New Video - "She Seeks Sanctuary"

The Globe, Berlin, MD - A Decade Ago

That one show, 10 years ago, when and where it all started.

I had sent out postcards to galleries that featured my artwork, introducing myself & with a simple statement about being interested in showing at their venue.

Long story short, the owner of The Globe liked what she saw, had me come down to Berlin, MD for a meeting and the rest is history...kismet...serendipity.

To say I was well-received there would be a major understatement.

That one show turned into a few other shows and then eventually I was given the amazing opportunity becoming The Globe's sole resident artist with my artwork on the walls 365 days a year for several years until they closed just before the pandemic.

A lot of years of making new friends, hearing stories about how my artwork evoked memories, and success both monetarily and on a soul level. All of that in an environment that felt warm, inviting, cozy.

I miss it there. I went through a pretty big funk after The Globe closed (they eventually reopened but with a new owner/vibe).

I'm happy to say that it is in the works for me to be returning to that area and tapping back into the energy that gave me so much.

Birthday Recap

So yesterday, 10/29. was my birthday.

We don't need to talk about the number but suffice to say that it was a milestone birthday. 

Initially I wanted the actual day and days surrounding it to be "epic", whatever the heck that means.
But then as it drew closer I started realizing that nothing I could do, no place I could go, no experience I could have, would replace what I already have: people I love unconditionally who love me back unconditionally and who would not dream of not making sure they were with me to insure that I had a special day.

My circle is small. My husband, daughter, and her fiancè. Oh, I have more people than that who I am related to or acquainted with but there's a whole lot of weirdness and off-the-chart dysfunction that keeps them from enjoying what we have to offer. See, our house is full of love and fun and generosity and good food and regularly the kind of laughter that makes you scream because your stomach hurts from it. Sure, we might piss each other off from time to time but in our small circle we resolve issues instead of using them to harden our hearts and let bitterness take hold of our souls. No matter what though, we show up for each other. I am not related to or know a lot of people who relate to that or adhere to that edict.
And, boy, are they missing out. We have a lot to offer to those we care about.

Anyway, here is something else that defined my milestone birthday:

I secretly harbored a hope that my friend - whom I have been friends with since 7th grade - would show up at my doorstep to surprise me on my birthday weekend.

When I told my husband I was going to run out for some shopping on Saturday, the day before my birthday, he very uncharacteristically said I should stay home instead. He cited traffic and reminded me of how much I disliked weekend shopping because that's when everyone was out, overcrowding places.
After more back and forth, I finally asked him what was really going on. He told me that there was a delivery coming but would say nothing more beyond saying that the delivery was not from him
.
I deduced that the delivery was going to actually be my friend, driving the two hours to surprise me, especially since we had driven those same two hours for their milestone birthday.
Afterall, if it was just a delivery of something why did I have to be home for it, as my husband was insisting? Couldn't he just accept the delivery while I was out? I figured they were all in cahoots behind my back to surprise me.

So I set to work cleaning the house just in case my suspicion was correct and since I didn't want to wind up feeling stupid, telling myself that if I was wrong at least I'd have a clean house.

There is a fall wreath hanging on our front storm door. If someone is outside at that door, all you can see is the bottom half of them as the wreath obscures their upper body.
I had let the dog out and was standing on the back patio watching her when I heard someone knock on the front storm door. 
I ran inside and saw the bottom half of a person standing on my front steps and I could see that the person was holding a gift bag and balloons.
My friend is here! I thought, with a happy skip of my heartbeat.
I opened the door...

only to find an elderly delivery man holding some flowers in one hand and balloons and a small gift bag* in the other.

It hit then, really a little bit hard. Friend is not coming.

And then hit hard again a little while later when another delivery person showed up, this time with a cake, also sent from friend.

Turns out the thing I was right about is that I did not, in fact, have to be home for the deliveries (friend had told my husband & daughter to make sure I was home for them - all of us now unsure why friend couldn't have just stated that someone should be there to accept deliveries).

Did I wind up feeling dumb for cleaning my house with a hopeful heart? Yes, I did. Mixed with a little bit of embarrassment for being naive.

I'm not ungrateful. The deliveries were very nice.
But there is nothing that can be delivered to your doorstep that will ever take the place of someone you care for showing up on that same doorstep to say "I wouldn't miss sharing this with you for anything."

Isn't that the thing we all want most?

Life is so short. Birthdays are one day out of 365. One day that is someone's very own special day.
364 days to plan for it.
Don't miss that for them. Make the drive. Show up on their doorstep if you can.

Think about the look that will be on their face when they open their door and find you standing there.

Think about making this happen: 

 

*1st delivery man delivered flowers, birthday balloons, and a bag with a tiny box of candy.

Gumby? No, GUMBO!

I thought it said that today was National Gumby Day.

Turns out it's actually National GUMBO Day.

Anyway, here is Gumby hanging out with some of the ingredients for gumbo.

Southern Food Heritage Day

Today is Southern Food Heritage Day... and so I pay homage to my second favorite (hush puppies are #1) southern food that I quickly loved as a child in North Carolina.

North Carolina Has Bugs

For the past very many months we have been actively researching the state of North Carolina, having made up our minds that it would be there where we would make our next and permanent move.

Having spent a ton of time there in my younger days at my father's house, North Carolina is near and dear to my heart and it wasn't hard to decide that it would be a great place to settle. 

My father lived in Pilot Mountain, 

on the more western side of the state,

but I need to be near the ocean in order to be sane happy so our research has been focused on the eastern side.

I joined a bunch of online forums related to moving to or living in NC and the people and their posts have been extremely helpful with lots of talk about good/bad neighborhoods, how to register your vehicles (way too complicated compared to NJ, by the way), weather, etc.

But the other morning there was a post about bugs.

Basically the person was saying that they recently had a NC visit to check things out for a potential move there but there were so many BUGS there that they didn't think they could live there.
They were actually very specific about the kind of bugs, too. 

The C word.
Or the R word, if you take off the first syllable.

this is not an actual RockCoach but i am so 
phobic about them that i cannot even look at 
them so i have to make them look like this
even though this bears absolutely 
no resemblance to an actual one

I cannot bring myself to even type the actual word because one of my many phobias is exactly this brand of bug. If you haven't figured it out, here's a hint: it rhymes with RockCoach.

As if that post wasn't bad enough, the comments that followed it were horrifying. 
Or traumatizing if you've got a RockCoach phobia.

Many people responded with their own stories using words like INFESTATION and PALMETTO BUGS - which are just FLYING ROCKCOACHES - and how you have to having PEST CONTROL out to your house so often that you might as well invite the Terminix guy to Thanksgiving dinner since he's at your house so often anyway.

(I was quite aware that certain disgusting bugs were a thing     

RockCoach wintering in NC

in Florida (see below) which is one of the reasons I could 

never live there...but I naively never considered that they'd 

find North Carolina suitable since, while it doesn't get 

freezing there, it can get pretty chilly in the winter.)

My RockCoach phobia more than likely started many years ago when we were wintering in Miami Beach and I had a run-in with a palmetto bug in our hotel suite. Let's just say that it was not small and it was sitting on top of a loaf of bread that I wanted to get to in order to make some toast 

and that when I saw it - and it saw me - I literally took off running.

I ran through the kitchenette...I ran across the beds...I threw open the door and ran down the hallway...I ran through the lobby...and then I ran for several blocks along Collins Avenue.

And thus a phobia was born.

Fast forward to my 20s.
I was living in an apartment in a building that my parents owned in Elizabeth, NJ. My daughter was just a few months old.
I was in the bedroom folding laundry and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something move

on the cord for the television.  
I walked over to look closer.

This time I did not take off running but I did pack a bag (that I thoroughly inspected) very quickly with my clothes and my daughter's things, got in the car and drove an hour to my mother's house at the Jersey shore.
And that was the day I moved back in with my mother.
Yes, that's right...I never lived again in that apartment. No amount of extermination and reassurance could convince me to go back.

Nothing has changed.

My husband knows that God forbid anything disgusting shows up in any house we own, I'm out.
And I do not mean I'll be staying at a hotel until the situation is taken care of.
I mean I no longer live there.

I did wind up asking questions to the people who responded to that bug post about North Carolina.
People said things like "it's the South, they are everywhere, get used to it", to which I was like

One nice man told me that "it's not too bad - you might see a few every month as long as you keep up with pest control - but remember they don't want to be inside your house as much as you don't want them there".

Actually, nice man, that's not really true.  I can guarantee you and them that I exponentially want them there a gazillion times less than them, as they happily munch away on some crumbs we missed on our kitchen floor.

That one post activated phobia mode and made me change my mind and completely switch gears on where our next move is going to be. Thankfully JP agrees.

It still could be North Carolina but it would have to be on the western side where the online forum people recommend for people like me. But that would mean no quick trips to be by the ocean.
Sigh.

Always an adventure.

Stay tuned as it all unfolds... 

Watercoloring As Lifesaver

I cannot emphasize the power of watercolor painting (for me) strongly enough.

After months of summer-induced inertia...of anhedonia...it is, once again, my watercolors that are bringing me back to life along with the cool and cloudy days now that the fall season has arrived.

The paintings don't have to be good. In fact, most of mine are complete nonsense, which has always delighted me. 
The quality of the paintings is beside the point.

There is something about water + paint that brings me a serenity that I cannot explain.

What a relief it is to feel creatively alive again.

Oh, by the way...today is Johnny Appleseed Day.  Happy birthday, Mr. Appleseed.

World Lung Day 2023

After a double lung collapse (pneumothorax) - 100% lefty, 75% righty - which is quite rare & comprise only 1.3% of ALL lung collapses - I have a deep gratitude & appreciation for my lungs being that somehow they bounced back from that VERY close call (if I'd waited 2 more hours to go to hospital I wouldn't be writing this).

I wish I could convince people to not abuse theirs.

Anyway, they deserve their own goofy artwork 

World Smell & Taste Day

Today is World Smell & Taste Day.

I haven't smelled a thing since 2009 which means I also do not taste anything besides salty, sweet, sour, bitter - I cannot taste flavors although somehow I inexplicably can still cook well & can tell if a cup of coffee is good or not.

So I thought I'd post this gem today that I doodled years back...which actually wound up being used in a TED talk - you can't make that up, right?

I wish I could impart to those of you with working noses and taste buds what it is like to no longer have those senses.

I wish I could explain that it's like living in black & white in a technicolor world - how I can no longer recall smell-associated memories or make new ones and how I don't know if I smell okay or my house smells okay or what my husband/daughter/dog smells like or what cookies/pies/cakes baking in the oven smell like or what fresh cut grass smells like or crunchy fall leaves. The list is truly endless.

Not having these things - and so so many and much more - anymore has robbed me of an integral and significant part of the whole being alive experience x 10,000.

I struggle each and every day to keep my head above water and not think about all that I've lost while also hoping that there isn't a gas leak or fire because I'd never know. I have special alarms for explosive gases and hope to God they work properly but there's no real way of knowing, ya know?

Anyway, here's the TED talk. You can skip to about the 8:02 mark in case you're so inclined.

Why Blog? Because I Want To, That's All

 

Tik Tok & Why I Don't Leave The House Much

Quick grocery store trip this morning to grab a few things for our upcoming camper trip. 

I'm in the coffee aisle when a woman passes by and says: Every time I come in here I can't find anything because they're always moving stuff around. 

 

I chuckle politely and say something like "yes, it does seem so, doesn't it?" 

 

There is a cautionary note I must add here: when interacting with a stranger in public, it is always best not to reply with anything that can be remotely construed as a question. 

My mistake in this interaction was adding the "doesn't it?" when I should have just left it as "yes, it does seem so. PERIOD. And kept moving.

That's cautionary note #2: keep moving. Always keep moving when interacting with a stranger.

 

She then proceeds to tell me that she is 62 years old and that she really doesn't mind the frequent reorganization of the store because, she says as she is tapping her finger to her head, "it keeps the old gray matter working".

 

So now I feel like she is giving off really strong lonely vibes and maybe, like me, she doesn't have a lot of people to talk to and I'm not a jerk so surely I can spare a moment of interaction that might potentially quell some of her potential loneliness.

And so I say, blunderingly, or lamely, or both, "I've got a big birthday coming up in October and I can relate to keeping the gray matter working."

OK, not my best line. But I wanted her to feel heard, ya know?  Ya know??!

 

Here's when things started to go south.

 

She asks what day my birthday is in October. I tell her. I know, I shouldn't have but at this point I was trapped.

 

Lady: "So you're a Scorpio."

Me:    "Yes."

Lady:  "But what is your ascending sign? Do you know?"

Me:    (very long pause as realization of what I've just let myself walk into overcomes me, rendering me momentarily speechless. also, becoming aware of not knowing ascending sign and feeling stupid but then wondering how many actually know their ascending signs so maybe i shouldn't feel stupid)
"No"  I say.

 

Lady:  "Are you on Tik Tok?"

Me, in my head:  ohgodohgodohgod

Me, in person:  "No, I'm not on Tik Tok."

Lady:  "Girl, you are missing out!  There is an astrologer I follow on Tik Tok, his name is John Smith*. You can go to his site and put in your birthdate and time of birth - do you know your time of birth? - and it will tell you what your ascending sign is and all kinds of things about yourself that you wouldn't believe!

I mean, it's really really accurate and who doesn't want to know more about themselves, right? You do, right? He is the absolute best!"

So I'm panicking and the only thing I can think to do is say "oh, I'll check him out" and I've got my shopping list in my hand and she's got hers, too, but she also has a pen and so I think if I ask to use her pen to write down John Smith's name maybe that will end this.

Me:  Can I use your pen so I can write down his name?

Lady:  Oh, well, sure. But most people just use their phones.

Really?  Now she's admonishing me?  Phone shaming me? I wanted to say "I am not like most people" but I suffer from that thing where I don't want to be rude to the person being rude to me.

I write down the name, ignoring the admonishment, and repeat that I will check him out as I shift my eyes from her and back to the coffee shelf, where I start to scan intently, hoping she'll get the hint.

She doesn't.

She does not get the hint, because the next thing she does is pull out her phone.

"You really need to be on Tik Tok. You have no idea how much you are missing out on. There's so much!

There's another astrologer I follow - I forget her name - but she's from Florida."

I am unsure why I would need to know where the astrologer is from - are the Florida astrologers better than those in other locations? - but I dare not ask one single more question.

Now she's scanning her phone.
"Oh, here she is. Tik Tok is so great. I mean, I don't just follow astrologers. There's also these really cute kid videos. I mean, people post videos about all kinds of things. You really should be on Tik Tok. I know they're talking about banning it or whatever and I do not know what I will do if they actually go through with that which I don't think they will because it's politics and government and you know they do things slowly and they're always talking about doing things that they never do. Oh, here's the drag queen person I follow, Aunt something or other. But I mean it, you have to join Tik Tok. See, all you do is click here to join and then you put in your information. I don't think you have to put in your actual real information, not like on Facebook, just put in whatever you're comfortable with..."

Me, pathetically hoping this might save me: "I'm on Instagram, it's very similar."

Sharon the lame

No no no!  Very very wrong thing to say! She is not pro-Instagram! Instagram is the enemy of Tik Tok!

Lady, as she is scrolling scrolling scrolling through Tik Tok on her phone and holding things up for me to see: "Oh no, Instagram is nothing like Tik Tok. Instagram? (she laughs, heartily) There's so much more on Tik Tok! Not just the funny videos. Oh, here's another Tik Tok astrologer that I follow. I forget her name - Anisha maybe? - I don't know but she's really really good and people all over the world follow her. She's into it all, you name it. Tarot, Runes, black magick.  I mean, not the bad black magick. She's from Louisiana. Oh, and here is one of my pages.  I have two pages. On this one I post a lot of stuff, like inspirational stuff. See? And sometimes I add music. No, I mean my own music..."

She proceeds to scroll scroll scroll and show me each of many things while saying "this one is _____" with a detailed explanation of what each post is. Is it called a post on Tik Tok? Whatever.

At this point I am screaming in my head because now I am praying that she is not going to press the button on her phone that brings up some kind of video with her singing and playing guitar or whatever and I'm going to have to stand there, in the coffee aisle of Acme supermarket, listening to it, smiling a fake smile, and mumbling something about how great it is while crying on the inside and wondering why God has forsaken me.

She does not press the button.  Thank you, Jesus.

Survival instincts kick in and I slowly, carefully, start cautiously moving, knowing that any false moves may cause her to pounce.

Me:  OK, well, thanks and have a good day.

Gingerly taking a step or two away.

Lady: I know, I go on and on about it but I really love Tik Tok (haha, she laughs) and it really is worth having - much more than any of the other ones...

Me:  "Yes, I'll be sure to check it out." Now I'm a good six feet away. Almost free.

Lady:  "Don't forget to find out what your ascending sign is. It really is good to know. You can learn a lot about.."

Me:  "For sure! I definitely will. Have a good day."  Now I'm halfway down the aisle from her, in front of the coffee brand I want to buy but I dare not stop, deciding that it's much safer to get out of that aisle while there's still time and that I will circle back later when the coast is clear.

I make it to the next aisle where I grab my phone and call JP, my game plan being that if she comes my way I can just point at my phone to indicate that I am on a very important phone call.

Total elapsed time estimation of entire interaction:  12 minutes, minimally.  

I manage to complete my shopping by peering down each aisle before turning into them.

While loading my groceries into my car, I hear someone shouting, twice, have a good day, have a good day.  Once inside my car I glance in my rearview and see that it was her, looking my way, from two parking lot aisles away.

And this, friends, is why online grocery shopping is the greatest gift ever.
There are times, like today, when I am inclined to do my own shopping but going forward, I shall remember to remember this day and not make that mistake again.

 

 

 

*John Smith is not the astrologer's real name but I don't want to post it because I haven't and won't be checking him out and I don't want to point anyone in his direction in case he is not, in fact, "the absolute best".

Cake. Cakecakecakecake...

You know how people cocoon in wintertime and do all kinds of cozy, hygge-ish things like hunker down on the couch, hide from outside, cry for no reason, bake stuff to satisfy the overwhelming carb cravings?

That's me in summertime, thanks to Summer/Reverse SAD.

I need comfort and comforting in summer. The heat, the intrusive and glaring sunshine, the too long days - all cause me a great deal of discomfort and what comforts more than anything when one is in a state of discomfort?

No, not anti-depressants.  Or tequila.

It's cake, of course.

 

 

 Have you ever met one of those people who, when offered a piece of cake, put their hand up and say nonsensical things like, "none for me, Bob*"?

Or the ones who also use their hand - specifically their thumb and index finger - to show you the miniscule size of cake that they will accept, which is sometimes followed by some blathering about watching what they eat blah blah blah blah blah. 

 

Their finger suggestion size is usually about 1" which I suggest is at least 4 or 5 times too small.

 

Yeah, they are not my kind of people. 

They are not part of my tribe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How about the "I don't care for chocolate" crowd?  

not Bob

 

 

 

 

Are they not the worst?!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is clear by my excessive enthusiasm (and waistline) that I adore cake. 

Equal to that is my love of feeding people cake. Nothing makes me happier than baking something cake-like so that I can revel with others in our mutual cake love.  

Ecstatic eye rolls?  Lots of "mmmmmmm's"?  

Yes, please.

 

In my next post, I'll be sharing my recipe and (related artwork) for the Sicilian Orange Cake that I recently made and sent in to work with my husband which resulted in lots of gratifying mmmmmm's from his staff that he shared with me. 

In the post after that I will share the Strawberry Cake that I also made - both within a week.

 

Apparently, standing over a hot oven is my definition of Hot Girl Summer this year.

*P.S. I have no idea who Bob is.

Le Tart

Growing up, I spent many summers and school vacations at my father's house in Pilot Mountain, North Carolina (aka Mount Pilot on The Andy Griffith show - it's a real place. So is Mayberry: real name Mount Airy).

My father's live-in girlfriend had studied at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris for a while and so she took little me under her wing and taught me a whole lot about French cooking and the French language.

Really weird dynamic there, by the way. When you tell people your sort of stepmother spent time and studied in Paris, the assumption immediately becomes "ooh, fancy people" which is the complete opposite of what she and my father were. She was formerly married to a rich guy and so she was a FFP - former fancy person. (I knew from the get-go that she was an FPP because she used to work 'davenport' instead of couch or sofa.)

I can't remember why she divorced the rich guy or how she wound up with my father, but in Pilot Mountain, North Carolina, they were just two ordinary people, lying to everyone about being married*, and very much living paycheck to paycheck (my father's paycheck, she did not have a job outside the home).

Anyway, while other little kids were outside playing kickball in this tiny NC town, I was inside whipping up a coq au vin, practicing my French, and dreaming about Paris.

Tiny Sharon, the Francophile.

The truth is that those Pilot Mountain days were idyllic and were probably the only time I had any semblance of normalcy and stability in my very dysfunctional childhood - although things got weird there, too, from time to time. Like the time my father was supposed to put me on a plane to go back to NJ when vacation was over but decided, instead, to keep me and then the sheriff showed up at the door the next day. I'll write about that adventure at a later date.

Little Sharon, as depicted with baguette, beret and French flag

Anyway, today I decided I am going to revisit my youth by spending the summer cooking and baking French food just like I did all those years ago.

I started by throwing together this Tarte aux Fruits in my new tart pan.

(By the way, specialty pans bring abundant happiness and are worth the cost.)

It's pretty, so I decided to share its picture.

*They never married because she would have lost whatever money she received monthly from being the never remarried ex-wife of a rich guy. They lied about being married because back in the day it was very much frowned upon to 'live in sin' - especially in the area they lived in.

The In-Betweens

Old Letters, Vol. 1

I recently reconnected with the best friend I ever had. Our best friend relationship started in 7th grade - which was a really long time ago.

She came to visit me and brought with her a bag filled with many letters I wrote to her over many years.

In a very old letter to her that from when I was a teenager, I wrote:

"you are the only person I know that would understand how good 

the simplicity of a rainy day on a pier with the seagulls could be."

I think I was 17 when I wrote that.
Now, decades later, I am in awe of re-discovering my young self again through these letters.
Of finding that I was the me that I am even back then.

And of the breathlessness of having a friend who knew - and knows - my soul.

My BFF & Letters From A Lifetime Ago

Last week I had the most amazing thing happen.

My childhood best friend - who I have not seen in years - road tripped to my house where we spent the next two days reminiscing, sharing stories (horror and happy), and crying together from our souls for various reasons.

I have never had a friend that came anywhere close to what she means to me.

I want to tell you that back in the day we were inseparable. My parents referred to her as their other daughter because she was at our house more than she was at her own.

I was the matron of honor at her wedding.

Then life got complicated for both of us with kids and husbands and jobs and dysfunction and God knows what else.  She went in one direction, I went in another.  There'd be hit and miss contact throughout the years but always in that "we should __________" kind of way.  You know how that is; we should get together, we should meet for lunch, we should call to catch up, etc.  The kind of shoulds that are well-meaning but somehow never pan out.

It bears mentioning that because my family has defined dysfunction and toxicity, I no longer have contact* with them which also means that for many years I have not had anyone who knows my history, who I can share memories with, etc.

Except for my best friend.
She knows my story.  I know hers.  

Can you put a price on having someone who could tell your story if you somehow were not able to?  I don't think so.

My friend brought a treasure along with her last week, too.  At some point she told me to wait one minute while she ran out to her car and returned with a plastic bag filled with all the letters** I wrote to her as a teenager and young adult (who got married at a much too young age - it's all in the letters).
There was more of my history in all of its loopy handwriting glory.

She saved all of my letters.  For decades. 

I, on the other hand, lost all but one of her letters over the years because I have moved so many times.  

(Not too long ago I wrote down all the places I've lived and it was more than 30 ! which is where the Gypsy part of Wistful Gyspy comes from. Stability was not a big part of my life situation.)

*Losing that connection is the price you pay when you have to estrange yourself from the people closest to you in order to save your mental and physical health.   

**We met in junior high school and then I moved to a different town 10 miles away which meant we only saw each other on weekends. During the week, we spent our time on the phone at night until our parents made us hang up and then we'd write each other letters...and mail them, because it was (is) fun to receive letters!  Then there was the time when she moved to California with her brother for a year right after high school. Back then, you were charged per minute for long distance calls which made phone calls unaffordable.  There were many, many letter during that time.

My Website Is All Wrong

It's true; there is nothing "right" about my website.

According to today's yawn standards, the design of it is all wrong. 

Google will probably never find it.
Don't even try to view it on a phone - it'll look like a hot mess.

Truth is, none of that matters because I'm having a ton of fun customizing it just the way I like it.
Building up my website is one of my hobbies; I'm not doing it so that I can be Internet Fabulous. 
I love designing an element in Photoshop then importing to my site. I love adding stuff that gives insight into who I am and what I like. I'm not going to not do the things that I find fun or that I love just because it isn't done that way anymore or it doesn't work exactly how it's supposed to. 

And have you seen websites lately? They're beyond boring. And white. Oh so much white. One dimensional. No personalization. Just here-is-my-neutral-website-and-here-are-the-things-I-sell.
There are exceptions, but they seem to be few and far between.  

Remember back in the day when websites were colorful and fun and even interactive? There were widgets and elements and cool things. Little gadgets that would tell you what moon phase we were in.  Flash made everything lively and entertaining.

It's all been replaced by apps.  

I'm old fashioned in a lot of ways and while I do use apps, I don't constantly walk around with my phone (how do people see anything properly on those little screens?) and I definitely go to my laptop or - gasp! - my desktop to view websites  ... which of course makes me an out-of-touch weirdo.

And that's just how I like it.

Old Year's Realizations (instead of New Year's Resolutions)

* there is no sign for "beats out" or "stronger than" so i had to use the greater than > sign above.
my mother's cigarette addiction superseded many things and she chose cigarettes over most everything else, including relationships.