These Women Rock My World!

My Mom, My Aunt, My Sister, My Niece, My Daughters and me.

Respond to the Call...Again

If you had been driving by Christian Temple early morning or late afternoon, you would have seen a sea of yellow t-shirts. Here is what they said:

This is the way of peace

Overcome evil with good

falsehood with truth

and hatred with love

-Peace Pilgrim

A small group of people, small in relationship to our world, 9 teams of 11 at least, have taken a day remembered for tragedy and turned it into a day of hope and renewal and honor. For six years, this group has responded to the call, to work together, side by side, people of different race and creed, to promote peace in our small section of the world. Hopefully, it will pay it forward. This year all four of us made it a priority, felt its call.

Emma and I worked together for First Fruits Farm. Before going into the orchard, Carol, the owner of the farm, lead us in prayer. We were the estrogen team, a group of 12 women and girls, Muslim and Christian. We picked apples, gleaned the top of the trees and the ground, and along with two other volunteer groups, picked over 150 bushels of apples. The apples were going to various agencies in the Mid Atlantic region, where it was needed. There were still trees bursting with fruit when we left. It was a satisfying task and was rewarded with crisp, juicy apples for our lunch along with a few to take home.

Audrey joined her youth group, working with Civic Works. They split into two groups, one weeding a stone labyrinth and the other weeding a vegetable garden, both formerly vacant lots. My Handsome Prince worked on the Prisoner's Aid house laying flooring, clearing the back yard of weeds and brush, painting and other various maintenance projects. Other groups went to a therapeutic horse farm to paint fences, although some of those kids came back with more paint on them than the fences, I think. We had 3 groups stay back to quilt for Prisoner's Aid, knit hats for premature babies, and put together packages for the National Federation of the Blind that will assist families to learn to read braille. We had a group painting bedrooms and planting gardens at the Children's Home in Catonsville.

Ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

Our Work

Audrey's photo in the middle of photos at the State Fair














My rug, displayed upside down (which totally pisses me off and baffles me - doesn't it look upside down? Weren't the rings a hint as to how it is to hang?)with a participant ribbon. Once home the ribbon was an Honorable Mention. I'm cool with that, just not the upside down thing.

Emma's creation from an old window. She needs artwork in her apartment, the walls are bare.

At Eulala's funeral, Shorty wanted a piece of pie but state he would be too full after he finished his meal. Enough said?

On Your Mark, Get Set, Go!

This week starts the Fall Session at the YMCA. School has started. Summer vacation has ended. I always feel a bit melancholy. I love the lazy days (HA!) of summer but also just seem to get much more accomplished, or at least feel I do, when I am on a regular regime. This week starts a new line of classes for me. I will be up to 17 classes a week, plus 6 hours a week in the gym just people watching. My classes are as follows:

Power Ride (spinning/cycle) 5x a week

Women's Health Center 5x

Dog Walking 3x

Strength, Aerobics, & Stability for Seniors 2x

Power Workout (bodysculpting or strenght training) for beginners 2x

Now don't get too excited and say I'm killing myself. I only guide in the Women's Health Center, so it is non participatory for me, we only walk 1 1/2 miles in dog walking (Apple Sunshine can do 2 but that's it), and S.A.S. for Seniors is very light. The greatest workout comes from Power Ride and Power Workout, but even so, I'm still a teacher and guide and often walk around to check form. I would be pushing so much harder as a participant. Speaking of which, I will start attending Pilates 2x a week. I miss it so.

I was half dreading the start of this week. I'm only two days into it, Monday doesn't count, and it seems like it is going to be just fine. Although, I've had to take a short nap today and yesterday. Now, if I could just find time for Black Betty, all would be well.

The big dog walking class. There were three students (dogs) signed up and only one showed. Doesn't Apple Sunshine look like she thinks she's hot stuff?

A Reason to Celebrate

This is post number 272. While not one of those milestone numbers, it is significant. That's how many times I have born witness, contemplated, participated, and written about the world around me, however small.


Even more reason, is my youngest daughter. She entered a photo into the Maryland State Fair and one a First Place ribbon. Wow! She was quite subtle in her pleasure but was pleased, none the less. It's quite a thing to be 15, see your photo with a ribbon on it among hundreds of photos. Kudos to you Audrey.


And, oldest daughter, started classes and auditioned for the Chamber Singers at Towson University. She had call backs and made the group. Woohoo!


And after some worry about a cough, the Handsome One is on some antibiotics and cough medicine and feeling much better.


While celebration was in order, it wasn't in the calendar. Instead, it just brought joy, which is good enough.

Grandma's Hands

My Handsome Prince, His sisters, and his Granma on her 90th birthday, April 2007


Grandma's hands Clapped in church on Sunday morning
Grandma's hands Played a tambourine so well
Grandma's hands Used to issue out a warning
She'd say, "Billy don't you run so fast Might fall on a piece of glass "Might be snakes there in that grass"

Grandma's hands Soothed a local unwed mother
Grandma's hands Used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands Used to lift her face and tell her, "Baby, Grandma understands That you really love that man Put yourself in Jesus hands"
Grandma's hands Used to hand me piece of candy
Grandma's hands Picked me up each time I fell
Grandma's hands Boy, they really came in handy
She'd say, "Matty don' you whip that boy What you want to spank him for? He didn' drop no apple core"
But I don't have Grandma anymore
If I get to Heaven I'll look for Grandma's hands
Bill Withers

This song played on my ipod when we were leaving the funeral.

Yesterday we attended the funeral for Eulala M. Grapes, Wife, Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother, Great Great Grandmother. This is My Handsome Prince's Grandmother. Ellen, her daughter wrote a song about her, a few years back, it makes me cry every time she sings it. Elizabeth, her Granddaughter, wrote a poem for this funeral. I wish I had the words to both but since I don't I felt this song brought out the power of a Grandma and kismet that is was playing as we drove home from West Virginia.

Now we are both left with only one Grandparent alive. I called my Grandma today. She has taken up to writing poetry. She recited 2 poems to me, one about my cousin, her Granddaughter and one about life's tough questions. What is amazing is that my Grandma doesn't see well enough to write. Just well enough to recognize people and observe what happens around her. After 90 some odd years, she is experiencing the world in a totally new way and thinking about it and then creating from it. She recites her poems in her head and when they are "just right" she recites them over the phone to a friend. To me that is amazing and an inspiration.

My Handsome Prince's Granfather, Shorty, Eulala's husband of 72 years has been left behind. He still runs an antique auto parts business, has to be scolded to not climb on a pile of logs with a chainsaw, and plays scrabble every night.

Aren't we lucky to have had these influences in our young lives and now providing inspiration to keep learning, keep seeking, keep moving?

One of the things read yesterday was a poem written by MHP's sister. Among many things she called Eulala:
a whistler of tunes
a crackadoodler
a wearer of teal
an admirer of curly hair


I can feel her hands on my hair, telling me how beautiful it was, as I sat on the floor in front of her. I can hear her through My Handsome Prince's whistling and now Audrey's whistling, something I have never been able to do. I see my sister in law, a lover of teal, and see her. And of course we giggle about crackadoodles (passing gas, farts, fluffs). She was carried off in a white casket, for she loved things to be pristine, by her Grandsons and Great Grandsons. At one point the youngest Great Grandson, about 3 or 4, said somewhat loudly "I'm hot". It was perfect. The next generation and again the circle being unbroken. Rejoice in the long life lived and the life yet to be lived.

Ozomatli performs the

I lost my video from the previous post talking about Ozomatli at Sonar. I know you don't need another Ozo video or post. But they are keeping me hyped for days. This is just what we participated in at Sonar in April or May and again the other night at Pier 6. Too much fun!

Milk was bad Choice

Whenever it is real hot, this is what the girls say. After a few cool days, the heat is back. Yesterday, while shopping, Emma says "It's so damn hot" and all three of us responded "Milk was a bad choice". This is how we feel today

Ozomatli Street Signs live

Ozomatli, ya se fue, ya se fue!

When Ozomatli finishes their set, they start the crowd singing "Ozomatli, ya se fue, ya se fue!" meaning Ozomatli have left. They climb off the stage with drums, sticks, whistles, and find a spot in the crowd to continue the party. Once again, they found us, I'm convinced they saw a bunch of us singing and making room for them. I stood in between two of them while they jammed then broke out into the hokey pokey. When they started their conga line, Li'l Sis and I were right behind them, walking in the aisles while people squeezed against their seats to make room for us, looking at us like what are those girls doing? They stopped again in the crowd for a bit, then made their way out into the vending area. There were only about 20 of us that followed. It's incredible! When they were done, again, we shook their hands and thanked them for a great show. One of the guys said they were just the opening band, but for me they were headlining. They have such energy, such positive vibes, so gracious with the fans, and they obviously have a great time. At one point they came into the crowd looking for a child, brought him on stage, handed him a tambourine, introduced him as the next generation, and the kid played an entire song with them. So true. They formed through a community center in LA, holding weekly Friday and Saturday night fund raisers. The center focused on arts for the inner city youth, skateboarding, break dancing, graffiti. Now they are Grammy award winners with music focusing on diversity, justice, creativity, politics. One of them was asked at the end of a podcast, what advise do you have to give? His response was "Do good things everyday." I will see them again and again and again.

It was a great evening with my sister. It was a funny evening. Lot's of beer, young crowd, hot, the smell of marijuana permeating my clothes, uptight couple with bad karma so much so that they constantly got beer sloshed on them and my sister accidentally whacked him on the head while dancing, young cocky boys trying to get us women to dance/grind with them (imagine the Italian head slap "What are you thinking? I have children your age!" whap!), older guy grooving the whole time, G Love full of himself, and the two of us, full of ourselves, laughing, dancing, singing, never sitting, contemplating another club (foiled by a phone call). We vowed next time we'll stay out all night and get a room. When I got home at a very late hour, My Handsome Prince, sleeping asked "Did you have a good time?" I just laughed and said "Oh, yeah".

I received a phone call this morning, all it said was "Ozomatli, ya se fue, ya se fue." Dang I wish they didn't leave.

Ozomatli's in the House, You should know that by now

We were in a party like this at Sonar in Baltimore. The guys in the band were leaning into us and we were singing, laughing, following them, meeting them afterwards, thanking them for a great show, them thanking us for being a great crowd. Can't wait for tonight.

Just me and Li'l Sis.

I lost this video so have posted one above. FYI

Domingo

Me making tortillas.

Audrey has a friend in school whose parents are Mexican and Guatemalan. We've met them a couple times, conversed with them, made driving arrangements, all the things you do when your children are friends. We took it a step further when I asked the Mom if she cooked American or Mexican and I expressed an interest in learning to cook authentic Mexican food. No Old El Paso for me! She was very excited about this! We basically invited ourselves over on Sunday and oh! are we glad we did! We arrived bearing two bottles of wine and a small hostess gift of a knitted dishcloth (done by yours truly) and a tea towel with yo yo's long the bottom edge (also done by yours truly). We feasted on civechi on tostadas, fresh tortillas with queso fresco, fresh salsa, frijoles con chorizo, red rice (that's what their youngest daughter called it), and chicken on the grill. It was not quite the cooking lesson I expected as she had done the cooking. I did learn to make my own tortillas and didn't do so bad. I learned her recipe for civechi. The conversation was easy, the food excellent, the hospitality most generous. We were sent home with a jar of salsa, canned peppers, civechi, tostadas, and their youngest put together goody bags of tamarind candy. Once home, My Handsome Prince promptly ordered my a cast iron tortilla maker. The next day the husband/father called to thank us for coming to his home. We are making plans to get together again. So much to learn from other cultures, not only about them, but about your own.

My tortilla maker came yesterday. Guess what I did today? I made huevos con chorizo, 4 tortillas, queso fresca, fresh tomatoes. Mmmmmmm. I also called them to tell them what I did. He laughed. I think it pleased them, I know it did me.

The makings for a delicious lunch.

Huevos con chorizo, fresh tomatoes, and hot tortillas wrapped in foil.

Yummy fruit from the fruit trees of friends from church. That will be my snack.

A Perfect Friday Night

Audrey and I arrived at Li'l Sister's house around 1:30. We were getting together to cook and can. She had red peppers that we roasted, tomatoes that we sauced, and loads of basil we turned into pesto. While we did not come away with enough to last the winter, more likely the week, we had an afternoon of laughter, cooking, good smells, kids in and out, a party in the basement (it was the debut of "High School Musical 2"). Emma came out to join the party. Nothing is better than good food, laughter, good wine, the noise of happy kids. I came home with the feeling that it was a perfect evening, that warm fuzzy feeling (no it was not the wine), a sense of pure contentment.

Life in the Fast Lane

Well, we are right back in the swing of things. I've taught 7 classes in two days, My Handsome Prince went back to work yesterday after many weeks off, we moved Emma into her apartment, and again move Emma into her apartment - it seems a never ending process. We finalize some things at the University, and start making our fall schedules for school starting, last minute trips, putting some food by before the freshness ends, parties to attend (my sister turns 40! My little sister!), and more. My fingers are itching to stitch something new but I am determined to get some things ready for the State Fair, so must stay on track. My mind wants to absorb wonderful words and think about them, but with the kids all talking about Harry Potter, I must read it before they give it away. My local library is having a talk on The Memory Keepers Daughter and Shepherd University is having Henry Louis Gates Jr. sometime soon, so must read those two. Things to do, things to do. Yet it feels wonderful. My body hurts, and I yearn.

Scenes from Cape Henlopen

The bottle opener flip flop in action. He was never without his shoes or he felt the wrath of others.
A snooze in the hammock.

A sick puppy who saved the trip by making the madatory emergency room visit. Many were worried was it going to be them. She's feeling fine now, but camping in the heat at the beach is not for her.

Camping cousins having fun, being silly, following the path of their Mothers.

Smokin ' and drinkin'. Well, actually eating cookies and I was drinking. The girls only smoke cuban cigars in the Caymans.

Happy camper or is she just sleep deprived?

Dirty feet, although not as dirty as the year we tattooed our legs with magic markers, rain, and dirty sand. We looked diseased. That was the same year we had a tarp over the fire to keep it going and of course stood underneath it to stay dry. When we went into town to Dairy Queen, people sniffed the air and said "What's that funky smell?"
Path to the beach.
A Happy camper despite her sunburn, and her medication that makes her susceptible to sunburn, and her Mother nagging about sunscreen. What an angel.

Geocaching was a hit until they went into the salt path and were consumed by mosquitos. Now we all want GPS systems.

Silly sisters.
Time to make the donuts! We cooked 90% of our meals over the open fire. Our friends Brian and Roto are the masters of cooking over the fire, although my sister is right there with them. She made the donuts. We made ribs, fajitas, a mean meatloaf, breakfast casserole, cinnamon rolls, blueberry coffee cake (muffins), sausage, peppers, and potato bake, bacon, scrapple, eggs, pancakes. No trip is complete without pork products on the grill. All absolultely heavenly.

The Dog Beach, officially known as Herring Point. We once sent Brian on a wild goose chase actually looking for The Dog Beach. We never paid attention to the official name. Our bad.

More happy campers, some happy just in the solitude of reading and relaxing.

These people border on glamping. Brian and Roto always have all the accesories and fun toys. We had campsites that backed up to one another. We had two pop-ups, 1 tent, 3 hammocks, one screen tent and plenty or room. Poor sister had site 19 which was in full sun and deadly. Never stay on site 19, we know that now.

As always we made a shoppy shoppy trip into town, a couple visits to DQ, a bike ride, Brian and MHP were the only brave ones to kayak in the heat and full sun (my heros). I did not climb the observation tower for the seocond year in a row, what's up with that? The saying for the week was anytime anyone said "I'm thinking about..." the response was "I'm thinking about my doorbell, when ya gonna ring it, when ya gonna ring it?" Anyone a Jack White/White Stripes fan? We had many tired, hot, cranky, campers who had not been home in a couple weeks going from camp to camping. We had other tired, hot, cranky (me) campers. Every year it is a battle to find time for this trip, a weather situation to deal with, yet we find humor, fun, grace, acceptance, and love in the end. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Linda Day Clark and The "Benders" or Geesing with my Aunt

Sunday, My Aunt and I made plans to see the exhibit of The Gees Bend Quilts at the Walters Art Museum. Luckily, Auntie was paying attention and suggested this day so we could also listen to a presentation by Linda Day Clark, a photographer who accompanied a journalist from New York Times(?to Gees Bend, Alabama. Over the next 6 years, Linda continued to make the trip to Gees Bend to listen and photograph. Linda started her talk softly, slowly, searchingly, and going back as far as her education. She showed photographs of North Avenue, where she had been told not to go, "you'll get killed". She showed the spirit of community. She then showed and spoke of a project in Nigeria, where she had been told not to go, "you'll get killed". Again, the spirit of community shown through in her photographs. She showed and spoke of Maryland slaves, and lastly the "Benders" as she called them. She was able to weave the projects together, North Avenue, Nigeria, MD slaves, and Gees Bend, by their common thread of community, overcoming obstacles, enslavement, and strength. It was quite amazing.

We slipped out during question and answer period so we could see the quilts before the entire crowd got there. They were very interesting. What was very apparent was the era in which they were made, even without looking at the dates. Auntie and I discussed the heritage of their quilts, how it has changed since they have come, again, into the limelight. We looked at quilts that were objects of beauty because of what they came from, the obvious make do thriftiness, the obvious patina of wear from clothing and from use as a covering. This was missing in the current quilts of the 90's and 2000. We also slipped upstairs to see the photographs that Linda had taken in Gees Bend. We looked at the photos of the Benders and what she had captured with her lens was the eyes. What they had seen, what they felt, the strength, the weaknesses. Again, amazing.

Back in the day, when I first started quilting, I had a quilting friend. She was older, almost Grandmother age for me, and she was a perfectionist. I have many unfinished projects or tops that were discarded because they were not perfect. She would have me take out stitches for various reasons, points don't match exactly, thread is wrong, etc. Don't get me wrong, I loved her (and still do) and learned quite a bit. But I have been freed. Now I know it does not matter. The beauty comes in the process and the use.

During that earlier time, I had occasion to see some African/American quilts at the Banneker-Douglass Museum in Annapolis. I don't know what collection they were from and also did not appreciate them. Also during that time, I received a book from my Aunt called "The Freedom Quilting Bee" about these African American women in an outpost of land in Alabama producing these incredible works of art in their quilts. Yup, it was the "Benders". The women of Gees Bend. I plan on rereading this book after the multitude of others before it.

I truly enjoyed the afternoon with my Aunt. We had a delightful lunch and talked of the upcoming surgeries and health issues of my parents. We spoke of family and it's roll in our lives. She was the perfect person to see this exhibit with as she examines and likes to discuss what she sees. She has the ability to wonder, to listen, to learn, to appreciate. It was a perfect delight.

A Good Day for a Float

Walking down the NCR trail to the put in point
loading in the water
view of the river before we start floating

Me

With the thirty(?) of us out of the water about an hour later. It made room for this next group to float. The river was just littered with people like us who just wanted to float.

List of Current Events

Cape Henlopen tomorrow

Aug. 10, 10pm Anders Osborne at Power Plant Live Courtyard, FREE

Aug. 11 Corn Roast
Aug. 11 Floatilla on the Gunpowder

Aug. 13 Emma moves out

Aug. 18 Hot August Blues
Aug. 18 Family Reunion

Aug. 19 Dinner with friends

Aug. 24 G Love and Special Sauce
Slightly Stoopid
Ozomatli
Aug. 26 Sunday Night Live starts

Aug. 27 School starts - boohoo!

I Never Want to See You Again!

The parting words of My Handsome Prince's CardioThoracic surgeon. Amen to that. He will, though, be forever under the care of his Oncologist.

We are off to the beach for a week. Our favorite home away from home, camping at Cape Henlopen. A week with family (Li'l Sis and kids) and friends so close they are family. We will play capture the flag on the dunes, cook delicious meals over the open fire, kayak, bike, climb the WW II Observation Tower, lay around in hammocks, road trips to DQ, and of course, sunbathe and swim. It's definitely overdue around here.

Back in the Saddle Again

I rode to my sister's house last night. It's about 25 miles away. We were invited to dinner so I thought I would ride and My Handsome Prince would drive bringing our contributions to dinner and my change of clothes. Makes sense. I will never, ever, ever, do that again. It was the third most frightening thing I've experienced. First was climbing the steps of the Duomo in Florence, Second was the swim in my triathlon last year, and now riding the roads from my house to Li'l Sisters house. The route is heavily travelled and has little or no shoulder. Early in the ride, a motorist coming the opposite way, looked straight at me and flipped me the bird. I was not interfering with his way, nor was there anyone behind me. Definitely miss Italian drivers and roads in instances like that. There were several times in the ride, after a huge truck or trailer would blow by me within inches, trying not to overcompensate on my bike (BB is very sensitive), that I almost called MHP to pick me up. But, determined to conquer this ride and this fear, I persevered. I really was not observant about the terrain except turning on to my sisters road, from almost a complete stop, and climbing the shortest, steepest hill, then a lovely downhill breeze until "The Driveway". Straight up, lowest gear, out of the seat, Sambino (his new name after Italy) saying "Hey", Carlman saying "Hey", Li'l Sis saying "Hey do you remember so and so?" as I am still climbing, panting, and unable to speak. I jumped in the pool having only taken off my helmet and shoes.

Dad joined us for dinner. Typical to fashion, we ate wonderful food, drank a little too much vino, and told and heard stories. My sister and her husband speaking of their trip to Italy (totally different/separate from ours). My Dad told a story of going to see Duke Ellington with a friend whose friend was an intimate friend of The Duke. They went back stage, spoke with him, and he even gave them a private little concert. My sister and I were flabbergasted that we had never heard this story. Duke Ellington had taken their addresses and promised them Christmas cards from Europe. He died that year and sometime in the spring, Dad received a card from Duke Ellington's personal secretary, carrying out his promise. Wow.

New Blog

I'm working, very slowly, on my Italy blog. Come take a look.
An Italian Holiday

Day is Done

Day is done,
gone the sun,
From the hills,
from the lake,
From the skies.
All is well,
safely rest,
God is nigh

Our property backs up to a Bible Camp that various groups rent out. There is one group that comes every year. If you pay attention, at 10pm every evening,when this group is there, you can hear someone playing taps. What a wonderful way to end the day. Day is done, day is done.

Status

Lung surgery on July 12, singing in the band July 30.

Enjoying He'brew Genisis Ale, The Chosen Beer.

The girls are gone this week and we are busy. I'm back to work, obviously the man is feeling good, painting the deck, attending meetings, singing. My plans to go to the Gee's Bend exhibit yesterday were foiled by my own lack of attention. Life is back in the fast lane.

Gone

Remember this post? Last week it was still standing. The outside wall had fallend down during a storm a few months ago. But as I walked the route this week, I discovered it had been destroyed by fire. I do not know what the circumstances were. I am saddened. There is a small cabinet right inside the door, somewhat intact, that held Audrey's books and toys, crocheted finger puppets, paper dolls, and more. I'm sure they were still there. A part of her life, a part of mine, gone. I will call Janis to make sure everyone is ok. To let her know I miss her. There will always be a place in my heart for my experiences and my friendship with these people.

Summer Reading List

The Stones Applaud, How Cycstic Fibrosis Shaped My Childhood - Teresa Anne Mullin
Colored People, a Memoir - Heny Louis Gates, Jr.
The Time of Our Singing - Richard Powers
The Memory Keeper's Daughter - Kim Edwards
Complete Feltmaking - Gillian Harris

Some typical brain laxative mysteries


But when I found this book, Gilead - Marilynne Robinson , I opened up and read the first paragraph. I was hooked. It only got better:

"I really can't tell what's beautiful anymore. I passed two young fellows on the street the other day. I know who they are, they work at the garage. They're not churchgoing, either one of them, just decent rascally young fellows who have to be joking all they time, and there they were, propped against the garage wall in the sunshine, lighting up their cigarettes. They're always so black with grease and so strong with gasoline I don't know why they don't catch fire themselves. They were passing remarks back and forth the way they do and laughing that wicked way they have. And it seemed beautiful to me..."

It goes on, lovely. I'm only a few pages in and it has struck a chord in me.

Another thing added to my Summer List

Check out this link
I'm definitely going.

The Story of Our Days

Monday was Audrey's birthday. She had been out the night before to a concert where some of her friends were playing. She then spent the night at another friend's house, whose parents let her choose what she wanted for breakfast. She got donuts, scrapple and bacon. Mmmmm. Her Grandmommy and Aunt picked her up at the meeting point and brought her home to us, where I had presents and had made cupcakes. After the initial hoopla was over, including some cards for MHP, she showered, got on the computer and was promptly bored. She even said next summer she does not want to be home at all. Just put a knife through my heart. Of course, she did not mean it that way. Yesterday came on the heels of 10 days in Italy and 6 days in New York, friends, and a concert. I know what she meant but it made me think.

We are a family that has many opportunities. I believe in taking advantage of them and that the ones we have taken have enriched our lives. We've done a small bit of travelling, due to the generousity of my Father in law, but we have a lot of experiences that are priceless. Deciding to feed a homeless shelter for a birthday, gatherings with family, learning something new, the various work trips that are available to my children through church, free concerts in communities, camping with friends, our children's involvements in school, having fun together, but mainly leaving ourselves open to experience something new.

This week is a week of different opportunities. Today alone, we had 9 visitors. We hardly ever have visitors! We have a fridge full of food. I knit away while we watch movie after movie. I've read two books. I've even started hanging my laundry outside again. This is a time of renewal, of slowing down, of taking time, taking stock, and taking care of one another. Even Audrey has finally caught on and took a nap while the tv droned on and the phone rang beside her. She did not even twitch. Ahhh.

I will post soon on my Italian Holiday and my Back to Camp. In the meantime, take a moment, read a book, sit outside and wave to those who drive by, start a new project, finish an old one, or just enjoy the nothingness.

The photo is of My Handsome Prince in his new throne, a motorized recliner that assists him in and out, along with the puppy that won't leave him alone. She even follows him ever so slowly into the bathroom and ever so slowly out and back into the chair.

Wanting Contact

A year or so ago, I went for a massage. One of my class participants gave me a gift certificate for a massage, someone I did not know very well. It was a very kind and generous gift. One of the things that struck me the most about the massage was the fact that the woman prayed over me. It was not quite silent, but whispered. I don't know what she prayed for but it was over me. It was a very moving experience.



On Wednesday, before I left camp and at the last group gathering, I was helped up onto a chair in the center of the room. Then everyone in the room circled me and layed their hands upon me. Those who could not, touched those in front of them. I took a moment to actually look at everyone, to see those who were touching me, praying for me. Then the prayers started, very simple, safe journey, healing, strength. The most amazing part was my body was humming, there was energy flowing from the hands into me. Just as soon as it started, it was over. I don't know if I will ever experience anything like that again. It was amazing.



I'm not one of those evangelistic people. I'm fairly quiet in my faith, still questioning, still searching. But love exists and is an amazing power. Believe.



I am willing - lay your hands on me
I am ready - lay your hands on me
I believe - lay your hands on me, over me
over me
Lay your hands on me
Lay your hands on me
Lay your hands on me, over me
Peter Gabriel

Good News

I arrived home late Wednesday night after 5 days of Christian youth camp. I am so far removed from my ordinary life that it is not funny. Dinner and a glass of wine, small conversation with My Handsome Prince about the next day, comparing camp stories with Emma, early to bed. Thursday morning arrived despite my wish to completely skip over it. We left the house before 6am, Big Dad taking us to Johns Hopkins Hospital. Once again, in pre-op, we received scary information about extra tubes, in his neck, down his throat for 24 hours, in his back...Surgery came and went with only one extra surprise, another small nodule not found in any scans. It was removed. Still, a little extra tearing of his lung, due to the previous lung resection, possible longer hospital stay, yada, yada. Well, so far, it's been quite the opposite. His pain has been managed so much better, no extra tubes, telling us what we need to do to get his prescription for his hospital chair, giving the nurse a hard time, being his usual PIA. He called me this morning to let me know he's feeling ok, no nauseau so far, and moving out of ICU soon. YES! I still will be removed from ordinary life, but it is all good.

We are Home

We arrived home last night from a whirlwind trip to Italy. I leave tomorrow morning, bright and early for Bethany Beach. Audrey leaves Sunday afternoon for her trip to New York with the Youth Group. Pat and Emma will be home by themselves for a few days before surgery on Thursday. I will post when and if I can. Ciao, Ciao! (I love saying that!)

Girls shopping in Sorrento.

Arrivederci!

We leave tomorrow for destinations of Rome, Naples, Sorrento, Capri, Amalfi, Lucca and Florence. We leave with some apprehension. I always feel some anxiety for my pets left at home. Even more so, with one dog and cat at home, and the pup with another family. I know they will all be fine but I can't help it. I worry about my Mom, left at home, neither my sister nor I will be home to check up on her. I worry about how crazy I was to accept a position as a camp counselor and leave for the beach barely 24 hours after we get home from Italy. I worry about being a camp counselor for high school kids. I worry about leaving camp early to come home for the surgery. I worry about the surgery and recovery. So, I sit here and drink a beer. I think about how I'm going to change my attitude towards some of my travel partners, and recognize their goodness underneath their demons that I do not understand. I think about wonder and hope I can teach my children to just stop and wonder, look, listen, smell. I want to lay on the floor and look up at the Sistine chapel, I want to see, again, the Trinity by Masaccio, I want to smell the Pharmacia de Santa Maria Novella, I want cappucinos, pasta, tartufo, and wine. I want to experience new and relive some of the old. It will not be the same trip I took years ago, but it will be wonderful because we will make it so.

I will not post for some time unless I have a rare opportunity. You can be sure I will keep a journal, I will take photos, and just like the Terminator - "I'll be back".

What I've been doing:

sewing a new skirt, sewing a halter top, picking up a free ping pong table, challenging my family to a tournament, downloading new music, blogging this post, anything that keeps me from...

What I should be doing:
packing and cleaning

A Long, Hard Day

I watched a grown man cry today. He had just reached the end. I had seen him at various stops at Johns Hopkins Outpatient Center, obviously having some sort of surgery. At the last stop, express something or other, I heard him say something about "stressful day" then he lost control and wept, with people all around. At that time, My Handsome Prince walked out of express something or other, and we left. That's what people do at Hopkins. What I wanted to do was touch the mans hand.

Just moments before, a young girl called out to me "Are you following us?" She and her husband had been running the same circuit, with CT scans, surgeon consultation, anesthesiology meetings, blood work, EKG,...We chatted a bit about our husbands upcoming surgeries, both having lung resections. She stated, "Well, this will be it." I didn't tell her, that no, this is not it. Even if it does not come back, there will be appointments. There will be tests. There will be waiting, with baited breath. There will be results. Always.

I sat next to a woman who came from Indiana, never having been in Baltimore, trying to find a place to stay, with a list of posh hotels, provided by Hopkins, not finding one she could afford. I told her to go outside the city limits into the county. I hope she found something. I heard a woman whisper to her husband "I'm okay." She had on a lovely skirt and I told her. She almost seemed giddy.

We heard nothing new and yet the news was worse this time around. Because of a previous lung resection, the pain will be worse, the risks will be worse, the hospital stay will be longer, the recovery longer. While this is not good news, there is good news. We are never alone. He is healthy. We have family. We have each other. We have friends. We have an absolutely wonderful trip to Italy in a few days.

We also had hovering over us, the realization that his Grandmother may die while we are gone. We spoke of the life that his Grandparents, Mother and Aunt are leading now. Something needs to change and the decisions that need to be made. Another difficult situation.

Nothing is easy, yet we finished the long day with margaritas and Mexican food, hands held over the table, silent. We came home to a beautiful, happy daughter who spent a nice day with her Grandma, getting beautified. We came home to huge piles of laundry that had been washed, dried, and folded by the oldest. We spoke with my Mother, who is having her own health issues, which will be next. And we will take care of her. It is life's cycle.

School's Out For Summer!

Italy, doll quilts for babies being born, working in a homeless shelter in NY City, embroider merit badges, counseling different camps for high school youth, middle school youth, and elementary school youth, box challenge, Cape Henlopen, tubing down the Gunpowder river, paper mache, summer reading on the swing or hammock, t-shirt quilts for campers, moving one into her first apartment, major surgery, lovely afternoon naps, games, free concerts, Artscape, finish a flagstone patio, have a picnic, go for a hike, ride (of course), walk on the beach, make a mobil, eat crabs, have friends over, paint a picnic table, find a chandelier for under the tree, learn to cook authentic mexican food, plant sunflowers, make the deck a late afternoon haven, work on an Interfaith build for Habitat for Humanity, plan a trip to New York, Philly, Annapolis, Baltimore or DC, American Visionary Arts museum, slide down a giant slide in western MD, go swimming, these are some ideas ...


What are you going to do?

Shhhh, be vewy, vewy quiet

The Sergeant Major is sleeping.

I'm so proud of My Handsome Prince. Happy Father's Day to you, my darling. I'm so happy you are home. I can never say it enough. What a good man you are!

I Know This Much Is True

That a ride is the perfect time to contemplate world peace, the next project and what's for dinner

That weeds can be beautiful

That what comes down must go up

That hills never get any easier despite the bike and years of experience

That red winged blackbirds and goldfinches abound

That I like solitude

That there is no such thing as silence

That it can be a spiritual experience

It Got Worse

Yup, it did. One of our guests didn't make it, calling late, the girls encountered an accident on their way home, called me for an alternate route, waited, waited, waited, called again, we finally found one. Called at 1AM, they ran out of gas (driving my truck whose guage does not work and we go according to mileage). They should have had plenty.

The good news is: We all had a delicious dinner and we all made it home, safe and sound. I unplugged the phone this morning to sleep in, and my truck was still at the bottom of the hill. All is well, I just had to complain for a moment.

Some Days Are Just Like That

Take Monday, for example. Monday was delightful. No other word could describe it. I went for a great ride on BB, smelling the sweet perfume of honeysuckle, startling some people with my cheery good morning, enjoying the sights and sounds of the back roads. My sister came over and I helped her with a skirt along with completing some much needed mending. Within an hour of her departure, Mom and her friend Sylvia came over with their crocheting. We sat on the patio below, had a delicious dinner, and spent the rest of the early evening up on the deck after the sun went down a bit. Delightful.

Now today has been anything but delightful, starting with a stinky, gross, odor coming from the refrigerator. Cleaning out the fridge makes me gag. It's typically the Prince's job but this smell was not going to wait 4 more days. Later, a conversation just rubbed me the wrong way, I blew off my ride, couldn't find an important email, nobody is returning my phone calls, do you want more? I finally decided that going for a ride was the only way to redeem my day and to take a camera would make it even better. Not! Not even a half mile from the house, I had to stop to figure out how to ride with the camera accessible, one foot out of the clip less pedal (one in - can you tell where this is going?). Like a slapstick comedy, one moment I was standing the next I just toppled over sideways attached to my bike. I dropped the F bomb so loudly a woman 3 houses away came out into the road to see what the commotion was all about. The rest of the ride was not quite that bad, but literally followed that path. I'm home with a sore wrist and dinged dignity. I'm afraid to touch needle and thread for what disaster might strike.

Later in the day....
I stopped at the liquor store to buy a bottle of wine to take with me to my sister's, closed between 1-4 today, What the f***?

Tornados in the area, we are in the basment for a birthday party.

5 or 6 phone cut off cell calls, I finally talk to my Prince.

I'm going to bed.

This is My Father

This is My Father, Dad, Papa to the girls. Sometimes a Daddy will slip out. My Father is a scholar, a minister, a philosopher, a caregiver. I don't see him as often as I should but we talk almost daily. When I was a young girl, he took me downtown to Chicago, probably more than once but they all meld together in my memory. We got locked in a stairwell at the Civic Center, saw Pete Seger, played amongst the stone chess tables along the lake and he took photos. A fine day or days. He would take off on Mondays and make soup, oxtail, greek lemon rice, bean. Mmmmm. Because he was a minister, sometimes we did things that our peers did not, such as attend daily Advent worship services before 7AM (before school), when is was bitter cold in the big church.

My Father loves music. He has season tickets to the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and always shares an evening with my sister and me. He used to listen to music on the stereo with those great big headphones and conduct the music with great emotion. He gets more enjoyment out of things than anyone I know. He has come to almost every production, band concert, choral concert that the girls have been part of. He laughs louder and more often, than anyone, with such joy. He really listens to the music, 4th grade concerts up to BSO, and can speak of the music, it's complexity or ease, what sections were good, the movement. He still remembers one of my concerts, at Halloween, I was dressed as a butterfly playing the flute and speaks of it once in a while. He inspired the monthly Lansdowne Concerts on the lawn and what a great community service they are.

Emma, first grandchild, was born during a difficult time for my parents and they separated shortly after her birth. My Dad would come out to our house weekly to spend time with Emma while I taught aerobic classes. He would take her for walks in her stroller, or they would walk hand in hand, looking at the moon, discussing important things, petting dogs, observing nature. He now has another grandchild who spends this kind of time with him. I only hope her family knows and treasures how lucky their child is to have this time with him.

Tonight we will go to my sister's house to celebrate Sammajamma's 2nd birthday and Dad will be there. I will wish him Happy Father's Day, give him a token cd, and tell him his true gift can be found here, for the world to see, from my heart.

Bike litter

I hosted a bike ride and brunch on Saturday. It was a service I offered for the Youth's talent and service auction. Four of us rode the hills Maryland and the potholes of Pennsylvania. It was a beautiful day, lovely ride, and included the rescue of a turtle. Afterwards, those who did not ride joined us for lunch. I provided delicious paninis, salad with lettuce from my porch, brownies made by Audrey the brownie queen, blueberry coffee cake, fruit, gatorade, water, and iced tea. It was all scarfed down without a crumb left. The riders arrived around 9:30ish and all stayed until 3pm. These were people I was not well acquainted with and they were best friends with each other, yet I did not feel left out. I had a delightful time hearing the stories of their friendship, their history, and their future. I envy them a bit. By the time they left, I had the phone number of the one rider who is within a few miles of me with the promise that we will ride again. Black Betty, you have done your job.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

The Good
A trip to Barnes and Noble with my girls, arms loaded with books, cds, asking opinions, making decisions, coming home with good reading, inspiration and music; falling asleep on the couch with my oldest in the middle of the day; the brief, fleeting, head on shoulder, I love you moment with my youngest, riding Black Betty and actually laughing aloud; puppy on my lap while sewing; Oldest is not hurt; remaking disaster skirt into sporty skirt; riding around Hanover, hand/camera out the window, documenting my commute for a future post.

The Bad

A fuss with a friend over a miscommunication, unknown to me; a change in my work schedule that shouldn't be there, not realizing it, and showing up for work; My Handsome Prince gone all week with another to go; making a skirt and having it too wide and too short;


The Ugly

I'll let this speak for itself

Bumper car with a guardrail, each panel bumped. bummer.

Meet Black Betty

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness," for buying a bike, that is. I have little money for foolishness. I have enough to pay for another year of college without a loan. I have enough, maybe, for our trip to Italy. I have enough for a bit of fun, a haircut, a massage, a lunch, a beer. But enough for a high performance road bike? I think not! Yet this opportunity presented itself and I could not overlook it.

It is time. It is time in my life to rekindle the flame. To go to the open road, look for an owl, smell the woods, stop and listen to the silence, pet the cats, fly from the dogs (and believe me, on Black Betty, I'll fly!). It is time for mileage, time to ride to work, ride to shop, ride for photos, ride for fun, ride, ride, ride. Tomorrow Black Betty and I have our first date. I'm nervous, I'm excited, I probably won't sleep. I'm skipping church for her. It will be my Sabbath. I think I'm in love already. I'm ready and so is she.