Tuesday, May 30, 2017

the art of the broom

There was something about sweeping the rain water that pooled in the alley between our house and the Mahrs' that thrilled me.  I loved to go back all the way to the gates, sweep the water to where the alley began, I would push it with a enough force to get it from the opening into the alley, but not so much that it could not pool.  That was my objective, to get as much rain water as I could to collect into a perfect pool, then ever so slowly I would sweep across pushing like a squeegee.  I needed it to be water free behind me.  Then when I got passed the windows that jutted out, I would push that broom with all I was worth.  The swoosh of the water spilling down the step onto the sidewalk like a dam broke thrilled me.  The very first wave was like all that was good.  I can reach back to remember that feeling.  Sure I could get one or two more waves to cascade, but nothing felt as good as the first. 


I miss 

at the end of every hard day

You can't stop time, it just keeps rolling.  Sometimes you think that you are wise and know all there is, you don't.  There is no rhyme or reason, no matter how much you think it will be a certain expected way, it is going to change.  I thought if I held it all tight, I was safe.  I wasn't.  Then I let it fall away thinking I would be safe this way, again I wasn't. 

Now it will be how it will be.....I am okay with that


if you keep picking at a scab, it will never heal, you need scar tissue to cover


you can find some reason to believe

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Fine Art of Weeding

I can go to a store, okay my favorite three HomeGoods, Marshalls, and TJ Maxx, and shop for hours.  When I see something that intrigues me or I need or even think my family and I  need, I put it into my cart.  While perusing the aisles, not only do I look at everything, I think and look at the things in the cart, assess/reassess/remove these items.  Then finally as I approach the registers, I do a final assessment of my items that are in the cart.  This is called the Weeding.  It is a herculean task. I can shop and walk out with nothing.  While it may seem superficial and shallow to most, a total waste of time and energy to others, to me it is an art.  A needful art.  

Weeding serves as a therapy for me.  It relaxes and calms me, much like meditation.  No matter what chaos is going on in my world, perusing and then weeding takes me out of my own head.  It helps me assess my life and life around me.  Weeding is a way of showing what is important.  It has shown me who is and who is not a person I want in my life.  It helps me to know what is important and significant in my life and helps me release what it is that is detrimental to me and mine.    I use Weeding in all aspects of my life. 

It is truly an Art...


Wednesday, April 6, 2016

photos we keep

When I was fourteen I was gifted a Keystone 110 camera by my Mom & Dad for my birthday, that is when this love affair with a camera and photos took hold.  I love to look at them and take them, some of my faves has always been pictures of my family, truth be told, I even liked to see myself in photos.  There was man named John Ray that walked around Bay Ridge taking pictures of all the kids.  When you saw him you asked to see his pictures and he would let you take the pictures of yourself, I have a few of myself.

Way back in '77-'78, I don't recall how Johnny, my brother, got his mitts on a 35mm camera.  It was in seriously bad shape, the lens was dented, the body was all scratched, and it worked beautifully.  I have followed Mor in my photo taking prowess...I suck, I mean I really suck.  Mor had a Leica, that she did not know how to use, she took some really bad blurry pictures.  My Grandfather bought her a Polaroid.  I remember she had two, probably because she told him that it was the camera's fault.  Nothing helped, Mor chopped off our heads, bodies, or they were too blurry to see anything.  Far, my Grandfather,  used the Leica.  They took slides.  How I loved to look at them.  My Mom has them.


I have been through many, many cameras from Polaroids, 110, 35mm Manual, Semi-Auto, Fully Auto,  to finally Fully-Auto Digital.  I am the proud owner of a Sony DSLR, that I adore.  Can't forget about the brief stint with a panoramic camera.  I love digital, I can take a thousand bad pictures and just delete.  Saving the three good ones.  Ain't technology grand.  The downside of the digital photos are twofold for me:  I don't print or have the pictures printed for me and maybe it is just me, but I don't think the digital pictures are as "deep" as 35mm film.



I have photographed every moment and non-moment for the last 40 odd years.  While sometimes my subjects have railed against me taking so many pictures, I know that they enjoy looking back on them. 




























Is it self-destructive to hide your weaknesses, to always be afraid that someone would use them to inflict damage, hurt, or pain.  Does hiding your flaws make you less vulnerable.   Could it be that if you let others see what you love and treasure the most that they too would feel that you are truly blessed instead of harboring a deep seated hate and look to take all that you hold near and dear.  But then again you can't make someone do or feel something they in their hearts don't, meaning that just because they are your world but you are not theirs, the feelings are never reciprocated.....Do you let your freak flag fly, throw caution to the wind?
 


Not too long ago,, I heard it said and it has stayed with me that "you take pictures of what you are afraid to lose the most".  That judgement has done a fair amount of damage to me.  I have been slacking off in my picture taking, there are probably a few reasons or maybe only one.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Sunshine felt like rain

It is Spring...Spring

It is still a little too early to start planting, but not so early to do some serious cleaning.  I am giving a new method of chore doing a try.  I can't let my Cleaning ADD rule me anymore, so with the help of my timer I'm going to give it a whirl.

My flowers are blooming, so today I am going to take some pictures, work on a side-job that I decided to take on, and continue spring cleaning.

time rolls by like hurricanes

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

as I thought I was

Once you learn to drive standard shift and do so proficiently it is something you never forget.  You may not drive it for 50 years but once learned never forgotten.  You always know that you let the clutch out slow in first while accelerating.  Sure you will stall a couple of times but in 5 minutes it becomes old hat, lessons learned and dexterity returns. We look for the spot where it catches, where the gears mesh, where the drive wheel moves you forward.  The proverbial "sweet spot" is what you are looking for or the memory of it.  Where all things align.

Monday, March 7, 2016

tufts on the stairs

When posed with the question, "Are people capable of change",  some will say that a "Leopard can't change it's spots" or "Pain changes a person".  I think that there are mitigating circumstances or happening that could sway a person to change, sometimes for the good, greater good, and sometimes even for the worse.  I am on the fence about our change.  I don't know if it is good, bad, or indifferent.   I am both shocked and dismayed.  While I try to process this quandary, I am still wowed by it.  

Our little slice of heaven has always been a haven for dogs....we love dogs.  We both grew up with dogs.  We considered ourselves "Dog People".  We love dogs.  I love dogs.  Dogs are the best.  I am not going to say that it is because they are sweet, obedient, and cuddly because Sadie and Chico were far from being warm and fuzzy.  Sadie was aloof, did not come in the house when you wanted, or stop barking when you told her.  Chico was a grouchy, crotchety, and mean.  On the flip side, Chico loved to do tricks, snuggle, and be right next to you while you doing something.  He could escape anything, he could climb ladders and fences, balance on top of anything including but not limited to wood stacks, traffic signals, bird baths with the bath, tops of fences, and motorcycles.  He wanted nothing but to be up Andrew's butt.  Sadie, much to her chagrin, was Gabriella's doll, she dressed her, put her in her carriage and pushed her around.  Sadie's tail was pulled, her ears smushed, and her body swaddled.  Sadie could be outside the fence and not go into the street.  She was never on a leash.

Then along came Buddy....he was the bestest dog ever.  Yes, he had to have a leash on and yes I was afraid that he would run in the street and he was scared of fireworks, but he was the most loving, sweetest, cuddling dog.  He could snuggle better, yeah he was good at that, better than any dog ever.  Andrew would tell me he could not go to school because he was snuggling with Buddy.  He was the heating brick that you needed in your bed when you were cold, he knew exactly where you needed him to be so you could get warm.  Buddy loved to be the first thing you looked at when you opened your eyes.  He was never in a rush to do anything, he was the perfect hang out dog.  Yes, he did bark, but not excessively, he loved all creatures big and small.  He could be trusted not to eat any of Gabriella's bunnies, she would tell him to "find the baby" and he would show her where the baby was.  He had his own "Baby" that he never hurt, just slept with, carried around, and never. ever shared with any of the other dogs.  He was the prettiest of all....he was perfect in every way.  The best part was that he was a rescue....."they" his original owners' were idiots, plain and simple.

Then Skazi came to us.  When I thought we could not have anymore hair, he came with his fur coat.  A person does not really know how much dog hair they have until they get a Siberian Husky.  Now that is dog hair, dog hair for days, dog hair for weeks, months.  A person really needs to think long and hard about having any type of Spitz Dog.  He was Buddy's BFF.  Buddy was his BFF.  They were brothers through and through.  Skazi is a beautiful boy.  Not the brightest penny in the pot, but a beauty nonetheless. 

Where is all this heading, well it is plain and simple....we have no more dogs...Sadie passed, Buddy passed, Chico passed, and Skazi moved out with the kids.   We are dog free.  No more paws to wipe.  No more animals jumping for snacks.  No more stupid pet tricks.  We don't have to rush home.  I have mixed emotions about this.  I am.....