Moving picture windows

Thanks for tuning in to the second half of this story -it is not exactly an easy one to tell but I do feel it is important to share. Hopefully, my tale will help someone who is dealing with loss of a loved one and the overwhelming grief that comes with it.  As you have read, I was safely tucked in the back of a car on the way to Yosemite with two incredibly supportive women  -great writers both and unutterably kind. Though we had buckets of alcohol in the back, I sipped a single mimosa slowly and wondrously. Champagne is celebratory and I marveled I would be drinking it again as I slipped and slid around in what I had come to think of as "My Slough of Despair." I considered feeling guilty about  it but I pictured Robert looking down upon me and saying."That's my hen. Look at her go." In my imaginings, he would be highly amused at the slightly absurd sight of our boozy and bookish cabal zooming up the side of a mountain in a stretch limo. It might have amused me, too, except I had forgotten how to laugh. 

The beautiful scenery passed by my window at 60 mph and was soothingly meditational. Gorgeous flowering fields, wild weedy meadows, turning into a vast sentry of trees marching to Yosemite. We picked up a couple more writer riders along the way.  I  mumbled just enough niceties to get by before I turned back to the moving picture window that had become my escape.  I was curled in the very comfortable back corner when, to my dismay, we suddenly arrived at the lodge and I was forced to emerge into actual daylight and try to pass as a human being.  There was a big crowd at the check-in desk which delayed simply checking into my room. Finally, I was handed keys and ushered into a spacious room with a view and my very own balcony overlooking a meadow leading into a forested path.  The path was a lure.  It called to me silently and seductively.

This being a conference, nearly every moment was scheduled. I had 20 minutes to myself before the first meet and greet. I flung my suitcase in a corner, kicked off my boots and had a good cry for exactly 15 minutes allowing 5 for Visine, facewash, make-up and costume change. 

Next installment- I finally meet Nick Belardes

Just Keep Putting One Foot in Front of the Other

A book came out today that means a lot to me- Random Obsessions: Trivia You Can't Live Without. It is by Nick Belardes, a brilliant fellow if ever there was. Just looking at the quirky, colorful cover makes me smile and remember how I met "The PT Barnum of Bakersfield."

It was nearly two years ago and I was in a bad state. My long-term boyfriend had finally succumbed to the cancer he had been fighting. I was in a fog, very numb and sort of sleepwalking. I had committed to speaking at a Writers Conference and, while it seems pretty unimaginable that  I would be able to even talk, let alone form full sentences, I did like the idea of being at a beautiful retreat lodge at Yosemite. I felt it might be healing if  I could just get through my obligations and then walk in the woods and be with nature in one of the most beautiful places in the world. The gracious organizers offered me an out but I said I thought I could certainly meet with writers and offer basic publishing wisdom. Looking back , it seems kinda crazy even to me but I held onto my "chop wood, carry water," notion that small tasks could distract me, keep me busy, and keep me out of the fetal position I resumed when alone.

 I took the train to Fresno and cried the entire way. I was reading "The Other Boleyn Sister" and I could get through a few pages, place the book in my lap, sob for a time, repeat.  I had planned to nap but I was a bit worried that I had made a HUGE mistake in attending the conference and was going to embarrass myself and make people uncomfortable with the mess I regularly dissolved into.

Upon arriving at Fresno Amtrak, I was picked up by the lovely Hazel Dixon Cooper, author of "Born on a Rotten Day"and Cosmo's Bedside Astrologer.  She was a dear and had a good stock of tissues for me and snacks for the road. We then met literary agent June Clark and climbed into a limo that swept us away enroute to Yosemite. The limo also had a good stock of liquor of which we availed ourselves heartily. Was I distracted? You bet! We chattered amiably and I noticed I could go AN ENTIRE MINUTE without thinking about Robert's death.

I looked at the beautiful scenery passing by the windows of the stretch limo (soon dubbed "The Boozemobile") and I thought to myself. "This just might work out after all."

100% Discount Shopping

My "shopping bone" is broken. It broke long before the recession so I was already living fairly frugally. I admit to having been a shopper with Saturdays spent at Needless Markup (Neiman Marcus) for sales and Macy's and even Target and cute little boutiques with irresistible one-of-a-kind items that garner compliments and kvelling. But, a few years ago, I simply lost all interest in shopping. I would like to think it is some higher planetary awareness but that's not it. So, I took to turning down those Union Square shopping sprees with myriad excuses, finally admitting to my broken and apparently unhealed bone. Don't get me wrong, I still have a few weaknesses such as books, music, plants for the garden and scented candles.

With clothes, I call myself a "camel shopper" and shop once a year for clothes when my friends start complaining about seeing certain frocks a few too many times or when I need to look passable for an out-of-town convention. I go into the stores with a list go straight to the needed sections, moving quickly and efficiently.

Street shopping is a whole different ball game -furniture I see on the sidewalk calls to me with a siren's siren. I explain to people who might be riding with me that my ten year old convertible Mustang, Shadowfax, is like a truck -just put the top down and place the bookcase, chair, nightstand, or what-have-you in the back and drive away. I LOVE to rescue these finds and take them home to sand, repaint, gild, and filigree away. Half of my furniture are foundlings - glistening with gold leaf, copper leaf, and reupholstered with good quality fabric scraps. People think they are fine antiques and maybe one day, they will be.

For now, though, they seat my friends, hold my clothes, provide a place for memorable dinner parties and give me a great feeling of satisfaction that I can create beauty and comfort in a creative way for me and my loved ones. No amount of pounding the pavement and pillaging malls can give you that.

Look for beauty everywhere -it is there just waiting to be seen.