second highest cash getter at the fundraiser auction. I did meself proud.

And now I am left with a gazillion homeless dogs. Big dogs. Little dogs. Oh, I already told you that. So, what to do? What to do? I must come up with an art project for a gazillion dogs. And I'm still leaning towards making a whole series of small treasure boxes, each with four or five "guard" dogs - there seems to be a lack of stuff for boys out there. Another idea I had was a sort of mobile, where the dogs sat on flat pieces of glass or wood. It could be for an entry way, again the guarding theme.
Any doggie project ideas out there or am I barking up the wrong tree?

A reminder of things undone...

Today my "walk 100 steps and make a photograph" challenge led me through the kitchen to the big bay window overlooking the park and there was my felted bag full of yarn.
Not just any yarn, mind you, but yarn planned for a spring top for Kiley. I think the universe was kicking my ass into gear on this - I haven't even started it and I'm pretty sure it was planned for a Vernal Equinox celebration.
That's only 16 days away.
gulp.

Please notice my steps did NOT lead me to a Boston Creme Pie.
NOR did they lead me to a big hunky, tanned lifeguard named Sven.
They also DID NOT pass any one-way tickets to Hawaii, with a side trip to Australia.
They did NOT stop at the cookie jar, which is my kitchen is filled with pretzel sticks.
NOOOOOooooooo, those carefree little steps took me to the unfinished, unSTARTED, making-me-feel-inadequate and like an bad Queenie (grandma), yarn project.

It's an omen. Or maybe a curse. It certainly was a kick, at the very least, and I got the hint. I have pledged to give it a full hour tonight. It's the orange yarn I'm using and every six or eight inches there is a bobble of yarn so that when you work it up, it almost makes little three-dimensional flowers appear! We'll see how I do....remember, it's movie night.

And voila! She's an artist!

First, here is today's "walk 100 steps and shoot a photo" challenge. It's a bubble of ice on my deck steps. It may look thick and scary but it is beautiful to me because it means the ice has been formed by the water dripping from the roof eaves. Spring, oh beautiful spring - can the Vernal Equinox be just 17 days away???

Now look at this piece of art:

It is the plate/bowl I made Sunday at the fused glass class. I am so excited - it came out exactly as I had envisioned. I'm already drawing patterns and writing down ideas for more....I think everyone on my list will be getting one of these for Christmas!!

Isn't it exciting to try something new, something absolutely foreign and find a bit of success in it? It's scary and challenging to take the first step, feeling that little prickly feeling of unease about being in uncharted waters. But, my mother Betty Lou always said, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Making something, creating something - these are easier to begin or try.

Relationships: now that is really scary. It somehow seems easier and oh so much more comfortable to stay with the old, cluster with the known friends, than wander outside the fence into unknown territory. That's why cliques form in junior high. The devil you know....

This week I tried both: a new skill and a new friend. And I'm feeling pretty good about both.

I'm building on the success earlier this winter of inviting a new friend, Hazel - who I only previously knew through work and a library book club - to join our movie night. She is fantastic and fabulous and hilariously funny and I never would have known that if I didn't take the chance.
This week I've invited another new person to movie night and the Full Moon party. I hope she's all she appears to be.

Because, with every new friend, with every new skill learned, with every new experience, my life gets deeper and richer. And you know that ain't all bad!

A little shining light and an unexpected miracle.

I cheated a little bit this morning with my "take 100 steps and shoot" photography challenge. I only walked 91 steps. I was brought to the front foyer of The Mansion where my little light shines all day and all night. In case you are new here, the light is for my son of my heart, Eric, who is a helicopter pilot in Afghanistan. It is the third time I've had the light in the window; he served two tours in Iraq also.

I took the picture, had a little cry and then headed for the computer to download it. There I found this incoming email:

"Hi everyone. I just wanted to let you know that I will be home sometime in the next two weeks for R&R. I will be in TN for a few days and then off to Maine to see the family. I know it's short notice. It was for me too. I will hopefully see you all soon.

Eric"

It's very easy today to believe in miracles.

Where the eph has my eph gone?

But phirst, here is today's "I walked 100 steps and shot" picture. I walked phrom my bedroom into my kitchen and nabbed the jars on the counter: bow ties, egg noodles, hazelnuts, basmati rice, homemade croutons and sunphlower seeds. I kind oph like the singularity of colors, the palette is so muted. I like the rephlections and the way the one blue antique Ball jar stands out. I think I'm really enjoying this challenge!

Last night, apparently in a typing phrenzy, the eph key phell oph my keyboard. I cannot believe phor a minute that I was overusing it. I only say the eph word three or phor times a day. well...maybe more iph it is snowing non-stop, just like it is today. Since we are in the midst of a blizzard, I have to wait until the end oph the week to get the laptop's phace phixed. So, my dear phreinds, you are stuck with this phreaking gibberish...

glass class was spectacular! it was kind oph like working on a puzzle. phirst you think oph a design and then you begin CAREPHULLY cutting the glass and placing the pieces on your glass base. I chose a luscious lime green and placed squares oph black and white glass on top oph that. Then I put smaller black and white squares on top oph those.
I then put small slivers of deep red across the top squares. I then put just one tiny dot oph lime green on the very top oph one corner square. I cannot wait to see the phinised bowl! It won't be a deep bowl - just sort oph slightly turned up like you would put in on the cophee table or phoyer table, iph I had a phoyer table. The mansion DOES have a phoyer. But it's empty.
There were about seven people in the class: moms, grandmoms, two teenagers and one pre-teen. It was so much phun to see what colors each chose - such a wide spectrum. I am hooked and I already prepaid phor another class next Sunday. I think everyone in my phamily will be getting glass bowls phor Christmas this year!

(GODDESS, this eph is so annoying. Aphter all, the eph is where the left index phinger rests and now my phinger is sitting on a little rubber stub. This nippley thing is all that is lepht oph the key. The little phlat top is now taped to the top oph my laptop. yeeeeesh.)

Today, as I said, it is a whiteout out there. It started snowing in the night, the wind is howling and they predict it will continue all day and into tonight again. I hate, hate, hate it and cannot wait phor spring! The only good to come oph this storm is that I get to stay in all day and semi-relax since I worked like a dog all weekend. Seven stories and short takes on Saturday (a 12-hour day) and phour on Sunday. It was worth it - I got page one again....I seem to be on a roll.

OOOOO do you hear that? It's my canvas calling me. I woke up this morning with a painting in my head and I'm dying to begin working. I'll share when it is done.

Hope you are all snuggly warm and toasty on this white winter wonderland oph a day.

A new challenge...

I found a challenge on a blog for photographers that I sometimes visit. It challenged us to walk 100 steps once a day, stop, look around and photograph whatever you see. I LOVE IT! How challenging to look at the light, the shapes, finding art or beauty in the everyday. This is my entry today: an old, no longer used spigot on Main Street Pittsfield. I love the colors, so muted, and the textures. So each day I'll be posting a picture as part of the challenge along with my regular ramblings. Today I'm taking a glass fusing class and making a small bowl! How exciting is that? Finally, something interesting to do on Sunday afternoons....I'll share a picture of the bowl next week, when I get it back from the kiln. TTFN

Just two words today: NINE POUNDS

okay, I lied. Not about the poundage, but about the verbage.

Here is another vacation picture. This is an anhinga ( i have no idea of the spelling!) drying its wings. I love the feathers around its neck!

Back to the big news: That crunch, crunch, crunch you have been hearing echoing across the country all week is me eating celery. I have consumed so much meat that I've begun to grow hair on my chest and have daydreams of lifting weights and scratching my....oh, I don't have any.

After 7 days of torture, I have lost 9 pounds. Of course I think 5 of those were on Wednesday when I ate a 1/2 pound of outdated liverwurst. Believe you me, I paid dearly. It tasted fine - a lovely lunch but by 6 p.m. it had reached the nether region - yes, you have all been there - and after no less than two dozen trips to the toydee, I was left shaking under the covers in my bed.
Not the type of weight loss plan I'd recommend to anyone! But all in all, it has been okay. My spirits are still high and I even went to a domino party last night and didn't cheat (neither at the game or with the food). I brought celery sticks and dip and I just ate the sticks. There was also a nice plate of cold shrimp there so I could have that. And water. Water. Water. Water. I have swallowed the entire Great Lakes this week. I do indeed slosh when I walk.
The bad news in all this is that I can't even tell where the nine pounds was.
*!@#$%@@***!
I honestly don't see or feel one bit different. Pitiful, isn't it? But scales don't lie and I used the same scale for the before and after weigh ins. Thanks for the continued encouragement..I'm finding little tricks to reward myself: Today I'm wearing a new teal and brown tunic top that I bought in Florida - sort of a tribute to Bollywood pattern. I'm headed to my favorite local eatery for a terrific chicken Ceasar salad for lunch and Donna and I might make the movies tonight. If I lose more than three pounds NEXT week, I've promised myself a pedicure and a teaspoon of almonds!

I promised you alligators and I give you Marie Barone...

These sunbathing beauties were clustered at the Brevard County zoo....As scary as they are, I was sad they were confined, although I must admit they look pretty well fed!

This one was sunning on an island at the Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge. He is VERY free and I'm glad there was a bit of water between us while I took the picture.

Another sunbather...It was a windy day and nearly every gator we saw was sunning and sleeping.

Today I watched my granddaughter eat her lunch through the magic of SKYPE and the web cams. I got to see her clap when I clapped, she tried to put blueberries in her ear and got stuck pulling her bib off. My daughter said that Kiley suddenly was trying to eat the wall in her playroom yesterday and Faye discovered the little one had found a Cheerio stuck on the wall and was trying to suck it off. My daughter said she was tempted to stick a whole bunch of Cheerios on the wall to keep Kiley entertained! But in the next moment she is confiding how nervous she is about leaving Kiley for two days later this week - Faye and some girlfriends are driving to Boston to go to the aquarium, see a Celtics game and do some shopping. She is also hoping to connect with her cousin from Connecticut (the amazing diving coach) who will be at a competition, and another cousin who is an amazing singer and is performing in clubs around Boston.

I completely understand how torn she is. It's a scary thing: on the one hand you want to be there for every moment with your baby but on the other hand you know that is neither sensible nor the right thing to do. Kiley will be just fine with her daddy, who shares childrearing admirably, and Faye will likely get something she hasn't had in a long time: a solid night's sleep! I offered platitudes but as in all things with my kids, I try not to give open advice (unless directly asked or if I believe someone is in danger) to allow them space to make their own decisions. It's one thing to be there for them, a resource, someone to ask about life's experiences, but I hever want to be Marie Barone, interfering in every aspect and suffocating them. Sometimes, though, when I'm not particularly alert or paying attention, I have caught unsolicited advice just popping out of my mouth, as if it had a life of its own, and I am always sorry afterwards, even if I believe what I said.

I have raised my children; lived my life. It is not up to me to live theirs. Besides, I am so fortunate: they seem to be doing a great job at it! IF they weren't....oh my goddess, I think I could be a great Marie Barone - blabbing on endlessly about the dust on the blinds, the overflowing garbage can, the type of toilet paper they select, how to feed-dress-discipline-raise their children, on and on and on.

Do you mothers and mother-in-laws out there struggle with this same push/pull? Just where are the lines between supporting, advising and interfering? When does wanting to know the details and everyday issues in their lives become nosiness? How honest should we be when it comes to adult children? Do we speak up, and regret it later, or not speak up, and regret it later? Please share your thoughts....

It came; it blew; and it conquered.

Look at my poor street - the snow is as deep as the realtor's sign and where the hell did the road go?
I opened my back door and this is what I found: a foot and a half against the door, six feet at the bottom of the steps and, yes, that is my car back there! I'll probably be driving again about April.
I thought my wreath looked particularly pitiful but then I thought : Why in the world is my wreath still up on February 23?

Anyway, I've managed to shovel off the top two steps of the porch and now I am waiting for the snowblowing man to clear the driveway.

I'm going nowhere today. It's kind of a strange relief when it is out of your control! My daughter called and then sent me pictures of some downed limbs at the Machias house. Nothing major and nothing hit but one HUGE pine limb just missed Matt's car! They got a lot of snow but they also got ice which weighs everything down.

I'm dreaming of Florida and that HOT Wednesday afternoon (was it just five days ago?) spent lazing by the pool...I'd give my inheritance (HA and another HA, there is no inheritance!) for one of those Star Trek transporters. I'd shovel the walkway and then push the transport button, sit at the pool and then come back here just in time for bed.

NAAAAA, who am I kidding? I won't come back at all.

What is wrong with these pictures???

Ladies and gents: On the left is the Penobscot River on Saturday afternoon. 21 degrees and frozen solid. not even the Coast Guard ice cutter is anywhere to be seen.
On the right, the Conch Key where I had lunch Tuesday afternoon. 70 degrees. palm trees swaying. sounds of waves lapping beach.
I do have the right to be depressed, don't I?
And ladies and gentlemen, if you needed further evidence to convince you, a Nor'Easter is headed straight at me = bearing down on Maine and expected to dump up to 18 inches of snow on my head.

This is how I know it is really going to be bad: When The Weather Channel does its forecasts, the dear weather people stand RIGHT IN FRONT OF MAINE! It's like this lovely state doesn't even exist. Oh, yeah, they show the fronts and the highs and the lows headed in our direction. But we never get to seem them actually get here because some big haired meteorologist has her beehive in the way. BUT WAIT! At least one Weather Channel forecaster has already flown here and is camped out in our state capital Augusta to be able to show the rest of the world how horrible it will be - including those people who will be sitting in MY PLACE on that beautiful beach side deck, drinking MY Rumrunner, and eating MY seasoned fries and crab cake.
How dare they.

Egrets, alligators and phenomenal support!

Check out this alligator track! and just wait until you see the gator!
Here are the egrets as well - two for one today! There is a dry season underway right now in Florida so the water was very shallow. These pix were was taken at the Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge, which was created when the U.S. government bought up all the land around Cape Canaveral. It is open to the public and teeming with alligators, millions of migratory birds, wild hogs, armadillos and who knows what else.
We rode around the refuge with both side doors of Sue and Bill's van wide open, sun pouring in, just like a tour. Bill's knowledge of the names and habits of the birds was fantastic.

As for the diet plan, I cannot thank those of you who called and wrote and commented for your support. It was a bit scary to put my real feelings out there but I believe I needed to do that as part of this journey. I'm doing fine so far, slept well last night and am getting ready to go to an ice sculpture exhibition and then a play. I had a cheese omelet for breakfast and two hamburgers for lunch. I saved my salad and veggie for tonight because we'll eat at a restaurant and that will make it easier. Water, tea and broth have been my beverages and I am absolutely full and content. Thanks again for sending me off with applause!

And then there were the animals...and some frank talk about loss of control.

This is the little armadillo - don't you just love his ears????
Anyway, I have a gazillion photos of wildlife but this stupid blog won't let me post more than one at a time today. So I'm going to give you one animal a day for the rest of the month.
We saw several armadillos in the wild but this little guy was rescued and had a new home at the Brevard County Zoo, a fabulous place just five minutes from Sue and Bill's - the ultimate hosts - home in Melbourne.

The trip to the zoo was on Wednesday, when we were lazy and slept late. After a quick breakfast of Sue's banana bread, we drove to the zoo and walked for hours. It's a great place: wooden boardwalks through jungle-like settings. We also went to Jones Beach and sat by the pool for hours. We ate at a spectacular French restaurant called Mim's for lunch and an Italian spot called Carrabas for dinner.

It was the best and the fastest four days on earth! We laughed and cried and talked and walked and beached and ate and ate and ate.
That is why today I began the Atkins induction phase.

DO NOT TALK ME OUT OF IT!

I am totally out of control and I need only support right now. I have used Atkins in the past and not only have I never felt better, I dropped weight like a a seal sheds water.

I have no excuses - I am a glutton.
I do not have a sweet tooth (I'm not even that fond of chocolate!) but I love my food. All food. And if a little bit if good, a lot must be better. I eat inappropriate amounts at inappropriate times, such as full meals at 10 p.m. when my work is done. Or missing lunch because I am so busy writing and then suddenly realizing I AM STARVED about 3 p.m. and gorging on whatever is quick and easy. I loves me my carbohydrates: rice, potatoes, mac 'n cheese. But I also love veggies and meat so Atkins is not really a punishment.
It is more like a restriction.
I don't have to make any decisions because the choices are limited. That works well with me, I can't control things when I have too many choices.

I often make the wrong ones.

One of the many things I reflected on while on vacation was this lack of control and how, if I want to be around for Kiley's future, I need to take charge.
The sounds of the horses hooves flying past your head right now are the sounds of me taking control.
I want to be able to bowl with my friends without worrying that I'll wet my pants.
I want to be able to hike without losing my breath.
I want to be able to put on a swimsuit this summer and not hide.
I want to actually be IN the photographs of all of us having good times.
I want to go snowshoeing.
I want to be able to get back up off my knees when I play on the floor or wash the floor or just lose an earring under the table.
I want to be able to chase Kiley around and pick her up and take long walks, without strain or struggle.
I want to sit in a booth in a restaurant and not have my belly rub the table.
I want to have to shorten the seat belt, not pull it all the way out.
I do not want to have to shop in the plus size section.
I do not want to be embarrassed about my size.
I do not want my children to be ashamed of such a fatty mother and I want to go to New Jersey and meet my son's "new" family and make him proud, and I want to go to events at Kiley's school and have her glow when she introduces her Queenie.
I do not want to be skinny or even thin. I like curves. I think a woman should be soft.
But I do want to be healthy.

I am not doing this to impress any man, or with the thoughts of a future relationship in mind. This has to be my quest. My goal. My success. It CANNOT ride on the back of anyone else's dream. Just mine.

I've been quite frank here about my thoughts and goals because it is long past time that I quit fooling myself. I am fat. I have lots of fat around my middle. My butt is the size of Canada. My thighs rub together when I walk. I have a big ol double chin. And I don't feel good. I don't sleep well and everything is harder to do. I have belly fat - which Dr. Oz and Oprah keep telling me is the worst kind of fat to have. It apparently presses against all the other internal organs and stresses them out. They haven't been complaining yet, but....

So please. No lectures. No sweet comments like "We love you just the way you are.'' I think you will love me just as much if there was a bit less of me to love. Lend me your support. Tell me I can do this and remind me, again and again, why I'm doing it. Tell me how YOU did it. Or why you want to do it. Share with me your stories as I have shared mine. The only thing that I have confidence about is that I WILL succeed.

It is time. I am ready.

I'm back, and here is what we consumed in Florida:

The desserts: I had the Banana Brulee (the one her fingers are on!!) Excellent...


Crabcakes and seasoned fries at a place called Conch Key on the Indian River, an estuary teeming with dolphins, pelicans, and other extraordinary wildlife.

Unusual menus and fabulous Rum Runners: with rums, creme de banana, more rum, fruit and rum.

Had a superb lunch at Chocolate Cafe. I wonder where it got its name?

I know this does not accurately depict Florida - but it truly does depict my vacation. One fabulous meal after another, whether it was braised pork with roasted fennel, or cold shrimp on the house deck with wine, everything was perfect. Yesterday was 78 degrees and we were sitting by the pool, but we flew into Maine in a raging snowstorm today! Tomorrow I'll be more descriptive - suffice it to say it was a fabulous four days and I'm exhausted. I promise alligators, birds, giraffes and ocean tomorrow! I'm already missing the sounds of birds, the warm breeze on my skin, and my good friends Sue and Bill...

I'm outa here!

I woke up this morning to wonderful news! My dear sweet nephew David, son of my sister Robin, was named New England Conference Diving Coach of the Year. You should see this kid (man) around water! He is so talented. And he is such a loving, kind person that he truly deserves this award!!!

As for me, the suitcase is in the car, the dog is on her way to the sitter's, the legs have been shaved. I've double checked my wallet for I.D. and have my flight confirmation and extra cash. I turned all the thermostats down to 55 and put my plants in the kitchen sink with extra water. The trash has been removed and there's nothing left in the frig. (the DAMN frig)
I have my flip flops on and I'm outa here! Talk to you next from Florida where there still exists warmth, sun, birds and beach...............yeah...

The night of bowling with friends report:

My fingers are so swollen today that I couldn't grasp my coffee mug, my shoulder and back feel like a truck hit me. Somehow I managed to actually make a few strikes through pure luck. The best part was sitting in a restaurant with my friends afterward, talking and talking.

Here are some of my friends and a much less demanding sport: We are the Central Maine Precision Marching Lawn Chair Drill Team. We are amazing and you can find us on You Tube! We practiced all winter two years ago, spinning our chairs, clacking them together, throwing chairs through the air, even sitting down in the middle of the routine. I am the leader (this happened because I was late getting to a gathering where the idea was hatched. It was a default honor) and I have a great whistle! I LOVE blowing that whistle and making everyone pay attention to me. I also have to be bitchy because when this group gets together they tend to stray from the task at hand. We decided on silly Hawaiian shirts and at Rockland we had to take the lobster bibs off because they got in the way of the spinning chairs.
Then we marched in the Fourth of July Athens Street Parade and won first place.
Then we marched in the Pittsfield Egg Festival Parade, where the video was taken, and won first place!
Then we marched in the Rockland Lobster Festival, where this picture was taken (you can't see me here cuz I took the picture), and won first place!
We are Undefeated!!!
It is the most fun - people love us and cheer and cheer! And at the Egg Festival Parade when we passed by my BFF Trudy's house, friends ran out into the street and brought us mimosas! At the Athens' parade, which is considerably more laid back, we were handed jello shots.
This summer we are trying for first place in the Yarmouth Clam Festival and practice will begin in a few weeks.
If you live anywhere near us and want to join, come on down! We are always looking for new members. The routines are super simple and we have a ball.

Of course, it is also a great opportunity to embarrass your children and cause others to wonder about your sanity.

Today I begin my vacation. Can you hear my sigh from there?

I leave for Florida Sunday morning but I have today and tomorrow to just go easy and relax....I haven't quite gotten to the point that I can turn off my police/fire scanner, but I have turned off my work phone. I spent more time than usual with the crossword puzzle, I'm still in my jammies, and I'm relishing another cup of coffee.

There is a fabulous program at my church called The Welcome Table, which my fabulous BFF Trudy organized. The church kitchen and dining area is open every Friday from 10:30 to 2:30 for socialization and warmth. A free lunch is also served and civic groups and businesses all over town send a volunteer team each Friday to prepare and serve the food. A local church canceled at the last minute so I'm helping out there today. I great way to spend my first day, I think.

Then a bunch of us are going bowling. Doesn't that sound nerdy and so 1950s? I CAN'T WAIT! I grew up across the street from a bowling alley and we used to sneak there all the time.

I say sneak because to my parents, the bowling alley was on par with rock and roll and cigarettes - somehow the combination of those three would turn us into crazed juvenile killers who would ride around in coupes and convertibles, throwing molatav cocktails into local shops and businesses and pillaging the rest of the town.
We would abandon circle pins and box pleated skirts and white blouses with peter pan collars. No more penny loafers. Gone would be the demure "flip" hairdo, replaced by a messy beehive and heavy-handed mascara.
They expected us to cuff our ciggies in our t-shirt sleeves, roll our jeans and, o dear god, begin drag racing out at the abandoned airport runway.
They knew we would drop out of high school and eventually become that dirty, bummy person that hangs around downtown buying booze for underage kids in exchange for a pint to keep "on the hip."
We would get tattoos and have unprotected sex and end up in homes for unwed mothers.

Still, every Friday, my brother and I, and the kids across the street, Rusty and Janice, used to pretend we were tired and we would go to bed early. We then would jump out our second story windows and high tail it to the bowling alley. The boys would play pool and Janice and I would watch all the other boys. Our parents were such heavy sleepers that, hours later, we were able to just walk back in through the front door.
Of course we eventually were caught when our parents were enjoying a summer night by sitting on our and their front steps and each set of parents watched as the other set of parents' kids bailed out the window. Curtains for us.

I have to admit, though, that even now, more than 40 years later, the sound of bowling pins crashing makes my head swivel and begin searching for the hottest guy in the alley - the one with the rolled jeans and the tight white t-shirt. OMG, it's probably the janitor.

P.S. While I'm away, would all of you lurkers sign in as blog followers please? Just click on the box on the top right that says "follow this blog." It is really simple and if I get enough followers I can begin making some money from this blog through Google Ad. If you visit frequently, please sign in. It makes me feel loved and wanted. And I need the money.

I have been betrayed by my refrigerator.

Wouldn't you think that after leaving the poor Frigidaire empty for nigh on three weeks, and then finally, FINALLY filling it up with good eats...wouldn't you think that big metal box would be grateful? OH NOOOOOOOOOO. Today it stopped running. Dead. Killed. Not breathing even a gasp.
I noticed when I reached into the freezer for a handful of ice and ended up with a wet hand.
I had to schlep all my beautiful goodies - my spinach, my broccoli, the eggs and butter, two bottles of wine, soda, milk - I had to put it all in the snowbank on my back deck. Yup, that's me - white trash using the deck as a refrigerator. Before you know it I'll be cooking me some ribs on a metal 55-gallon drum filled with scrap wood.

But wait, remember a month or two ago when I told you there was some kind of electrical black hole here at The Mansion? When the scanners and the cell phones all went berzerk? IT STRUCK AGAIN!
My friend S told me to check the outlet and so I tugged and pulled and moved the refrig so I could plug it in somewhere else and IT CAME ON.

I also came unglued because there was a dead mouse underneath it. Please, let me remind you that I am housesitting. I cannot be held responsible for the mouse - alive or dead! I guess this solves my odor problem. For two weeks I've been scrubbing the trash can, shoving a bazillion lemons in the garbage disposal, blaming the dog, when all the time Mickey was slowly heading to heaven under the frig. He was accompanied on his journey by about seven Legos, two little plastic people, a magnet and enough dust bunnies to have a marathon with the tortoise. I repeat: I AM HOUSESITTING and therefore not responsible for the any of the goodies hiding under there.

So, now I have a refrigerator in front of the kitchen sink. And a dead mouse in the trash, wrapped in three paper towels inside a hank of newspaper inside three zip lock bags. I think I'm sufficiently protected until I can drive to the dump tomorrow morning. Right after I call an electrician.

So, I was interviewing a cow today...

This lovely little lady insisted that all her comments were off the record. And look at the glare she is giving my photographer...

The life of an agriculture reporter...I tell ya. I have all the fun. Seriously. I do.

And take a look at the sweet old man behind her....87 years old and still farming. We grow em strong in Maine. When I asked the farmer how tough dairying really was, he reeled off a litany of accidents: caught in the PTO of a tractor, nearly drowned in the manure pit, had both knees replaced, rotor cuffs are so shot that he can no longer lift his arms above his head and his child bride - Erma, 84 - has to put on his hat and sweatshirt for him. Oh, and one time when they were baling hay, Erma accidentally cut off all the ends of his fingers on his right hand.

They met as teenagers at a 4-H conference and then eloped, only to have to return to the farm early the next day to get all the chores done. They've been married 66 years this June and they once went 13 years without missing a single morning or night milking.

And some people have the nerve to complain about the price of a gallon of milk. This poor old fart is only getting paid $8 for every 100 pounds of milk those beautiful, doe-eyed cows produce. And here we are, bailing out bank executives. Something seems a little wrong with that, doesn't it?

Attention all visitors:

I have two more days until my vacation begins.


I just wanted to brag.

There's some monkey business goin' on!

Here is what I discovered this morning, before I even had my first cup of coffee: There she was, my sweet little Emma, sleeping away, blissfully dreaming of hot dogs and liver treats and running in fields of clover in the sunshine, tucked into her bed with her special pink quilt. But where was her faithful pal Monkey? The one toy that she doesn't chew on and carefully carries with her from room to room? What the heck is actually going on here? I do believe that Monkey is taking liberties here with Miss Emma. Monkeyshines, I say, and I'm putting my foot down.

But wait, it just occurred to me that Emma is five, which is actually 35 in dog years. Well past the age of consent. And who am I, after all, to stand in the way of true inter-species love? All I can say, then, is that nobody better expect me, the queen, to be babysitting any doggie-monkey pups.

Sunday's mixed bag of 10 random wanderings...

Randomness #1:
Several of you asked about my paintings so I'm showing off today: an on-line gallery of some recent completions.
The scenic is quite large 3x3', while the others are 24 x 36" or in the case of the red dress, just 12 x 12 inches. I paint the whole canvas, including the edges, the stems of those daisies wrap right around the bottom. I also often paint right over another painting and most of the time I write things on the canvas before I paint. Secret thoughts, things I want to celebrate or bad things I want to discard or "paint over."
I've talked about my style before - how I paint large, whimsical characters with little detail so that my brother and sister, both legally blind, can see them. It's very hard, sometimes, especially with commissions, to see past all the detail and try to capture the sense of place, the way it feels. Mostly, however, it is a very selfish thing. It's all about how the painting makes ME feel. If you happen to like it, that's even better, for both my soul and my wallet!

Randomness #2:
The full moon party was last night and it was very warm out (I think our January thaw got lost and wound up in February) - about 33 degrees - so everyone really enjoyed skiing in the park. All the food and drink was great too. Everyone brought great stuff, as usual: Maine shrimp, homemade dill bread, dips, treats.. My shredded chicken with orzo stew was good, if just a bit too thick, and the ziti and sausage came out fine. There was a lot of laughter and conversation - we are so easy and loving with each other!

Randomness #3:
Is it unreasonable to be peeved at people who confirm they are coming to your party and then never show up, without a word as to why?

Randomness #4:
I keep thinking about that old black and white movie with Don Knotts called The Ghost and Mr. Chicken. Man, I love that movie. Remember the pipe organ that played all by itself?

Randomness #4:
Today I gave my LOVE sermon at church - I managed to hang onto the paper clip this time and not decapitate the organist. But it wasn't any easier this time than the first time. I was terrified. I liked my sermon but I thought it was a little too serious. I've got to inject some humor in there next time!

Randomness #6:
I need you people to remind me to shave my legs before I leave for Florida. And pack my cell phone charger.

Randomness #7:
Who has a GREAT recipe for date bars that taste just like my Grandmother Amelia Henrietta's?

Randomness #8:
In my nod to my anal retentve disorder, I packed my suitcase for Florida this morning. WOOO - I pulled out that brilliant tourquoise bathing suit and coverup; my favorite jean capris; my flip flops; SHORT sleeve shirts. I packed my sunscreen and two new, hopefully riveting books.
Yes. I know. I'm not leaving for SEVEN days....but you just cannot leave these things to the last minute. You know what I'm saying? Who knows what kind of fun might come along and distract me this week? And then I would be packing four minutes before the plane begins taxiing down the runway and end up with 6 woolen socks, thermal underwear, and the capris from last summer that no longer fit me.

Randomness #9:
Can there be any greater combination that Coke on ice, hot buttered popcorn and a good book?

Randomness #10:
My son-in-law Matt is coming to stay overnight tonight on his way to Portland. Thank goddess: I have an incredible over abundance of ziti and sausage and there is nothing like a 6-foot, 8-inch man to help you with leftovers!

From the ridiculous to the sublime: this series of three pictures shows how I began and ended my morning....all this before noon!

This is Tom Gilbert. He is my hero today. I began my day at 12:15 a.m. when a local lumberyard's sawdust silo caught on fire. It was -4 degrees, as evidenced by Tom's icicle moustache. Still want to go to work with me Gladys? It was so cold that the fire hoses were steaming and I was shaking like Don Knotts on his first date.
The firefighters all think they need to take care of me now that I'm getting older (and I let them, they are all so cute) and they ordered me to get inside the cab of one of the fire trucks to get warm for a bit. Guess what I learned at the butt crack of dawn? The button that makes the fire truck's siren go WOOO WOOO WOOO is on the FLOOR! Yup. I stepped right on it and scared a dozen firefighters half to death. When sirens go off DURING a fire, it means Get.The.Hell.Out.Damn.Quick.Haul.Ass: The roof is caving in.
I'm not going to live that one down for QUITE a while. Those firefighters have looooong memories. It's also surprising how quickly they can lose their footing on wet ice when a siren goes off behind them...
I got back to bed at 4 a.m. and shivered myself to sleep.

The horse is Ginger, a mini, and the dog is Chance, an Australian shepherd. By mid-morning I was at a horse drawn sleigh rally one town over from here. Jingling bells, dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh. Over the fields they went, laughing all the way. It was fun but a bit chaotic. My sleep deprived head didn't like the loudspeaker, which kept announcing things like "Mary Jones, ready to go. Obstacle course. Mary Jones, are you ready? Mary Jones, are you driving? Mary, raise your hand if you are ready. Has anyone seen Mary Jones?''
This was all done at the volume of a ZZ Top concert, backed up by The Who, with undertones of Chain Saw Massacre.

Finally, heading home, I stopped at my son's house in the woods of tiny Detroit, Maine, and left him a little surprise on his kitchen table. His dad's tractor in the snow near his home made me sad and wistful and I couldn't resist taking its picture. I remember my daughter Faye trying to learn to drive the tractor during haying season, and crying the whole time (she is now 28 and STILL does not have her drivers' license.)
On the other hand, the Maine Store on the corner of the village square called me once to tell me that my 11-year-old son Daniel was down at the intersection POPPING WHEELIES with this tractor. I do not know how that child survived himself.

Well, there was the first half of the day and the afternoon is to be spent writing the stories to go with the pictures.

"Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night," according to Tony and Maria, who, as you know, lived on the West Side. It's the second Winter Full Moon Party! WAHOOOOOO! It's supposed to be a bit cloudy but it is already 28 degrees - a heat wave - and it should be sweet out there tonight. Last night I prepared a fabulous shredded chicken and orzo soup, and a HUGE pan of ziti, sauce and sausage. I've got the wine glasses lined up on the sideboard and I'm hoping tonight will be as big a success as last month!

Cross your fingers that I don't fall asleep in the onion dip...

These are my two favorite things today:

First is my painting table (I paint flat, no easel) which is waiting for me....I am working on a special secret commission and I'm having a wonderful time creating it. I promise to show you when it is done.
The second is: I FINALLY WENT SHOPPING! I have pretzels and noodles and onions and broccoli and spinach and chicken and carrots and mayonnaise and butter and oh my, I am so happy.
Today is shaping up to be sooooo good. I got to sleep late - the sun on my face woke me, that has happened since last summer! I got all my laundry done. I'm on my way now for a much-needed haircut. AND AND AND It's MOVIE NIGHT!! We're watching a film based in Paris, an homage to Trudy's upcoming European trip, and its a comedy that took all kinds of film honors. Can't wait.
Sometimes I piddle away my day off, really accomplishing nothing, while, most often, and to my friends' dismay, I work all day, making calls, setting up interviews and taking pictures. In the spirit of full disclosure, already this morning I did take a call from a state legislator about wine legislation, set up an interview with an antique farm tractor collector and let my home office know that a snowmobiler went through the ice at Eaton Mountain. Don't worry, it turns out he was able to get himself out. But, in my defense, all of these things came to me. I didn't instigate them.

I have to admit I love my work - it is exciting, rewarding, challenging, and, of course, it allows me to buy the groceries I'm enjoying. But today, with its brilliant sun and slow mood, today is for painting. I love painting. I love disappearing inside the colors for hours on end. Choosing just the right shade - sometimes I love a color so much I want to EAT it. (Thank goddess I went shopping huh?) I hear them: the brushes are calling, the canvas is humming, the colors are ready to envelop me.
ta ta see ya later.

It's getting really bad now...

First, I wanted to show you a detail (a small section of one bottom corner) of a painting I just finished. I have no reason to show this off except the colors make me happy on a cold, overcast day when snow is predicted. It makes me smile. Don't you want to walk down those stepping stones, sit under the flowers and visit with whoever lives in those little crooked houses? I do.

I digressed. Back to my desperate problem of how I somehow continually keep forgetting to go to the grocery store. I think it has been well over a week now and the last time I went I only bought soda.
I had to eat old, hard cookies for supper last night and I'm down to the last of the bag of dog food. For Emma, silly, not me. I REALLY have to go to the store.
I can't even make coffee (no milk) or tea (no bags) and I used dish detergent for shampoo this morning. That right there gives you an idea of how desperate this really is.
I was forced to buy my breakfast at the local gas station this morning. Really.

Anyway, let me tell you where I went at the butt crack of the dawn today with my gas station coffee when even the nasty cawing crows were still asleep: I went logging with horses.

This is going to be a great story and so much fun to write...handsome rugged men, staggeringly large gorgeous horses - two pairs: black beauties Bill and Ben, golden Belgians Kate and Nell - with creaking harnesses and bells ringing from their collars, long sleds full of firewood - beech, maple, ash - snow still clinging to the bark. It was 22 degrees - a sort of heat wave up here - so beautiful and peaceful in the woods - until the chain saws started. But the men ended their cutting quickly and then quietly loaded the wood on the sleds. They grabbed each log with a pulp hook (It looks just like Captain Hook's hook with a handle on one end to grip it with) and it makes a hollow THUNK THUNK sound when it bites into the wood. And then they heave the four foot logs on the sleds. It's hard work and the men - the GORGEOUS men, I might have mentioned already - took off their coats...oooooo....whoops, you lost me for a minute.
I got to ride on the sled, which is about 12 feet long: standing up going into the woods and sitting on the logs coming out. Those amazing animals pulled 1500 pounds of wood back to the farm. And me. That alone caused them to sweat and blow out their breath in huge giant clouds of steam.

Now I am frozen. I have peeled off two hats, a 34 foot scarf, a turtleneck, a wool sweater, flannel lined paints and wool boots, and I'm still dressed. I think I left my feet in the woods because I sure can't feel them. And I'm really, really hungry.

oh dear lord - I just took stock: I am now forced to make something with eggs, a soft avocado, a head of lettuce, hot mustard, a jar of red grapefruit sections, a frozen pie crust and a half bottle of merlot... I think I can make it work. And then, I REALLY need to go to the store.

I'd like to thank the Academy...

Sometimes a sweet little deed, like sending me this award today, can really make someone's day. Thanks a bunch, Libby. The feeling is mutual.

Isn't this the most pitiful thing you ever saw?

Not the present - the refrigerator.

It looks like an orphaned child. Even the abundance of diet Coke isn't mine - it belongs to Movie Night goers. And the eggs? What is up with the eggs? I have not a slice of deli meat, not a bowl of fruit, no gooey dessert or even leftover lasagna but I have three dozen eggs. And a Ziploc bag of salad. how thrilling...
Please notice the full doors. I loves me my condiments. I have hot sauces, cold sauces, barbecue sauces, the All American Ketchup, hot mustard, beer mustard, Maine maple syrup and horseradish. There's a small bottle of Midori and another of Bailey's.

But also notice my milk is nearly gone, as is the orange juice, and the mayonnaise disappeared two days ago.

I have been busy. Busy playing and painting. I have a bridal shower to attend this afternoon and for the past several days (in between working, yes, boss, I was actually working) I have been putting the finishing touches on a painting I am giving the happy couple. The one in the picture is very similar to the one I painted for them but I forgot to take a picture of the gift before I wrapped it.

I also went to my BFF Trudy's Friday night for dominoes. Now if you haven't played Mexican Train before, here is my advice: get a handful of good friends, throw in a bowl of licorice, a bag of cheetos and at least two bottles of wine and play. It's the kind of game that you can still have a party around, not like cards where you actually have to pay attention.

The moon must have been in a very strange phase Friday night because we never laughed so well. Sue had to turn sideways in her chair to hold on, she was laughing so hard. Everything was funny, we were so silly and even spontaneously began jointly singing show tunes at the top of our voices, like some sort of Broadway chorus gone mad.

John started suddenly speaking in a French accent and wearing one winter glove. Trudy was clutching her heart and talking about some dead dog named Shep. And Royce kept disappearing to fill the wood stove and shouting from the other room "It is my turn? Is it my turn?'' Then, we he got back to the game, it really was his turn and he moaned "Why is it always my turn?"

I want it perfectly clear that I am NOT blaming the merlot but I suddenly developed a temporary paralysis of my fingers and dropped at least four pounds of snacks by my seat under the table. No, my seat wasn't under the table, just the cheetos. There was an actual debris pile under there.

And then yesterday, I still was finishing the painting but was also writing a sermon. Alright, get up off the floor and sit back down in your chair. Every other week a lay person delivers the sermon in our church (we are very poor and can only afford our minister part time.) A few months ago, I wrote one on gratitude and even though I was terrified, everyone liked it and I temporarily lost my mind and volunteered to do another. My topic is love.

Doesn't that sound easy? HA. And another HA. I mean, we've all been in love. We've all lost at love. Done things we're not so proud of in the name of love. Learned to smoke cigarettes and converted religion because of love (oh, wait. that was just me.)

My first love was David Baker in fifth grade. He had brilliant red hair and the most freckles I ever saw on a face. There were so many freckles that they had started to overlap and he was almost one HUGE freckle. He followed me home from school one day and I invited him for supper. My mother, who did not drive then and only had a limited amount of food in the fridge (See? It is genetic, this failure to stock up on groceries thing.) But my mother made it very special, this first time I brought home a boy. She served us in the DINING ROOM - where we only ate on Sundays and holidays - with a TABLECOTH and a CHAFING DISH. The menu? Scrambled eggs. (What is with the eggs again?) But the way she did it up and gave it importance, we could have been having filet mignon and caviar. David Baker gave me a little ring but it turned my finger green and I was so insulted that I gave it back to him in a huff, stomping my saddle shoes in true disgust.

My second love was Jerry Calsetta who took ballroom dancing classes with me but didn't give me a ring. Instead he gave me his band pin, a cheesy brass thing shaped like a G-clef, and again I broke it off. What the heck was my 11-year-old self holding out for? Emeralds?

And then there was Joe. Dear sweet, BMOC Joe, who I met at a dance in 1963, fell head over heels, dated him all through high school, married him 13. 2 seconds after I graduated, bore him three children and then, on one particularly hot ugly summer day, divorced him. I still love that man for who he is, the father to our children he is, the son to his mother he was, but there is no way we could stay together.

And then there was Dan the farmer. Yup, you've got it. Fell head over heels, married him, bore him three children and then took the kids and left him. We are still friends. (Are you sensing a pattern here?)

I'm still the winner in all this broken love, though. I get to eat popcorn in bed with the light on while reading, dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and polka dot boxer shorts and no one whines at me to turn out the light. And I get to spend a whole day painting or writing or, apparently, from the sad state of my refrigerator, eating scrambled eggs. It's the life, I tell ya.

There is no excuse for my absence.

Except I was playing with Kiley, who was here visiting for FIVE days...ahhhhhh. Heaven.
She left yesterday afternoon and I cannot believe how quiet the house is.

But today I went to the grocery story for two bottles of caffeine free Coke. Apparently so did everyone else in a 100 mile radius. There is a storm predicted for this afternoon and the crazy weather people can't make up their minds whether we are getting three inches or 18 inches. Thus the stampede to the supermarket.

What is going on? I mean, this is Maine, folks. It snows here. A lot. And sometimes the plow won't come by for, oh let's say, TWO HOURS!!! Not TWO WEEKS!!!
What could you possibly run out of in two hours that would be such an emergency that a meth addict would look at you in pity and say "Hey dude, sorry for ya.''

Now I can see if you are out of pet food or toilet paper. But Pop Tarts? Vinegar? Scented candles?

One woman had five gallons of milk in her cart. Either she bathes in milk or she doesn't plan to shovel her driveway until April. She also had four loaves of bread and enough meat to keep the entire Neanderthal population alive.
And the shoppers are also so GRUMPY. Mouths are down turned and eyes averted. Carts are racing through the aisles as if the storm will start and end in five minutes, dumping its whole load on the parking lot while they're in the store.

Me? I bought the soda, stopped at the library for a new book and a couple of movies.
As long as I have Coke, pretzel sticks, and Morgan Freeman, I'm golden.

Here are the birthday kids...

Faye (almost 28) and Daniel (almost 31) were born on the same day, three years apart. WAAAAAY back in 1978, when Daniel was born, Connecticut had a horrible blizzard. Really bad. So bad, the Governor closed all the roads to everything but emergency vehicles. OF COURSE I went into labor. My father in law was chief of OB-GYN at Hartford Hospital and he made it there through all the snow just in time to deliver his first grandchild, who, I might add, peed all over him. That was Feb. 2, Ground Hog's Day. (Which was so odd and bizarre and made for wonderful jokes because we had a hog farm!)
Fast forward three years, and I had a BIG birthday party planned for Daniel with about 24 people expected, when I went into labor again. My mom came over to watch Daniel, I went to the hospital about midnight and Faye was born in the wee hours of the morning, also on Feb. 2. I let them weigh her, do the Apgar and then I brought her home.

By then, little Daniel was sitting at the table having breakfast with my mom.
"Where did you go?'' he asked.
"To get your birthday present,'' I told him.
"Sit down here and I'll give it to you,'' I said, and he sat down on the rug in front of the kitchen sink.
And I handed him his little sister.
To him, it was the best gift - there was never a moment's jealousy, after all, SHE was HIS. When everyone came that night for the birthday party, we didn't tell anyone she had been born (it was less than 18 hours earlier and believe me, I still had that big belly and my loose clothes made for a good disguise and my mother had promised not to breathe a word.) Shortly after the party began, Daniel announced he wanted everyone to see what he got for his birthday. Again, he sat down on the rug in front of the kitchen sink, and again, I handed him his sister.

They have remained very close always. Daniel was a BMOC, football star, etc., and he threatened every boy in their high school to watch themselves around her and it got to the point she couldn't get a date. He was crushed when she began dating, cried when she left for college, wept at her wedding and is DEVOTED to her daughter, the famous Kiley. He was the first family member (besides myself who was already there!) to make the drive north to see her when she was born.
Even now, when they are supposed to be grownups, they slip into this silliness when they are together, talking to each other in movie dialogue and retelling every, every, every story from when they were growing up. They SKPE each other almost daily and he has been known to drive two and a half hours just to have lunch with her and then turn around and drive the whole way back. They both brag about each other to anyone who will listen.

They are brother and sister, yes. But even more than that, they are best friends. What more could a mom ask for?

We're having another party here!

The kids are coming!
I've made a salad and a HUGE shepherd's pie - it weighs about 174.8 pounds - I always make too much food. My gorgeous daughter in law Amanda is bringing her famous yeast rolls along with my son Daniel; my daughter Faye, her hubby Matt and my precious Kiley are on their way over from Machias in a light snow. I even invited my ex-husband because we are celebrating Danny and Faye's birthdays. They were both born on Feb. 2, Ground Hog's Day, three years apart. Matt is bringing the cake and the ex is bringing the ice cream.
The only thing that would make this perfect if my other kids could be here too....too far to come in winter weather, though. Two are in Connecticut and then Eric is in Afghanistan, of course.

We'll eat a lot and laugh a lot and Kiley will get to see how many people really love her.
Tomorrow I'm hosting a Goddess Breakfast (pot luck and everyone catches up on what's new) and then Matt is taking Faye away for the weekend and so I get Kiley to myself!! HOORAY!!! We are going to watch Higgleytown Heros and go outside in the snow and snuggle all evening together. I don't even care right now that it is snowing - the house is clean, the food is ready, the kids are coming! The kids are coming!

Okay, the party is over. Take off your tutu, Trudy, and put that feather boa away.

This morning I can't help but think about the first morning in the White House, how the Obamas are waking up on Pennsylvania Avenue (By the Way, how did Pennsylvania get THE avenue, anyhow? Why not Maine Avenue? How about the PEOPLES Avenue, or something a bit more regal like QUEEN's WAY? or BRING YOUR PROBLEMS HERE Road... )

First, the little girls probably weren't able to get past the Secret Service to jump on the President's bed. Did they have to root around in their Hello Kitty nightgowns to produce verifiable identification? Or have they had little microchips inserted behind their ears like their new puppy will have? The SS can wave a wand and declare "Yes. These are the REAL presidential daughters,'' as opposed to some alien, robotic, sent by Iran to blow up the WH daughters.

Inside the Obama's room, there was that lovely white, off the shoulder gown Michele wore to the all the D.C. balls, crumpled in a pile on the floor. (Didn't she look like a bride in it, completely outshining hubby? I would KILL for her legs and don't get me started on her shoulders!) Obama's tux was draped over the shower rod and let me tell you about Michele's bedhead do. Well.
Anyway, I can imagine the Prez, rubbing the little sandman grains out of his eyes, turning to his First Lady and asking "What's for breakfast?"
Immediately, 741 security agents escort three chefs to the foot of the bed, because - of course - they have bugged the Presidential bed with invisible listening devices. And don't even let your imagination go there...

Each chef has a scroll and reads the offerings:
Eggs Benedict, your honor and honoress.
South Western Omelet, sire and madame.
Grits and cheese, your holiness and the queen.

Does Obama go to breakfast in his boxers? Or does he have hot, low slung pajama bottoms (OOOOPS I digress...)?
So after cornflakes and skim milk, the slim duo head off to .... where? What exactly happens on the first day of the rest of America's life?
I hope the first thing they did was hold a voodoo ceremony to rid the W.H. of bad karma. I hope they burned smudge in every room and had a parade of priests, ministers and seers come through to exorcise the place. And then I think Michele would busy herself with rearranging all the furniture. Since the W.H. has about 82 gazillion rooms and most of them are pretty damn ugly, lets be honest here, she has her work cut out for her. Since the girls already spent three THREE THREE hours learning flower arranging a few days ago - a skill that will definitely help them deal with the press over the next four years - they are probably already pretty bored. Today could bring bowling, movies or just roller blading through forty million loooooong hallways - all without leaving home.
As for Obama, I bet it was like an ice water bath to look out the window and realize, this is it baby. The Presidency. I wonder if he ran for the bathroom. For sure he must have taken a few deep breaths.
That's what I'm doing. Taking a few deep breaths. Today is a new beginning. A second chance to get it right. I feel like we won the lottery, we found the pot of gold and the silver lining. (Could I use any more cliches?) I was driving down Interstate 95 in Maine when the oath of office was delivered and I admit freely that there were tears just a flowin down my face. I had to scrabble on the floor for some kind of tissue and all I came up with was an old, used, Kentucky Fried Chicken napkin with a mummified French fry tucked inside. Cars were actually stopped along the Interstate to hear his speech. I called my BFF Trudy and we had a little cry and then got off the phone so we could hear him.
Later in the afternoon, there was a party at a nearby bowling alley and the pink tutus came out andTrudy danced the "Yes We Can-Can For Peace" and everyone was crying and laughing and so, so hopeful.
What a hard, hard road this beautiful young president is on, the road to reclaim America for its people. To invite the world into the process of finding peace, stabilizing the economy and bringing respect, dignity and honor to every citizen of the Earth.
But first, Mr. President Obama, go down the hall and hug those little girls. Play a game of Candy Land. Tell them to make their beds and practice the latest jumping rope rhymes. Kiss your wife and tell her how spectacular she looked last night. Rub her aching dancing feet.
And then get to work. We have a looooooooooooooong way to go.

If Kiley could talk, this is what she would say today:

Today my future in hope begins.
Today I can see to a day of equality, a day of peace, a day of genuine respect and global strength.
Today I can reach out my hand in friendship to my enemies, while being ever watchful of my own security.
Today I can be assured that sooner rather than later, Uncle Eric will come home from the Middle East.
Today I can have dreams for my children, and my children's children.
Today my leader is a man I respect.
Today my leader is a man with vision.
Today my leader honors ALL Americans, not just the ones that look like him or sound like him or think like him.
Today America will look not just to the wealthy or the fortunate, but to the unfortunate with a helping hand.
Today the rest of the world will start to think about coming to the table of peace, finding common ground in our humanity.
Today begins the rest of my life and today let the bells ring, and the choirs sing, and the people dance in the streets because today, I have hope.

And now for a vision of spring...

I bought these lovlies earlier this week at a local florist - who, goddess bless her, calls me whenever a shipment of tulips arrives. There is nothing that says spring like tulips and the color of these is just such bit of warmth in the chill of this winter. If I scrunch myself down and look right into the flowers, I can pretend I'm on my belly in a big patch of bright green grass. It is deep into spring and the birds are noisy and the bees are buzzing in my ears and the sun is hot on my back. If I could, I'd sent a bouquet to each of you.

I've decided to use imagination therapy to escape the cold.

You know how you use aromatherapy to mask that you just cooked brussels sprouts, or, in my case, that my sons are visiting?
You know how you use physical therapy to fix the kink you got in your neck from having sex in the backseat of a Corolla?
You know how you use shock therapy to tell your mother that, yes, you are pregnant...again?

Well I am using imagination therapy because it is twenty three degrees below zero outside. I had to spell it completely out in words, not numbers, because it is truly that bad.
And so, as I sit here with my fingers curled around a hot cup of tea, I have decided to pretend it is summer.
Come along, close your eyes and join me:

It is hot. Really hot and humid and as the day progresses, it just gets hotter. The sun is so relentless you can smell it's heat and it creeps into every corner of the house and melts the candles and exhausts the dog and turns the children into lolling, crabby monsters.
But, it's a full moon tonight and the call goes out from Trudy: FULL MOON GODDESS PARTY, TONIGHT AT DARK.
We gather at her pool, just after ten, in our bathrobes.
We bring wine and tell stories and laugh. We hang our towels high on the stockade fence.
We skinny dip.
It doesn't matter that our bodies wear our pasts: the stamps of having children, old injuries, surgeries and abuses; it doesn't matter that we droop here and sag there; that we no longer have waists and that the tops of our arms wave like flags.
We are women who need the water on our skin tonight. The pool accepts us easily and we immerse ourselves into this womb-like place.
The bats from the old house next door fly and swoop, feasting on summer insects, and they just miss the tops of our heads and still we float, our toes and fingers getting all pruney.
The water is cool but the air is so hot and our bodies are so hot that the water is a baptism of joy. It is so dark we can barely see each other, just the light patterns the moon paints on the water's surface.
We swim lightly, treading water, talking in lowered voices.
We are careful not to laugh too loud, but we do laugh, deeply and often, at moments only this sisterhood can understand.
We look up and see the full moon smiling at us and the incredible clusters of stars scattered in the dust of the Milky Way. Someone asks Renata, who recently took an astronomy course, how to tell which constellation is which.
"How the fuck should I know,'' she replies, sending us rippling into laughter, giggling like girls instead of strong women bent under responsibility and duty.
Trudy cannonballs off the diving board, the moonshine flashing white over her nude wet skin.
We finally cool and begin to climb out, wrapping ourselves in our robes, leaving the heat and oppressiveness of the day back in the pool, letting it drown.
"Good night,'' we say to each other. "Good night." And we head to our homes and our husbands and our lovers and our children. We are refreshed, washed and cooled, reborn from the heat of the day by the cool of the night.

Today, deep in mid-January, the pool is dark, its waters choked with fall's jeweled leaves. Ice covers its surface and the bats are long wrapped in their cloaks of hibernation. My sisters of the water are scattered here and there, keeping their home fires as Winter's breath chills and burns and encases us.

But we can dream. We can slip into a memory.
We can close our eyes and swim in the heat of the summer.

Baby, it's cold outside.

When I put the dog out this morning, all 12 pounds of her, she stopped so fast when her tiny feet hit the ice covered steps that her back end flipped right up in the air. She was actually standing upside down. She then did a u-turn and tried to get back inside, mucho quicko. It was -14, -23 with the wind chill factor.

How cold is it?
There are no dog walkers in my park today.
There are barely any snowmobilers.
Only 109 people turned out at an election yesterday for a new town councilor.
The little hairs inside my nose froze when I went out to start the car.
The car almost didn't start.
When you walk on the snow, it makes that styrofoamy crunchy sound.

And here is the really good news - it is predicted that tomorrow will be the coldest day in Maine in THREE YEARS.

I quit. Call the airlines. I'm going south.