Berm Girl

As part of our quest to find our next house, this evening we were driving through a particular neighborhood in Maryland that we would like to live in, admiring houses that we wish were for sale.

Because there are no good houses amongst the hundreds that are for sale in the 100 mile radius that is our targeted area so we have taken to driving slowly through desirable areas and sending out mental please-sell-us-your-house vibes while also hoping that someone will see us driving slowly and stop us to ask if we want to buy their house.

On one street we had turned on, we noticed a teenage girl sitting all by herself on a berm.

Wait, did I just use the word 'berm'?  Who uses that word?  It feels like it's an old-fashioned word. Do people even know what it is?  No?


This is a good example of a berm:

It's kind of like a raised hill, usually separating one thing from another. An embankment, if you will.

In the case of the girl tonight, the berm she was sitting on faced the secondary road we were driving on, which ran parallel to the main road.

So she was just sitting there, all alone in her hoodie with the hood up, watching traffic on the main road from her spot on the secondary road.

I watched her carefully - because she was me decades ago.

Berm-sitting was my teenage thing.  Sneaking cigarettes may or may not have been involved, purchased easily at B00 Bea's, the luncheon/magazine/newspaper shop down the street.  It wasn't really called B00 Bea's, but the address - 1300 - and the actual name - Bea's - were printed on the awning and the kerning of the lettering was off so that the 1300 was squished together and looked more like...well, this:

(if you look at this long enough, you'll see it)

Renaming Bea's to B00 Bea's may or may not have had something to do with marijuana that my BFF Karen and I may or may not have smoked from our frequent perch at  the elementary school directly across the street from B00 Bea's and our frequent visits to B00 Bea's to quell what may or may not have been the munchies.  For a brief period of time, Karen and I were the late 70s version of Jay and Silent Bob, albeit female, and with bonus rhyming names, Sharon and Karen.  Good times.

So when I wasn't loitering at the elementary school with Karen, I was doing a ton of loner kid stuff.  It should be noted that I was not a lonely kid, but I was most definitely a loner kid.  I was never sad if there was no one to hang out with as I had my own company and I was always my own perfect companion (nothing has changed in the years hence).  The girl with so many interests and an overabundance of imagination.  It meant I was never bored.

And that's what I saw in the berm girl yesterday.  It seemed like she was just sitting in her spot, being her own perfect companion.

When I was a teenager in Union, NJ, we lived around the corner from I-78, the interstate highway that runs from the Holland Tunnel in NYC to Harrisburg, PA.
If you were driving on that road through Union, NJ, and you happened to look toward the berm on the eastbound side of things, chances are you would have seen a young girl sitting there with her dog, watching traffic.  And if you checked back in an hour or two, she probably would still would have been sitting there, dreaming up stories about the places people were traveling to and their reasons for going to where they were going.

I love the noise of travel.

And, oh, how I loved that spot.  People whose heads are in the clouds regularly often have special places of their own where they go that maybe regular people wouldn't think to go to.  You might think we go to these places to escape but that's not really correct.  We go to them to arrive, because they help us to be who we really are. I have probably had dozens of such places in my lifetime thus far and I never stop looking for new ones.  Some of them are quiet and private, and others are not so quiet but still private.

My dad, divorced from my mother, had us on Sundays.  He had a massive case of wanderlust (that I inherited) and so Sunday was Fun Day as we always set off on some adventure.  He was flat broke but that never ever stopped us from wandering.  At the time in the late 1960s/early 1970s, we lived in Elizabeth, NJ, which is right next to Newark, NJ.  Newark Airport was not the international metropolis that it is now but there were planes all day long and for my Air Force plane-loving father, that was all he needed.  The roads behind the airport were unfinished back then and there were bridges over railroad tracks that would end on these roads that turned to dirt on the other side of the bridge.  Some road planner with terrific foresight or insight knew that one day the area would explode but at this particular time there was never any traffic on these roads because they literally led to nowhere.

So my dad would park on top of one of the bridges and we would lie down on the hood of the car and watch planes take off and land right over our heads.  The ground would shake and the noise so loud that I would cover my ears, but oh the thrill of it! We would talk about where people were going and why they might be going there and places far, far away that you only ever read about in storybooks.  It was heady, magical stuff.  At the risk of being cliché, you could say it was the stuff dreams are made of.

Some parents gave their kids fancy trips to resorts and amusement parks; my dad gave me trips to the whole wide world from right there on the hood of his Dodge parked on a bridge to nowhere in Newark, New Jersey.

And just so so many other places.

If you can manage it, you should go and find a special place all your own.
If you can't find a special place, at least remember to look up and search for planes in the sky or pause when you're a traffic light to wonder about the lives of the people in the cars passing in front of you.  Where they might be going...why they're going there...who's waiting for them to arrive...

You'll be amazed at where your imagination can take you...if you remember to let it.

 

Now

“Do you want the truth? Nobody knows what they’re doing in this life.
Not teachers or scientists or anyone with a college degree or even the President of the United States.
Nobody knows because life isn’t planned and it doesn’t come with an instruction booklet.
It’s fleeting and uncertain and complicated and nobody, not even the people seen as role models and heroes, can predict what is going to happen in the next minute, let alone the following day. Because life is sudden and frightening and the smallest thing can create the biggest problems before we even realise it.
But it’s also beautiful and inspiring and it’s the longest adventure we’ll all ever know.
So I say we just live, one day at a time without knowing how that day will pan out, including its weather and its purpose.
Let’s all live without fear and doubt and regret, with the people who make our hearts dance to the music we love and fill our souls with the little moments that make the greatest memories. Take photographs of everything.

Smile at strangers.
Say yes.
Throw a bag in the backseat and just drive.
Be honest.
Lie in the grass and count the stars.
Fall in love. Send that risky text. Read. Say no. Take risks.
Explore and grow and learn and discover and shape yourself into whoever you want to become. Do it, because tomorrow something could change and it could all be gone.
Don’t take anything for granted.
Just breathe in the air that’s free and smile at the endless possibilities and limitless potential. Live for now. And love every minute of it.” – Unknown

 

Dinner 4.10.18 - Pureed Cauliflower, Vegetable Ragout, Chicken Meatballs

I had a pretty bad day yesterday brought on by the stupid winter-lingering-into-spring weather we've been having and big grief that smacks me in my head and weakens my knees brought on
by losing my beloved dog Jasmine a few weeks back.

It was one of those days where I didn't think I was in any shape to deal with dinner until I remembered that one of the best things I can do for myself when I am under stress or some other travail is to cook.  Big bonus points if that process includes chopping and slicing.  Don't know why but it helps significantly.  I lose myself in the chopping, in the slicing, the peeling; I'm sure it has to do with the rhythm.

After a round of deep soul-searing crying (missing dog bad), I splashed cold water on my face and dashed off to the grocery store at 5:30pm for dinner ingredients.  By 6:00pm I was back home and chopping.

not a great picture 😏

Baking is different but I almost never use recipes when I cook.  I might look up a recipe to see how someone else does it, but 9 times out of 10, I wing it.  Because of that I've decided to post my food creations so that I'll remember what I did for the next time I want to make it.  Plus maybe someone out there might like to cook it, too.

We eat really healthy around here on a regular basis (we do indulge ourselves from time to time though) especially since JP's health scare back in January.  Cooking delicious and healthy food is really easy and not expensive despite what a lot of people think. 

But this stuff is really boring to write about and to read about, right?

So anyway, to the right is a picture of last night's meal which JP and Sherb described as amazing, wow, crazy good.

Pureed Cauliflower
So easy.  Break up a head of cauliflower, cook in large pan with a can of (low sodium) chicken broth.  Add two cut up garlic cloves.  Cook until tender.  Cauliflower will absorb most of the broth but do not strain if there's broth left in the pan.  Once cauliflower is tender remove from heat, add a couple tablespoons of butter, about 1/4 cup parmesan, salt and pepper to taste.  I pureed in the food processor in two batches because my head of cauliflower was quite large and added a tiny bit of (skim) milk - maybe a tablespoon or two - because the cauliflower had absorbed all of the broth liquid.  If you still have broth, add it to the food processor.  You can add milk if you want a looser puree...or less if you want more a mashed potato texture.

Quick Vegetable Ragout
In a large pan, add a couple tablespoons of good quality extra virgin olive oil. Slice one pound or so mushrooms (I used portabella) and add to pan, cook through.  While mushrooms are cooking, toss a bag of chopped spinach in the microwave, cool after cooking, then squeeze out all the water.  Add spinach to mushrooms.  Add 1/2 cup dry marsala wine. 
Cook one bag of baby carrots in saucepan filled with water.  When tender, strain, then slice on the diagonal and add to mushroom spinach mixture.  Add seasonings of choice (garlic powder, basil, s&p, etc). Cook until marsala is absorbed.

Chicken Meatballs
In large bowl, add one lb ground chicken breast (make sure it's breast because it's leaner and better quality).  Add about 1/2 cup bread crumbs (I used panko because it's way lower in sodium) and seasonings of your choice (red pepper flakes, garlic powder, basil, etc).  Dive in there with your hands and mix it up really good.  Roll golf ball size meatballs and you'll get 12-16 meatballs.  I cook mine in our Cusinart Air Fryer Toaster Oven for about 10 minutes on the air fryer setting but you could bake them in the regular oven (350 for 15-20 minutes).

Took about one hour to throw all of this together. 
My family has requested that I definitely make this again.

De La Coeur, Saturday Night

Once a year, the sales manager at JP's dealership takes all the other managers out as an end-of-year  thank you. This past Saturday was that night and it was probably the best one yet. 

It's always held at some fabulous restaurant and Saturday night's choice - De La Coeur Café et Pâtisserie in Wilmington, Delaware -  fit that bill.  The entire restaurant had been rented out just for us, a group of 16, so it was delightfully intimate.  As a highly sensitive person with very strong aversions to too many people and too much noise, I wish I could always go out dinner where there's only 16 people.

Upon arriving, we were greeted with a glass of sparkling rosé with a cute little berry floating in the champagne glass.  Lovely.  In fact, that word can be used to describe mostly everything from that night.
Anything sparkling will almost always give me a massive headache but I indulged in one glass. 

Charcuterie and a cute little berry swimming in my rosé.  I concur with the sign at the end of the table.

We were told that there were to be five courses, the first of which was a petite charcuterie board at each place setting consisting of sausage, cheeses, bread.

Course #2 was a Caesar salad with shaved parmesan.
Course #3 was a divine roasted pepper soup with gouda.
Course #4 was beef brisket on the bone served over pureed cauliflower along with french green beans and a pile of shaved apple.  I don't really eat red meat but I did try it and it was melt in your mouth tender.  I would have traded it all in for a large bowl of the pureed cauliflower.  I wanted to lick my plate to get every little bit of that cauliflower but figured my husband would probably not appreciate me doing that in the company of his peers.

Course #5 took me to heaven by way of the flourless chocolate cake we were served along with a dollop of real whipped cream.  Heaven, nirvana, utopia...all of those words and more describe that cake.  Listen, I would have done a lot of things to have had more of that cake but, again, I didn't want to embarrass my husband even though I considered it.  Most of the people who were there know me pretty well and know I'm a little bit nuts so I should have thrown caution to the wind and asked "are you gonna eat that?" to those around me - but, alas, I restrained myself. That cake was so freakin' good that I am going to the grocery store for the ingredients to attempt to make one as soon as I'm done writing this.  If it comes out okay, I'll post the recipe.

In the meantime, if you are anywhere near North Wilmington, Delaware, and want to indulge your tastebuds, I strongly recommend that you visit this place.  They also have a boulangerie not too far from the patisserie.  I haven't been to it but I am certain that I will be making a trip there very soon.

Once a month or so, they do a special dinner very similar to the one I just described to you.  Check out their website and newsletter for more information on that.  We'll probably see you there.


 

Real Estate Chronicles, Vol. 1

After months of deliberation, we've decided to put our house up for sale and move back to Delaware.

Even though our house is pretty great, it just doesn't make sense for us to live in South Jersey anymore especially when JP's job is 45 miles away.  We moved from Delaware to this house in NJ because we wanted it to be a hub for family and friends and, sadly, that didn't work out.  Meanwhile, he's commuting an hour each way for no real reason.  It's just time to go.

Which means we have to look for a new house.




The first time you meet up with your realtor and set out to look at some houses, it's very fun.  You're excited, filled with naive happy anticipation, lovey-dovey with your spouse as you set off on this new life adventure with your best friend.  It's another step on that happily ever after thing.

The second time you meet up with your realtor - because all of the houses you saw the first time were terrible - a wee bit of apprehension will have set in.  You're slightly suspicious of basically everything in every room of every house.  But still, the eagerness is there.  Today might be the day you find your dream home!

By the third+ time you meet up with your realtor you are a shell of the person you used to be.  You're angry, disgusted, grossed out by how some people actually choose to live.  With every house you go into you are getting an intimate and oftentimes terrifying peek into the inner sanctums of faceless freaks strangers.  You try to imagine living in the space they're currently inhabiting and your skin begins to itch ferociously.

We've been out with our real estate agent for the past three weekends.  Lucky for us, our agent is a very good fit and is not in any way trying to make a quick sale so she can score her commission.  She wants to make sure we're really getting the house we want and that no one is trying to scam. This is very important.  If you aren't feeling it with your agent and they don't seem to have your back, get a new one.  A good rule of thumb when it comes to agents:  if he/she would also be perfectly suited to sell used cars, it's probably a good idea to find someone else.

I fell in serious like with a house we saw early on. I'll call it the Black & White House. Couldn't stop thinking about it.  JP said if I really want it, we'll buy it.  Oh, by the way, this too, is very important.  If your spouse/significant other is not letting you buy the house you want, it's probably a good idea to find someone else.

I kid, I kid.

So I seriously liked the Black & White House.  (I stop short of saying that I loved the house because it's a rare thing to find a house in which you love everything about it.)  We went back for a second look with the intention of then putting in an offer for it.  Yay!  Oh, joy of joys!  No more house shopping!  Thank you, Jesus.

We went through the house, fine tooth-combed it.  "Yes, this will work," over and over again.  Then back up the stairs into the living room for one final look before leaving.

Wait.  Is the living room floor...bouncing?  JP did a slight up and down bounce.  Everything in the room shook. Stuff wanted to fall off the shelves.  He bounced again.  Same thing.
Oh my God, the living room floor has no support.  Like, in a really bad way. 
We all three raced back downstairs to inspect the ceiling below the living room.  Yup, no support.  The fix would require major renovation and no one who is close to being in their right mind buys a house that needs major renovation unless the price reflects that, which it did not.
Real estate agent has that you'd-be-an-idiot-to-buy-this-one look on her face.
So much for the Black & White House.

Then there was the Train House.  Gorgeous place.  The owners had a massive dining room set in the room that should have been the living room, but no big deal.  Kitchen straight out of House Beautiful. But the market in Delaware is crazy hot right now...why hasn't this house been snatched up?  Hmmm.

JP and I go outside on the wonderful deck.  OK, I'm having visions of balmy night barbecues dancing in my head.  I ask if those are train tracks right there?  No, JP says laughingly to me.  They wouldn't be that close to the house, he says.
Except they were.
And while we were out there dreaming of barbecues, we suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of a freight train (!) approaching.
It passes by - or should I say through - the backyard.  I'm talking 30-40 feet from the back deck.
Now I'm cracking up, hard.  Screaming to JP over the din of the train, "I said do you want a hamburger or hot dog?".  My visions of idyllic backyard get-togethers squashed and flattened...like a penny on a railroad track. 😏  The irony is that I love trains.  I was the senior editor of an historical train publication for a lot of years.  That house might be perfect for me but I'm not sure about being able to sleep through trains passing by in the middle of the night.  And what if it derails?!

This past weekend we looked at a house that was straight out of the 1960s.  Literally that's how old the shag carpeting was.  It seemed to be an estate situation.  Still, you go through the house with a critical eye, seeing if you can update it without too much expense.  Except for the part when we were in the basement and I saw on the shelf what appeared to be rat poison.  Is this rat poison, I asked.  Everyone concurred that it was.  Then I was back upstairs looking in a closet with appeared to have an attic fan in it.  Attic fans are not usually in closets so I asked JP to take a look and confirm that it was a fan.
"Yes, that's definitely an attic fan.  With about seven dead mice in it."
Oh my God, I could not get out of there fast enough.

Photo Credit: Mark Gstohl

I fell in love with the last house we saw.  Big real rare love.  JP said you want it, you got it. ♥
We put in our offer.
Agent calls to say - wait for it - they don't want to close until the new year.
Wait, what?  It's April.
But we can move in before that in a lease/purchase kinda way.  Okay, that might work.
Next day, agent calls again.  Apparently there is a "large crack" in the house that they are not fixing, just painting over.
You cannot make this up.  Their contractor looked at it and said it was "no big deal".  I'm sorry but if your house has a large crack in it, you need a structural engineer to take a peek, not a general contractor.
Agent advises to run, run like the wind.  Offer withdrawn.

So here we are.  Looks like we'll be going out again this weekend to look at more houses.

I, um, can't wait.

 

Patina

"She has no patina."

"What do you mean?"

"Life’s made no significant mark on her, despite the fact she’s halfway through it. No real scratches or creases. It’s like whatever life has thrown at her, she’s impervious to it, she’s Kevlar. Her soul hasn’t been darkened or stained by what she’s experienced; but neither has it been deepened, healed or enriched in any kind of beautiful or interesting way."

"But isn’t that a good thing?"

"No, for better or worse life should not leave anyone untouched. Our patina is what makes us interesting." -Jonathon Carroll

 

Elderberry Health Syrup

Forever is how long I have been involved in health foods, somehow knowing instinctively early on that real food was better food (with one serious caveat: I'll take french fries any way I can get them).  My daughter grew up going grocery shopping with me in a slew of natural health food stores.  Ask her about the time she took organic chicken salad with organic curry to school (curry turns things green! kids will laugh!) and her great love for Peanut Butter Bumpers.

I've always reached for natural stuff first whenever anything ails me but especially before anything ails me.  Frankly, as someone who has probably the worst case of white coat syndrome/latrophobia on the planet, I need natural remedies to work for me.


I discovered the miracles of elderberries years ago.  I make this syrup every winter to keep me healthy and I would usually take it whenever I remembered to. But this year with all the terrifying news about the flu, I took it religiously...sometimes 3 or 4 times a day.  I'd walk by the fridge, reach in and grab the jar and take a swig.  Yum.

I've talked about how my lungs collapsed (pneumothorax) nine years ago and  how my lungs have not been the same since - causing me lots of pain, especially in temperature extremes like cold winter and humid summer.  This winter has been different.  I have had almost no lung pain which is the most ridiculous thing after complaining constantly for the past 8 years and hiding inside for most of summers and winters.  This year JP was unable to exert himself physically so I was even outside shoveling on frigid days which is simply mind-blowing.  The difference between this year and the past 8?  My elderberry syrup consumption, no question.

Here's some crazy information I want you to know about elderberries:

Elderberries have been a folk remedy for centuries in North America, Europe, Western Asia, and North Africa, hence the medicinal benefits of elderberries are being investigated and rediscovered. Elderberry is used for its antioxidant activity, to lower cholesterol, to improve vision, to boost the immune system, to improve heart health and for coughs, colds, flu, bacterial and viral infections and tonsilitis. Bioflavonoids and other proteins in the juice destroy the ability of cold and flu viruses to infect a cell. People with the flu who took elderberry juice reported less severe symptoms and felt better much faster than those who did not. Elderberry juice was used to treat a flu epidemic in Panama in 1951.
Elderberries were listed in the CRC Handbook of Medicinal Herbs as early as 1985, and are listed in the 2000 Mosby's Nursing Drug reference for colds, flu, yeast infections, nasal and chest congestion, and hay fever. In Israel, Hasassah's Oncology Lab has determined that elderberry stimulates the body's immune system and they are treating cancer and AIDS patients with it. The wide range of medical benefits (from flu and colds to debilitating asthma, diabetes, and weight loss) is probably due to the enhancement of each individual's immune system. (From the site The Book Of Taste, read more here.)

All that, from these tiny little berries.

Elderberry syrup is really easy to make and will take only about an hour.  (Please note that although it's called syrup, it's not thick like pancake syrup.)

Here's what you need:

I get my dried elderberries via BulkHerbStore.com.  They're organic and perfect.

Our local honey comes from JP's friend, owner of the wonderful Harvey's Honey here in southern NJ.
To get the real benefits elderberry syrup can provide for allergies and such, I cannot encourage you enough to use local honey.  Store bought honey will add sweetness and that's about all it will do. Local honey is astronomically better.  Its benefits are too numerous to list here but you can go to this site to learn more: Reasons To Buy Raw Local Honey  Local honey is usually really easy to find but if you don't know of a source, just Google "local honey near me".

And then there's the Apple Cider Vinegar.  We only use Bragg because it's the best and  comes "with the mother".  It's a staple in our house.  If you look closely at the picture above, you'll see a bunch of sediment at the bottom of the bottle. That's "the mother".  In other words, all the good stuff.  Go to this link to learn more about this brand and how it can lower your cholesterol, lower your blood sugar, increase metabolism, etc.  Always remember to shake the bottle before using to distribute "the mother".

The picture above shows how I strain the elderberries and then mash them right in the strainer.  I use that small glass jar because it's the right shape and size to do the mashing work.

I throw the mashed up berry pulp outside as a treat for the birds.  🐦

Here's my recipe* and here is the link to download it.

You can also add cinnamon, cloves, allspice, ginger, if you're so inclined.

Na zdrowie!



*See Recipes Disclaimer here.

TBT: 2012 Writing Contest

In 2012 I participated in and won a writing challenge sponsored by NAIWE - National Association of Independent Writers and Editors.

You had to write a series of short articles over the course of 5 days but I unfortunately can only find one of the five.

It's fun to find older stuff you've written...and really, really hard to not want to edit it!

The challenge for the particular day I wrote this was:
Writers craft words into memorable phrases, stories, poems and plays. What writers make your heart sing? Why?

Here's what I wrote for that:

Those of us in love with words all have our favorite wordsmiths; the writers who have the ability to let us see with our mind's eye and feel as if it whatever is happening is somehow happening to us personally.  We've all seen the lists of someone's favorite authors and it is almost always populated with the big guns, the rock stars of the literary world -- Twain, Austen, Hemingway, etc. -- or whomever is currently topping the best seller list.

I would be lying if I denied my appreciation for these masters but if my personal truth be told, I'm far more enamored with the lesser known writer, the young writer, the writer who sits awake night after night pounding out the words, head in the clouds, heart filled with passion. 

Recently a story was circulating on the Internet about a renowned violinist playing unrecognized in the subway.  The gist of the story was that here was this famous musician whose performances regularly sell out at $100 per seat, yet he was almost completely ignored as he played in the subway.  Had he sent out a press release and charged admission, his subway show would have been the talk of the town with everyone clamoring for a ticket. 

We are a starstruck society. 

But what are we missing as we look up to the chosen few that we decide to idolize?

In our certainty that there will never be another (insert famous author name here), I cannot even imagine the talent and potential greatness that is being overlooked. 

If authors themselves were sold in stores, I'd much rather purchase mine at the thrift shop instead of some high end, glitzy emporium where 'anybody who's anybody' shops for overpriced, mass-produced meaninglessness.  

Besides, treasures are often found at thrift shops. 

Stars, super or otherwise, are not always visible.  Sometimes it's up to us to go seek them out.

 

Winter Hiatus / Do-Over

This year has not started out so great.

A lot of health stuff and subsequent realizations about health and people...and then some significant lifestyle changes...and then deciding that we need to make decisions because of all that stuff.
Not a high fun quotient.

During all of this I also made some bold decisions about my photo art, including cancelling a solo gallery show.
I know; there are a million people who would kill to have their own gallery show...who would do whatever it took to secure that...and I go and cancel mine.  Aye yi yi, right?

Well good. Maybe by cancelling I opened the door for another artist to get a gallery show of their own.

I cancelled the show for a couple of really good reason (see above, paragraph #2) but there was one more reason that got me off the fence when I was stuck in indecision about whether to do the show oe not for awhile:  I just don't love doing them.

I don't love the prep involved especially to someone else's standards.  No surprise there as I have never done well with rules.

I don't love giving away 30-40% of the profit and having to up my prices to make up for that. This is probably a really big primary reason that I won't be doing galleries for the immediate future (I reserve the right to change my mind at a later date) as I strive to keep my prices low enough so that the art is available to almost everyone.  Changing that goes against the core.

I made the decision that instead of gallery-type events, we're going to do a handful of art fairs and festivals.

We'll get to set up our only little world inside and around our 10x10 tent and I can add some of the other things I'm passionate about like my painted signs...and have a fun, eclectic site that we are in charge and control of.  I'm way more suited to doing things that way and when/if I get overwhelmed by noise and people, JP will be right there to take over.  The truth is that my creative endeavors are a partnership with him and could never even happen without him.  He loves being a part of it and when I do gallery-type shows all he gets to do is lug all the heavy crap even though he can talk about my artwork almost as thoroughly as I can.

Simply, we operate best as a team so I'm doing less "I" and more "us".

There is one thing on the agenda coming up that "I" will be doing because he can't help with it:  I'll be giving a talk at the Trenton Free Public Library in October, so those of you who stalk me might want to take the day off of work that day or have one of your operatives show up for you.  I'll be talking about my artwork while also talking about how to see things in this visually-saturated, high-paced world we live in.  Or something along those lines.  Who knows, I still have months to plan it.
In my former life as a senior editor of reference books, I used to speak before quite large groups on a regular basis so I'm not really freaking out about this.  At least not yet.

You can check out my event page to see what fairs and festivals are coming up...for us.

Going forward, I also plan to amp up my writing, although it hasn't waned at all even through our recent trials and tribs.  I've been writing and publishing under a pseudonym for years and that i$n't going to change but I want to do more earthy writing as the real me.  This raises the fun quotient significantly.

I might even find some time to update and add to my poor website, which has been languishing half-done for months.  Bleh.

Where does the time go?

 

I'm Not "Supposed" To Do This

Convention wisdom will tell you that if you have any kind of business-y online presence that you should keep it all business and not mix in your personal life.

I tried doing that.
A lot.
Many times.

It will come as no surprise to anyone who knows that me + conventional wisdom have never really gotten along so naturally all of my attempts to conform to it have failed.
Miserably.
Gloriously.
In a blaze of fantastic disaster.



I can't separate my personal life - aka my real self - from my business self.
We are one.

I guess that if I have a blog (or Facebook, Instagram, etc) associated with my business that I'm just supposed to write about business stuff, but the one-dimensionality of that would keep you (and me) interested for all of about 2 or 3 minutes at best.

Conversely, I guess that I'm supposed to have a separate blog (or Facebook, Instagram, etc) for my personal stuff and I guess that I'm not supposed to write about business stuff there, but don't you think that's kind of ridiculous? 

My business is based on my creativity and I don't want to sound corny or dramatic but that creativity courses through my veins. Furthermore, I am a bona fide writer - yep, I get paid all professional-like for stuff I write and have written.  So it is completely natural that I would incorporate those two core things into what I put out into the world (wide web).  I wouldn't have the first clue how to separate that out into some conventional wisdom compartments.

I see a great many people out there compartmentalizing and presenting their business or personal life as this non-messy, everything's-always-fabulous Stepford Wives persona to the world and in between my yawns I'm like "BS". 

(By the way, perfection is boring.
I want to see the real you, warts and all.  I want to know what/who is behind that thing you create.  I want a little insight into what makes you tick.)

I've said this a gazillion times in my lifetime...I've said it to my kid, to my self, to my staff, and basically to anyone who needed to hear it:

If there was one way to do a thing, one way that would lead to the whatever the goal was, 

we would all be doing it and then basking in the riches that showered down upon us all.

That reality, thankfully, is not that there is any one RIGHT way to do anything...except maybe heart or brain surgery.  Probably there is a really right way to do either of those two things and so if you're a surgeon it's probably a good idea to not go rogue and to instead stick with the tried and true. No one wants their doctor to say let's try something new and see what happens.

My other big saying that those around me have heard ad nauseum is throw it at the wall and see if it sticks.

I do this a lot which might have something to do with why my husband is losing his hair kind of rapidly.  See, I have a lot of ideas, frequently...and I also happen to think that the real meaning of life is to grab hold of it and take chances and have as much fun as possible...so I try things. 
Lots and lots of things. 
They might work, they might not, but in the meantime I'm living and learning and proactively having a grand time with this life thing...even when I do nothing more than write about not having a great day, etc.

How about you? 

 

Christmas Confession: Is It Over Yet?

There is a chalkboard hanging in my kitchen upon which I have chalked in a countdown that I change daily.

Many other people have some kind of similar thing hanging in their homes and each day they excitedly change the countdown number as the anticipated date draws nearer.

The difference between mine and theirs is that they are counting the days until Christmas and I am counting the days until the day after Christmas.


I was not always this way. There are several reasons why I no longer enjoy holidays but the biggest one has to do with becoming anosmic and no longer being able to smell the associated scents that come with holidays.

I'm not going to get into a big scientific explanation of how your sense of smell affects every single freaking thing in your life/world and that if you still have the ability to smell stuff you have no idea what I'm talking about.  Most people who smell (ha) think that if you can no longer smell that it simply means you don't smell stuff.  That is wrong.  Oh so very wrong.
You, smelling person, are smelling things right now that you are not even aware of that are giving your life a very rich, multi-faceted experience.  Like, an amazing technicolor life.
Me, as a non-smelling person, experience life in a completely one-dimensional way.  Like, in a dismal black & white kind of way even though all the colors are there, right in front of my, um, nose.

Here's a visual:

Me, as a smelling person enjoying the Christmas season, hands thrown out in joy

Me, as a formerly smelling person attempting to enjoy the Christmas season, hands thrown out in WTF

Let me explain even further: there are scents that evoke memories.  The holidays are filled with these scents and even without you knowing it, when you smell a particular something it wakes up the part of the brain that holds the memories associated with that scent - that's basic stuff, right?
Maybe for you it's Christmas cookies or pine needles or the ham/turkey in the oven or snow or your loved ones, etc.

All of that is gone for me.

So in the season of sensory overload, I'm over here being constantly inundated and reminded of what I'm missing and I try really really hard every single day to not think about it so that I can function to the best of my ability in this new world of sensory nothingness that I now live in thanks to my non-functioning nose.

I try to get into the spirit of things to the best of my ability, really I do.  The outside of my house is decorated so that our neighbors don't think we're Scrooges.  I have fake trees all over the inside of our house year round and one is rather tall with beautiful white lights, so that one conveniently serves as our Christmas tree.  I might bake some cookies even though I can't taste their flavors anymore.
Oh, did you not realize that when someone can't smell it means that they can't taste flavors either?
You can see what I mean by being inundated and reminded of what I'm missing.

Every day without fail I remind myself to not think about not being able to smell.  If I don't remind myself and I start thinking about it too much, despair comes, and if I let that happen I am in really big trouble.  So it's my daily battle and it's kind of exhausting.  Then along comes a holiday and screams in my face everywhere I turn and I'm just like

The only part of Christmas that I still love are the Christmas lights.  I still get little kid excited by them.  We still go for long rides to look at them.  That's Christmas to me now.

Regardless, my life is still blessed and I spend more time than you can imaging thanking God for all I have...primarily a husband and daughter who uplift me when I sink too low and who share oh-my-god-i-can't-breathe laughter with me...and let's not forget that unconditional love thing.

I just hope that in the middle of your hustle and bustle that you remember to appreciate - I mean really appreciate - the stuff you maybe take for granted.

Smell those smells, taste those tastes and in the middle of it all remember to count your own blessings.

 

I'm Big In Berlin

You might not know this but I am the resident artist at The Globe in Berlin, MD.

So fitting that I shared the spotlight with
Funk O Lisous (sp)!

All year round approximately 25 or so of my artwork hang downstairs.

I hung a bunch of new stuff there in September totaling 26 pieces and I got word that much of that has sold!  So that's pretty great 👍
We hustled and ordered a bunch of new stuff and trekked down there this past weekend to replenish stock and wound up hanging something like 39 new pieces.  Whoa.

For some reason I am pretty successful in the Berlin area.  Every single week, no kidding, I get messages from people who say they saw or bought my artwork there.  Fabulous.

Every time I write about The Globe and Berlin, MD, I have to expound on how magical it is there.  The movies Tuck Everlasting and Runaway Bride which tells you that even Hollywood thinks it's a pretty special place.

So, go, if you can manage it.

Buy some art while you're there 😏