Cynthia Davis Rocks

I've met the coolest people through the Gropius blog. Some of them came here first and I started following them; others I found online in the twisted mazes of navigation and exploration.

I can't remember how I landed on the Running with Letters blog, but Cynthia Davis is such an entertaining writer, equipping each post with just enough details to make every "story from the ordinary" intriguing. I lover her use of metaphor. 

When I discovered her beautiful tiled seahorses, I knew one of them would make the perfect housewarming gift for Brother and Sister-In-Law and for my Goddess friend who left me here and moved out to Arizona.  I was able to select the colors, which she carefully glazed, designed and assembled into these lovely reminders of tropical seas:

Thank you, Cynthia, for putting so much love and care into their creation.  They're beautiful and the receivers couldn't be more delighted!

Bloggers everywhere: it's not only nice to support your fellow social media partners but you end up with unique booty you cannot get anywhere else. Visit Running with Letters and share the love.

Crossing the Line

I know, I know, it's a big no-no to get political on your blog, unless it's a political blog.  And religion, I shouldn't go there either.  So I'm going to do both in one post.

I was alarmed at my level of upset today when, on the way to work, I passed a man holding a sign advocating for a local political candidate (himself?) reading "Christian Leadership."

See, I have nothing against Christians. Muslims. Buddhists. Jews. In fact, I believe that all of the great religions in the world reach the same basic truths but get there in different ways. Different customs. Different pictures of God. But I happen to see it as the same God. 

I've had enough with division over this in America. It's time for this to end, to move on.

There are still people who still don't understand that we live in a country where there's a separation between church and state. Some of these people are already in office. Some are running for election.  It's usually the same people who don't recognize that "morality" and "ethical" behavior cross religions lines--they aren't any more or less inherent in Christianity than in any other religion. Those who use religion to back up violence or to judge others aren't truly living the messages expressed in their religion. They're practicing an altered version that leads to an unraveling of peace and truth and an uprising in anger and hatred.

By the message on the sign alone, its owner communicated two things to me:

1. I disrespect one of our country's founding premises--that old separation between church and state thing again.
2. I disrespect voters who are not Christian.

Religion doesn't have a place in American politics. Morality, ethics--yes. (I'd love to actually see them there.)

My freedom to choose, practice and express my religion is just that--mine.  It's not my business to judge you or prevent you from believing what you hold dear.  We're all prevented from that when our federal, state or county representatives are vocal advocates for one religion above another, in the midst of their public service or while advocating for votes. 

It's Kind of...Quiet

Was kind of quiet. Within five minutes of walking in the door, multiple televisions were on, and there was talking across rooms, sighs when the anticipated answer wasn't returned and a general air of drama.

For a week and a half D-Man hung out in Miami for a visit with Nana. The absense of generation induced tension was conducive to unfettered contemplation, and just...peace. With the quietude, calmness crept in and settled. Following that, the ability to actually relax in my own skin.

At first the obvious freedoms and lack of interruptions were the focal point:  I could walk around at night in my underwear if I wanted to. The sound of friends incessantly knocking on the door was absent.  And there was no banging around in D-man's room--the inevitable echo of a teen who's just been denied a certain right of all teenagers everywhere, like spending the night at his buddy's house when he's been there all day.

Ahhhh......sigh.

I forgot what a lack of drama can do for the home. And although I can't imagine life without the sweet and compassionate D-Man, a little breather and time alone with Husband was a good thing. It was easy to sink into just the two of us, knowing that D-Man was safe and also enjoying his time away from us.

Time alone with myself came over this past weekend, when Husband made the trek down south to pick the little man up.

Nothing felt sweeter than cleaning the house on Saturday morning, mowing the lawn and settling down for a solitary and hot afternoon on the porch. I stopped and bought oil paints--the first set I've had since high school--and spent the greater part of the day in the near 100 degree heat listening to late summer insects and swirling turpentine with yellow ochre, burnt sienna and phalo blue.  It wasn't long before the heat wasn't a worry and I just melted into the original rhythm of me.

My life is all the more rich for my home with Husband and D-Man. But there's no doubt that quiet and solitude, and the ability to return to my own person, are necessary parts of being. The same is true for them, and for any of us who have inner lives. I am learning not to apologize for it and to nod with understanding when the call for it comes from someone I love nearby.

It's so nice to have D-Man home again. He's growing up so fast, it won't be long until I'm yearning for the tales of drama that will have long since passed. I'm thankful to have had the space for reflection on myself as a single unit and as part of three.

Pad Thai Karaoke

We finally found a good Thai restaurant near our house. It’s a small family-owned business with authentic and reliably good food. The service and atmosphere are friendly...and let’s just say "slightly unusual."


The waitress we inevitably secure during each visit is a young woman who is probably in her mid-twenties but who looks much younger. For whatever reason, she is insulting and daring with Husband in a playful way that could get her in to big trouble if the wrong person walked in who didn’t find it so funny.

She’s pleasant and accommodating but never cracks a smile. She teases him relentlessly about his baldness and his inability to handle “Thai hot,” asserting that trying to eat spicey foods is how Husband lost his hair. She enjoys bantering him by repeatedly egging him on with “you’re such a baby,” etc. Husband is a great sport about it and the whole thing has been entertaining.

Has been are the key words here. Last night we decided that it’s getting sort of old, and though we appreciate her “different” style, we both commented that we weren’t really in the mood for it.

On Saturday night, “entertainment” is provided. This usually consists of a member of the family in full dress dancing around, or in last night’s case, singing on a tiny stage using a karaoke machine.

Hmmm.

Upon walking in the door, we were immediately greeted by the singing woman, who was draped in a tight fitting, black two-piece ensemble with sequined fringes dangling about her. She stopped singing while still clutching the microphone and escorted us to the table, directly in front of the stage.

At this point, it felt a little awkward. We were the only two people sitting in that section and had a direct view of her performance. True, she had a lovely voice and the Thai songs were a nice touch. Her movements were a little tight and sort of Elaine Benes-like (Seinfeld). Between songs you could hear her platform shoes clunking across the wooden mini-stage as she selected a new ditty, and you could see the blue screen scrolling words. Do we clap? Do we stare at her to provide an audience? Do we look up approvingly every now and then?

Meanwhile, our waitress approached and immediately lit into Husband. She remembered our most recent visit, a mid-July birthday dinner for Husband with the larger family. (Husband is still a few years shy of 40 and looks his age.)

“So how does it feel to be 50?” she said.

Husband was ready. “I don’t know. How does it feel to be 12?” he retorted.

I think she got it. She made haste in taking our order.



Then things got weirder. The lovely entertainer singing traditional Thai songs started selecting tunes by artists one would never expect to hear in such an environment, like old school Carpenters and John Denver.

The apex of our experience occurred when we listened to the Pad Thai Karaoke rendition of “Take Me Home, Country Road.” I’ll leave it to your imagination. You can probably enjoy the “mounteeeen mama” and “West Virgineeeeee” aspects in your mind. (Please anonymous, jump in with your spelling corrections.)

We were relieved when the stage was left vacant. It’s not that we didn’t appreciate her. Again, her voice was lovely. The whole thing was just weird. And sometimes, you just want to eat.

Still, we would recommend the place any day. Love the food, love it when you can enjoy a family-owned and operated establishment, and love it that the unexpected awaits us.

Anonymous posters, how I love thee.

Dear Anonymous:

I am excessively polite to people at work and I generally try to be that way in life too. But I don't have to take any doodoo on my blog--especially when anonymous posters are concerned.

Now in the last post, you weren't disgustingly out of control, but you weren't particularly polite either. Or astute. I don't recognize you as a regular reader. And if you...

a. Don't have the intelligence to figure out how to post your name, or don't have the balls to identify yourself,

          b. Have nothing decent to say, and
 
          c. Correct my spelling and then move on to make a spelling mistake yourself in the comment

My message to you is:
Thanks for the comedy, Einstein. And please, bite me.

See, Gropius loves to receive constructive information from folks who have something interesting or informative to share, but your obnoxiousness supersedes any bit of smarts you might be hiding in there.

And if only you would dish out your contact info like everyone else, I could cheer you on during your next spelling bee for grown-ups. Here's a digital silver star for you! Wooo hooooo, Anonymous!!!!!!

Window Boxes, Rocking Chairs and Skies

I can usually count on these three unrelated images to reinstitute a feeling of peace.

Flowers and soil attached to the window bring a bit of wildness close to the house, blending manmade structure with a small dose of nature-made inhibition.

There were some good ones last week during our travels.

Windows in the historic district of Charleston

Maybe it's the old subconscious memory of being rocked as a baby that keeps me loving the image of a rocking chair--even when the chair itself might not have been so comfortable.

 

Rocking chairs on the dock in Charleston outside of the Marriott, a one night's stop on our way north to NC

D-Man and Husband chillin' out in rocking chairs on the porch of the beach cottage in NC

I love it that, like life, skies are constant only in their everchanging cloud formations and colors. Somehow, it just works from the vantage point of the human spirit. I find a sort of comfort in that.  Summer in the Southeast is responsible for some pretty dramatic skies--there's a lot of power in those clouds, and they always complete the landscape.

If only the land or ocean could say to the sky,"You complete me." They totally had the patent on that before that creepy Cruise ever said it in that rediculous Jerry Maguire scene. (Sorry, fans of Jerry Maguire and Tom Cruise...can you ever forgive me?)
 

Cotton candy cumulous clouds over the Atlantic Ocean

Subtle sunset over Atlantic Beach

  Not so subtle sunset over Charleston

Summer sky over Fort Sumter, off the Charleston coast, where the Civil War began

Unplugged and Sandy

I opted for the 100% unplugged option over the last 8 days. I even forbid Husband from using the GPS on his phone. The trip to the North Carolina shore was everything I hoped it would be, and I didn't regret being without my laptop. But thirty minutes after arriving home from 13 hours in the car traversing your garden variety of interstates, plus three beautiful hours riding through tobacco and corn fields in eastern NC, here I am blogging.

I thought about you and missed reading your blogs...

Mitzi, I have a great John Irving book for you. I was finally able to finish devouring it while rocking on the porch. Marvin, saw some cool old guns from the Civil War and of course thought of you. Cynthia, I'm soooo excited about the seahorses and thought about you during our trip to the NC Aquarium where we checked out some live ones. Pine Lakes Redhead, there was a beautiful quilt on display in the Core Sound Museum; each square featured a historical piece of one of the tiny communities that dot the far eastern edges of North Carolina. Photo coming soon.

So many of you popped into my head! Nurse Myra--is your vacation from a few weeks ago still sticking with you, or are you back into life as you know it? I always hate to see how quickly traveling days slip away.

Here are a few of my favorite images of Atlantic Beach, North Carolina--my "grandmother's beach," from last week's post.