Categories

Bits and Pieces

Chewing the Fat

When They Were Young

Reviews

Recipes

Archives

August 2015
March 2014
July 2013
April 2013
March 2013
January 2013
October 2012
September 2012
August 2012
May 2012
April 2012
March 2012
February 2012
January 2012
December 2011
October 2011
September 2011
August 2011
July 2011
June 2011
May 2011
April 2011
March 2011
February 2011
January 2011
December 2010
November 2010
October 2010
September 2010
July 2010
June 2010
May 2010
April 2010
March 2010
February 2010
November 2009
October 2009
September 2009
July 2009
June 2009
January 2009
December 2008
November 2008
October 2008
September 2008
August 2008
July 2008
June 2008
May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007

Complete Archives
Category Archives

RSS

March 2008

I don’t know what this blog is about

I had the best intentions in the world today.  I was going to stick on the healthy track that I’d gotten myself back on.  Avoid candy, eat nutritious foods, exercise.  Hmmm…Well, I did exercise, so that’s something.  And I did eat nutritious food, but I also ate rather a lot of food that wouldn’t fall into the nutritious category.  And the candy situation?  Well, that good intention went to hell in a hand-basket.

What does that mean?  Hell in a hand-basket?  It makes me feel quite daring and cocky to say it, but what does it actually mean.  What is a “hand-basket”?  And why would a hand-basket go to hell? 

I’m going to look hand-basket up in the dictionary.  Be right back.

Okay, there is no “hand-basket” in the dictionary.  I wonder if the phrase is “Hell in a hand bag?”  I know what a hand bag is.  Everybody does.  It’s a lady’s purse.  But if the phrase is “Hell in a hand-bag,” that makes no more sense than “Hell in a hand-basket.” 

Well, maybe it makes a little more sense, because according to Webster’s Concise Dictionary there is no such thing as a “hand-basket.”  Although, what, pray tell are those baskets that the bunny leaves lying around the house on Easter morning.  Yes, they could be called Easter baskets…BUT they also could be called hand-baskets.  One does, after all, hold them in one’s hand.

I’m going to look the word “hand-basket” up in Oxford’s Dictionary of English.  It is, in my opinion a much more reliable dictionary.  Many times I find words in Oxford’s that the Webster’s doesn’t acknowledge.  (I use Webster’s more often though, because Oxford’s is so much thicker and has ever so many options to wade through.)

Be right back.

Humph…I was all prepared to return triumphant, to tell you that Oxford’s does indeed recognise the word “hand-basket.”  And they did have a lot more hand-whatevers than Webster’s did, but apparently the good folks at Oxford’s have not yet heard of a hand-basket either.  Oh well.  Sigh.

I have no idea what I was going to blog about.  I’m going to scroll back and check.

Scrolled back and I still have no idea what I was planning on blogging about.  That’s a little disconcerting.  Generally when I go off topic, all I need is a little prompt to get me back on track.  Hmmm…I guess I better go have another one of those unhealthy forbidden chocolates.  It’s not my fault that I’m eating them really.  My husband saved the box of candy that I received from Three River Schools.  I can’t just let it molder (is that a word?) on the counter can I? 




I’m baaaack…

Hello Bloggers,

I’m back.  Rested and rejuvenated.  Well, actually, as I wrote that, I realized that I’m not giving a totally accurate picture.  I am rested and rejuvenated, I also am wearing two robes, have the heat cranked up to 78, my hair is soaking wet, and my hands are thick-fingered and are moving slowly and hitting a lot of wrong keys because the cold is still deep into the core of them.

It was a gentle misty rain when we started the five mile hike, but then the skies opened up and soaked us through and through. 

Hold on, I’m going to pour myself another cup of hot tea.  Be right back.

Ah…that’s better.  A nice cup of green tea with a half a teaspoon of sugar.

I’m really cold, but I’m glad I went on the hike as well.  Walking up the mountain with Jenny, talking about life, childhood, our perceptions of ourselves, the rain picking up momentum.  Having to clear off my glasses so I could see the path.  Walking in the rain is not something I would ever think to do.  Like, Yay, it’s raining, lets go for a nice hike.  But the thing is, once you’re wet, you don’t have to worry about getting wet anymore.  Shoulders scrunched up and tucked in, like that will stop the rain from landing on you. 

Have you ever noticed how people do that when it rains?  I catch myself doing it all the time.

But today, when we were hiking in the rain, it was lovely in an odd sort of way.  Sloshing our way up the mountain.  I certainly didn’t have to worry about being jumped by a hot flash.  I would have welcomed one!

And now, I can hear Jenny banging around in her room packing, and it is a comforting feeling, like when we were kids, knowing she’s in the room right next to me.

I’m going to do a little bit in one of those improv movies she does now and then.  She asked me if I would play her sister and I said yes.  It’s odd really.  I have no desire to “act”  but when she asked me if I would do it, I remembered when I first came to LA and we took this Acting for The Camera workshop.  I can’t remember what it was called, but it was in the Valley, and we drove to it wearing the fancy Esprit, clothes that our little sister Becky had brought us from the Esprit Factory that she worked at in San Francisco.  Becky could buy things at an enormous discount and believe me, she did.  She’d save up all her paychecks to splurge on us. 

And Becky would arrive in our tiny apartment with the Murphy bed that fell out of a closet into the middle of the living room that was on Normandie Ave right off Hollywood Blvd, with a huge shiny black garbage bag hoisted over her shoulder.  “HO…HO…HO!”  She’d bellow in a huge voice, like she was Santa Claus.  While she stomped around our minuscule apartment in exaggerated big man steps, a huge grin on her face.  “HO…HO…HO!”  And then when we were almost dizzy with excitement Becky turned that enormous garbage bag upside down, holding it up high, over her head so that all the beautiful, brand new, gorgeous, fashionable Esprit clothes would rain down onto the floor, in every colour under the sun.  And then the excited squeals and shrieks would start and the ohhing and ahhing, Becky standing there, so proud. 

We were certain that we were the luckiest, best dressed girls in the whole of Hollywood. 

So, when Jenny asked me if I would do this film with her, my heart said yes.  Because we had so much fun, acting together in that Film Actors Workshop.  I remember one scene in particular, where we played sisters and were supposed to enter this room, and I can’t remember much about it, except that Jenny had a real good idea, and we did it and it was really funny.  I remember us slinking up to this guy. I don’t remember his name.  Jenny says she ran into him around 10 years ago, John Leveit?  Levin?  Something like that, and he works for ? Saturday Night Live, maybe?  Anyway, he still remembers doing that scene with us.  All of us with stars in our eyes, all of us succeeding.  Odd huh?

I find it really interesting.  Always on my book tours, the question comes up, “Will you ever go back to acting?”  “Would you consider returning?”  And I always say, “Nah.”  And I meant it too.  The only way I could ever foresee doing anything of that sort was if it would help my boy Will get his start.  Then I would.  But I never considered, the Jenny angle.  It never entered my mind. 

How perfect is that?  I took my first acting classes with Jenny and now I’ll finish up, playing her sister, just like the first thing we ever did.  And the good thing is, no pressure.  It’s a little tiny film that nobody will ever see, that all these actors do because apparently, working this way is so much fun.  This will be Jenny’s 3rd or 4th movie with this director.  They shoot the whole thing in three weeks.  A hiccup in regular movie making time.  Two weeks when Will in school, which Will’s dad is stepping in for, so that is wonderful, there will be no interruption of Will’s routine and so Don can come with me because he’s never been to France.  And then we shoot one week in the summer months. 

Which reminds me, my boy, David, has been asked to manage his department because his manager is going away on a trip.  Congratulations Dave!  Wow!  We’re so proud of you.  I have to remember to change the family vacation that we’d planned for that week when I get back.  (Rog and Jim, be expecting an email from me in the next few days to see if it can be done? xo)




a breathing break

My dear bloggers,

I’ve decided I need to take a week for myself.  It has been such an exciting and busy and wonderful time and I have been enjoying myself immensely, but I think I need to step back for a breath, sit still, with no expectations.  I’m going to try to go for a week without blogging, without trying to wrestle my manuscripts into some kind of form.  I’m going to eat slowly, taste my food, take in the world around me, get back on the exercising wagon, and try to remember to breathe all the way down to the bottom of my lungs.

I’m interested to see if I can do it.  Go a whole week.  We’ll see.  Last time I was going to take a day off, I wrote three times.  But I am determined to give it a go.

Anyway, before I sign off, I want to thank all of the people who came to my reading Saturday night.  I still see many of your faces, the tidbits of life you shared, our laughter and conversation, they were with my last night as I drifted off to sleep and they are with me still.

And now, for my week of solitude.  One week and then I dive back in. 

Much love, Meg xo




hello

Don is working on the edit of his book this morning and I just woke up from a lovely little cat nap.  Ah.  Then I ate a tasty chocolate from my box of handmade Goody’s chocolates that the Three Rivers School gave me.  And now I am blogging to you. 

After Don finishes his work, we are planning to go on another hike.  Deon gave us a guidebook “Bend, Overall”  and it is hard to choose which place to go to.  Another interesting (and rather surprising) thing about this guidebook is I would say around 1 in 10 of the photos have a naked person in them.  Which is always a good way to keep the reader from zoning out too much.  La…la…la… Here I am reading my guidebook, what shall we go to see…Gack!  A naked person.  Did I really just see that?  Or are my eyes making it up?  Nope.  Naked.  Hmmm…I wonder if there are more naked pictures?  Yup.  Cool.  I like Bend Oregon.

Oops, Don’s just finished his editing and is ready to go.  Bye everybody.  I’ll write a little bit more later.




Sunriver

We were sitting at the B & B breakfast table when we happened to glance up and notice that it had SNOWED during the night.  Everything was covered in around an inch of snow.  Beautiful.  Impossible.  True. 

We ate, then I scraped all the ice and snow off the front windshield with my B.C. Care Card while Don worked on the sides and back of the car with his Visa.  Who would have thought we would have needed an ice scraper in the end of March?  It was kind of exciting, felt like we had been plopped down in the middle of an adventure. 

There was a lot of black ice on the road and we had to drive very carefully and when we arrived at the KBEND radio station, we had to shuffle-walk our feet so we wouldn’t fly up in the air and land on our derrieres.  I enjoyed talking with Kathy, we had a few interesting parallels, career-wise and there are somethings that someone else can only understand if they’ve been through it as well. 

Then it was off to bump around Sunriver for a while until it was time to meet Deon and Rich at Sunriver Books and Music.  We walked around the Village and it was really fun when we passed the bookstore, because right in the window was a huge display of pink Porcupines!  I wished it wouldn’t look egotistical to just stand there gazing at this exuberant display, but it would have, so I walked slowly by savoring it, out of the corner of my eyes. 

At 12:15 we finally entered the store and were greeted with enthusiastic smiles, and it’s odd, because suddenly I got really shy and tongue-tied, for no reason.  Couldn’t seem to do anything but smile inanely and nod my head.  I hoped Deon didn’t notice. 

I think what it was, was she had been so kind at The Pacific Booksellers Conference.  Rescuing me when I arrived at my first round-robin table at the same time as the first course did.  These booksellers had been on their feet working hard all day and I imagine they were hungry.  So when my butt hit the chair, the salad hit the table and I thought to myself, if I were them, what would I want to do, listen to an author babble about how great their book is, while I am starving to death?  Or eat? 

Well, I know what would have been my preference.  So, instead of wowing the table with how great and wonderful Porcupine was, I said, “Please, eat, don’t mind me.”  (I can hear my publisher groaning)  But Deon, she was an angel.  She took me under her wing, even though she doesn’t even handle children’s lit.  We had a great chat.  I liked her enormously, and talking to her, gave me courage to face the rest of the tables that I was bounced to for each course, because I thought to myself, certainly there will be at least one person who might not mind me sitting with them.  And so after that first table, everything changed, and I felt way more comfortable because of Deon’s generosity. 

So, when she asked me to come to Sunriver, of course I said yes, even though it meant 11 hours on the road.  And let me tell you, it was totally worth it.

All of you authors out there…if you are lucky enough to have Deon and Rich ask you to read at Sunriver Books, GO!  They sent out notices, she set up a radio interview, a newspaper interview, she wrote a lovely article for another one of the local papers, she steered Don and me toward a lovely walk that meandered by a river and it was so magical, with the mellow afternoon sun slanting across the tops of the trees, glinting off the field of snow.  We saw geese and ducks and a beaver swimming, and then boomp, he turn bottom up and disappeared.  It was very peaceful and romantic, and afterwards we went to South Bend Bistro (another Deon suggestion) and enjoyed a delicious dinner. 

Yes, my fellow authors and book buyers.  You need to know that Deon and Rich have a lovely bookstore and if you go there, you will want to come back again, and again, and again.

And Three Rivers School, oh-my-goodness!  There were posters, there was an author biography.  When we first walked in we were greeted by a smiling face, we signed in and (darn, I forget the name, but you know who you are) who said she’d been reading some of my hot flashes, excerpts from my blog and she said to herself, I like that woman.  And her telling me that made me feel so welcome and warm.  And the kids!  Such enthusiasm, such interesting questions, what fun we had.  I couldn’t believe how fast time flew.  I love that school.  I wish I’d know it was pajamas day, because it would have been so much fun to wear my goofy looking ones.  However, the school gifted me with a hat, in Porcupine pink, and since it was hat day as well, I plopped that hat on my head and felt right at home.  I love the Goody’s box of chocolate and I am embarrassed to say that already one-third of the top layer has been devoured. 

Thank you everybody for making me feel so special.  You were great!  Much love, Meg




road trip

I woke up at 4 with the usual.  What is it about a hot flash that makes sleep impossible.  It’s like the heat pours adrenalin through my body or something and my mind starts spinning on a million different things, and trying to hang onto my sleep wave just doesn’t cut it. 

By now though, after a few years of this, off and on, I’m much more accepting about the whole thing.  Don’t worry it into the ground.  I lie there for 45 minutes to an hour and if sleep doesn’t come then I get up and go downstairs and catch up on my Dow Theory Letters, or John Mauldin’s newsletter, or Postcard from Cape Town.  Or I write a few emails or, like this morning, made some more of my very delicious Oatmeal cookies. 

Because, how I figure it is, Oatmeal cookies are a healthy(ish) snack, what with the raisins and whole oats, and egg, and etc (I’m not going to mention the…ahem…sugar.) 

Anyway, it might seem strange to be up, rattling about the kitchen whipping up a batch of Oatmeal cookies, when it’s still pitch black outside and the whole city is deep in their sleep, but it made sense to me, so I guess that’s all that matters.

It was a good thing too, because Don and I were really glad to munch on them in the Customs line-up at the border, careening down rain-slicked roads, braving snow and hail. 

Such beauty we saw.  I’ve never driven over Mount Hood before.  Luckily for us the roads were cleared.  There is something so magical about all that snow, piled up, higher than the roof of the car, the trees ladened with winter white.  Huge beautiful stands of trees.  It reminded me of my childhood.  The world has changed so much in my lifetime that sometimes I just have to catch my breath.

We experienced hard pelting rain that would last for one minute and then be gone.  Misting light sprinkles, gentle soothing, continuous grey rain.  We had snow and sleet and hail pounding down, we had sunshine, and at the start of the drive, the black sheet of night, with the large moon, half-hid behind, turbulent clouds.  And then gradually, the darkness gave way to uncertain light, that grew cautiously stronger, but didn’t have that hot sexy boldness of hot summer mornings.

And as we were driving over Mount Hood, I marveled that just a few hours drive away, these tiny purple flowers at the base of the tree by the kitchen just opened their tight green bud filling my heart with the song of Spring.  Little delicate white ones, with dainty shy heads, by the gate.  Making me need to sit still for a moment and breath in deep.

And now we are here.  In Bend.  And tomorrow I will go to KBend radio in the morning, talk with Kathy, then on to Sunriver Books and Music to meet up with Deon and off to Three Rivers School we go.  I’m so happy she invited me.  What a wonderful day.




a bit of this and that

Gold was in a free fall today, down around $58.  And is down another $14.50 in the after market.  Weird because the stock market was down 293 points.  I’ve found that these two markets generally don’t fall hand in hand.  Interesting. 

We’re off on our road trip tomorrow.  I love road trips, watching the topography change, eating penny candy, playing music, singing along sometimes other times not.  Driving through all kinds of light and shadow and cities and forests, farm land and tiny towns where sometimes one lucks out and finds a diner that serves kick-ass pie.  Stopping at rest stops, for the obvious reasons, but also to dance around to stretch out the legs and try to get the feeling back into the butt.  I have wonderful road trip memories of my children and me, with our old dog Sarah, her head stuck out the window so her floppy lips would fill up with air and flap around like a blown up balloon tossed on the floor with out being tied. 

(Em and Dave, remember the ducklings? That was something huh?  And “Butt Ville”?  Memories of your little faces and hands smeared with sweet ripe dusty blackberries, plucked from hot sunny roadsides.  Miss you.  xo.  Love you too Will.  Hope you are having a wonderful time on your trip.)

We are off, 5:30 in the morning.  And the rainbow at the end of the drive?  Three Rivers School, and Sunriver Books and Music store, where Deon has done such an amazing and caring job of setting everything up.  I feel so lucky.

Speaking of lucky…remember that good news I got that I wasn’t supposed to share until this week?  Well, Porcupine got Shortlisted for the Canadian Libraries Association’s Best Children’s Book 2008! Eeee…

Hi.  I’m back.  I just had to stop typing so I could hug myself.  So excited.  I really couldn’t believe it when I heard the wonderful news.  I don’t know why I am having all this good luck, but let me tell you, I am SO happy and grateful, and I know that life isn’t normally this charmed, but BOY am I enjoying this patch of warm, heart-filling sunshine!




A Northern Conference afternote.  Hmm…is afternote one word or two? Maybe it’s hypenated?

Ha!  I just looked “afternote” up in the dictionary and apparently it’s not a word at all.  Tra…la!  Yes, I am a literary sort.  Just call me Meg-the-wordsmith.

Anyway, on to the serious task of blogging.  On the CWILL listserve this morning, Kirsti Walkelin (kirstiwakelin.com) had posted a link to (oh, god, some kind of technical blog site, which I could go back to and look up the name of, but it seems like a big hassle, so I’m not going to.)  Anyway, I was curious, so I clicked on the link.  Then I punched in my website name and was surprised to see that there were all these links to my site. 

It was an odd sort of hot and cold and dropping stomach feeling.  I don’t know why, I mean I know some of my more dedicated family & friends read this blog and I know I get, what I think are a lot of daily hits.  But I had no idea that other blogs blog about me. 

Which when you think about it was pretty naive.  I blog about everything under the sun, why shouldn’t everyone else? 

I didn’t read the blogs, because I was scared.  I only clicked on one.  I guess that’s one of the reasons why I don’t have a comments section on my website.  The first blog I ever read was Rosie.com.  I started reading it after she had been so kind to me on the View when I was first coming out publicly with the truth about my life.  I kept the words she’d said to me after we finished taping, tucked into a pocket in my heart and took them out and held them close to me when the fear about what I was doing threatened to overwhelm me on Book Tour.  And I looked up her site and started reading her Blog because it made me feel like I had a friend on the road when I was traveling from city to city, many times by myself.

And although her blog became like a touching stone, I was shocked to read the nasty, cruel comments that people would send her.  It made my heart feel so heavy.  Like, yeah, Rosie might sometimes come off as loud and noisy and to some people perhaps brash and obnoxious, but that is because they aren’t looking close enough.  Anyone with a little common sense can see the soft vulnerability that this cover has been developed to protect.  Anyone who has access to a computer can, with a click of a button, access ALL the good she has done, funds she has contributed, to and for the world.  If these people would just look at the actions, the deeds, they wouldn’t be able to help but see what a wide open generous, caring heart she has. 

It horrified me to see the things people would write.  So when I was working with Susie Gardner and Travis Smith (and Matt of course I just didn’t sit in a room with him)  and they said you have to have a place where people can leave Comments.  I said “no way.” 

Hmm…where was this blog going?  I forgot.  That is one of the joys of menopause.  Let me scroll back and see.

Okay, I’m back now.  I’ll just wrap this up quickly and then write about what I was going to write about.

The other reason I decided not to have a Comments section is because I was a guest blogger on The Debutantes Ball (an author site)  And although everyone was lovely, keeping up with the comments and questions asked took ALL day.  It seemed like the minute I answered one question there were three more to be answered.  I didn’t get any work done on my manuscript.  And I thought to myself, on one hand, the people who wrote in were really nice and their questions were thought provoking and they were all so kind…on the other hand, I am already spending WAY too much time blogging.  If I add a Comments section I will never carve out enough time in my day to actually write another book.

So that is why there is no Comments section on this site.

NOW back to what I first started to blog about.  I clicked on one of the posts about The Northern Voices Conference, and oh-my-goodness!  Nancy White, you have absolutely NOTHING to apologize for.  (She was the Stop blogging and Start Drawing presenter, when I had my unexpected mini-melt down.)  She gave a wonderful presentation, she gave us chocolate.  Good chocolate.  She was smart and funny. 

Nancy, if you are reading this, you did not abuse me in anyway.  Your drawing exercise unexpectedly touched on a memory, a wound that I didn’t even know I was carrying anymore.  I cannot have you carrying this in any way.  If anything, it shows that your drawing stuff idea, really works and it is a great way to get in touch with what is hidden from ones conscious mind.  As well as all the great things that it seems to do for people.  Everyone seemed to really be having a great time, laughing and joking and sharing pictures. 

Please don’t carry my hurt in your heart.  It doesn’t belong there.  And in acknowledging it, hopefully, I release it as well.  It is not for either one of us to carry.  It’s a memory is all.  And if it should settle anywhere it should rest in the laps of people who do not protect and abuse small children.

Much love, Meg




Writing through the hot flash, because sleep is impossible.

I woke up at four-fifteen with another hot flash.  I threw off the covers, leaving only the sheet, but even that was too much, so off it went.  I find it hard to believe that this was the very room that I was shivering in last night.  Leaping in between the cold sheets, squeaking slightly, and needing to wiggle around to try to warm them quicker, the down comforter pulled up around my ears and discreetly tucked under the tops of my shoulders, so that when Don got in bed, the covers wouldn’t fly up and waft fresh cold air under to assault my goose-bumped body. 

It’s amazing to me the extremes in temperature that my body is experimenting with.  All these changes.  It’s like all of a sudden my body realized that it had been sleeping on the job.  Forty-eight year old women weren’t supposed to look like this (that’s my body speaking), and so it’s been working overtime to catch up. 

First off, the skin quality is all wrong, we have to do something about that.  Boom, a multitude of tiny creases and lines.  Not just on my face, but the back of my hands, my forearms, and probably everywhere else, but I generally don’t wear my glasses when those other parts are exposed, so I can be blissfully unaware. 

Hmm…and that sprinkling of grey?  That will never do.  Women who have been blessed enough to reach the advanced age of forty-eight have way more grey hair than that.  How shall we deal with that?  I know, give her a crisis.  Voila, the friend situation in November.  Poof!  My face is framed in grey.  So much so, that I get surprised, startled when I walk past a mirror.  It’s like it’s me, but it isn’t.  It’s a combination person looking back at me.  I have to look closely to pick me out from the bone structure, the falling jowls, the age spots that have been gracing my face, I have to push all these memories of my mother and grandmother aside that are peering back at me from the mirror, to find the Meg that I know, inside.

And yes, I am aware of the beauty and the miracle of a nice well chosen bottle of hair dye, but my reasons for not dying my hair are two-fold.  First off, because my base hair color is a dark brown, if I started dying it, I’d have to keep dying it, because otherwise my roots would get that two-toned look of an old sweater.  And that would mean I’d have to visit a beauty parlor every three weeks or so to keep it looking decent.  Which is not something I would get around to doing.  It’s hard enough for me to drag myself to get my hair cut every 4-6 months, I can’t even imagine carving out the time to go every three weeks. 

The second reason I’ve chosen not to dye my hair is because, even though my vanity is screaming out, “Dye it!  For god-sakes, dye it! You’ll look ever so much younger.”  Is that I worry that if I start down the path of trying to erase the years from my life, my body, (which is a loosing battle, because if we are one of the lucky ones, we’ll get old, and then older, and then die.)  Then I won’t be aware of time passing.  It feels like it would be sort of like squeezing my eyes shut so that the Boogie-man won’t be there anymore.  Well I tried that as a kid and as an adult, and guess what, they didn’t go away.  They were still there and did whatever they d_____ well pleased.  So, they didn’t go away, just because I shut my eyes and temporarily erased them.

How I see it is that aging is a blessing.  Many people don’t get the privilege to watch themselves get older, see their children grown and on their own.  Several people I’ve loved have passed when they were around my age, but their children were younger than mine.  My friend, Pat.  She never got to see her daughter grown.

So, here’s the deal.  We each are given a finite amount of days on this planet.  We don’t know how many.  We don’t know when our time will come.  And so, me keeping, not erasing the badges of honor that I have won, earned through worries and loving and tired out caring, and experiencing all the joys and passions and disappointments that are present in everyones life.  For me, even though, sure I like to look “pretty” as much as the next person, I am trying to re-educate myself as to what “pretty” is. 

I am a woman who is aging, and I don’t want to forget that days are passing.  I want to experience all of what life has to offer and wear the proof proudly on my body and face.  This is what a forty-eight year old woman looks like.  And if I am blessed enough to reach my eighties, you’ll see what that looks like as well.




an empty house

We got back last night.  Too late to pick up the dogs, so we’ll do it this morning.  It was nice to see Gerry, Dave.

The house feels so empty.  Huge, hollow spaces that seem cavernous and my inside light tucked in and contained around me.  Like I have to walk small and careful so I don’t make waves in all the stillness.  Will is away, the dogs too, Don upstairs sleeping.  Just me, poking at my keyboard, trying not take up too much room.  What an odd feeling.




it’s me again

Oh my goodness.  I just got some very, very, VERY exciting news!  I’m not allowed to say anything until next week, but let me tell you this…I’m THRILLED!!  I can’t stop smiling. 

I should decide not to blog for a day more often.




Nothing exciting?  Sheesh…

Good lord!  The Dow down just shy of 200 points, gold up $19.70 and flirting with the idea of crossing the $1,000 an ounce barrier.  Not to mention it’s only 7:30 in the morning.  What a day to be away from my computer!  I’m so curious to see how the day plays out.  I wonder if all this whirlwind activity is going to show up in the other aspects of life as well?  Drive carefully everybody. 




interesting to me

I just plucked this out of this investment blog I read, Postcards from Cape Town.  This particular piece that I’m quoting was written by John Authers/Financial Times.  I wasn’t planning on blogging today, but this stuck out, so I wanted to share it.

“The S&P financials was at a new low on Thursday, in dollars. But measure this index in euro and the scale of the collapse in the world’s confidence in the US financial system becomes more apparent. This index has now fallen more than half - 53% - since it peaked in euro terms as long ago as 2001.”

I knew the dollar has been in a nose dive for some time.  I knew that the financial are in extreme crisis mode.  I didn’t know that the drop was this deep.

Oh, and on a lighter note, check out Yann Martel’s What is Stephan Harper Reading

Tanya Kyi, (tanyalloydkyi.blogspot.com) a fellow CWILL member emailed me complementing my oatmeal cookie recipe.  She already made a batch, and if her family is anything like my family, I doubt there are any left.  I even lick the crumbs off the plate with these cookies.

Anyway her blog link was under her name, so I clicked on it and obviously read a great deal of it.  That’s how I found out about Yann Martel’s Stephan Harper brilliance.  It was great fun.  You have to go back to the beginning of it though to get the full impact.

Happy reading.  I’m off to bed.




tax-time

I’m going to be out of town tomorrow.  I’m taking Will to the airport and then hopping over to the island to have dinner with my boy, Dave.  And in the morning I’m off to see Gerry, the most fabulous accountant in the whole world.  He does a wonderful, through job, year in and year out, and he is funny and engaging and I feel lucky to have him in our family’s life.  I don’t know what I’m going to do when he retires.  Cry in my pillow I’m sure. 

I feel safe with him. 

Tax-time, tax-time, don’t you love it.  It took me several days to sort out and organize all of my stuff. 

Don, on the other hand, gets up after dinner tonight and sighs heavily,

“Ugh…I guess I’ll have to go get together my tax stuff.”  He disappears into his writing room, and LESS than two hours later, he’s mooching around in my writing room. 

“Don’t you have to get your tax stuff sorted?” I ask, feeling smug that I plowed my way through my stuff over the last couple of weeks.

“I’m done,” he says.

DONE!  Now that’s just not fair!  Granted, my stuff is way more complicated than his, and I’m doing it for the whole family, but still… Phooey.

Anyway, I won’t be lugging my laptop over to the island since it is just a short trip, so unless I happen upon an Internet cafe, there will be no blog until the day after tomorrow.  Let’s hope nothing really exciting happens in the meantime, because I am going to be totally out of touch.

*By the way Emily and David, have you sent your stuff in?  xo




CONDOMS…CONDOMS…CONDOMS…CONDOMS!

For all of my teen blogger friends, I am very worried!  I read this article today that surveyed a slew of teen age girls and followed up the survey with medical testing and they found that 1 in 4 teenage girls have a sexually transmitted disease.  One in four!  Heart breaking.  Many of these girls had no idea that they were infected.  Only one half of the girls acknowledged that they had sexual relations.  However some teens do not believe that oral sex counts as having sex and that the only thing that does is intercourse. 

Girls and boys, you can get an STD from oral sex. 

Of the girls who admitted having sex a whopping 40% had at least one STD (sexually transmitted disease.) 

Now, there are some STD that can be cured with antibiotics.  And as you know there are some that can’t.  There is a new powerful strain of Gonorrhea that is drug resistant.  There is no cure for HIV/AIDS yet.  There is no cure for Herpes. 

It is vital that you always use a condom, unless you are in a stable long-term monogamous relationship, where both of you have been tested for STD’s and have been re-tested after the window it takes for the infection to show up in the blood work.  Until that time YOU MUST USE CONDOMS!

Also, all of my teen readers out there, if you’ve had any type of unprotected sexual activity, INCLUDING oral sex, please see your family doctor and get tested.  You can make the appointment yourself.  Just call up and make an appointment.  The doctor will have your medical care card number on file and if you ask for discretion they will have to honor that. 

Some STD are very treatable.  And if treated soon after you have become infected, can make the difference between being infertile or not and many other things. 

But as you know, there are no cures for some of the scarier STD’s and you could actually die from them.  The 15-26 year old age group is now the group that has the highest rate of new HIV infections. 

I was also STUNNED to read that some teens believe that douching with Coca-Cola will kill any STD.  This is ABSOLUTELY UNTRUE.

PLEASE…PLEASE…PLEASE…BE CAREFUL! 

Much love, Meg xo




Page 1 of 2 pages  1 2 >