What do I know?

I will be taking a small break to spend my “jumping into a new decade of life” …in a place no one can sing to me off-key…

…Nor light enough candles to require the Fire Department as back up.

Well…I never thought I would be 50…I don’t feel 50… I certainly don’t act it! And a little warning …This too may happen to you!

I have learned a few things along the way that I thought I might share before I go… or before I forget? You might find them helpful if you wake up one day and suddenly find you are 50.

1) Just when you think you have seen it all…you most definitely haven’t…and you probably won’t really want to…

2) When you cross the line, make sure it’s worth it… cause there’s no going back…the birds ate the bread crumbs.

3) Don’t talk about someone unkindly, chances are really good they’ll be standing behind you

4) If you look your worst, there is no doubt…you will definitely run into someone you don’t want to…and they will look fabulous!

5) Don’t ever get even…get better 😉

6) Always do your best and take pride in knowing you did…even when you fail miserably…and there are witnesses

7) Remember every action has a consequence…Is that donut with the pink icing worth the double chin? Look in the mirror …and keep your eyes open.

8) Never waste time on people who do not believe in you…you don’t have enough time left to explain why they should.

9) You can still be cool, even without a tattoo…as long as you don’t have a comb-over or wear knee highs.

10) You’re truest friends will never hurt you, leave the rest behind…in a dumpster.

11) Offer grace to even those who don’t deserve it…it may get you upgraded to first class when boarding for Heaven.

12) Love openly, laugh loudly, smile often…it scares people and gives you more personal space

13) Forget the small stuff , by now you’re too old to either fit into it or remember it anyway 😉

Lucky 13 so that’s all I got! Now heading out to the Land of Enchantment 😉

The Time Travelers

There are people in this world you love and there are people you respect and then there are people you would give your life for. I have 3 such friends I’ve know most all of my life. Shiela would be one. I met Shiela in the 7th grade. She was in my homeroom class and she sat underneath the big clock on the wall. I apparently was a clock watcher. From that homeroom connection, we have been buds through life, as children, teens and to the women we are today.

Shiela is a very talented Artist. She is a painter, a sculpture and now, an author and I could not be more proud. Her two children grew up in the public school system and though they received a wonderful education, she felt that there should be more. A 6 year old child, wishing to meet a Pilgrim from a story read in class, lead to her making a costume and writing a script for a friend to come “meet” with the kids. She soon joined forces with Joyce Costanza, another mom and a very talented writer. Time Travelers was two years in the making for these two women and I was proud to be a part of seeing it through production and printing…but never happier than when I took the call after knowing they held their first printed book in their hands.

Time travelers allows children to meet people Like Old Abe, as a real life character…. Had it been available to schools sooner, I may not have watched that clock so much! PLEASE check out the very hard work these women accomplished under Shiela in my blogroll.

Today began with hope

Today began with hope, turning to self doubt and then to a knowing acceptance. There are things in your life that cannot be controlled. You cannot wear sandals and expect dry feet in the rain… You can choose to either enjoy the sudden wetness between your toes or you can find misery in the water that makes your feet slip. After all this time, I still try to wake each day with love in my heart and a smile on my face. I try to live life with laughter and love and accept loss with dignity and grace. It’s not everyday that I am successful. Today began with hope. Today ends in reflection. And tomorrow… I will try again to be a better person…

Peggy’s Cove

It’s a bit hard to understand things at times… I guess not everything is supposed to make sense to us. Anyway… that’s how I explain the experience at Peggy’s Cove to myself.

When I was a very small girl, my father gave me a very old Spanish coin. He told me to keep it in a safe place as it was very old…retrieved from the ocean… having once been carried on a sunken Spanish ship. That was the day I first dreamed I was a pirate and had battled on the high seas.

I have since been searching…many long years now…for the perfect “tall ship in a storm” painting. Who knows what drives me… but I love the thought of both the romance and the danger in all of it…and I won’t even tell you how many times I’ve watch “Master and Commander”. It’s just too embarrassing. 😉

When I first got to Peggy’s Cove, I noticed the small cottages, the wood worn lobster traps and the smell of the salty sea. But when I stood on the cliffs to look down at the ocean, I was hit with something beyond all reason…and beyond my control. I could feel the waves crashing and I instinctively knew the landscape. It was as if I was sucked into a vacuum and smacked with a light… both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I kept looking at the other visitors to see if they were examining me oddly. No one seemed to notice my past life experience. I was in it all alone.

I walked to a small cottage… an Artist’s studio, still trying to make sense of it all. I met a woman who created the most wonderful paintings and we talked at great length about her inspirations. I got up the courage to tell her about my wild adventure and she offered me the most magnificient, knowing smile. She said there were others before me…

There was a young red haired girl…standing in the wind…playing her fiddle. It was the sweetest wailing sound I’ve ever heard as it filled the air around me and trailed down the cliffs below. I had tears in my eyes as I listened and she looked right at me and smiled. It was a strange king of magic.

I don’t know if people get to live another life (or many)..but if they do… then I’m just sure I’ve been to Peggy’s Cove before. I hope I was a pirate and lived a brave, romantic life and hopefully never made anyone walk a plank. If I did and you feel you could be a previous victim reading this and decide to look me up…. be advised… I might start wearing the sword I keep on my fireplace. And have faith in me…if I buried any treasure and remember where it is… I’ll be mighty glad to share it with you matey!

I can just see it now…being locked away for either digging at a National Monument with past life pirates or for trying to explain this story!

The Last Words…

Did you ever stop to think if anyone says something really profound or witty when they know they are about to die? I was curious about some of the people I admire and then found some others I thought worthy enough to share.

Oscar Wilde is one of my favorite writers…and his final words didn’t let me down 🙂

I’ve had eighteen straight whiskies, I think that’s the record . . .
~~ Dylan Thomas, poet, d. 1953

To my friends: My work is done. Why wait?
Suicide note.
~~ George Eastman, inventor, d. March 14, 1932

Moose . . . Indian . . .
~~ Henry David Thoreau, writer, d. May 6, 1862

God bless… God damn.
~~ James Thurber, humorist, d. 1961

Don’t let it end like this. Tell them I said something.
~~ Pancho Villa, Mexican revolutionary, d. 1923

I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.
~~ Leonardo da Vinci, artist, d. 1519

I die hard but am not afraid to go.
~~ George Washington, US President, d. December 14, 1799

(My Personal favorite)
Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.
~~ Oscar Wilde, writer, d. November 30, 1900

Lord help my poor soul.
~~ Edgar Allan Poe, writer, d. October 7, 1849

Adieu, mes amis. Je vais la gloire.
(Farewell, my friends! I go to glory!)
~~ Isadora Duncan, dancer, d. 1927

I owe much; I have nothing; the rest I leave to the poor.
~~ François Rabelais, writer, d. 1553

All my possessions for a moment of time.
~~ Elizabeth I, Queen of England, d. 1603

I knew it. I knew it. Born in a hotel room – and God damn it – died in a hotel room.
~~ Eugene O’Neill, writer, d. November 27, 1953

I’d hate to die twice. It’s so boring.
~~ Richard Feynman, physicist, d. 1988

I’ve had a hell of a lot of fun and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.
~~ Errol Flynn, actor, d. October 14, 1959

A dying man can do nothing easy.
~~ Benjamin Franklin, statesman, d. April 17, 1790

God will pardon me, that’s his line of work.
~~ Heinrich Heine, poet, d. February 15, 1856

Turn up the lights, I don’t want to go home in the dark.
~~ O. Henry (William Sidney Porter), writer, d. June 4, 1910

Too late for fruit, too soon for flowers.
~~ Walter De La Mare, writer, d. 1956

Why do you weep. Did you think I was immortal?
~~ Louis XIV, King of France, d. 1715

I must go in, the fog is rising.
~~ Emily Dickinson, poet, d. 1886

Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms.
~~ Alexander Pope, writer, d. May 30, 1744

Nothing, but death.
When asked by her sister, Cassandra, if there was anything she wanted.
~~ Jane Austen, writer, d. July 18, 181

Friends applaud, the comedy is finished.
~~ Ludwig van Beethoven, composer, d. March 26, 1821

I should never have switched from Scotch to Martinis.
~~ Humphrey Bogart, actor, d. January 14, 1957

Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.
~~ Lord George Byron, writer, d. 1824

I’m bored with it all.
Before slipping into a coma. He died 9 days later.
~~ Winston Churchill, statesman, d. January 24, 1965

Goodnight my darlings, I’ll see you tomorrow.
~~ Noel Coward, writer, d. 1973

Get my swan costume ready.
~~ Anna Pavlova, ballerina, d. 1931

The Henry Ford Museum

On this journey, I just had to take a few touristy shots but maybe you’ll let me refer to them as “photojournalism”. After all…I’m am trying to enlighten you to a place that few have boldly gone before. This is my most beloved museum and even though I hail from the West Coast…and no one I talk to has ever been there… ever!!!…I still try to explain to them what’s there…and usually with stars in my eyes. I love American History. If you do too, then get to Dearborn, Michigan and see the wonders of the Henry Ford Museum.

They’ve got the first car, the first buggy, the first diner, yes…it’s assembled, the first bicycles, cotton gin…heck they’ve got the first waffle iron! It’s like being in a gigantic old attic.

The brochure states: “Henry wasn’t collecting artifacts. He was collection the ideas that gave birth to them. He was determined to pay tribute to American innovation and chronicle the tales of people who’s vision and boldness changed the world. ” Just go see it for yourself …ok?

The first photo is of a scary looking black car. That car was holding President John F. Kennedy on his fateful drive in Texas. Believe it or not, the sign next to it says it was used for two President after him. My goodness, how frugal were we back then?

Next is a portion of the many buggies, barouches and coaches Americans like ourselves would have used in those early days. I would love to go back in time (for a moment) to stroll the park with my pair of matched, trotting grays…and then promptly return to satellite radio and my hair dryer.

The third photo is of a flag and vehicle used by the Suffragettes who worked tirelessly, fighting for Women of the past and the future of the present right to vote…among other things…and sadly, it wasn’t that long ago people!

Next would be the actual bus where a tiny woman named Rosa Parks sparked a Nation’s social conscience. Second horizontal seat on the left… Can you imagine her fear…and her strength?

Fifth would be our Founding Father’s bed roll that traveled with him during the Revolutionary War. That sleeping bag and air mattress you take camping doesn’t look so bad to ya now, does it? And this guy was simply founding a Nation while trying to keep his back from going out…and I won’t even go into the teeth.

Sixth is the chair that my own Hero (President Lincoln) was assassinated in. His blood stains stand as an eerie reminder of the price he paid for the dreams he dared to in-vision into a reality…in the shadows of a Country divided.

Lastly…and this one makes me smile…is the Oscar Meyer Wiener car. When I was a small kid, this baby would roll up to the neighborhood convenience store and make each kid’s day by passing out little whistles shaped just like this car. We would all line up single file, anticipation growing, for the thing that would drive adults crazy…and a chance to go tweeting and blowing up and down the streets.

Small town bar

On our recent travels, we came across this old bar. When we walked in, every eye turned and I assure you, I felt them all. There were alot of cowboy hats…and local town folks having lunch…and we looked slightly out of place. The waitress seemed nice enough so I asked her a few questions about the bar and broke the ice. She was telling me it was at least 70 years old when I saw the dog in the bar stool. Whenever I take out my camera, people either hide or want to know what’s going to happen next. Here, as luck would have it, they were interested.

The dog let me shoot his portrait and then I slid off my bar stool to take some photos around the room. When 4 gigantic, burly, tatted up Harley dudes strolled in, I sat back down and ordered some lunch. I think the woman’s Mother served me my “fried” fish and I think the woman’s daughter was clearing the tables. The Harley dudes ended up playing video games…laughing and talking among the rest. Funny how you think you should fear people…when there really is no need. That’s the difference between living careful in a big city and a visit to a small town.

Becoming which Jane?

I went to see “Becoming Jane” last night at the 9:40 show. I’m one of those people that can no longer go to the show because, even if there is no one in the place except me and one other person, that single soul will sit next to ME and TALK! I am the most docile of people but make me pay to see a movie…and I want QUIET!!!

Anyway, most artsy or Indie movies tend to have pretty cool audiences. I can usually get thru it without throwing my water bottle across the room. This one was playing at the old Lido. I hate Newport Beach (I never knowing if I’m speaking to someone’s real nose) but I love this old theater. They have dancing fish painted on the walls and blue twinkle runner lights. They have a balcony for the romantics and they even serve tea! I got there at 9:25, paid my 9 bucks, found my seat at the back of the room and waited.

About 15 people (apparently either lost or as hip as I) came in. What was so amusing was that they all sat in the middle of the theater, within 2 seats of each other. I began thinking there was something special about those seats. Maybe they reclined more. Maybe they got free popcorn… But, I had my oasis…and I wasn’t sharing my personal space…unless Colin Firth showed up. With him, I would have shared my own lap 😉

Now I’m no Janeite freako but I do appreciate her writing style. Her books fall between wit, wisdom and tongue in cheek humor for me and I’ve owned and re-re-re-read them for years. As I look at them now, they are quite bent and worn but still very cherished. I also have every movie or mini series that has ever been made in honor of those books, both English and American. I even own some of the more modern “inspired by her” movies… Clueless, Bridget Jones Diaries and even the Indian one that slips my memory…”Bride and something or other”. Ya know, I’m starting to sound like I really am a Janeite freako…

Watching this movie…I will admit to being a blubbering fool through most of it… and actually leaped up to evacuate before the other 15 saw me. But driving back home, I kept thinking…I don’t remember reading that about her, so naturally at 1:00 am I started looking for clues.

What I know is that she was born December 16th (ah, December…that’s why I like her) in the year 1775, the seventh of eight children, in Steventon, England… and lived an almost impoverished life with various members of her family. She was engaged once and changed her mind the next day. Probably a good thing because back then a woman could own no property, earn no living and belonged (much like a goat) to her husband. If she had married, it would have taken a rare thinking man to let her continue her literary career. Why did she have a period of 10 years where nothing appears to have been written and no letters detail the reasons? Well, this is where the mystery begins, Hollywood romances and where all speculation happens.

She died in her sister’s arms with her head upon her lap in July 18th, 1817 and was buried in Winchester Cathedral…in which I was fortunate enough to visit and pay my respects, about 10 years ago. She wrote 6 major novels that have been translated into over 35 languages…none ever having been out of print. That says quite alot for a 232 year old spinster.

Jane wrote alot of correspondence with her family and friends…the majority to her sister Cassandra. Upon Jane’s death, Cassie destroyed almost everything…so no one knows the real truth in her personal and professional life…only what was passed down from memory with a few scattered letters thrown in. She died virtually unknown (without ever seeing any wealth and success) because she was born into gentry and well, a lady…even a poor one, did not earn a living and keep her “Lady” reputation. She could not even allow her own name to be published. It wasn’t until after her death, through her obituaries, that Austen was officially “outed”.

I’ve seen 4 of the places that she lived….trying to get a handle on what inspired her. I’ve even visited the famous Pump Room and tasted the waters…Gawd! (One hint…Stick to the high tea). I’ve seen all the homes from my favorite mini series (Pride and Prejudice) …even the old towns and the costumes. Ok, Ok, I guess I am a true Janeite. I don’t make a cake on her birthday or anything…I just appreciate her insight that still rings true after all these long years.

And I guess I don’t mind the movie trying to make some sort of happy ending for her…even if it’s just make believe… cause I really wish she’d had one.

a small token of the surviving…from Jane to her sister Cassandra

“expect a most agreeable letter, for not being over burdened with subject (having nothing to say at all), I shall have no check to my genius from beginning to end…”

“you deserve a longer letter than this, but it is my unhappy fate seldom to treat people so well as they deserve”

“you express so little anxiety about my being murdered under Ash Park Copse by Mrs. Hulbert’s servant, that I have a great mind not to tell you whether I was or not…”

“we have been exceedingly busy ever since you went away. In the first place we have had to rejoice two or three times every day at your having very delightful weather for the whole of your journey…”

“Sir Tho: Miller is dead. I treat you with a dead Baronet in almost every letter…”

“By the bye, as I must leave off being young, I find many Douceurs (French for sweetnesses) in being a sort of chaperone for I am put on a sofa near the fire and can drink as much wine as I like…”