TOP TEN REASONS I LOVE KEY WEST

REASON NUMBER SEVEN - A WALK DOWN DUVAL STREET

TOP TEN REASONS WHY I LOVE KEY WEST

NUMBER EIGHT - CAPTAIN TONY'S

After shopping on Duval Street we headed into Capt. Tony's for a beer and some local ambiance. Capt. Tony's is the original site of Sloppy Joe's, another key West historical bar where Hemingway hung out and drank.

Business cards, along with brassieres, panties, ball caps, license plates, and other varied articles of clothing, adorn every bit of space along the walls and ceiling. You can see where the cards have met disaster, Hurricane Wilma of last fall, yet they remain intact, if not a little worse for wear.

As in every bar in Key West, there was entertainment. A performer with an acoustical guitar and his dog laying at his feet, he had a repertoire of songs that included everyone from Bob Dylan to Elvis.


A walking tour group arrived to hear the history of the building. Not only was it the watering hole of Ernest, it was at one time a morgue! As the group took over the back of the room and our muscian friend sang Elvis' "Falling in love with you" a sudden thunder storm decided to pay Key West a visit.



Suddenly every light in the bar turned themselves on and shined brightly for a fleeting and astonishing moment....then all went dark. The microphone went dead....his strong yet gentle rendition of the love song faded as he sang...

"As a river flows
Gently to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand - Take my whole life too".......


As if cued, everyone in the bar began to sing.........

"For I can't help falling in love with you.
For I can't help falling in love with you"

We gave ourselves and our musician friend a round of applause. I think the drinks were on the house as we waited for the storm to pass and the sound of rain beating the streets and the roof to fade and resume the hum of fans and airconditioners.

It was a beautiful and peaceful five minutes.

TOP TEN REASONS WHY I LOVE KEY WEST

NUMBER NINE - THE SHOPPING


I have enough Kino sandals to last till the next time. Kino Sandals is the most unpretentious, comfy and functional shoe factory in the world. Hand Made and $10!

The wine is almost gone. Why is the wine so goooood in Key West? I loved the Strawberry Riesling Wine. Courtesy of Keel and Curley Winery.


Joe and I hiked all the way from the Atlantic to the Gulf of Mexico. On our journey we passed this cozy little Art Gallery. I had my heart set on purchasing some sort
of art to take home. And I got lucky. This was a coop-gallery. Affordable and capricious. And red.

Very red.

TOP TEN REASONS I LOVE KEY WEST

REASON NUMBER 10 - ROOSTERS RULE

Key West has got to be one of the most beautiful, stimulating, colorful, soul-stirring, exhilarating, fanciful, outrageous, whimsical, boisterous, frolicking and funky towns in the United States.

Look what it did to Hemingway.

Look what it does to all those tourists and visitors who make the journey! After one visit it becomes part of you, one of your most treasured memories. Like a vivid tattoo on your soul.

That is, if you get it.

If you do "get it" then returning becomes a pilgrimage.

It is a place that is best described with photo's. I'll leave the written descriptions to those more qualified. To the poets.

Roosters, roosters everywhere you look. At first you hear them. Cock-a-doodle-do. Why do they roam free? They seem to be given free reign going everywhere and any place they want? Into bars, into restaurants, into the traffic, strutting their stuff down Duval St.

Who knows why, but they seem to own the town. There is even a place is like a haven for the sick and infirm, the unwanted fowl. You can even purchase one if you want.

Though they seem to have no master....if you ask me

SLEEPS WITH THE DOLPHINS

Leaving Paradise Behind

I became slightly depressed knowing that the holiday was about to end. The familiar yet mundane life I left behind called me home. The creeping acceptance of the inevitable. The bittersweet. The realization that I actually did leave all my cares behind. For seven blissful days not once did I think about work! And on the evening of the last day aboard ship, I sat on the deck on the 11th floor, the weight of what I left behind settled on my shoulder and watched the sunset in the stormy sky leaning on me.

On a ship, you are never alone for long. Behind me I heard the shrill and bossy voice of an eight year old girl. That tone is known to mothers all over the world. This bossy woman-child sashayed to the rail and looked towards the setting sun. She turned and ignoring me, concentrated her remark behind me, "No! No! You stay right there!"

Around the corner of the laid out sun chairs, with a canister of soda pressed to her tiny breast, came the two year old. She wore a simple pink empire line dress with a ruffle on the hem and around the sleeveless arm holes. Her hair was so short, and so wispy, the fairy hair of the very young. On the island , she must have had beads braided along the top. On her tiny feet were girly-girl pink sandals.

She stumbled and staggered in that run/walk normally associated with drunks and two year olds.

She stood along side her sister and got tippy toed.

She pointed!

"I see a dolphin", she cried out.

Her older and much more sophisticated sister rolled her eyes and informed her..."You can't see a dolphin! It's too dark"

Her mother appeared from the right and in a soft murmur told her youngest daughter that the dolphins were sleeping.

Little Pink handed her mom the soda container. Turning towards the sea and grabbing the rail she puffed out her chest and began calling loudly, at the top of her lungs.......

"DOLPHINS!! DOLPHINS WAKE UP!!"

It was my very favorite moment of the trip.

Sadness took a dive. He sleeps with the dolphins.

MISH MASH

I'm considering changing the name of this blog. In the beginning I thought the name was so clever.

Now it just seems old and worn out. I need to reinvent myself.

Recently another one of my blogging buddies changed the name of his blog and it just automatically changed in my bloglines.

The handful of people who keep up with this blog I hope will hang on.

Okay, I've considered and I am doing it.

Also, heading out on a trip tomorrow. Hence the luggage.

I think I may have one post in me before taking off.

Good-bye MLIAOB.

Somebody is probably going to snap it right up!!

SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

(My daughters luggage at Standiford Field in Louisville after our trip to Tampa in May (my only bag is the one with the colorful spots...the rest is hers, I kid you not))

I was so busy being a single parent and going to night school that the need for luggage was an expense I by-passed. If needed, I would borrow some miss matched pieces from my Mom. I distinctly remember her green Samsonite. I felt secure with Samsonite knowing that the gorillas in the luggage department would not be able to destroy it, even if they tried.

I continued to borrow my Mom's stuff on various occasions through out the years.

When Joe and I decided to go to Colorado, I rushed to Walmart and spent a whopping $50 on three pieces of matched cheap luggage. They were great! They looked exactly like everyone else's luggage and were very difficult to find on the carousel in the luggage claim area. It required that I put little colorful dots all over our stuff. Cute and effective.

Not only has it traveled to Colorado, but to Boston, Gatlinburg, Chicago, Cleveland, several times to Miami, as many and more times to Tampa, Orlando, West Palm Beach, (I love Florida), Columbus, Detroit, Knoxville, Louisville, Jamaica, Atlanta, Cincinnati, Nassau, Ireland, Cancun and Dahlonega.

It survived the category five hurricane Wilma in the bath tub of the Rue Caribe Hotel in October of last year. It survived being lost after a trip to Miami.

It has begun to show the signs of constant wear and tear. The inside of the suitcase is breaking apart. Little pieces of plastic siding fall off every time it is used as of late. The zippers stick.

It's only five years old and time to retire. Yet, I really like the scuffed up look this luggage has acquired. It has aged well and with dignity. No self respecting thief would give this set a second look. Certainly nothing of much value could be in that ugly, worn out Walmart brand baggage!

My wonderful and thoughtful husband surprised me with a set of new luggage! Beautiful, big, light weight and pink. Yes, pink. No need for colorful little dots anymore. I will have the only hot pink bags on the carousel! I just know it!!

My beautiful new Ricardo luggage will catch the eye of the luggage handlers.

Guaranteed.

HOW TO PULL YOURSELF OUT OF A FUNK

Go Shopping for Greeting Cards!

I was balancing my cheek book and feeling slightly ill. It had been raining all day. My hair was ruined at 630 am. One of the Smart Aleck's has taken another job and will be leaving us. I find I still want to run my daughters life. She hung up on me, rightly so.

It was in this state that I dragged into Walmart with the hopes to find Indian Candy Corn. It is that time of year. The only time of year the stores have that heavenly chocolate delicacy.

Suddenly I was momentarily blinded. A vivid glitter-glow, all luminous and shiny with a thousand hues of orange, the brand new card section screaming HALLOWEEN at me!

My mood immediately lifted as I picked out cards for my rotten daughter, my best bud, my good friend in Lexington, my Senior pen pal, my long lost friend in Louisville, the crew I left behind, and my Mom!!

Who knew?

I also found the candy!!

MY NAME IS MARY AND I AM A JUNKIE

Yes it's true. I have junk everywhere. So much junk in fact that I had to rent a storage unit just so my husband would not make me throw it away. I was able to lay my hands on the Rolling Stones ticket from 1981 because I had just seen the small cache of stuff in an abandoned metal box several weeks ago while cleaning out the garage...of accumulated junk from my job.

The box was hidden in a old medicine cabinet hung on the back wall. I found the box of treasure when I opened it to see what the heck was in there.

Why do I hang on to ticket stubs, bus passes, old yellowing pieces of paper cut from the newspapers of years gone by? Because each one evokes a memory. Each one is an artifact from my past. A fossil of my existence. My history. My trail of tears. Tiny moments that I would have long forgotten, and have forgotten until I hold in hand the receipts of my life.

A night sometime in the early 1980's at the Palace Theatre in Louisville to see John Prine. I was introduced to John's music while a student at Murray State University (ahhhh the memories from that time in my life). After the show I waited to meet him and asked him to sign my ticket stub. "Hello in there Love, John Prine" he wrote on the back.

Louisville Redbird stubs. 1983-85. I went with so many people!! The company I worked for had season tickets located at first base. My brother Pat and I went and were sitting there with beer in hand at the first pitch of the first inning and the first hit headed directly at us!! He stood and shielded me from being cracked in the head splashing beer over me in the process, and the ball bounced off his thumb into the row behind us. People offered up sympathy to him for not being able to catch the ball by patting him on the back. Yet, he saved his beer and me.

Bo Diddley ticket stub. I was dating Dennis (at the time) and he caught a gig playing drums for Bo that evening. The concert was in a hotel off Hurstbourne Lane. Dennis was a little upset afterwards because having never played with this band before Bo felt it necessary to kept turning around and signal him...to slow down!!

Magic Kingdom passes. My Mom and Dad took Bridget and I to Florida in 1986. We were staying in a hotel in Orlando and Mom was approached by a man who offered her his tickets at a substantially cut rate price. He had purchased three day passes, but was unable to stay for the third day. My Mom is never one to pass up a bargain! I'll never forget the feeling that came over me as Bridget and I rode the monorail into the park. The Magic Kingdom came into view. My heart began pounding and I fell into a time tunnel that transported me back in time. The child in me was jumping up and down saying "Yes, yes, yes!! What I have been waiting for all my life!!!"

A tote ticket from Churchill Downs from 1986.

My YMCA pass from the mid-80's.

An inspiring horoscope.

Tickets to the Derby Dinner Playhouse to see Jesus Christ Superstar.

Movie ticket stubs.

Junk.

But also secret buried treasure.

Buried memories that are treasures.

YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

The Stones are playing Churchill Downs in Louisville on September 29th.

Now I have seen the Stones plenty of times over the years. The last time being 1989. 17 years ago! It was outdoors, at the UofL football stadium...maybe.

I remember that it took a long time to realize what songs they were playing.

Unlike their SOME GIRLS tour, which was fabulous.

It is unfair to think that something has happened to the Stones.

Something has happened to me.

Steel Wheels was the last Stones album I purchased, if you don't count the SOME GIRLS album with the original cover. I found (at the flea market, natch) and gave to my Brother-in-Law. Somewhere I read they printed only 100,000 of this particular cover before they were forced to stop because of the copywrite infringement laws.

I knew he would love it. Appreciate it.

(Why do I remember a different album cover for Beggars Banquet than I see now? Am I loosing it in my old age?)

In a moment of pure delusion, I checked out the prices for the show in Louisville.

Oh My God.

For a mere $150 I can get a ticket...but I'm not promised a view. How bizarre!!

For $2500 I can have it all. And Alice Cooper.

Naturally I went on a quick hunt for my 1981 ticket. Left hand stage. I could have spit and hit the stage.

Inflation is outrageous.

My Day In Court

When I headed downtown for my day in court, to plead my case as to why I was not guilty of running a red light,...I cut the time a little too close, very close and it was made even more hair raising when I realized I did not know where to go.

I virtually ran to the court house. Upon arrival I joined a large mass of people. All looking solemn, very concerned, and quite angry. My type of people. I got at the back of a line, every one was so quiet and giving off incredible strained vibes, I couldn't help myself and blurted out, "Is this the line for traffic court?" Those around me nodded yes and I held out my ticket, "Anyone get pulled over for that trap at Coldwater & Coliseum?". They erupted like a volcano! Everyone had a story. A truck driver with a heavy load of recyclable, a lady with a grand baby in the back seat, crazy drivers who cut in too close, rear ending horrors. Non-sympathetic and heartless cops. Anger and frustration ruled this crowd.

Good! I'm glad I was not the only one offended that I was called a law breaker. Such a lie! I was pushed through that intersection! If I had braked, like everyone around me, I would have been rear ended.

The court room was a zoo. Albeit , a well behaved and respectful, very quiet zoo. The Zoo Keeper was a Super-sized bailiff. He was terrific. In a before life he must have been a traffic cop. The hand language was exquisite pantomime. The exaggerated wrist flick meant "Get away from the door". The "bring it to me" finger fluttering could only mean, "Get your butts to the front". The explicit finger pointing interpreted as, "Stand behind the rail!"

And the sweet gentle gesture of bringing one finger to his lips silenced us all. One look into the crowd would catch the eye of the offender and stop him dead with the of most menacing of glares. He could pick anyone out of the mass, catch their attention and control them with one glance. Every man who entered the back door with a hat on his head was immediately aware of the death ray glare thrown his way across the room. Hats were immediately swept off the head.

He was poetry in motion.

What is up with traffic court? Why did we have public intoxication convicts wearing those orange suits usually associated with the University of Tennessee? I'm here to tell you, one of those guys was HOT. Long wavy hair, a left over from the hippie days, Woodstock. Or maybe a biker. He was beautiful.

We also had in our presence the man who streaked the Bob Dylan concert. Which was held at the minor league ball park last night. I made up the streaking part. I was not there but I would like to think that people still streak to get attention...and to get arrested.

Cocaine possession with intent, persistent felons who did not appear in court and where finally apprehended and forced to appear, women inmates along with the men, not certain what they did, but was told where some of them worked, (strip club!) The judge and the prosecuting attorney had the annoying habit of referring to everything as case number XXXXXXXXXXX053 with a CDS secret code attached and house detention. Juicy stuff that we were only given a teaser.

Everything moved swiftly, if losing three hours of your life is swift. People came and went, entered and stood, found seats of those who were called, babies were banished, interpreters were found for those who did not speak English, husbands stood at the podium for their wives who were out in the lobby with the baby and could not speak the language anyway, only Arabic. Some only Spanish. And then there was the guy who told the judge that he slurred. "Maybe a stint with the CDS would help that slur" the judge told him. The inmates went first. Lawyers and clients went next. Unfinished business was resolved. Some remanded.

Then it was my turn.

Anticlimactical.

When I was asked what I wanted to state, well I stated...."I protest..."

Court Date (jury trial!!!!!????) (only a fool defends a fool????) this February.

Oh wow. Five months to draw diagram's, plan a defense, and .........

Search the internet to find out if that guy really did streak the concert last night.

Going up the Country, Baby....

....don't you wanna go

I have been really taking advantage of the long week-end. I have been forcing myself to have a good time, find some long over due projects to get started, and think about issues.

Like.....why I have totally abandoned my paper journal? If I opened the journal I would be surprised if I wrote anything in August. I miss it. I find that only in that journal are the true stories told. I find in that journal I am set free with my narratives and descriptions. No one to offend, no judgment turned my way, and stark honesty.

I found a fabulous orchard up in the far reaches of Indiana. Apple Hill Orchard. It is so far off the beaten path I never would have found it if it weren't for the golf course that is next door. I bought apples so beautiful I should take a picture of them to prove it. And peaches....oh how I love peaches. Next time I will bring my camera.

Joe and I went to the Botanical Conservatory for the last installment of the Wired for Sound concert series. A band from Louisiana called Buckwheat Zydeco performed. My favorite beer was served, Blue Moon, and the crowd was large and diverse. Children and bikers all grooved to the music. Too bad I just found out about this wonderful series of events!!

Tomorrow I may go to Shipshewana for the Flea Market.

I was on the trail that practically goes around FW yesterday when a train blocked the path back to the parking area. I, and about 15 other stranded runners, bikers and walkers waited it out. 40 minutes!! Our only entertainment was a very impatient moped rider who tried to walk his bike along side the train. He almost did not make it, finally deciding to slide down the embankment with the bike and ride the path up to where all of us were watching.

I was chatting with a very nice woman who is training for the Hilly Hundred to be held next month in Bloomington. 50 miles one day, 50 the next. Sleep over in a school or, or if you bring your tent, outside under the stars.

I am so tempted! Even though I have not been on a bike in over a year.

I love a challenge.

A RAMBLE

Yesterday was a very difficult day to get through. I have to just hang on and trust that a Higher Power is at work behind the scenes. My daughter has a lot of people praying for her, including my Mom, who has the ear of God.

My Brother in Law has tried to help her out. They live in Louisville (as does one of my brothers, and her father!!)He owns some storage areas and was going to give her one! She kept him waiting all day, not returning phone calls etc. He also has a house for her to rent.......but, she does not a job, they have only $125 at this point (she has gone through over $1600 this month and maxed out a $600 limit credit card).....and he is concerned about her ability to pay rent, deposit, and not stiff his best friend who is a "slum lord" (which we affectionately once referred to my BIL when they were partners in that business).

Not being able to help myself, I gave her advice (as I always do, I am her Mom after all). Negotiate with BIL. She (supposably) has a job lined up with TGI Friday's, give him the start date and when she will finish her training and how much she expects to make. Tell him she will need X amount to live (food cigs etc) and will turn over the rest to him until she is past training and the tips are coming in...then work out how much she will owe to get square with him. Even offer to work off the amount he will not doubt lend her to get her in the house. She can baby sit. She can answer phones at his office, she can run errands for him, she can do a million things to work it out with him. He is her UNCLE, he wants to help!!

As of last night, she had alienated him.

I understand that she is stressed out beyond belief, because of the constant barrage of frantic phone calls I am receiving. I also understand that in this new union she is the leader.

That is trouble right there.

Old Dog, New Tricks

I've been very stressed out as of late with the break-up of my daughter and her fiancee. Why? Because for four blissful years, someone else was taking care of her instead of me! Now, it's as if she is back on my payroll!

My greatest life lessons have been the ones that hurt the worst. The one where I had to pick myself off the floor when the realization hit that I had destroyed my whole future. Life was going to continue whether I liked it or not. Life lesson learned, do not even give a hint, nor put yourself in the position of appearing to cheat on someone you love.

I learned, live by the sword, die by the sword.

I learned if you are running a scam, not matter how small in comparison with all the other scams going on around you, even if you did not get caught with that particular one, yet accused of an unrelated scam......that is just karma. Life lesson...stealing is stealing and God does not like it.

I learned that if you goof around in school and flunk a bunch of classes when you are young....the day comes when you have to pay the piper and take those classes over!! Life lesson......college is a lot harder when you are working a 40 hour week and going to night school.

I once learned the pain is not in dying, but in living. Life lesson...do not drink and drive.

I could continue, the list is long and I am certain everyone has a similar list. The point is, I learned from the adversity, the pain, the struggle. I became stronger and more resilient, self-reliant.

With my daughter,I want to run in and fix everything. Therefore, I have given her a lifetime of just counting on me to right her wrongs, pick her up and dust her off as if she were a four year old on the school playground.

I must stop for both our sakes. She has to realize the power within to fix her own misfortunes. Her own woes. Her own predicaments.

She may be homeless tonight because she blew all the money I gave her last week for a new apartment.

The Bank of Mary is closed.

I know in my heart of heart she will be fine. She will reach inside of herself and figure things out.

But, my heart feels like it is in a vise.

PART TWO - WHERE I LIVE NOW

Fort Wayne

Summit City

Gateway to the West

Three Rivers

Whatever you call it, we call it home.



My favorite Local Hero - Mad Anthony Wayne. Wonderful statue in downtown that is fun to photograph in all types of weather. Mad Anthony is also the name of a local brewery that is fabulous (love, peace and hoppiness). Mad Anthony fought the Indians and the Indians did not win. He made it possible for the frontiersmen to go past the Ohio River (and the Indians) into the great west. He made it possible for Fort Wayne to be established in the late 1700's. If he had lived past the age of 51 (gout got him , not Indians) he may have even made it to President (that's how popular this guy was).



The Amish - They fascinate me. When I first arrived and was traveling into a more dense Amish area, I could not believe it! How they were so nonchalant about maneuvering a horse and buggy down a very heavily traveled two lane highways! And for some crazy reason I can not fathom, I find them very sexy. I am still amazed when I see them on the outskirts of Ft. Wayne, entire families doing their weekly shopping at Meijers, their horse and buggies waiting outside!



Southside Farmers Market - My favorite place. Along with Hyde Brothers Booksellers. Ahhh, Hyde brothers. I could spend an entire day in there enchanted with the sheer magnitude of books stacked to the ceiling (12 foot ceilings!). Never enough time in any life time to read it all!!





My Favorite Day In Fort Wayne! How I loved sitting in Headwaters park taking photographs of the children playing the fountain. A day full of magic.

Oh, How I love an Assignment!!

Morning Workout at Keeneland Race Track. The Sport of Kings.

Your Weekend Assignment #126: What is the most interesting thing about where you live? "Thing" in this case would be a famous landmark, a famous current celebrity or historical personage from your home town or county, a notable celebration or sports event -- basically, anything that makes where you're from interesting an unique.

Extra Credit: Are there any books that feature your home town (or someplace nearby) in any way?

I have lived in Ft. Wayne since June of 2005, but my home is Central Kentucky. So, I think I will do both for the Blog Father!!

Central Kentucky is beautiful. Anyone who has ever ventured off the interstates to take a closer look will be greeted with the most spectacular horse farms imaginable. Fields of green surrounded by the legendary white fences. And not to disappoint, the majestic animals.

If you have ever flown into Bluegrass Airport you approach from the North and as you descend, the famous Calumet Farm is below you. The horses will race under the plane, maybe trying to out run it. If you ever witness this, it stays with you forever.




The Castle.

So large in scope, I had to cross the street to attempt the all inclusive shot. Everyday people pull over and take pictures of themselves standing in front of the gates with the Castle in the background!! Several years ago the castle, which stood abandoned for over 30 years (never inhabited), was purchased by a Florida developer. He was remodeling the inside mansion. Somehow, it caught fire (in the middle of the night) and burnt to the ground!! The next day, still smoldering, people began placing flowers on the front gate! It was amazing that this land mark, located several miles from my small home town, could evoke such emotion.

Extra credit: Any movie about horse racing, that is authentic, will have some grounding in Central Kentucky. Parts of Seabiscuit were filmed in Lexington, Keeneland, and Paris.

Having film companies and movie stars (and believe it or not, the Queen of England) running about is very common.

Elizabethtown was not filmed in Elizabethtown, but in my little old hometown. Much more picturesque than the title city.

LETTING GO

It has been long enough for the shock to have worn off. Not completely, but enough so I am not overcome with hopelessness and anger. I suppose letting go is a variation of realizing you have no power over someone. And actually, you really do not want that type of power after they reach the age of 18.

Then they are on their own. Even if this means you stand on the sidelines and are only allowed to cheerlead, pick up broken pieces, lend money, provide a safe house when needed, and a car, feeling as if you are going to have a heart attack or a seizure from frustration.

She did it right after I bought the wedding dress.

It could have been worse, she could have refused to enter the church. The scene could have been straight out of The Graduate...(hmmmmm maybe not).

Anyway, she decided he was not the one and some other guy she met interested her. I am still flabbergasted. So is S.

It has taken me quite awhile to accept it.

That one day in the dress shop is all I am going to get for the time being. That was a great day, and I will cherish that for a long time.

I have been so upset about everything that I have not seen her since that day in June! Fathers Day. We took her Dad out for dinner, there was a violent thunder storm and the computers got knocked out and I could not pay with a credit card so he paid the bill. More memories from that great day.

I will see her this Sunday. I do not want to meet the new boyfriend. I was very attached to S. (four years for God's sake) and he was part of the family. But there is no way around it, I think.

Life is a Bitch sometimes, isn't it?

ANONYMOUS-R-US

"I don't know who this anonymous guy was, but he sure said a lot!"
Anonymous

It sure is easy to shoot off a bitchy comment and hide behind that great big guy, Anonymous. And cowardly, not to mention mean. Yes, its so easy to be mean when you don't have to suffer the consequences. No, maybe not suffer the consequences....it's just easier to be mean.

When I'm mean, at least I put my signature on it.

'Nuff said.

I don't have much to say. I'm in a funk. I wish I were a hack who had to write for a living. Then I would just shrug off the doldrums and do my job!!

I don't feel it.

I bought a car this week. It was a big deal because in the mid-nineteen nineties I was laid off and my hard earned credit rating took a nose dive. I contemplated declaring bankruptcy, but one of my buddies poo-pooed the idea telling me I did not owe enough. Yet, it was enough to ruin me. I have been clawing and fighting back for a long time. Paying this debt off, then that one. I took on my whole student loan (which those bastards claimed I defaulted, took all my payments for nearly five years, added a 25% total loan value penalty and said PAY ME!!) and paid it off in three years. Then I tackled some other things...too morbid and boring to re-tell, but it was hell working with third party collectors.

I only have myself to blame.

So, imagine my surprise, pleasant surprise when I bought a brand new car (my down payment may have helped) and got a loan...easy, good rate. (And nearly nine years with the same company didn't hurt.)

Hooray!

QUICK - GIVE ME SOMETHING TO SHOOT

Scenes from DownTown on an Over Cast Day


Climbed up five flights of stairs to the top of the parking garage before spotting the elevator (oh well, sure can use the exercise), scared all the pigeons causing one to fly into the enclosed stairwell (I sure hope someone else climbs the five flights and scares him/her back out). I was hoping the train might make an appearance on its own EL but it did not.

So I got this shot.

I have a new lens and I wandered the overcast streets and Greenway Paths circling Headwaters Park hoping for some fantastic shots! Only men on bicycles looking suspiciously like traveling transients. Then I felt guilt over thinking that there might be homeless in this fair city...but the stashed belongings I stumbled across haphazardly hidden on one of the stairwells confirmed my suspicions.

Sunshine today. Better opportunity.

MAGIC CARPET RIDE

Finding myself in the rare circumstance of having no one waiting for me and no particular place I needed to be, I was humming down I-64 with the window's open and the music loud when the next exit sign came into view, "Simpsonville".

Ah, Simpsonville. I do not know you well, but I do know that directly after the off ramp is the most funky and downtrodden of dark, dank, smelly, cornucopia of surprises, lies the most magnificent Flea Market in the area! So full of people that it reaches the point of busting which necessitates a spilling of the overflow into the bright sunny outdoors.

So, I exited and entered.

I went directly to his booth, as I always do when I arrive.

I use to head to the bread maker who had the most heavenly smelling cranberry bread in a mound....no longer, no longer there. A great loss.

So now I head right to back of the building, noting as I walk with purpose past the enticing booths of cowboy hats and boots, past Mexican rugs, (a young girl, not more than 14 or 15 on the cusp of developing into a woman, lounging against the mountain of carefully folded Mexican blankets, dressed in purple, one plump leg crossed carelessly and effortlessly over the other, feet clad in black well worn flats....how I wished for my camera....as her father shouted at her, "MARIA!!" she jumped to attention), discounted and most possibly out of date food and health products, past the pictures of velvet framed, the candles, the tapes and cd's, the knives and cigarette lighters, jewelry and shoes. I worked my way through the aisles thick with the Mexican emigrants, arrived in Kentucky to find a better life cutting the tobacco and working in the hundreds of Mexican kitchens that seem to be everywhere anymore, on the horse farms, cleaning the hotel rooms, and working all the hot and sweaty construction jobs they can find and snap up, doing all the labor intensive farm jobs that no one else wants to do because it is too hard, they mill about the Flea Market speaking to each other in their romantic language and eying you out of the corner of their eyes, seen below the lowered brims of their large cowboy hats.

The air thick with the aroma of grease. It smells like the vast amounts of fried chicken which is being gobbled up as quickly as the it can be drained from the hot oil baskets.

I round the corner of Building D and there it is. As always and I dread the day it is not there and waiting for me. The Record Booth. The last of the great record collectors who sets up every week-end with his weekly catch of magic.

He stand over the crates that house his immense collection with a cigarette bobbing out of the corner of his mouth. His sandy dirty blonde hair looking as if the gray does not have the heart of take possession, laying in an untidy flop of bangs brushing across the top of his thick black horn rim glasses. His face is thin and lined. The beginnings of a melt down into that place that separates middle age from old age.

He looks up as I enter the "restricted" area behind the initial tables honoring the beloved albums. I am heading towards the "good" stuff on a special rack in the back. The $10 stuff. I pick up "Layla" and smile. I put it back. I pick up "Exile on Main Street" and open the album and slip out the record to check for damage.

"Their best ever album" I murmur, maybe to him.

"I have a better copy at the store."

"The store?" I thought this was his store.

"In Louisville. On Bardstown and Bonnycastle".

I struggle to see it. I see Leatherhead, I see the old Rexall Drug store, which I know is long gone now. My mind walks up to the Doo-Wop Shop. I blurt out, like a fool, "Ear-X-Tasy"

"That's on the next block, mines called "Better Days." He flicked the ashes from the cigarette. "Been in the business for 30 years."

I ask him, knowing 30 years is legend, "Remember the shop on the corner, they would paint different artists on the building wall. One year it was Hendrix."

"Phoenix Records." He answers.

"Yes" I could close my eyes and go straight back as if on a magic carpet to that time, that era of the 12 inch disc.

"My collection was stolen years ago in the late 70's. I sold what little I had left at a yard sale. Now I am determined to collect them all back."

In my hand I held Cat Stevens and Crosby, Stills and Nash.

He smiled knowingly as he took my $10.

"Good Luck"

ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT

RIVER WALK WALL BEHIND HISTORIC OLD FORT - MAY 2005

Since I will be spending the weekend in Ft. Wayne I am going to challenge myself to go out and find the beauty. When I first moved here last year I prowled the area, the downtown, US 27 trying to snap shots of the Amish children, Headwater park, the rainbows etc. etc. etc. I saw beauty everywhere.

I am going to dust my camera off and try again. And I have such a new kick ass camera that I never use!! Shame on me!!

There is a Chili Fest Cook Off type competition in the Headwater park area. I believe there are baseball games going on. I think there is a Motor Car Show going on at the Fairgrounds.

Also, I have not taken any photos of the Southside Farmers Market.

Use it or loose it. I find I am becoming shy with the camera. Maybe I can tell everyone at the Farmers Market that I am doing a study....I've gotten so many terrific shots telling people I am entering a contest.

So that is my assignment I give myself. Attitude adjustment and situation acceptance.

MEA CULPA

I should know better than to rant and rave about my host town and I apologize if I have offended anyone.

I am tempted to remove the entry, but I thought that would be a little cowardly on my part on top of being such an ass. So, I'm going to leave it intact and just watch my p's and q's when I drive around here.

I was warned about flagrant disrespect for the traffic laws. I guess I felt invincible. I felt I would not get caught speeding or going through yellow lights. I guess I just cracked when it happened. I've received tickets before and kept my cool. The last being when I turned right on red on the University of KY campus and was immediately pulled over. "I do that all the time"...I'm sure the cop would have loved to have given me 823 tickets for all my prior offenses...."When did they put that sign up there???".

That one cost me $70.

I heard through the grape vine this ticket is going to cost me near $300.

That is why I went batty.

Lets counter with all the reasons I love Ft. Wayne........

1) You can see hundreds of miles in any direction.

2) You are two hours away from many major cities, Indy, Dayton, Columbus to name a few. Three hours from Detroit, Chicago, Cincy.

3) People keep their yards neat. They also keep their cars parked pointed in the proper direction on the street. (that one cost us $10 to learn!...)

4) They endeavor diligently to keep children out of liquor stores. So you can not buy a cold pop in there. They endeavor diligently to keep alcoholics out of grocery stores. So you can not purchase cold beer in there.

5) We live very close to Ohio, about 20 minutes away so in case you forgot to purchase beer on Saturday night for the Sunday games, cook-out, or having friends over, its a quick jaunt to Ohio. No beer sales in town on Sunday.

6) We have a university but no football team. That is good because then you can root for Notre Dame and not feel like a traitor.

7) The expressways do not come through town. Therefore you do not have to deal with all that transient traffic!!

8) There is always a handy excuse for not being on work on time. Its either the train caught you or the road construction caused a massive delay.

9) Did I mention you can see for miles?

10) There are no landmarks other than the tall building downtown. So, if you are ever lost you can simply stop your car, stand on the hood and scout for that building!!

I don't think I am full of hate. I think I am full of homesickness for the familiar and the comforts of what I love. I know with all my heart that if I had been born and bred here I would feel differently. I would know people, have a history, know where to go, have a handle on the cool places, enjoy life with my long time friends and family members. I'd love and cherish it too.

Someone moving into Lexington would find it a town of Hillbillys and Rednecks. Everyone driving too fast and flagrantly disobeying the traffic laws! And more than likely anyone from Up North would not understand one word of the southern sing song cadence.

Someone accused Joe of talking Hillbonics the other day!

Hillbonics....Now that's rich!

TELL IT TO THE JUDGE

March 8, 2007

Click here to read the latest from my jnl. Just a Hippie Gypsy


I realize that FWOb has linked to this entry rather than to my blog itself. And I understand the sentiment behind that decision, though I am the only journal that he has exercised this judgement (sentence). I am making en executive decision to add the link to the latest entry in my jnl, along with an apology about the content of Tell it to the Judge. I was very upset, and had a drink or two too many. I could easily erase the entry...but that is too cowardly...like some of the people who left comments, not having the guts to comment with an email address. Ah, well....

MY MOTHERS HANDS (written November 28, 2006)


I looked across the table at my Mother stirring her coffee. Around and around, the spoon clinking against the sides of the mug. She had a dreamy look on her face as she was drifting into the past, telling me about her mother who was an astute investor. We were talking about things that are sad, yet inevitable. Probate, inheritance tax, estates, selling rare books on the Internet.

I squeeze the prospect that she is preparing to leave this earth and arrive in heaven (where God will meet her along with St. Peter at the pearly Gates) out of my mind, my thoughts, my reality.

I know she will live forever. I live in denial. I like it here.

In her hands I see my own. My own hands foreign, hers so familiar. Those hands that first held me, cleaned up the messes, chased me around with a paddle, soothed an illness with jello and chicken noodle soup, rags soaked in alcohol ice water and applied to a feverish forehead, grip the steering wheel at 10 and 2, hold a rosary, hand out the dollar bills to the grandchildren, moped up the blood from a head gash my brother so proudly presented to her, "LOOK MOM!! BLOOD!!!".

Those hands that were the center of attention right before her by-pass surgery of several years ago. My brother and I stood over her as she lay moments from the operating room, pleading with her to allow the orderly to cut off her rings, her wedding band and engagement ring, the irish claddagh ring. So long she had kept them on, they could not slide over her knuckles. She shed a tear as they took them off and handed them to us.

I held them though out that excruciating day. A day of 14 hours that seemed like 14 million hours.

Until the doctor came and escorted us into a room and told us she was okay.

I burst into tears of relief, so afraid that he was going to deliver bad news.

Those hands, laid out on the table on either side of the coffee mug, rings in their rightful place, are looking so much like mine anymore that it scares me and soothes me at the same time.

I reach out and squeeze them.


TELL IT TO THE JUDGE (written after receiving a $300 traffic violation at a trap)

A life time ago..maybe not that long ago...when I was in Business School at UofL I took a class called LOGIC that has been the back bone of most everything in my life since.

Why? Because the lessons I learned I use almost every day since.

For example, in writing and thinking things through...

A hypothesis...

Three supportive statements

A summary and conclusion.

When that damn police trap snared me in their insidious trap I was so F****** angry that I made the police officer follow me until I was calmed down enough to stop. I wondered about "resisting arrest".

When he examined my license and asked if the address was correct all I could think of was that it was an Indiana issue and I began to see red. I could only spit out through clenched teeth was the answer "Yes", followed by " ...and I HATE INDIANA."

Hypothesis....I HATE INDIANA

Supportive statements...

1) Last week I answered a call from a customer that demanded my company deliver some product that we "claimed" to be out of stock on. It was Friday afternoon. My drivers are union. I contacted the warehouse and found that we had three of the so called seven he ordered. I went and had it loaded into my vehicle and I delivered it. When I arrived at the account, two men who where painting the front area watched me carry in not once, not twice, but three times carry 30 pound packages of dead weight into the bar.

Never would that have happened in the South. Those men would have immediately asked if they could help and relieve me of the burden instead of just...watching me.

What is up with Indiana men? What is wrong with this picture?

Has women's lib taken hold so violently that real men can not even hold open a door. Which they did not....I propped it open with a chair.

Damn I was so bent out of shape if they had even asked to help I would have just given them the death ray glare.

Rudeness and reverse male chauvinism is alive and well in North East Indiana.

2) It is so flat and nondescript that the words have not yet been invented to describe it's ugliness. This being my second summer here, I have realized what a peril it is to actually live in the "corn belt". Everything from the stink of fertilizer to the scary realization that the water table is so poisoned by insecticides and nitrogen that I am forced to examine everything I eat and drink in this area.

And I am paying about 10 to 20 percent higher (for everything) to be silently and violently harmed. The food is priced so much higher than in the South....certainly housing is lower and I know why.... No one wants to live here!! They can give the real estate away for all I care!!

Every where I go the streets are torn up in the area I live.

I received a water bill. It was a tick under $70. The water part? 14 dollars. (I pay for garbage collection separately). I called the city to ask WTF. I was told that I had received a 66% increase because the city had to install new sewer lines because "some houses" were experiencing sewer back ups.

Wouldn't it be cheaper for our community as a whole to buy them out and relocate them????????

This is the corn belt for God's Sake, why is produce so F****** high???

Why is gas 20 cents higher than Columbus and (what I discovered while in TN) 50 cents higher than Knoxville??

Because our housing is so much lower "they" ( those F****** who make and keep all the money) think they can charge us higher prices than the rest of the nation?

3) There is a lack of culture here that makes me insane. If I want to see Shakespeare in the Park, I must go to South Bend. If I want to see a good concert I must travel to Chicago or Detroit or Indianapolis. Art gallery...forget about it. There is no Bravo station on cable. Nor IFC. How I miss Dinner for Five.

For a city that is about two hours away from everything heavenly, it certainly lacks any sort of sophistication that could possibly seep into town via the "rivers" (they look like creeks to this country girl)

So in a nutshell, that Cop pushed me over the edge and made me realize that I hate this place and I have been keeping a brave front because that is what one must do to survive.

Conclusion.

...If you want to live in a nondescript,overpriced, dangerous and uncultured hell hole, Ft Wayne is the place for you!

The Cop....when I told him I was pushed through that light which turned yellow and then red because those in front of me slowed down....and if I had stopped the vehicle behind me would have rear ended me....

"Tell it to the Judge" he instructed me.

I have much sympathy for Mel Gibson. Thank God I was not drinking.

TO DANCE BENEATH THE DIAMOND SKY

...With one hand waving free....

Because the other one was holding a beer!


Due to unavoidable life issues interfering with well laid out plans, it appeared that I would be attending the Dublin Irish Festival (DIF) by my lonesome this year. Not that I gave it much thought, I knew I would just do it and enjoy it even though I would be with just Me.

Imagine my surprise Saturday morning when my husband came roaring into the hotel parking lot, straddling his Honda and looking exactly like the Hero come to save the day. Only then did I realize how I was inwardly holding my breath and longing for a companion.

He looked pretty hot too on that motorcycle.

Brilliant. That was the word. Brilliant performers, brilliant new Celtic Rock Stage and area, brilliant sky, brilliant white heat, brilliant crowd, brilliant time. Just brilliant!!

The crowds seemed larger than before, perhaps because we were now cut off from the main pedestrian area and had our Celtic Rock world on the West Side of the Festival. Brilliant move!!

Other than that, everything else was the same. Lots of festival food Celtic style. The melt in your mouth Fish and Chips from the Old Bag of Nails. The same icy cold cans of Killian beer drawn from gigantic chests of ice. Sneaky Pete had a new location directly on the path to the Rock Tent. The Irish Canines also had new digs, under the cover of a canopy of trees. The Capital City Pipe and Drums still made my eyes tear up and bring a lump to my throat. The Irish thunder stage was still a hell like pit that could toast you to a crisp. The baby buggies and strollers seemed to be everywhere. As did Red hair. Tattoos were shown off by many, the real kind and the henna kind. Young girls still strolled around with their hair twisted up in those torturous looking rollers awaiting their big moment to dance the Irish jig. It was still very risky to enter the port-a-john trailers after a certain time...The buses rolled from 8am till 130 am Saturday carrying back to their vehicles the intoxicated revelers and their dedicated drivers. We still sang on the five minute trip. This year it was Hang On Sloopy. We continued to wander around the parking lots, walking in the wrong direction to the hotel. I awoke with a headache on Sunday morning...again.

The Saw Doctors blew everyone away as was expected. Only this year they played before their largest Ohio crowd ever! This was Joes first time seeing them on stage. I believe he came away impressed.

A year came and went so quickly. Now I look forward to next year, the 20th anniversary of the DIF!

Ashley MacIsaac - The Devil In The Kitchen

Oh my God!! The Devil in the Kitchen!!

Can't believe I found Ashley on this site!!

Now y'all get a double dose of Celtic music.

Ashley is a total talent with the fiddle. (can you call that a violin?)

Who will I discover next at the Irish Festival!!!!!

N17 - The Saw Doctors

I can not believe my luck!!

Finally found a Saw Doctor Video I can upload.

The first time I heard N-17 Joe and I had just returned from Ireland. I began to cry.

PHOTO FRIDAY - PORTRAIT

I have not participated in the Photo Friday for some time now. Today I took a look. When I read the subject matter, Isreal immediately jumped to my minds eye.

Taken at the airport in Merida Mexico awaiting evacuation after Hurricane Wilma. We had been stranded in Mexico for seven days before finally flying to St. Louis ...American soil.

MY LIFE IS AN OPEN BORE

Repetitious Rubbish

I'm experiencing that as this blog nears the Three Years Mark that a type of cycle is emerging. Next week end I am going to The Dublin (Ohio) Irish Festival. I have written about that twice. I am seeing the Saw Doctors who will be performing there (this will make the 5th time I have seen them and the 3rd time this year!!) God knows I have written about that before! In two weeks, I will be going to the MidSummer Night Run in Lexington, been there done that. The week after that is the Woodland Arts Festival. And so it goes.

In the famous words of Dylan Thomas, "Someone's boring me. I think it's me".

For example: My week-end. Nothing out of the ordinary. A typical two days of predictable occurrences and behavior.

I went to the Southside Farmers Market early Saturday morning and bought delicious vegetables and these beautiful gladiolus. I was there early enough to snag some! They normally have disappeared by the time I arrive.

I have been hitting the New Haven Nature Trail, dodging the beastly bicycles and have pushed myself to just about 2 1/2 mile run. I am walk/running close to 5 1/2 miles. Sweaty stuff.

I have fallen off the Healthy Food Wagon earlier this week. My boss made me by taking me to a Mexican restaurant where those chips and salsa were calling my name so LOUD that it was all I could do not to devour them entirely while he watched me, astonished at my ravenous behavior. After that it was a Blizzard. After that it was a sub sandwich.

Living the Healthy life is not all it is cracked up to be...so I tell myself. So I have hit the trails again...running that weight off.

I have been working in the garden trying to keep it alive. When we first moved up here, last spring, so many people told us we were going to enjoy the mild summers. What mild summers? They have been torturous!! 90 degrees or more is not unusual! My poor flower beds are burnt up!

After an hour of weeding and snipping I drank a beer and passed out for two hours.

I then went to the local nursery and partook in their "wagon sale" where you fill up an entire wagon with whatever you can fit into it ....all for $20!! Last year it was $15 and they allowed you to double deck...not this year and the lady had her eye on me. I had the look of one who would do such a thing in a heart beat!!

I came home with tons of stuff to replace the dead stuff.

Today will be more of the same. Cooking, cleaning, boring, boring, boring.

But then again...next week-end!! Irish Festival and Saw Doc's I'm counting the hours!!!!

HAY!!

CAN YOU SAY PINK, BIMBO?

For almost thirty years my parents have lived in the last house on a lovely dead-end street. It is a very mature 1970 era area with beautiful brick homes. Most everyone on the street has been there since the early days of the neighborhood and only leave their homes in the back of a hearse.

At least that is the way it use to be. Next to my parents home is an empty lot. Not exactly empty, it was owned by a gentleman on the next block, and backed up to his property. He has a garage, very nice brick building, that sat at the very back of the property.

He passed away in the past year and his heirs put the property up for sale. Naturally they wanted a pretty penny for the lot as we inquired because...well, we were just use to having all that open space for soccer games, football, volley ball etc. It would have been nice to keep it, but it was not to be.

No...Bimbo bought it.

I have never blogged about Bimbo before. In a nut shell, he has been my mechanic for years back when I did not have a company car and had need for a mechanic.

I love the name Bimbo. I love saying it. Just like I love saying Pink. I just can't think of a combination to put Bimbo and pink together unless it was, "I asked Bimbo if he could paint my car pink..."

When my mother told me that a Bimbo ****** had bought the property, I was thrilled for them! Why? Bimbo is a terrific guy, let alone a superb mechanic. He will be very good to my parents, who are elderly and need a lot of looking after these days.

"Do you think Bimbo is a family name?", my Mother asked

For some reason the neighbors across the street have taken an intense dislike to Bimbo. Maybe its because he is building a beautiful new home, very much in the tradition of all the other homes on the street, right down to a similar color of brick. He has been using my mothers water and paying her water bill.

I think that is what triggered the apparent attack of yesterday.

The Angel caregiver for my Dad informed me of a terrific uproar on the property next door yesterday. The guy across the street had his finger in Bimbo's face....Naturally The Angel had to get in the back yard to see if she could over hear the details.

Lots of cuss words and threats from the neighbor. "My nephew is chief of Police and I will have you arrested."

For using my Mother's water? For cutting down the diseased trees that bordered both properties?

For agreeing to keep on eye on Mom and Pop and knock on their door if The Angel is not there between 8-830am and call 911 if the door is not answered?

Bimbo came over and was hotter than hell.

"I'll call the police on that So & So if he ever gets in my face like that again! By the way, does your visitor (my SIL Laura) need any help painting the trim?"

Drama on the Dead End.

Wonder if Bimbo would paint the trim Pink?

MERMAID CONVERSATIONS

It seems that I have been in a certain place at a certain time, the opportune time, to overhear some juicy stuff from total and perfect strangers.


At my favorite consignment shop, (which I made a bee-line for the moment I landed in Lexington), in the changing area, which is actually four stalls in the middle of the store, protected from prying eyes by cloth curtains....

All was quiet and solemn, as it must be when trying on sizes too small for you, two girls burst into the dressing area.

Giggling, talking like they had not a care in the world about who might over hear them.

First part of the conversation: "He can't tell me who to be friends with and he can't block me from messaging him because he is mad and does not agree with the friendship!! And I told him so after work....in the parking lot on the way to our cars"

Delicious stuff.

Suddenly the other one screamed in amusement, "I look like a Mermaid"

The other countered, "I look like a Mermaid too!!"

They ventured out of their dressing rooms to admire each other. This was followed by more giggling and more exclamations of how beautiful they looked when a third party entered the conversation.

"You two girls look like you have somewhere important to go."

"Oh no", one of them replied, "We just like to come in and put on the dresses!"

With that they exited the dressing area in pursuit of more.....I can only guess.... Mermaid dresses.

They returned and resumed their exuberant chattering.

"Quick, let me look at you."

"Wait a minute, this has sooooooooooooo many buttons!....Oh, Oh, I look so corporate!"

"You look special!"

"I feel special!!"

What I was feeling was the over flow of their fun. I felt special too.

I only wish that when I was their age that I would have had the brilliant idea to go play dress up at the consignemnt store with one of my best friends.

Big Girl Dress Up.....how much fun is that!?

TRUCKIN'.......GOT MY CHIPS CASHED IN

Going to hit the road in a few minutes. I have one stop to make, at the Southside Farmers Market to pick up some of that wonderful bread made by that articulate writer, and this totally terrific hand cream made at home called " Country Honey". Besides smelling divine, it is the best stuff I have ever smeared on.

I'm headed home to Kentucky for the monthly gathering of my clan. My mother has several out of town guests staying with her. Including my brother from NYC and my Aunt from Florida. It will be a wonderful dinner tomorrow. My Mother is always so animated and happy when she is surrounded by her family. It is a joyous occasion.

I am struggling (again) with the boundaries I must set while writing this blog. I think it is imperative that I protect and respect the privacy of not only my family, but the people I come in contact with on a daily basis.

My life feels like I am in the middle of the spider web and all my experiences and the people who are part of them, instigate them, inspire them, are the webbing that reaches out far into the universe. No telling how far out they reach...can reach.

Yet, this is my history. I think all these personal blogs are our written history. Maybe polished a bit, certainly embellished a little, but they are ours and only ours. They would be less engaging and charming unless they include all those characters who come in and out of our lives on a daily basis. And also, those who are here to stay.

Those who are here to stay, like the Husband, who I promised never to make him look bad in any way on these pages. Some of the funniest, most gut splitting antics are not included here, not because they would make him look bad, but because I think it would upset him. He tends to think this lowly blog is read by millions...hahahah!!!

This is my history and it should include the downs with the ups.

Even if I change the names to protect the guilty.

So, I am going to mull things over during this trip down South to home. I am having the most vivid, sad dreams about certain things that are going on in my life at this moment, this place in time in a very difficult struggle with my daughter.

On well, what is life if it isn't interesting?

Tangled up in Youth

Recently my Boss entered the small cramped office room my co-worlers and I share. "Anyone heard of a Big Name Band having a concert at the Wizards Stadium?"

We turned and showed each other our quizzical expressions, shrugged and returned our attention towards him.

"Some old guy" he continued, "Like my age."

"Jimmy Buffett" Smart Aleck #1 asked.

"No...but someone like that". He then proceeded to quote us the figure they wanted for our Corporate Suite that night. The price for 20 people to attend.

"Wow" said Smart Aleck #2. He immediately got on the phone and called the Stadium the moment Boss left the room. He got the name of the Top Secret not yet released name of the Big Band!

"Thanks" he concluded, turned toward us and waited for just enough time to gain an air of drama.......

"Bob Dylan."

Pause.

"Who's he?" Smart Aleck #1 asks.

Co-worker #3, The Hunk leans back in his chair and twirls his pen between his fingers, "I never liked him much." Looking at me he says, "You tell them."

I begin.

"Blowing in the Wind". Blank faces from the Smart Alecks.

"Rainy Day Woman". Still blank.

"Like a Rolling Stone". Now head shaking.

"Mr. Tambourine Man" More head shaking.

"Subterranean Homesick Blues" They both look incredulous. I begin to Rap the words (like Dylan did all those years ago)......


"Johnnys in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government"

Now they look like they are going to start laughing.

I suddenly had the image of my Mother rapping Guy Lombardo trying to convince me 30 years ago there was no better music than THAT.

I gaze across the abyss of the generation gap and suddenly it hits me!

"Guns and Roses?" Finally they nod. "They covered his "Knocking on Heavens Door".

"OOOOOOOOKKKKKAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY" Smart Aleck#1 says in his Napoleon Dynamite imitation and they resume their tasks at hand, ignoring me and the Hunk.

"Gun's and Roses is over the Hill for them" he informed me. Then he resumed working.

I sat semi-stunned.

BEAUTIFUL BOUNTY

What $8.50 will get you at the Farmers Market

My heart softens about this city when I find someplace as wonderful as Southside Market. It took me awhile to locate the spot, as it is in a part of town I am totally unfamiliar with. I even thought I was in the wrong place and had somehow gotten the address incorrect. This was a neighborhood!

Then there it was. People were coming out carrying large hanging baskets full of summer flowers. I saw others walking on the sidewalks with plastic bags draped over their arms. The building itself could make you smile. Shaped like the letter E, paint long ago stripped from its wooden slats.The doors thrown wide open the entire length of building so you could just glimpse in and know something was going on inside.

Once I was in I realized how much fun this place is going to be. I felt like I had stumbled into an open air market in the Bahamas! Color was everywhere. No only were just farm produce and plants offered, I also found soy candles, a butcher shop, a grill, beads and chimes, cut flowers, loads of enticing baked goods, and in the back corner a musician had set up and was serenading us making the whole experience lovely.

Before I made my way out, I came across a gentleman sitting behind a booth (cafeteria style table with sturdy legs!) reading a book. I was drawn by the smell! Laid out in front of him were baked goods wrapped in cellophane. Small breads and large cookies.

I choose the cinnamon bread (for Joe) (a treat, he has put up with me the past week with this fast).

We began to talk. "Did you bake this?"

"No, but its my recipe. Heath Department has all these rules."

We talked about the virtues of lard verses butter.

He told me he had made a Peach cobbler recently and would love to make a blackberry one. Had I seen the prices of blackberries?

He told me about making the crust and kneading in the butter and separating it out into three separate sections and rolling it out just so.

I was impressed. I told him I just slap it all together without much thought.

"Cooking is like art." He began. "I myself am a writer. I get an idea, I write about it and then I go back and edit it. I add a little here, change a little there. When I am finished, it doesn't resemble what I started out with at all".

I asked him to make me a peach cobble and hide it under his table.

I'm certain it is a masterpiece.

THE RESULTS ARE IN

I must admit, I am impressed.

Checking the book out of the library and devouring the pages in a single sitting, I developed a lot of expectations. I wanted to "feel like a kid again". I wanted to have the mental acuity that was a by-product for the author. I wanted to have my nose free from the suffocating feeling I experience in the mornings. I wanted to free myself from my sugar cravings. I longed for more energy. And the thought of the weight loss tantalized me.

The fast was to be for 10 days. Telling my best bud D. about it over the phone right before I began, she asked, "How long do you think you will last?"

"Five days."

I lasted SIX!!

At the beginning of the fourth day I abandoned the lemon juice concoction and made a huge pot of fresh vegetable soup. I then drank the broth the remaining three days.

I lost 10 - 12 pounds.

The metal acuity alluded me, but I have an astonishing ability to focus!

I feel I have more personal mental energy.

I no longer felt the mid-afternoon urge to find somewhere warm and cozy to lay down. Instead, on the drives home at the end of the work day I would marvel at how un-tired I actually felt!

My head still feels stuffy, but that tells me I have to work on that. Or I am sensitive to the chemicals floating around this area. (big industrial farming).

My joints are great!! Great I'm telling ya!! My barometer is how I get out of the bed in the morning. In the past, as I have eased into middle age, the ritual of staggering down the hall way like a drunken sailor because of the stiffness in the knees and back has been a major concern of mine.

Gone.

The next hard part begins now, beginning a healthy eating life style.

I'm off the Farmers Market!!

DETOX IS NOT FOR WEENIES

Day Three and still no adverse effects.

The diet is like this....of course I only read a portion of the book and listened to the CD, so when I started I had no idea what I was doing, other than flushing out my system.

First of all, there are many variations of the diet to choose from. I naturally went with the most radical. If at any time I think I am going to pass out, or keel over...which I do anyway without being on a detox.....or am just uncomfortable, I can switch to a friendlier program within the parameters of the anticipated end.

The radical one I am doing is the Lemon Water Wash Out (my name).

I drink water, 8 - 12 glasses (8oz), of this particularly nasty yet comforting glass of fresh squeezed lemon juice..(one lemon is about five tablespoons), maple syrup and cayenne pepper.

I kid you not.

The first time, I felt the fire going down. First my mouth, then my throat and about 20 minutes later I felt it spreading through out my stomach. Something in this mixture suppresses the appetite and gives you the necessary energy.

Then you drink lots of bottle water inbewteen. After the first day, I have not been confined to the bathroom! Go figure. And you can have chamomile tea and any tea that is a diarrhetic.

Major Flush out the body is the name of the game.

According to what I am reading, the organ cleansing begins with the top and works down. Brain power! I certainly could use more of that.

When your body tells you it has had enough, you begin back gradually and then your new life of a healthy eater begins.

No more meat, no more sugar, no more alcohol, no more caffeine, fried foods...forget it!

I guess I may become a vegan!

The good thing is this, our foods and our envirornment are so full of chemicals that we don't realize how poisioned we have become because we are just use to feeling this way. Stuffy nose in the morning, joints that hurt and ache, skin problems, allergies...the irratants in our enviornment that cause us harm is endless.

It is day three and I am feeling pretty good.

A TOXIC GRAND SEND OFF

The most ordinary things can bring the unexpected. Such as taking my Brother-in-Law to the annual week-end gathering at Norris Lake in Tennessee. He hitched a ride at the half way point for me, Louisville, en-route to eastern TN.

He supplied the entertainment, an envelope of CD's he had received from New Dimensions. Thought provoking interviews conducted for broadcast over the airwaves, akin to NRP.

I thoroughly enjoyed most the CD's but by far the most interesting was Dr. Elson M. Haas. He took approximately one hour to convince me to consider his "New" Detox diet.

I considered it all week. And I decided to do it! I figured Friday or Saturday would be the best time of the week for life altering changes.

If I was going to totally change my eating habits, saying good-bye to alcohol, caffeine, sugar etc. etc. etc, then I really needed to give them a Grand Send Off.

What a week!! First I had to list all my favorite stuff and them stuff them into me.

Donuts from the terrific bakery that is a hole in the wall in New Haven.

A lunch at the Chinese Buffet in Auburn.

A Blizzard from DQ.

McDonalds. The McGriddles.......yum. And double cheeseburger.

Burger King...Whopper and Onion Rings.

Lot's of Coconut Rum.

My unbelievably delicious dish of chicken and squash cooked in a wok and smothered in Swiss Cheese and fresh tomatoes.

Frozen Custard...Chocolate mint with M&M's.

A cinnamon crisp from Panera's.

Oh, a mixed berry muffin from Panera's.

That's about it.

Now I am detoxing and well into day two. Not too bad at all. It is a pretty radical program and I am surprised that I am not hungry at all.

Should I be? Gosh!!!

SNEAK PEEK

My new Career as a Wedding Planner

Adventures in David's Bridal Shop

The big news is that they have decided to put off the wedding until next year. I do feel like I bribed them just a wee bit, but my new assignment as a Wedding Planner necessitates that it be postponed until a later day.

Yet, we kept our appointment at David's Bridal Shop.

Some one should have clued me in.

What a racket. A sweet racket, a joyful racket, an honest racket, but a racket all the same. Bridget and I walked down the aisle of a million white wedding dresses and she picked out no less than 15 of them to try on.

We got into the back area and were hustled into a room and handed a bustier and then the work began. Somehow it felt like tying to get the glass slipper on. No, not the glass slipper but that scene from GONE WITH THE WIND where Scarlette is being laced into her corset.

It was hard work, but I finally got her snapped in. Then the dresses. Over the head or step in? We opted for over the head at first. Where oh where did Bridget go???

The first two dresses did not fit. I could not get the first zipped up. The second was better, but it was all I could do it get it hooked and zipped. I was afraid she was going to rip it. The sales person had exchanged several of the dresses for a larger size, assuring Bridget that the sizes were misleading, and people always sized up and that they truly had to fit at the top....most important thing.

The third dress was ....

Well, she put it on, stepped out of the dressing room and onto the pedestal, my heart was in my throat.

It was as if she had slipped on a dress made of magic. This was THE dress.

Then I started to cry.

BATS IN THE BELFRY

I realize that I am going through a semi-dry spell where I think my writing is crap and I have nothing to share, or say. It would be so easy to just quit and walk away for a spell while I settle down, or settle back into the groove. Whatever...as my step-daughter would say.

Crazy enough, I am listening to my MP3 player on the drive back to town from Ohio. I had just yesterday reloaded the little Zen I have. Little as in a tiny piece of hardware. It packs a wallop in every other category. I love it and use it practically every day while I walk or have long boring drives.

I have learned how to load only those songs from my CD's that I enjoy the most.

So I'm rocking down Route 37 singing the words to CAPTAIN AMERICA along with Ashley McIssac and joyfully awaiting in anticipation for Grupo Fantasma to come on next with Chocolate...which sounds like Coco-latte. A random thought entered my head. Why don't you (as in me) open up some sort of venue in Ft. Wayne that invites off beat killer International bands to perform.

The proverbial Built It And They Will Come.

Well, well, well. I did it again. Trying to find some link for this jnl....and also making certain I spelled Grupo Fantasma correctly....I see they are performing in Dayton on July 2nd at the City Fest.

Well well well.

This is certainly turning into the year of the Music concertt.

I remember!!!

I wrote a piece in the other blog about a friend of mine from the "old days". For the life of me I could not remember his last name! Shame on me.

I woke up this morning and the first thought in my head was .... His Last Name. It sounded so much like a hilarious post Saturday Night Live comic's name that I thought maybe I was wrong. I checked on-line and sure enough, there is a doctor in North Kentucky, an internist, with that name! Hurray! I remembered. I will drop him a line in the next several days. We will see what happens.

Things like this happen to me all the time. I'll be searching for the answer to a tricky question and wake up in the morning with the solution fresh in my head. I'll wake up and go, "Oh no!! I forgot to do "this or that" yesterday.

All the time.

Its a lot easier and healthier than banging my head on concrete or ice. That brings it home too. I come to seeing stars and saying, "Oh yes, that's where I left that key to the old root cellar in 1965."

I'M MISSING A GENE! CAN YOU HELP ME FIND IT?

My cousins wedding 2002
(Most the women on my Mom's side of the family.)

Joe was called in to work at Dayton this past week end so I tagged along thinking I could explore the city, take pictures galore, go to a museum and if things got too boring, Cincinnati was only 25 miles away.

My plan would have worked but the weather did not cooperate. I left the hotel at 630am thinking I could get a great brisk walk and it was raining that cold grey drizzle that belongs to April!! And it was 52 degrees.

I drove around the city checking things out and found my path to the Riverwalk blocked by several police cars. I could not figure out if someone had been murdered or if they were expecting a huge group of banner waving, slogan sign carrying protesters to advance in an unruly manner upon the miniscule festival taking place in a corner of the ground.

I drove around the streets searching for the Art Institute and finally suddenly drove past a tiny sign pointing towards the west! I made a quick "I'm from out of town" turn after traveling only a block found myself in a horrific traffic grid lock! Thinking I had stumbled into a graduation....why so many people dressed in suits and fancy threads looking anxious ....I never quite figured that out either.

The art institute was right there! Lo and Behold, a picture of Princess Diana smiled down at me. Alright, I remembered that a collection of her haute couture was making the rounds in this country. Americans always seem to be in awe of Royalty and it is a fact that everyone in the world was in awe of Princess Diana but certainly this traffic nightmare was not about that.

I went back to the hotel room and laid on the bed and flipped on the tv and entered into a marathon of WHO'S WEDDING IS IT ANYWAY" on the E channel.

And I am a better person for it. Much more informed.

And convinced that I need to hire a Wedding Planner.

I'm off to the library to check out wedding planner books. Maybe somewhere in one of them it will explain where my misplaced Gene is. You know the one. The one that I should have been born with that enables me to make a centerpiece out of paper mache, wire and some wild flowers.

I'm okay, I'm okay. I am breathing into a paper bag.

I think I have a date, August 13th. And I think we have a place. They are going to have the wedding and the reception in one beautiful reception hall in the St. James Court area of Louisville. I am going to travel there next Saturday.

With check book in hand.

We also are going to go to David's Bridal Shop.

Things are moving along.

And yes, "Diana A Celebration" exhibit is closing today. I was in the midst of a Diana frenzy.

FUNKADELIC

It seems that if I wait for inspiration to whack me on the side of the head, I will never write another entry again. I recall how I use to be bubbling over with subjects and could hardly contain myself. Everything sparked a memory or a thought process that resulted in a theme! It was once so simple to sit in front of the key board and look at the blank screen, stretch my fingers and just begin! Once time I use to write them out in long hand, then edit them into the blog. That was long ago, when our entries were limited to 2500 words and no spell check. Brevity was the word of the day back then.

This journal I used for the day to day dull stuff. As well as the drawing board and editing tool for the other blog. It has evolved into something different now and I sorely miss the carefree days of random thoughts and observations.

It was so easy when there was no one to write for other than myself.

I have been in a funk since the trip to Florida. Even the announcement of Bridget's engagement has not pulled me out, but the reverse has occurred and I am plunged even further into the dark.

I know that I can figure out most of what is causing my gloom. Someone very close to me is going through a terrible divorce after many years of marriage. Many years. Its ridiculous. She is loosing everything. Her home, her husband, her comfort. All because he thinks he is in love with someone else.

It just sickens me.

I am in a funk because I look at the calendar and see that I have crossed the one year mark of living in this part of the world. And I miss home more and more with each passing day. It is as if I refuse to be adaptable.

I hate people on bikes hogging the River Walk Way trails. Since I wear a MP3 player I do not hear them until they are rushing past me. I usually give a little yell the first time, as they can startle the hell out of you. It makes me long for the cross country paths of the open fields and hills of my favorite park....back home.

I feel that I am crossing that line that takes you from cool adult to eccentric old fuddy duddy. The other day, Matt (young stud at work) asked if I had any extra change. I opened my purse and dug out the change purse that came with the bag! I unzipped it open and dumped out the dimes and nickels and scarce quarters and began handing it over.

I felt like Grandma tipping the bag boy at Krogers!

And my stupid toe! The one that I banged up badly during the 10 mile run. That nail is going to bail on me. And I am so squeamish that I can't stand it. So, I am wearing my Crock's with ankle socks....trying to hold on the toe nail until I can take it.

How old Florida Native is that???!!

And since I am on a roll....because I am depressed I don't do much of anything. The trails are full of bicycle bullies, so I pout and rarely go. Therefore, I have gained at least 20 pounds since last summer.

I'm an over weight, sock sandal wearing, penny pinching old fart.

There I feel better.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY OMEGA

The year was 1968. I was in High School. Thank God it was a Catholic prison School where it was not uncommon for our Mothers to be pregnant. My mother had her sixth and final child, the infamous Omega of many of my stories.

She, naturally, is the little red faced (burn) blond squinting at the camera. Dressed like her older sister, Kit. Dresses my mother made for them.

Omega has many concerns about being the final child of a large family. First of all, not many pictures of her. I must admit, it did take me awhile to find a photograph. And this photograph would not be my first selection. Unfortunately, it is my only selection!! So, she has a point.

Secondly, she is an over achiever which she blames on all of us forcing her to have to go above and beyond to gain any attention. She was hellion for awhile then reformed and became a brain of sorts.

My Dad was scheduled for heart surgery in the early 1970's. Before it could happen, he had to lose weight. The form of exercise that he used was an after dinner walk accompanied with either Kit or Omega, sometimes both.

On one walk, Omega and Dad were having a conversation and my Dad mistakenly called her Kit.

"I'm sorry, "Omega". When you have so many children sometimes you mix the names up."

"That's okay, Mom" she quipped back. She wasn't even four years old yet and already displaying the sharp wit inherited from Nana.

Happy Birthday to my original Side Kick!!

BEATLEMANIA REVISITED

Memorial Day 2006

I was 10 years old when the Beatles were introduced to America via the Ed Sullivan show. It was love at first scream. I really don't remember the first time I had heard the songs. I do remember the first one though, it was She Loves You.

Yea. Yea. Yea.

My first Beatle album was "The Beatles Second Album". Followed by Rubber Soul, A Hard Days Night and Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band and finally Abbey Road.

My friend and fellow maniac, Judy, filled in with "Meet the Beatles" and others, of which now I can not remember. We spent hours at each others house listening to these albums along with our numerous 45's.

I coveted a Beatle wig. It was not to be. But I did manage to have a totally fab Beatle poster that was about four feet long and maybe 18 inches wide. It was red and each Beatle head was in a white star, along with extra pictures of them full length in the back ground. I also had a white sweat shirt with the Beatle logo.

Way back then it was not known as the Beatle logo. Just the name, the Beatles. Long before the Apple.

I had as many Beatle magazines as I could afford. Only one remains now. Without the cover. I think I remember purchasing that mag. I think I remember the cover. It was a "16 Magazine" special edition.

I also collected Beatle cards. I wrote an entry about those long ago...

I had a George Harrison plastic doll, about four inches in height and sporting a brown mop top. He was wearing a dark suit. He may have been holding a guitar. I remember he had very luscious lips.

I out grew my Beatle mania in time. I graduated sometime around my sophomore year in High School, after listening to the Beatle White album a million times in Suzy's secret room, to bands like Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and Janis Joplin.

Last Saturday on the belvedere in Louisville I found myself at a Beatle Tribute Festival singing the words of the songs, long ago imprinted indelibly on my brain.

75 bands, 10 stages, three days. It was fab. We wandered from stage to stage sampling all the different interpretations and imitations.

A lone guy from England performing only George Harrison songs.

A girl band from who knows where with the drummer belting out "Twist and Shout".

My personal unusual favorite, fifty people on the stage with guitars, tambourine and voices all singing RUN FOR YOUR LIFE.

Run For Your Life seemed to be a favorite, performed by each band.

My choice for number one mind blowing interpretation ....Nervous Melvin and the Mistakes rendition of Tomorrow Never Knows. I was spell bound and my heart was thumping as they put a totally unique sound without loosing the essence of the song.

Next year, I will be better prepared.

Camcorder.