Shadows

Most people concentrate on the sky. But the shadows are just as beautiful. How satisfying it is to watch the light wrapping its shawl around trees and fence posts, barns and docks.

That's what I love about old Florida. The shadows tell a story, and it's not one of sadness. There are horse farms and still, muddy marshes supporting rotten boat bottoms with grasses growing through them. Soft hills carpeted with pasture display classic oaks like dancers on a pedestal.

North central Florida sprinkled woodlands across my weekend. They were laced with dogwoods--just past their prime and half-dressed with white flowers--a sight for the eyes a little too used to tropical scenes.

My mind has been too full of things. It's felt like French onion soup oozing over the edges of a mug that's too small. I've needed some serious nature, and nature that's more than 30 minutes from home. This part of the state feels like a more temperate zone--less beachy, with trees that actually lose their leaves in the winter, and therefore, shine zealous crops of lime green growth when the spring hits the air.

I feel renewed. Cedar Key sightseeing. Gainesville hiking. Ocala horseback riding. Strung together with two lane county roads, they have each seen their share of college students, visitors from out of state, families backed by generations born in a state where surprisingly few originate, and other characters of travel and home.

I regret my camera didn't make the treck, yet I see through a clearer heart lens of really being in the moment when I'm not concentrating on a perfect image to savor for later.

Shadows--whether building with the illumination of a new day or the fading of a day that's been filled with experience--lay themselves out on the land and reach to me. I feel their stories and the sun shining on them, an observer yet somehow part of it all.

Aunt Gropius Gets the Boot

I have such a cute nephew. Two of them actually. One of them is old enough to come away with me and the D-Man on daytime adventures. He's four.

On Monday school was out for President's Day and I had the day off of work as well, so I scheduled an adventure--D-Man, the nephew and I--off to the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa. With pee pee breaks, it was about an hour and a half away, so not a bad little trip.

Naturally, every family in Southwest Florida that was not at the beach or Busch Gardens had the same zoo idea. So for a few hours we sneaked around other strollers, smart phone-laden teenagers trying to get pics, and hordes of families positioning for good views of the sluggish looking fauna.

I thought we had a pretty good time. We covered some serious ground enjoying everything from monkeys to tapirs to bizarre ibises to giraffes, and we pushed cute little Neph in the stroller the whole time so he didn't even have to get tired out.

As we were leaving, I said, "Neph, did you have a good time at the zoo?"

"No," he replied, very matter-of-factly.

I was planning on not feeding into the little trick. Being outsmarted by a 4 year old is not a good plan. So we loaded up into the car and I suggested a milkshake stop on the way home. Two strawberries and one chocolate. That would be a nice after-event pacifier for all of us, I thought.

About 15 minutes from the house, Neph started working himself up into a teary episode. "What the heck is going on here?" I thought.

I got him out of it a few times by making conversation, but as soon as he could remember his plan to be upset for extra love from mommy during the reuniting, he started the pouting again.

By the time we pulled in the driveway, he was in the middle of a full-on cry and went running up to the door like Big Bad Aunt Gropius had taken him along on a road trip from hell. 

Overtired, needing to poop, who knows... I know, he's only four. But I still felt lousy that a good day had to end like that for all three of us. Next time we'll make it a little shorter and a little closer to home. He's a sweet kid and we all love to spend time with him. But really, Neph, did you have to do that?

The Answer is "No"

• D-Man: "I thought you said you were going to keep Flanders off the new couch. Remember?"
  Gropius: "No. Don't you remember that the poor thing lived on the streets?"
  (It's been nearly 12 years since she lived on the streets, but I still hate the thought of her starting her life in that fashion. Therefore, every possible convenience should be granted to her, at the expense of people and furniture.)
• Husband: "Can this be our next bedspread?" (showing me a picture of a Guy Harvey ocean scene that's been sewn into a honky bedspread)
  Gropius: "No."
  (No further explanation required.)
  
• Gropius: "Hmmm....can I actually take a vacation day in which I stay in town and do not think about work?"
  Gropius: "No. Obviously."
  (Honestly, what the hell is wrong with me? I did go to the beach today, but I still checked work e-mail several times and will probably end up working for at least 2 hours when it's all said and done.)
  
• Gropius: "Really? Do you really have to change the channel and watch bits and pieces of 2 other shows during the commercials? Can't you just keep it on this channel while we watch the entire 30 minute episode?"
  Husband: "No. Obviously."
  (The remote is a sign of power. Silent and powerful power. Power power. It will never be relinquished by the male members of this family...and it must be clutched at all times. And when they give me the remote and say, "Here, put it on what you want to see," it really means, "You'll be asleep in a few minutes so I'll give you this one pretend act of compromise.")
• Husband: "I bet I can convince you to like football...hmm? Just like you learned to love baseball?"
  Gropius: "No. A million times no. Sorry, love. Also, no to hockey, golf and basically any sport.
  
  (I made my leap with baseball, but you know, just when I got to really love the team and appreciate all of the players, know them by name, etc.--the Rays went and traded everyone I especially cared about. Nice. I might retract my baseball hots.)

What have you said "no" to recently? Is it firm, or indecisive, like a weak handshake?

The Zebra Wins

There seems to be a strange and pervasive fascination with what has become the "mother of all wildlife terror," the migration of zebra or wildebeast that inevitably includes crossing a crocodile-filled river. It's on almost constantly in nature television. 

I thought this Red Bull ad was pretty cute and clever. They really know how to capitalize on things.

The Sunrise Suite

My dear friend Ingrid who died of cancer in April of 2009 was amazing in so many ways. She had a knack for finding hidden gems to explore during extended weekend adventures. For years she tried to turn me on to Cedar Key, a little island in the Gulf of Mexico due west of Gainesville, Florida. I never made it there until after she died.

"There's only one place to stay in Cedar Key," Ingrid used to tell me as I joked that she was being paid by their Visitor's Bureau. And then she proceeded to pimp out the Cedar Key Bed and Breakfast as the sweetest, most charming place in Florida.

When I met Bill and Alice--the owners of Cedar Key Bed and Breakfast--in the summer of 2009, I told them that Ingrid had sent me. They were sad to hear the news about her death. They knew the world was at a loss without her.

I felt Ingrid's persuasive words about the place follow me during our stay. The Sunrise Suite, her favorite accommodation at the B & B and our choice as well, had long windows that opened up to the Gulf, welcoming the water and the sky into the sun porch and the living room. You can't imagine the view from the bedroom.

I enjoyed talking with Bill and Alice about their lives during that trip with Husband and D-Man, and when I returned in the Fall with a group of women for a girls' weekend, it was easy to feel like we were picking up where we left off.  There was a lot of hope and light in those brief conversations. 

Bill had discovered a cancerous tumor on his leg earlier in the year, but with some experimental treatments in Mexico, he was cured and so grateful for the bill of good health. We talked about it during both of my visits.

Yesterday I called to make a reservation for the Sunrise Suite for a long weekend in March. When a young girl answered the phone, I asked if Bill and Alice were still running the place.

"Just Miss Alice," the girl said. "Bill died of cancer in December."

The sound of her words kept churning and amplifying like a singing bowl. I was thinking about how Alice was holding up, about whether Bill suffered, about why he couldn't be helped.

No matter how many times I'm jolted with the news of death, I seem to quickly lose touch with the fact that life is too short to get caught up in the minutia of meaningless details. I want to hold on to that. I want to be wiser and stop letting people take my power who are not worthy of it. I want to laugh more, take myself less seriously, and never miss an opportunity to be the person I am.  And I want that for all of us.

We're all so much like Ingrid, we just don't know it. She was 100% authentic, 100% of the time.

Today I imagine her kicking back in the Sunrise Suite with Bill, looking out at the Gulf, sipping a margarita and sending love to those who are still here in the world.

Observations

How's this for a random assemblage of weekend thoughts and observations?

• Apparently I wasn't the only one who noticed Christina Aguilerra's bizarre rendition of the Star Spangled Banner at the Super Bowl. (Granted, that's the only thing about the Super Bowl I'll notice. Who's playing again?)  I can't drum up support for the argument that it is really necessary for today's singers to see how long, weird and screwy they can make various staples of American heritage.

• Where the hell did this weekend go?
• Today I thoroughly enjoyed a Dali Diva Sunday. We took a short drive up to St. Pete to enjoy the newly opened Dali Museum and a bite to eat at the Red Mesa Cantina, one of my favorite places to have a tofu, jalapeno and pineapple taco. Okay, it's the only place I can have that. Doesn't it sound repulsive? It's so good you wouldn't believe it. (Really, you wouldn't believe it.)
• I know it's silly--I'm not a spring chicken anymore--but I still find it unsettling to see photos of long lost acquaintances with kids and husbands. Are they really parents? Wives?  Last night I found out something really, really weird about a man I dated in college. I was sad to hear what's happened to him in the 13 years since I've seen him--rather, so sad to hear of the life he's created for himself. As Gandhi said, "It's never too late to be what you might have been." I hope that's true for him.
• I fell off the exercise bandwagon for like 2 days and now I can't drag myself out to do it. How weak is that?
• Back to Dali--yes, I'm bouncing around--what a strange but fascinating cookie. I tried to read his autobiography years ago but got a little nauseated at the arrogance. Let's just say he was a tiny bit self-absorbed. I guess the magnitude of his work in terms of both artistic and psychological brilliance can help me overlook that. Check out Pines Lake Redhead blog for a nice account of our trip. The new museum was so well thought out in its design.  And check out this photo of a museum docent who was modeling her handmade shoe hat, one of four in her collection:

I'm a little concerned about the feng shui of that particular arrangement--an upside down shoe on your head. What kind of energy is that attracting her way?

I'll leave you with that deep thought and wish you a week of good things.

Inside Ducks

Years ago people used to ask, "Is your dog an 'inside dog' or an 'outside dog'?"  These days, there's only one kind: the inside dog, or you're an animal abuser. I kind of agree. But The Peabody has "inside ducks."  I've already posted on this, but here's a refresher. It's a short video I shot today while at a conference at The Peabody in Orlando. Damn they're cute:

A Startling Discovery

This weekend as we were loading groceries in my car, Husband discovered what used to be pasta, mushroom wraps and salad in the hatch area. It was one of those "ohhhh yeah" moments.

I'm just glad these expired culinary delights were packaged in the good, industrial strength Ziploc bags. That would be the reason the smell hadn't hit the crowd, so to speak.  The soupy remains were a horrific sight and your guess about the aroma would be as good as mine. I don't want to go there.

Texting while driving is one thing, and having your nostrils fill with 2 week old leftovers from an event is another. It could be dangerous. You get it.

I'm glad the two of us found the remains before they were discovered during my work day. My car might inherit the namesake of my very first Honda Civic from high school--Skunky. After leaving some mushroom poppers from El Adobe on a hot summer's day and evening, my car quickly soaked up some grossness. I was reminded of this daily for half a year by the friend I used to take to school.

I'm still the worst about leaving stuff in my car. These used-to-be-leftovers weren't even good enough for the chickens across the street.

10 Things That Make Me Feel the Sun Shining

So last week I shared a few things that make me want to hide in a dark corner. Since I'm not, afterall, a girl who likes to dwell on the bad stuff, here's a list of a few things that renew my sense of contentment. I'm hoping we have some things in common, and even more so, you'll share your list with me. 

1. Plop me in the natural environment anywhere, anytime, and I'm happy. Pine flatwoods, oak hammocks, salt marshes, freshwater marshes, lakes, rivers, streams, mountains, beaches, oceans--I'm there. There's an order to all of them and I take refuge in their purity.
2. Surprising friends and family with cards and small gifts. I've always enjoyed popping a card in the mail or buying a small, unexpected gift for someone in my life. I need to do it more frequently.
3. Planning travel--day trips to places I've never visited in Florida, weekend trips with girlfriends, or fantasy travel with the fam I may not ever take. The power to plan and explore gives me renewed energy when the minutia of circumstances are draining my spirit.
4. Mexican food. I wish it wasn't so, but give me a margarita, some fabulous chips and salsa, and a veggie burrito, and I'm in sheer bliss. Add a bit of queso dip, and it's like a mini vacation. If only the calories were equivalent to a bed of lettuce...
5. Painting the walls. Yes, I've now painted our office three times in the last 6 months. I know it seems a bit obsessive, but I can't seem to get it just right...and something about having that roller with a fresh coat of color is sooo exciting. It's a physical activity too. Good exercise.
6. Watching Flanders curled in her ball of brown sweetness, asleep and content.
7. And along those lines, the sound of Husband breathing when he's sleeping soundly.
8. The sweet songs of two birds in particular just make me feel alive, like everything is okay in the world: the cardinal outside my window in the morning; and the Chuck Will's Widow I used to hear in the evening when I lived with my parents.
9. I can't lie. Hoarding candles and health/beauty supplies does something for me. Don't ask.
10. Creating. Whether it's a painting, a photograph, writing, designing, a newsletter for work--I love to create.

The Atheist

So right off the bat, I'll tell you this isn't a post about religion, or lack of religion. It's about inadvertently taking what you hate the most in others' behavior and doing the same thing to counteract it.

Sometimes people get pretty offended about pushy religious fanatics who preach of fire and brimstone to those who do not share the same beliefs. It's easy to see why. Many of those people ignore the cardinal rule in almost every religion--do not judge. This hypocrisy can build up to shape some pretty angry reactions.

Someone I know as a lose acquaintance through mutual environmental interests is an atheist. He's a smart guy, and in person, he's very likable. But each day on Facebook, and multiple times each day, he shares post after post intimating how stupid people are to believe there is anything beyond the physical world of science we can see and touch and measure. His belief is just that, his. 

It's up to each one of us to decide not to judge others for what they believe, but it's quite interesting to see him proselytizing about atheism in the same way he must hate religious fanatics proselytizing about the right way to live.

I've see the same situation play out with some feminists who hate the strong, overbearing and domineering attitude of some men, yet use the same tactics to get their points across in the world. It's amusing. But people start to turn them off the same way...and there's a reason for it.

10 Things That Make Me Want to Crawl in a Hole

No, no of course I'm not complaining. I'm getting it out, trying to make myself laugh, failing at convincing myself it's really just funny and not something to get all tight about.

But what the hell? Here are 10 things that make me want to crawl in a hole:

1. People who throw cigarette butts out the car window.
2. Diet sodas. Let's face it, they taste like shit. If you're going there, just have a water for Christ's sake.
3. Tattle tales. It's true, they even exist as adults. These are people who are usually not super good at what they do and they sit back waiting for you to make a mistake and take note of it. Really? Oh yeah. Really. They're out there.
4. Fur coats or clothing. I'm a little confused about the resurgence of fur. I thought this whole bit of nonsense was in the past. Primarily, I think it's a terrible and immoral practice. Secondarily, it's just ugly. It belongs on an animal, where it's cute and fluffy.
5. That Pierce dude who's taking over Larry King's show. Larry King too. It's different things about them that I find annoying. Arrogance, mainly, but in different ways.
6. Send Out Cards. I will risk really offending someone with this, so I'm sorry in advance. But I like the look and feel of a card you've addressed and signed with your own two hands. I like writing them and I like receiving them. And this makes me like an old fashioned Gramma, I know.
7. Kids in beauty pageants. I'm serious. It's disgusting on so many levels.
8. Professional athletes who rape/ sexually assault women or who abuse animals and have consequences that are either non-existent or so minimal it's like "Oh that's baaad, we'll pretend we're really upset about it and send you to prison for half a year and then you'll get re-hired and make the gazillions back you had before you were busted."
9. The guy on TV who is the host of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. He's the greasy looking man who eats his way across the United States at places that can give you a heart attack just by looking at them. He seems like a nice enough guy, but all of the man jewelry, the facial hair and the oil are just too much for me--especially with constant close ups of him eating..
10. Gummy stuff. Bears, worms, you name it. Don't you feel like you're eating a fishing lure? Hurl.

What's on your list?

Fear of Heights

I've never been too crazy about heights, and thanks to my father's forwarded e-mail, I was about to have a heart attack in the comfort of my own home as I contemplated THIS job:

Updates: Biking, Apps, ADHD and Agitation

I hate it when bloggers are away for a while and they spend post upon post informing readers of why they have been absent. So I'll try not to do that.

I've missed reading your goings on and plan to get back to it soon.

I've been feeling stressed lately--that unpinpointable tinge of anxious space in the brain that causes tension and general discomfort. I have an idea what could be causing it but I need to step back into Gropius space. The agitation is most likely stemming from disturbances related to situations encompassing prolonged uncertainty. Is that sufficiently vague?

We all occupy a place in which little is certain but we have varying degrees of feeling in control. When that tilts to feeling out of control, anxiety can rear up like Beaucephalus. I realize it's all a continuum. And it's all a matter of perception. The truth is, we're largely at the mercy of circumstance and grace all of the time.

Aside from that, D-Man has endured an extended period of being grounded due to continued inappropriate antics. Therefore, he is physically and emotionally clinging to every bit of personal space we have at home. We enjoy bonding time, but constant ADHD in every crevice of one's life can inflame traces of unrest and take my level of (already) diminishing calm to new drought levels.

In brighter more materialistic news, I finally caved in and purchased an iPhone. I love it and am trying to explore all elements of its functionality before becoming addicted to it. Naturally, my favorite aspect is the Audubon of Florida birding application, allowing me to peruse color photos, vocalizations, ranges and descriptions of Florida birds while on the go. It even allows me to photograph and catalog my own pictures of each species, right where they belong.

We did bikes for Christmas this year. My new two wheeled explorations of the always lovely Robinson Preserve have been fantastic. And while I've been thrilled to see so many people there, I'm longing to reclaim quiet mornings there where I can enjoy it without having to run into what seems like hundreds of others---with dogs, kids, strollers and on bikes, roller blades, etc.

I continue to be overwhelmed with gratitude in the midst of so much suffering in the local and world wide spectrum. To have a meaningful job, to have a family, good health, sweet Flanders in senior stride, dependable friends....all of these things are incredible blessings. And they make my stress seem silly.

I'm hoping your year is off to a good start and I'm looking forward to catching up on your posts.

Toxic Triple Berry

Understanding that I could turn you off from the beginning with this one, I'll start by saying I've never been a fan of cooked fruits in desert. So allow me to use them in a metaphor.

Dealing with individuals who preach about accountability but have no record of it themselves--or who simply don't have the skills to perform their tasks but revel in providing instruction to everyone else--can be a bit tiresome. When you add attitude to that equation, you have baked a perfectly overweight and toxic triple berry pie.

We all know these people. And we all know that choosing to laugh at the situations they inspire is a better option that getting your feathers all ruffled. Will someone remind me how?

I'm resorting to some tactics I taught myself eons ago which involve overly praising individuals for their brilliance. They feel reassured and eventually screw off, and inside, you know the truth.

The only problem is that it's insincere and I hate it.  But it works. I have the proof. Still, that little bug inside of me says, "Don't."

The other day I came across a simple quote I especially love: "Always treat people with politeness, even those who are rude to you--not because they are nice, but because you are."

Are you good at doing this? I am, outwardly. Inwardly, I am bothered by it if the person is someone with whom I must interact on a regular basis. It gets old and I wonder if the toleration serves either of us. 

On second thought, I guess politeness is different from toleration. You can still be polite while not allowing someone to continue with their mess. You just have to differentiate what part of it is bothering you (from the ego front) and what part cannot simply be allowed.

Your experiences with the Toxic Triple Berry?

Process vs. Instantaneous Change

The same thought patterns in my head yesterday--both brave and big picture, trite and random--are running through my inner script today. I'll venture to guess the same is true for you.

Yet the thought of a new beginning is ever enticing. We're helped along by New Year's Day. It represents the unified, festive nature of oneness in timing and the same desire we all have to change. It's exciting and silly at once.

Years ago I read The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. He talks about individual belief systems and the personal agreements to which you have unknowingly subscribed, merely as hand-me-downs from your family, friends and society. This year I ordered copies for family members, including the young D-Man, for Christmas. Perhaps part of rediscovering our true beliefs rests in second chances, a new beginning to how we're choosing to operate ourselves everyday.

We're warned by those on a spritual path that the New Year only begins when we commit to an inner change. This change we uphold against all outside influences that threaten who we really are and want to be. It's a process. Who has awoken the next day to find complete transformation? Who can live up to the expectation of overnight change?

My New Year's Resolution is to begin the process of what I hope to accomplish, not to be that accomplishment instantaneously. I hope you'll allow yourself the same latitude with whatever you hope to create for yourself.

Happy New Year to you!