Anniversary

Whoa! It’s been two years since I started this blog. Two years that have gone by in the blink of an eye. Time is swift. I haven’t been a total slacker, though, thank goodness, and I’ve made steps lately to get closer to my goals. In my work, I have a big job that I complete over the summer. (This is my excuse for not blogging over the last two months) Once this is done, I’m going to write and create on Fridays. If I’m lucky, also on Saturdays.

Please notice that I did not say, “I’m going to try to write and create on Fridays.” I’m going to do it. I’ve been so excited about writing lately, due in a large part to the time spent at Panera with Em the first Saturday morning of the month, laptops and coffee at hand as well as the once a month meeting of my writing group. Yippie!

So, Happy Anniversary and wish me luck!

Telling Stories

My husband and I have been spending a lot of time together in recent months due to a surgery apiece. This is great and I’m not complaining, but the problem with so much together time is that we have no new stories to share. Whatever adventures we’ve had, we’ve experienced together. No new stories! As a storyteller, this just about breaks my heart. Fortunately, things are back to “normal” now and the phrase “How was your day” is once again answered by twisting and distorting and downright lying about all the funny details that have made up our time apart.

Story telling. Sometimes the story is simply the retelling of a movie or book plot to someone who never saw or read it. Sometimes the story is a tweaking of everyday events tied to something completely unrelated, a leap that takes both the teller’s imagination and the listener’s willingness to play along. Sometimes the story is a “revitalized” family story that grows more outrageous with each telling. Sometimes the story is completely new, something I’ve made up that would not exist if I didn’t tell the tale. Sometimes it seems like lightning flashing in my head, the connections made, the normal turned inside out and a story blooms into being, a story I’m creating for myself at the same time I’m creating it for others.

My husband happens to be away this week and I have all sorts of stories to tell. So will he.

View from my window

Dust Bunnies Beware

I’m cleaning my office. The mass of papers, magazine cut outs and Equal packets have been filed or otherwise put in their place. I think the papers multiply behind my back, though, because I turned around and there was another pile to be sorted. Hmm. Anyway, I can see the top of both desks. Almost everything has been dusted. I’m working on that small pile of items with internet addresses that I had at one time or another wanted to check out. Not too surprisingly most of them are not worth while.

I still have to vacuum and there are a few short stacks of various writings to sort, but it is mostly done. Wow. I have so much space! It’s not a big room, but it seems immense right now. I strive to be one of those people who immediately deal with papers as they arrive, but sometimes the garden calls or there is a cup of coffee waiting in the other room. Those other souls must be robots to turn away from the peonies as they begin to open or to pass up coffee and conversation. Anyway, that's the story with which I'm sticking.

Have I finally gotten spring fever? Probably not. I know I just feel great being able to cross this chore off my list. Then, a cup of coffee and a wander through the garden.

Will you look at that!

Some of the lilacs are beginning to fade in my yard. I have several late blooming ones that are just opening so I’ll have that scent around for a while yet. The irises are beginning to bloom, some deep purple ones and some pink ones while the blue flowered irises are taking a later bus since they don't like to share the splendor. The poppies will open soon. I have a lot of peonies this year and they will show up in a few weeks, too. Then roses, clematis, hydrangeas and coreopsis. As one set of blooms gives up pride of place, the next yells “look at me, look at me!”

I don’t know all the lessons to be learned from a garden, but I have learned that everything has it’s time to be enjoyed before fading away. Once it’s gone, you might miss it and be sorry it has passed, but you can remember it was glorious. Then you look around and relish what else has come along. Everything, everyone, has a time to bloom and part of the joy is knowing memories linger long after the scent has faded. Even in the midst of late blooming hydrangeas, we recall the spring.

Living the imaginary life

There is a shop in a little town in California called Theatre of Dreams. The sign on the door reads, Theatre of Dreams - Objects for an IMAGINARY LIFE. I ask you, how cool is that? And the little town is a ghost town so there is a bit of mystery to add to the mix, too.

I live mostly an imaginary life because I live so much in my head. I walk through reality, but I don’t live there very much. Probably because I write fiction, there is always a story going on in my head or there are visions of whimsies I want to create and there are many quiet places or garden paths or corners where I can recharge. There are surprises tucked into old trunks, too, along with books never written by my favorite authors and old movies cast with actors and actresses that, in reality, have not been made. There are conjurers preforming magic tricks that are not explained just enjoyed and illusions I glimpse out of the corner of my eye. There are people dressed in old fashioned clothing wearing gloves and hats who applaud my smallest endeavor and murmur excitedly whenever it appears I’m going to do something, but otherwise, I don’t notice them. It’s quite comforting.

I’m sure the imaginary life I lead could sound quite bizarre to anyone else, but I’d bet a lot of people live in their heads, too. It’s a fun place. Well, it’s a fun place for me to be. Hope everyone else’s imaginary life is a fun place, too.

Pain and gain

In case there is anyone out there who has not heard, my appendix ruptured last week. I have to say that even with the excellent drugs I was given, it has not been all fun and games.

There was pain, a lot of pain, but no longer. In fact, there is no pain at all. Big sigh of relief.

I am home and recovering. I feel fine. I cannot express how monumental this simple thing is to me now. I feel fine. If you haven’t been feeling fine, it is amazing when, once again, you do. It’s fantastic when there is such a difference, when feeling fine is feeling great.

So thank you to everyone who thought of me or prayed, who said a kind word or sent a card or a plant or who ran all over finding something good for me to eat and picked up endless prescriptions. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Because of you, I feel fine.