A Wonder-Filled Visit

My champion -- aka the Grandson -- visited for a bit not long ago. As soon as his seatbelt was unbuckled he hit the ground running, and I could hear him excitedly shouting all the way to my back door.

"Gwamma! Guess what?" he said as he navigated the back step. "The Wild is in the pwayoffs!"

"The Wild?" I said. "The playoffs? Cool! They must be good at basketball."

He gave a puzzled look as I held the door for him. "Gwamma, don't you know anything about hockey??"

I do, sort of. I was teasing him. But it appears that I'll have to know a bit more about it in future if I want to earn his undying love and admiration.... He attempted to educate me as he peeled off his cap and shoes, filling me in about the stats and players and teams I've never heard of.

"The 'Blues?' The blue whats exactly? The Blue jays? The Blue birds?"

He rolled his eyes. "Gwamma, they're just the Bwoos. And the wed team is the Fwames."

"The 'Flames,' huh?"

"Yep. And they're wed because fire is WED."

"You don't say!" :)

First it was a game or two or twelve of Angry Birds. ("Gwamma, I will teach you how to pway. Watch and learn.")

Then it was outside for some croquet action. "Hey.... Did you buy this game Up North??" (Someone's obviously played croquet at a cabin.) Nevermind the stakes and hoops; we spent our time in the sun knocking each other's balls out of play and laughing as they rolled into the garden and under the vines.

In the course of our game we paused to watch the busy chickadees as they carved out a cavity in my locust tree. (The face of my Green Man merely looked amused as birds took turns darting in and out of his moustache.) The grandson was captivated, but only for a bit. Then it was back to the competition! He was The Wild and I was The Bwoos and there was no way he was going to let me win The Pway-Offs. :)

I didn't try too hard. And he made sure to encourage me after every swing I took that missed.

All too soon his mom phoned to tell us she was on her way, so before he left for home again we took a break for Freezie Pops.

It was a VERY good day. :)
...

My New Ride

Looks like a 'Harriet' to me.

On a sunny Sunday a month ago, James and I took a different route home through the Village and we passed a big antiques shop that had metal trellises and galvinized tubs and other garden-type stuff out front. And there, chained together near the entrance, was a bunch of rusted bicycles. 

This one caught my eye.

What I liked about it so much was that it kind of reminded me of the bike I had as a kid. (Granted, mine was turquoise and had a 'buck seat' in back instead of a wire basket in front, but nevermind....) And this old rusty one looked like it was missing its little girl....

Well. I was old and rusty and missing my 'little girl', too. We had a lot in common.

I carefully looked her over, inquired inside about her, and asked James for his opinion, too. But I still walked away, wondering if this interest was just a momentary bout of silliness. I swear the bike looked hopeful for a second and then crestfallen! And on the rest of the way home, I kept revisiting memories of my own bicycle and the adventures we had together. It's been 40 years since I last rode a bike, but I can still remember the thrill. Who wouldn't want to revisit that if they could?

The memories were so strong. They kept me awake that night....

So the next morning I walked back to the antiques shop -- this time with some art money -- and I asked again about the bike. It took forever for the ladies there to find the key that would cull her from the rest of the herd, and afterward I tried to perch on her seat and urge her forward (in spite of her flat tires), just to see if I could do so without being frightened. When I saw that both feet could touch the ground easily, I bought her without thinking too much and walked her the rest of the way home.

James filled her tires that evening and dared me to give her a whirl around the block, but I was too self-conscious. What if I fell? Skinned my old knee? Broke my old hip? A friend my age had warned me: she tried out a new bike before purchasing, fell in the parking lot (to her embarrassment), and didn't hurt herself so much as scared herself, and she cautioned me to at least get a helmet before getting back in the saddle. So I used the 'lack of helmet' excuse to keep from riding her in front of James.

But the next morning? Safety gear be damned. I had to see if I could DO this after all these years. 

I was wrong. It's a 'Gladys.'

So I leapt on my new ride (a lie; I very sedately walked it to the curb, perched awkwardly on its seat, and tentatively got it going in a wobbly forward direction without falling off) and pedaled her around the block a few times. No sharp turns, no hard stops. All as easy-peasy as possible. Every passing car gave me a wide margin. And I imagined myself looking like a juggler on a unicycle, comically over-exaggerating my actions to make the audience think that at any moment I'll hit the ground. (That wasn't acting.)

There was much squeaking and jerking and flailing, but after a few near mishaps we sort of hit our stride together and I experienced a quick rush of memory: me as a kid on my Big Bike, the arch of its turquoise frame like the neck of a horse. It was my steed, carrying me to adventure. I'd kick it forward and throw my leg over its back like a trick rider, then gallop down the street no-handed, the wind in my hair....

No lie: that wind in my hair once again was exhilarating.

I rode again the next morning, this time to Postage Stamp Pond and back. Baby steps. Even though I'd lubricated some of her moving parts, we still groaned and squeaked our way through the streets. She didn't try to buck me off or turn me back towards home again like the day before, either! Progress. As we trotted together around the neighborhoods I kept thinking about a name. This bike looked like a 'Harriet' to me, and all the way home again I kept trying it out in my head.

That afternoon my Eldest phoned to ask me about my purchase and to surprise me with a tune-up at the nearby bike shop. A tune-up! Suddenly everything had gotten serious. But, I wondered, when my bike and I showed up for our appointment would the guys there laugh her out of the place? Would they laugh ME out of the place?? There was only one way to find out.

Not wanting to ride her there and risk wiping out spectacularly (or otherwise looking ridiculous), I walked her the few blocks to Jerry's Schwinn and braced myself for the comments. But the young man there who'd written up the order ran a hand over her neck and said, "Ooooh, a classic. She's in really good shape!" He could tell at a glance that some parts would need replacing and he wasn't sure if they were even available anymore, so it would take a few days before I'd know whether or not she could be restored to decent ride-ability. But he promised to take good care of her.

As I returned home, I kept imagining what I would do when it came time to pick her up again, promising myself that I'd get James to drive there with his car so we could just load her up in back and I could try her out again in private. But within a few days I got a call saying she was ready, and to my surprise I immediately hung up the phone and walked there with my claim slip. A different man was behind the counter. "So the Beast is going home!" he laughed, and I cringed a little bit. This would be interesting....

I almost look like I know what I'm doing!

As he led my rusty steed out from the back room he said, "I tried it out and have to say it moves pretty well for an old tank." More cringing. With the subtraction of my tune-up I had just enough dollars in my pocket for a helmet, so I chose a blue one and tried it on for size. The man showed me how to adjust it to fit, and I paid for it without taking it off. "You gonna ride 'er home?" he joked as he held the door for me. I hesitated. Originally I thought I didn't have enough for the safety gear, and that would've again been my Big Excuse. But I was armed now. So I gingerly climbed aboard and took off.

And I didn't stop.

For HOURS. 

I rode along the river, past my high school poetry teacher's former cottage with its white picket fence, past grand new homes made of brick and stone and money. I struggled up little hills, my thighs burning. I flew down little inclines, my braids flying. 

As I pedaled, I kept thinking about the little girl whose bike mine might have been. Did she go on adventures? Pretend her bike was a horse? Did she take it to the library for some summer vacation reading? Ride it to the corner store for gum or popsicles or comic books?

It's been a glorious month since my bike and I first made eye contact, and during that time we've been everywhere together, or at least everywhere that doesn't involve traffic or other bikes or too many obstacles.... Not comfortable with the name I'd dubbed her, my new ride insisted on being called 'Gladys,' a far better fit. And at first she tried throwing me from potholes and steering me into ponds, but I think that had more to do with my 'bikemanship' skills than any headstrong attitude on her part. 

Interestingly, James has also fallen for her charms. He's surprised Gladys with a fancy bike lock (as if anyone would steal her) and has tempered her old seat with a new gel-filled cover so that this rider isn't quite so saddle-sore after galloping across summer afternoons of sunshine and butterflies. (He's also checked into getting a similar bike of his own!)

Since my purchase I've seen other 'coaster bikes' for sale at flea markets and novelty shops. Others in far better shape than Gladys. Higher priced than Gladys, too. But she and I are a good match. It makes me happy to think I've rescued her from possibly becoming some woman's garden ornament, and I imagine her gratefulness for this second chance at adventure. Yeah, a new bike might possibly have been cheaper than the repairs I just paid for (not by a long shot, as it turns out). 

But you can't buy good vibes and memories.

...

Kapow!

Head's exploding a little! I need to change things up, I'm thinking.

There are readers here -- friends in real life -- who don't make a habit of commenting on my blogposts, but will contact me via email about them. And that's perfect!

That being said: I'm learning that the recent accidental postings (OK, not so recent; it was a month ago) of my daily email blast have resonated with some of them, and their comments remind me of a conversation I had with my Eldest ages ago, one in which she told me that my daily email needs to be my blog. It's more 'me.' Because I don't edit myself there like I tend to do here.

Why, exactly? That's had me wondering....

I feel like I have to be careful here; Mayfaire is my biz and I worry about its 'brand.' Would sharing my scars and my daily highs and lows hurt my biz? I haven't wanted to take that chance....

SO.

Should I create a second blog?

Wondering, wondering.... And I've been wondering now for weeks.

It's not the only thing that's making my head explode exactly. There's a whole buttload of stuff going on right now that gives me tons to think about:

• It's summer vacation!
• I'm having Trip-of-a-Lifetime flashbacks
• What's up with my Etsy store??
• Monarch butterfly season here at Tumbledown has begun
• Fest prep is underway
• How can I turn my recent creations into Fest products?
• My gardens are SHAGGY and in need of attention
• My house is shaggier....
• And -- it's summer vacation! (My inner child can't seem to get around this and knuckle down.)

Yikes! I'm not sure where to focus my attention.... But that's normal for me, isn't it?

So now you know: In the weeks that I've been silent, blogwise, it's simply the usual chaos here. Making everything crazier than it needs to be is apparently my superhero power. :)

I'll try to get things under control enough to write again. Until then!

I heart you, my friend,
...me.
...

Oops x 3

Big thankyous to the well-meaning reader who let me know I'd done it again, only this time for multiple days in a row: I sent a daily email out to a handful of family and friends and accidentally included my blog's link in the group, so last week the Maily saw three days of Happy Thotz it wasn't supposed to see.
Was I perhaps unaware, she wondered? Oh yeah. And so yesterday I finally corrected the problem (unlike last time when I think I said I would and then immediately forgot about it).

This has happened before, you'll recall. My blog's e-address has an asterisk next to it in my contacts list -- just like the names of the recipients who hear from me every day. This time, though, everything went undetected. And because a dozen or so readers have already seen or received the errant posts, I haven't bothered to delete them. They're nothing spectacular anyway, and at least they make my blog look like something's happening here.

Still.

I really have made adjustments this time and am confident that these blog thoughts and my daily Happy Thotz will no longer cross paths.

But really? Why is this even a thing??....

(*wondering, wondering*)

...

Friday Thoughts for 5/15 (w/pics)

Yay -- it's WEEKEND EVE. My favorite day of the week. From here, the weekend stretches out like an endless vacation; Monday isn't even a thought on the horizon! Fridays are so hopeful, aren't they? Let the happydancing begin. :)

 

Barbara Ann Kipfer's FIVE THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT (from her book 14,000 Things to be Happy About):

1. Lobster pots.
2. Spending a weekend alone with the cat.
3. Liberty silver dollars.
4. Ribbon candy.
5. A balcony resting in the top branches of an oak tree.

Henry W. Reich's FIVE THINGS THAT REALLY PISS ME OFF (from his book 2,501 Things That Really Piss Me Off):

1. Wine in a box.
2. The people next door.
3. The floor plan of my house was laid out by Maurits Escher.
4. I never saw J. Edgar Hoover in his party frock.
5. The incredibly loud sound of dripping water the morning after some serious drinking.

My FIVE THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT:

1. A 'Home Sweet Home' sign.
2. Bubble wands.
3. Remembering what I went into a room for....
4. Using a book's dust jacket as a bookmark.
5. Flicker bulbs.

My ONE THING TO BE A POOPYHEAD ABOUT:

Nope. No poopyheadedness allowed today. It's Weekend Eve!

 

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

The trouble with being punctual is that nobody's there to appreciate it.

    ~Franklin P. Jones

 

TUMBLEDOWN STUFF:

It rained all day yesterday -- a quiet, drippy, soaking rain that cast the house in shadows. All the pets hunkered down for the day; Boo curled upstairs on her pillow, the birds tucked their heads under their wings. Even Max, in his very fragrant cage, lay wound in a ball so tight I couldn't tell where he ended or began. The only 'sunlight' was the basking lamp in the aquarium warming two very tiny turtles, each with their head and legs stretched out in a happy turtle yoga pose.... I spent my day creating an art piece for a group installation while streaming episodes of the original 'Dark Shadows' series. The piece is due SOON and I've been stewing about it for months, mostly because it's highly personal and tackling the subject has proven to be one of the most difficult things I've done, artwise. So it helped yesterday to have my thoughts taken up by a show that really made an impact on me in childhood. I think it's funny that 'Dark Shadows' was never watched in my own growing-up home (that I can recall), so I probably only ever saw a dozen episodes at my friend Julie's house. Its time slot was brilliant as it was broadcast just as kids were getting home from school, but did she and I really tune in every afternoon? I doubt it. Did we watch it over summer vacation? I don't think so.... So yesterday I thought about it all as I surrounded myself with art supplies. If I'd really seen only a handful of episodes, why did they make such an impression on me? Was it the way the show was filmed? Videotape made me feel as though there was no television between me and Collinwood. There was no hiss and hum of film, no gauzy 'this was shot yesterday' kind of thing to it all. It felt 'live.' And so my childhood self had no problem inserting herself into those cobwebby sets. Was it the shadowy Gothic atmosphere? Did it call to something inside me -- some fascination with the invisible and the supernatural -- that I hadn't found the words for yet? Or did it just appeal to my deep love of rainy days and mystery stories?.... I did make some progress on my art. And after a whole day of back-to-back 'Dark Shadows' episodes, I'll admit that they began to run together. But today they're still going strong, and I'm interested to see how any changes that have been made in the series over the seasons will affect me. I don't remember it being in color. I don't remember the Time Travel story arcs. This should be interesting. And hopefully some art will be created, too....

 

WHO WOULDN'T LIVE HERE??

Me here: This wonder-filled watercolor is by one of my fave illustrators, Charles Vess, for the cover of a book by one of my fave authors, Charles de Lint. This little Emporium is something I'd love to own and live above. Everything about it -- from the framed Mucha poster to the shelves of hardcover books, the case full of tchotchkes to the tall shadowy ceilings -- just sings to me. What a wonder! And if the figure in the painting was wearing a black t-shirt and readers and had salt-and-pepper hair held up with a fork, that would be me.... :)

 

THE DAILY FLAME (Message from Your Inner Pilot Light, courtesy of Dr. Lissa Rankin):

Dear You:

 

Do me a favor, my love. Make some space in your life for me to fan my flames. 

Busyness, chaos, and clutter limit my oxygen, whereas sacred space, silence, and free time help my home fires roar.    

Capiche?

 

Expanding,

 

Your Inner Pilot Light

Me here: Oh dear. I'll try to address the chaos and clutter, but I can't make any promises....

 

(Me here, again: Want your own daily message? Visit http://www.innerpilotlight.com/ for "daily email reminders from the core of who you are about how to live, love, heal & thrive.")

 

NEW: The MUTTS Comic of the Day:

Artwork copyright Patrick McDonnell

 

NEW! Suggestions from The Check Book -- 200 Ways to Balance Your Life by Bret Nicholaus and Paul Lowrie:

Pay no attention to time for an entire weekend. Don't set your alarm clock. Cover all the clocks in your house. Don't wear a watch. Simply let things happen when they happen.

 

A LITTLE SOMETHING:

www.checkiday.com says that some of today's celebratory events include:

International Day of Families

National Bike to Work Day

National Chocolate Chip Day

National Pizza Party Day

O. Henry Pun-off Day

Straw Hat Day

 

CLOSING THOTZ:

Enjoy your Weekend Eve! May there be art, books, a movie, loved ones, and time spent outside under the sky.

More on Moonday,

...me.

Thursday Thoughts for 5/14 (w/pics)

Happy rainy Thursday! Here we go:

 

Barbara Ann Kipfer's FIVE THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT (from her book 14,000 Things to be Happy About):

1. Playing Crazy Eights.
2. A flawless sea.
3. Heat-resistant, clear-glass mugs.
4. Abandoning all your senses to a field of wildflowers.
5. Heavy Romanian crystal.

Henry W. Reich's FIVE THINGS THAT REALLY PISS ME OFF (from his book 2,501 Things That Really Piss Me Off):

1. Pete Rose has not been elected to the Hall of Fame.
2. There's no longer a distinction between fame and notoriety; it's now all just celebrity.
3. Naming airplane luggage after Amelia Earhart and expecting it to arrive at its destination.
4. Not being allowed to play on the Net all day at work.
5. Pork barrel legislation, especially when introduced by congressmen who loudly proclaim their aversion to high taxes and government waste.

My FIVE THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT:

1. A friendly letter in the mail. (<3)
2. Hot coffee, cool shadows, soft rain.
3. That satisfying feeling that comes with tucking a bedspread underneath the pillows.
4. Binge-watching an old favorite series.
5. The smell of a newly-sharpened pencil.

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

We should take care not to make the intellect our god; it has, of course, powerful muscles, but no personality.

    ~Albert Einstein

 

TUMBLEDOWN STUFF:

Yesterday was all about cleaning and exercise. And after all the vacuuming was done, I took a long walk along the bike trail, past little ponds and the backyards of generic beige houses. I saw Canadien geese with their goslings, and mallards with their ducklings. I heard redwing blackbirds in the trees and saw milkweed fingers pushing up through the grass. It'd been months since I'd last passed it, but there was the shaggy and overgrown yard of my favorite house on the trail, with its paint-flaked birdhouses and weathered picket fence. I reminded myself to let the homeowners know just how much I appreciate their aesthetic.... I hadn't meant to walk so far, but I couldn't help continuing on to Pheasant Ridge. I discovered where the fire was, the one that James and I saw from a distance not long ago. All the cattails and brush in the wetland area was nothing but char. Sad.... And then it was home again, to a letter in the billbox and a glass of mead to read it with. Tacos for supper and a murder mystery on the telly. And now today it's all about drawing while streaming old episodes of Dark Shadows. Everytime I hear that theme song I can remember being small-ish (Ten? Eleven?) and sitting on the edge of her bed in my best friend Julie's room while she swooned over Barnabas Collins and I swooned over the dark, Gothic interior of Collinwood. (Or the 3-room set of Collinwood; I had no idea it was a stage and not the wonder-filled, shadowy, maze of a mansion that I imagined it to be.) And then years later when it was rerun again on television, I can remember occasionally calling in sick to work so I wouldn't miss the highlights. I can remember Barnabas's old cobwebby house with its crusty woodwork and dust-covered windows, and artist Sam Evans's cottage studio with its bachelor interior and enormous window, and the sensation that all was being videotaped live. A perfect show for bringing back the memories....

 

WHO WOULDN'T LIVE HERE??

Me here: Bad photo, but here's a little interior shot that I found online of Sam Evans's painting studio from the series. As a kid, I couldn't imagine a better place to live/work, with easels everywhere and diffused light from that window. I imagined the outside of the cottage to be shabby and overgrown, not realizing again that it was just a set, and that the windows were frosted and foliage-covered for a reason.

 

THE DAILY FLAME (Message from Your Inner Pilot Light, courtesy of Dr. Lissa Rankin):

Dear You:

 

You're asking me what I really love to do? You care how I want you to dress? You're paying attention to who I like to hang out with?    

I've SO been waiting for you to ask!  

Because if you let me guide you in your career, your relationships, your health, and your life, all the pieces will naturally fall into place.

 

Grateful you asked,

 

Your Inner Pilot Light

(Me here: Want your own daily message? Visit http://www.innerpilotlight.com/ for "daily email reminders from the core of who you are about how to live, love, heal & thrive.")

 

NEW: The MUTTS Comic of the Day:

Artwork copyright Patrick McDonnell

 

NEW! Suggestions from The Check Book -- 200 Ways to Balance Your Life by Bret Nicholaus and Paul Lowrie:

Get yourself a coloring book and a box of crayons and color a picture for someone you love.

 

A LITTLE SOMETHING:

www.checkiday.com says that today is:

Ascension

National Buttermilk Biscuit Day

National Dance Like a Chicken Day

The Stars and Stripes Forever Day

Underground America Day

 

CLOSING THOTZ:

Enjoy your day today. And may there be a shadowy, book-filled corner there where you can take a break and read and dream.

More tomorrow,

...me.

Wednesday Thoughts for 5/12 (w/pics)

Happy Wednesday; we're already halfway to Weekend Eve!

 

Barbara Ann Kipfer's FIVE THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT (from her book 14,000 Things to be Happy About):

1. Wearing one long braid.
2. An antique-lace hankie.
3. A beach strewn with timbers of uprooted wharves and broken boats.
4. Bran muffins.
5. Drafts scurrying like mice about the house.

Henry W. Reich's FIVE THINGS THAT REALLY PISS ME OFF (from his book 2,501 Things That Really Piss Me Off):

1. We've lost Peanuts.
2. We've lost Calvin & Hobbes.
3. Pauly Shore movies.
4. Polka dot lederhosen.
5. Hour-long messages on my answering machine that leave no space for other callers.

My FIVE THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT:

1. A floppy straw hat.
2. Lilacs in a mason jar.
3. Weetabix for breakfast.
4. Prescription sunglasses.
5. A pair of waterproof gardening clogs.

My ONE THING TO BE A POOPYHEAD ABOUT:

The sun is shining, the breeze is lilac-fresh, the clouds are few. All that's missing are some pillowcases fluttering on a clothesline. I have nothing to be a poopyhead about. Life is GOOD.

 

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend.

    ~Abraham Lincoln

 

TUMBLEDOWN STUFF:

I'm cleaning cages today. Vacuuming. Shredding junk mail into pet bedding. And now that some chores are finished, the backgarden bistro table (with its fancy cloth and potted geranium and view of all my smiling dandelions) is calling to me. Maybe some quick letterwriting is in order before the sketchbook comes out.

 

WHO WOULDN'T LIVE HERE??

Me here: How cool is this?? I'm not sure where I found this interesting photo, but I'd like to give credit where credit is due.

 

THE DAILY FLAME (Message from Your Inner Pilot Light, courtesy of Dr. Lissa Rankin):

Dear You:

 

You might think those you admire have it all together, and in comparison, you look like chopped liver (no offense to livers everywhere, of course). 

But it's not true. The truth is that we're all struggling, we're all flawed, and we're all willing to do almost anything to feel loved.    

But when you dig deeper and look beneath the surface, you'll strike gold. At the core, we're all beautiful, we're all whole, and we're all perfect.    

Not to toot my own horn, but you can thank me for the good stuff, baby.    

 

Beep beep,

 

Your Inner Pilot Light

(Me here: Want your own daily message? Visit http://www.innerpilotlight.com/ for "daily email reminders from the core of who you are about how to live, love, heal & thrive.")

 

NEW: The MUTTS Comic of the Day:

Artwork copyright Patrick McDonnell

 

NEW! Suggestions from The Check Book -- 200 Ways to Balance Your Life by Bret Nicholaus and Paul Lowrie:

Take a two-hour walk at whatever pace feels comfortable for you. Although it sounds tiring, you may find it the most relaxing thing you've done in a long time.

 

A LITTLE SOMETHING:

www.checkiday.com says that today is:

Donate a Day's Wages to Charity Day

Frog Jumping Day

National Apple Pie Day

National Leprechaun Day

National Night/Third Shift Workers Day

National Receptionists Day

Top Gun Day

CLOSING THOTZ:

 

More tomorrow,

...me.