Presidential Election 2012

I have been writing this post off and on since Election Day, but every time I start writing, I get cranky, ticked off or just want to sit in a corner and wail.  Why?  Well, I'll tell you.  I am tired, fed up, done, have had it with all the discontent and bickering.  I have had it with people holding up signs saying "We need our country back" and "Is this America?" I've had it with people wanting to state their opinion, but not letting those that do not agree with them have their say.  It's okay for them to stuff their opinions and thoughts down our throats, but God forbid you speak your mind, however calmly and rationally you state your thoughts.  Because when you do you are labeled and none of the labels are pretty.  People need to grow up, put on their big kid underwear and deal with a changing world.  But it does not mean we are no longer America, this is still our country.  In the past week I have lost two friends merely for sticking up for BOTH sides, parties, what have you, having a right to their respective opinions.  Mind you, I did not say I am particularly fond of the President, like one of my favorite bloggers ever stated in a recent post, this is a non-partisan (for the most part) blog.  I just said one of them (who really dislikes President Obama) had a right to not like the President, although she should still respect him, he is, after all, the President.  So, for saying that, I was called a Communist, which gotta tell you, having come to this country from a Communist regime, I really do NOT appreciate that particular label.  I can be liberal, for some things, yes.  But that is a far, far cry from having a Communist mind-set.  Hello?  In the second case I was told "your people" (meaning Cubans) "need to go back to your country."  What really struck me as ironic was they were both essentially agreeing with each other (neither one likes the President and both were really upset he won a second term), not that they saw it that way.  I just merely said people have a right to like or dislike the President, both sides have a right to state their opinion and BOTH sides of the coin should be respected.  As should the President.  Like him or not.  Still both of them went off half-cocked and name-calling ensued.

The first comment came from someone who came to the U.S. roughly around the same time as my family did, back in the early 60s.  The second comment came from someone who was born in the U.S. and whose family has been in the U.S. for generations. But still, descended from immigrants. Not a drop of Native American in them.  Why was I called a Communist?  Because I said my friend (the one who later proceeded to say my people need to go back to their country) had a right to her opinion, but she should still respect the President.  Why did she then turn around and make the "back to your country" snarky remark?  Because I said I happened to like Marco Rubio. She could not understand how I could say she should respect the President (a Democrat) and then turn around and say I like Marco Rubio (a Republican).  Yeah, it didn't make any sense to me either, but there you go.  Neither has called to apologize.  Frankly, I'm in no mood to speak to either of them.  If you can't have a civilized conversation, about any subject, with your friends, who in heck can you have one with?  What was up with the insult hurling?  Really?  Communist and back to Cuba?  Hmmm, golly, I thought I already WAS in my country.  See if I bake either of them brownies ever again.

So, got home, turned on the t.v. and it's still going on.  The fighting, the name calling, the all-around nastiness.  Really?  It's done with.  The election is over.  The President won a second term.  Like it or not, deal with it.  But, please, please, on both sides of the coin, stop the name-calling, the bickering, can't you all just act like the grown-ups you are supposed to be?  You are acting like little kids, stomping your feet and refusing to play nice.  Notice I am not favoring one side over the other.  Can't we just, please, put our differences aside, see our similarities and work together to try and solve some of the muck going on out there?  Have we become so partisan that it is impossible to reach out and just work together, respect our differences, respect ourselves?  We may belong to different political parties, but we are all Americans.  Can't you see that?  We may have different religions, but we all have the same Father.  We are all human.  We all love our families, laugh, hurt.  Can't we get past our(sometimes negligible) differences and see we are, in oh so many ways, the same?

But, maybe, just maybe, we are behaving like any other family, where we bicker and fight and argue, but if someone from the outside (in this case it would be someone from another country) steps in to criticize, then we close ranks and unite.  I seem to recall that happened in the not too distant past, on a horrible day in September when the world stopped.  When it didn't matter who or what we were.  A lot of us died that day.  It didn't matter what political party we belonged to.  Those planes plowed into our very heart.  I hope and I pray it will not take another cataclysm to bring us to our senses.

The Presidential election is over.  The people have spoken, their voices were heard and their votes were counted.  If you are not happy with the result, roll up your sleeves and start working on making a difference the next time around.  But, please, accept the result gracefully not spitefully.  If you are happy with the result, also be graceful about it.  Avoid the "in your face" attitude, because sooner or later, you will be on the other side of the coin.  To both sides, stop the negative ads and campaigning, that really turned a lot of people off.  I don't want to hear what the other guy has done wrong, I know what he's done.  I'm not an idiot.  I want to hear what YOU are going to do and HOW you are going to do it.  I want to hear a clear, concise plan.  Not a bunch of negative yammering.  Above all, work together, get past your differences.  There is a world of hurt out there and there is also a world of good, we just have to find a way to come together and make it a better world all around.  We are not a perfect country, we get beaten up by the press (national and international) on a daily basis, but you know what?  We are the only country that come hell or high water, people still want to come to.  People risk their lives on a daily basis to live here, some come in legally, some not. We need to get back to basics, family, faith, decency.  Stop focusing on the inane.  Personally I don't give a fig if Tom wants to marry Harry or Susie wants to marry Becky. I may not vote for them to be able to do so, then again maybe I will, whatever the vote is, if the majority of votes are in their favor, so be it.  Personally, I like the ying and yang of relationships. But I have friends who belong to the ying-ying category and I tend to be very protective of my friends. I don't think it's my place to tell them how to live their lives. There was a time not that long ago, when women did not have the right to vote, when African-Americans did not have the right to marry, let alone vote. Today that seems absurd.  Denying someone the right to vote or marry based on their sex or race?  That is incomprehensible.  Today.  But there was a time when it was the norm.  Maybe someday the fact that Steve and Harry had to fight to be allowed to marry will seem absurd, I don't know.  But I sure as heck am not going to get in a lather because they want to be married.  I don't give a flip who sleeps with who, as long as they comport themselves in a decent and honorable fashion and do not get caught with their pants down with someone who isn't their chosen partner somewhere down the line. It really bothers me to see people touting "family values" and then get busted having affairs, I do believe that is the epitome of hypocrisy. As to those who froth at the mouth saying it is in the Bible and the mere notion insults the sanctity of the marriage vows, well, one heck of a lot of you have violated the sanctity of those vows, boinked others while married to other people, divorced, remarried, cheated (again), divorced (again).  So, shut your yaps and let the Father deal with this issue when Steve and Harry die and get to the Pearly Gates, okay?

There are children sleeping on the streets, going hungry, falling through the cracks in the system.  There are vets sleeping under bridges.  There are elderly people being preyed on and abused.  There are babies being massacred on a daily basis.  There are sick people dying because they cannot afford the treatment they need.  There are churches being desecrated. The church I attended when my parents still lived had a very pretty little garden with a statue of the Virgin Mary in it.  It was a very peaceful spot.  One day after Mass, we walked over to the little garden and found the statue had been splattered with red paint and someone had written on it "idol worshippers will burn in Hell."  That really ticked me off, because (supreme irony) those who desecrated the Virgin Mary's statue call themselves Christian and are really anything BUT. I would never go into their place of worship and say they are a bunch of fanatic loons. I have gone many a round with my sister, because she belongs to a way different faith than mine. I always find it amusing (and also annoying as all get-out) that while I will defend her right to worship, she will not stick up for mine.  Instead she will say that when I defend her right, I am "on the path" to convert to her faith.  This is when I remind her that, nope, not happening.  I happen to like Christmas and Easter (Midnight Mass and Easter Mass being my two all-time favorites, they are so exquisitely meaningful, even if I always sneeze during Midnight Mass and get a "look" from the priest).  I love Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July.  I love birthday cake and do not happen to share her belief that you offend God when you celebrate holidays, birthdays, life!  But I respect her beliefs.  Have to admit, I also like the fact I get extra birthday cake because she won't have any.  Win-win as far as I'm concerned.  There are people being persecuted because their faith is different from those around them.  We need to focus on what matters, get our house in order.  Because a house divided will, ultimately, fall.

Okay, I have vented and I have railed, time to step off my well-used soapbox.  Oh, wait, just one more thing, to those who spout the really distasteful "We need to get our country back" slogan.  I have news for you, you never lost your country, your country is still here.  It always will be here, from sea to shining sea, and, gotta tell you, I lost one country already in this lifetime, I am NOT going to lose this one, I am NOT going to leave this one.  Like it or not, I am here to stay.  I am an American.

Until next time, be blessed, be safe, be loved.

Rambling Thoughts on the Presidential Election

I had the day off today, a welcome treat from my boss.  It has been lovely having these three days to cocoon.  Did not budge from my nest Saturday and Sunday, only poked my snoot out to water the plants and feed the outside kits. Watched some old, really, really old movies on t.v., blessedly with no commercials.  Listened only to classical music, having had it up to here with all the political ads and commercials trying to sell me stuff I either already have (but now there's a bigger, better, upgraded version!) or stuff I do not need but, boy howdy, they do try to make it seem as if it is imperative you purchase it.  Today I woke up early, made coffee, took a quick shower, knocked on my neighbor's door and we were off to the Garden Center, where we had a grand time picking out impatiens (pink), marigolds (could not resist their cheery yellow-orange faces) and three different kinds of mint (orange mint, spear mint and chocolate mint).  Even more potting soil and one planter which her husband will poke holes in this weekend.  They should really make them with holes already, do not understand why they've stopped that practice.  Anyway, we had a splendid lunch, went window-shopping for her daughter's upcoming homecoming dance, it was a nice, relaxing day.  One thing I noticed is that for all the talk of people not having money or jobs, there were an awful lot of people buying stuff everywhere we went.  Maybe the economy is recovering?  I sure hope so, because frankly I have had it with the doom and gloom brigade.

All the while we were out and about, I couldn't help but think of Hurricane Sandy's victims up north, their lives completely upside down, some of them living in their cars, from what I have read and seen in the news.  All these people banding together, helping one another, others giving out food and clothes, all these different, nameless acts of courage, like the man that risked his life to rescue a taxi driver in danger of drowning.  He was safe in his home, but ran out into the storm to rescue a stranger.  He said he could not just stand there and watch someone die.  Wow, he should meet the guy who didn't open  the door to the mother of the two little boys who drowned.  Talk about ying and yang.  You so often only hear the bad, thank God they are also reporting on people doing good.  They tend to get lost in the ratings war.

I read where they may be letting some of those affected vote by email, although you have to wonder if they have no electricity, no power, you really think they are going to be worried about plugging in a computer, if they actually have one or have access to one?  One man said that yeah, he'd lost his house, but his family is okay and absolutely he will be voting.  I tip my hat to that gentleman, because although voting is extremely important to me, I believe if I were in his situation I would be in a corner, howling.  Human resilience always surprises me.  We can get hit by anything and still we carry on.  We help others in worse situations than ours.  In instances like these we see the best of the human spirit come shining through.  We also see the worst, I've read reports where there have been looters.  Personally, I believe if you get caught stealing food, water, blankets to keep warm, you should, maybe, depending on the circumstances, such as was the house you broke into inhabited or empty, did you grab the blanket away from someone else who needed it, you get my drift, get a free pass.  But if you are looting for material stuff? Out of avarice, greed?  Off to jail, zippity zap.  But, I digress, so, okay, off the soapbox.

At any rate, we finally came home, unloaded all our gardening stuff and took a well-deserved break.  I was done.  Going to so many places in one day, dealing with crowds (not  my favorite thing) pretty well much pushed me way outside my comfort zone.  So, I came in, changed into my comfies, made some tea and chilled.  A little while later, I headed out to grub in the garden.  Digging my hands into potting soil, weeding, watering, getting filthy from head to toe, clears my head and calms my soul.  While living with my aunt I kept a planter full of potting soil and when things got too intense with her, I'd just go stick my hands in there, it was a form of therapy, I guess.  Grubbing in the dirt I thought of the Presidential election tomorrow.  Finally, I hope, all the political yammering will be over.  No more one political ad slamming one candidate, followed by another political add slamming the politician whose ad you just suffered through.  I really, really, REALLY wish instead of spending so much money and time on those ads, the candidates would put that money where their mouth is, i.e., helping those less fortunate.  If you have a bazillion dollars to spend on advertising yourself and doing your very, very best to make the other guy(s) look bad, then you should spend an equal amount on charity.  For every ad they put out there, they should contribute the same amount to charity.  For every negative ad, they should contribute double.  For every snarky remark, smarmy attitude, supercilious comment, they should contribute a  certain amount.  Oh, wait, they're politicians, no can do.  Smarmy and snarky are part of of their DNA.  When I finished playing in the dirt, I came in, showered, changed into other (clean) comfies and had a most satisfying phone visit with FGM Martha.  Our conversations always leave me smiling, raring to go and full of wonderful ideas. Cleansed of all the negative politicking ... is that an oxymoron?  Turned on the t.v. and there they were ... the political ads.  Good grief, at this point I am thinking maybe we should fine them, have a limit on the amount of ads, but PLEASE have some type of limit on the amount of hot air they can blow into the atmosphere.  They say a nor'easter is heading towards the areas hit by Hurricane Sandy and there are a lot of people still without power, no heat.  Well, I thought, send a few politicians up there and have 'em talk, the copious quantity of hot air they spew should be enough to heat a couple of counties.  At least.

The other day I took advantage of early voting, yay!  The line was pretty long, but I took my little folding chair, a book, a magazine and water and just scooched along on my chair.  Two men got into a REALLY loud argument while in line.  They were from different political parties, both were Cuban-American, switching easily from English to Spanish and back again.  I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing when one of them kept telling the other "Estas completamente equivocado!" (You are completely wrong!) something my Dad used to say was a standard Cuban saying.  I wanted to get up and ask them "You don't think he's partially right?"  But thought better of it.  Didn't think they would appreciate the sarcasm.  For a while there it got pretty hot and I know the rest of the people were thinking fists were going to start flying.  But it was really funny how despite their ongoing argument, they kept pace with the line moving.  They didn't miss a beat.  People were sort of distancing themselves as much as they could from the arguing twosome.  A while later a squad car drove by and they both shut up. I wanted to hug those cops. Not a peep out of the two for the rest of the time. Silence, at last.

I think we are one of the few countries, if not the only one, where every four, sometimes eight, years there is a complete shift of power and there are no riots, no burning of cars, no violence, no bloodshed.  We are so blessed to live in this country.  Whether we are Republican or Democrat (or Independent), Catholic, Jewish, whatever your Christian faith choice here, agnostic or atheist (which I really have a hard time with that concept, but let's not get into a theological discussion here), we are free to worship, or not, as we choose.  We are free to vote, as we choose.  Do we realize what a privilege it is to be here?  Imperfect as we may be, and we are, still we are the best.  We should focus on our similarities, not yammer about our differences.  Because although I do not know about the rest of the country, not one ad, not one debate, not one comment one way or the other, made me change my mind about my choice.  They just made me wish they'd shut their yaps, do what they said they would do and respect each other.  Then again, I'm talking about politicians here, behavior of that sort is not to be expected of them.

I voted not because I think my choice is going to fix all the wrongs and make it all better.  I voted for him because I think he will do the least harm to our country, our world, our planet.  Let's see what the final outcome is.  Whoever wins, we owe the victor our respect.  We may not like him, but he will be our President and, as such, must be, should be respected. This is a trait that appears to be missing from much of the public today.  Respect.  They toss it out the window and call it freedom of speech.  I disagree, that's like calling the imbeciles that go after survivors of disasters, accidents, and stick a microphone in their faces asking "How do you feel?" journalists.  That's not journalism, that's sensationalism.  And, yes, I know I am repeating myself.  Back to my original point, we owe the victor our respect, because like him or not, he will be our leader for the next four years.  Let's keep him in our prayers, whoever he turns out to be.

United We Stand

Divided We Fall ...

And Then the Pumpkin Caught Fire

This was going to be a light-hearted post about Halloween at the Cozy Cocoon.  How my neighbors and I carved pumpkins, decorated the Cocoon, how I bought way too much candy (because one year I ran out and I am never, ever going to do that again) and got ready for one of my all-time favorite days, Halloween.  And it was a lovely Halloween this year.  My peach of a boss sent me home early, so I was home for the very first trick-or-treaters and the last.  There were swarms of kids this year, more than any other year, so it was a very good thing I had really stocked up on candy.  Like my Mom, I am a big fan of Snickers, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Hershey's Kisses, so those are the candies I give out.  Mini Snickers and Reese's and Kisses (almond and caramel-filled varieties, I have a feeling Mom would have loved the caramel ones).  The kids' costumes ranged from really inventive ones, LOTS of zombies (do NOT understand that particular infatuation), classic vampires, some very cute little ghosts and one very, very odd hairy creature who claimed to be "Sassyquash."  I'm guessing Sassyquash is Sasquatch's flirty cousin.  Then there was the kid who came back three times, each time with a different costume, but always the same neon orange sneakers.  I know where this particular kid lives.  His family owns a restaurant I ordered in from a lot and he has three younger siblings, who for some reason were not with him any of the three times.  Maybe they went to the mall.  His grandfather came with him the first two times.  Each time he picked out only one kind of candy and politely thanked me.  The third time around I told him, "Okay, third time's the charm, buddy!"  He said "Yes, ma'am, you really have the BEST candy, thank youuuuu!" and hopped off my porch.  He skipped off (effects of the major sugar rush, I'm sure) going "Wooohooooo!" and joined a little group who was knocking on a neighbor's door. It is one of my favorite things about being a "grown-up," staying home, giving out candy and seeing all the different kids and costumes.  I think it's one of the last bastions of innocent childhood, dressing up and banging on strangers' doors, given the times we live in and the horrific events we witness daily, I pray this is one custom that endures.  Under a watchful, caring parental or caregiver's eye. I really do enjoy seeing the different kids, costumes, the general joy of it all, it's like the official Welcome Fall event for me. Like I said, it is one of my favorite events of the year.  However, my favorite kid turned up the next night, at around 7:50 or so, dressed in a Batman costume.  This kid can't be more than seven years old.  I see him playing in the parking lot all the time and sometimes when I have come home really late from work, I've seen him running around.  Always wonder where his parents are.  Well, Thursday evening there was a knock on my door just as I was washing the dinner dishes and there was this kid.  Now, most of the kids that came around on Halloween were with their parents or sometimes their older siblings, they were mostly in groups, but always with some adult or older kid.  This kid did not knock on my door on Halloween, I know that little face.  But there he was the day after Halloween knocking on my door, full Batman regalia in place.

There he was.  Knocking on my door, saying "Tricks or treats!"  Alone.  This bothered me and I asked him, "Where's your mommy?"  He responded "I heard you have the best candy, tricks or treats!" and I asked him again, "Sweetie, where is your mom?  You shouldn't be out by yourself!"  I came out onto the porch and nope, not an adult, kid, neighbor in sight.  Now, I've seen this little kid plenty of times, but I've never seen him go into a house.  "Tricks or treats!" he demanded.  I have plenty of candy left over, which I plan on using for brownies and my Everything-But-the-Kitchen-Sink Cookies, so I scooped some and plunked it in his pumpkin.  "There you go!  Did you get lots of candy yesterday?" I asked him.  He rummaged around in his pumpkin, grabbed a Snickers and said "They took me to a mall, but they gave sucky candy there.  These are my favorite, can I have more of these?  I'll give these others back."  So, we sat on my porch and picked through the candy bowl, getting a bunch of the mini Snickers.  To  his credit, he went to give the Kisses and Reese's back, but I told him he could keep those too.  He took off running after saying thank you.  This kid just breaks my  heart, who in hell is taking care of him?  I wanted to follow him, but (1) he ran really fast, amazing how quickly those little legs can go and (2) following a kid can be seen as a bit hinky, do not want to end up in the news, "assistant to prominent So.Fla. attorney arrested for stalking child after offering him candy."  So, I just stood on my porch and watched him disappear into the maze of units in my apartment complex.  But, still I wonder, where was his caregiver while this kid was knocking on my door asking for candy ... the day after Halloween? How did they know he'd be safe?  Who is making sure he has eaten a good dinner, do they read him a bedtime story after tucking him at night?

I've never raised a child, though I have been lucky and had lots of children in my life at one time or another.  They are such gifts, their unspoiled joy and innocence.  Who is guarding this child's infancy?  He seems like a stalwart little fellow, it takes a lot of gumption to knock on anyone's door the day after Halloween and demand candy.  Maybe his Batman costume gave him courage.  I don't know. But I sure hope he has a safe, loving home.  Someone who cares and looks out for him.  Maybe his parent or caregiver sees me tending my garden, talking with my neighbors and felt it was okay for this little guy to come knock on my door, but I sure didn't see anyone keeping an eye on him.  How did they know he'd be okay knocking on my door?  Know that I would not turn him away, or worse.  All these questions running through my mind.  After working in the pediatrics ward of two hospitals, I have seen a lot of ugly.  People can be very cruel to children.  Children can be very cruel to children.

Then today reading the news, I came upon the story of the two little boys, brothers, 2 and 4 years old, swept away during Sandy's wrath.  Their mother was trying to get somewhere safe, the car ran off the road, she knocked on a stranger's door and they refused to give them shelter.  The accounts differ, the man who was inside the house says he did not see a woman knocking on his door, he saw a man.  The woman claims he refused to give them shelter, she then tried throwing something through a window trying to get in, find shelter for her children.  By then her children had drowned.  The man begrudgingly gave an interview.  The woman's relatives say she is too distraught to speak to the press.  The comments on this story floored me.  A lot of people actually blame the mother.  Saying she should have evacuated sooner, what was she doing driving around in the middle of the storm, she was just stupid for not seeking shelter sooner.  Okay, I get that.  But still, you never know what she was thinking.  She probably thought she could ride out the storm.  The ferocity of this storm was incredible.  These people had no idea what they were dealing with.  Having faced nor'easters before, they probably thought it would be a bit stronger, but nothing they could not ride out in their homes.  Then as the homes started to fill with water, the winds howling, they were faced with this dilemma.  I remember during Hurricane Andrew, we took shelter with my uncle's family.  They had a solid house, we all hunkered down.  My dad had called his sisters (who lived near Homestead where Andrew blew through and leveled entire neighborhoods) before the storm, telling them he would go pick everyone up and bring everyone over to my uncle's home.  They refused, saying they'd be okay.  In the middle of the storm, when it was really howling, one of them called my uncle's house (they still had power) asking my Dad to go get them.  My father said he couldn't go out in the middle of the hurricane.  They were not happy.  But, still, they both had big, strong husbands who could look out for them.  Which always made question where in heck were the husbands and why didn't they drive to where we were?  Why did they expect my dad and my uncle to drive over and get them, hello?  I didn't feel too badly for them.  They survived, so did their houses, they were some of the few lucky ones.  But, still, lesson learned.  Who is to say this woman thought the same way, then her home started filling with water and she fled, trying to get her kids to a safe place. I did not read anything about the father, where he was, if he is in the picture at all.  My heart breaks for this family.  The mother was trying to get to her sister's house.  Her car hit a hole on the way, she lost control, it went to hell from there.  She knocked on a stranger's door and was refused shelter.  The man in the interview was remarkably nonchalant about the children's deaths.  Said it was a tragedy, but she should not have been out in the first place, that the kids had probably drowned by the time she knocked on his door and that had he opened the door, he would have been dead too.  Wow.  What a waste THAT would have been.  Again, the comments on this story gave me the willies, so, so many negative things to say about the mother and, to be fair, about the man refusing to give them shelter as well.  There were some political comments, negative all (Lord in Heaven, I am SO looking forward to this Presidential election being over and done with and not being slapped in the face with yet another political ad yammering on and on about the opponent, I am sick of BOTH sides, so please, save the commmens about being a Republican or a Democrat, because I think both sides blow right about now).  The man being interviewed appeared to be by himself during the storm.  All he had to do was open that door.  And true, maybe the children had been taken by the waters by then, maybe they were already drowned, but he could have opened the door.  Maybe there would have been a slim, but nonetheless still there, chance for those kids to have survived.  Maybe.  We'll never know, will we?

Two little lives were lost because someone did not take due precautions, which to some would have appeared obvious, to others they had no clue what was coming down the pike straight at them.  Nevertheless, two little lives were lost.  Had someone taken precaution, had someone opened the door.  What is that saying in the Bible, something about that which you do to the least of me, I think it's “Whatsoever you do to the least of my people, that you do unto me.” (Matthew 25:40). Two little lives were lost.  A mother's life forever shattered, because once you go through something like the loss of a child, be that child still in the womb, a baby, a toddler, teen or all grown-up, no matter how much you try to build a new world, a new life, that is always there tap dancing in the back of your head, it forever alters you.  No matter what, in the back of your head there is always a little evil gnome singing the "Could Have, Would Have, Should Have" song.  Sometimes louder, sometimes a mere whisper, but still always, always there.  Another life goes on, callously dismissing it as a tragedy, but "she shouldn't have been out in the storm."  Brilliant, brilliant deduction by that man.  One can only hope he is never faced with having to walk in that mother's shoes.  This much I do know and maybe it is because, really, I am on my own.  I would have been protecting only my life during the storm.  I have no children or family to think about or worry about their future.  But I would rather go down swinging, trying to help someone, than to weather the storm, all snug and safe inside my home, ignoring the cries of my brethren.

So, while this was intended to be a lighthearted funny account of my Halloween pumpkins and how the littlest Jack-O'-Lantern caught fire last night because the votive candle we put inside was a bit too tall and there I was talking with my neighbors, planning our weekend gardening adventure, when we started smelling something like pumpkin roasting and we turned around just in time to see flames start coming out of the littlest pumpkin's eyebrows.  Much running and dousing with water ensued.  My cat didn't come out from under the bed until way after midnight.  The Cocoon ... never a dull moment.  It, instead, turned into a post about how cruel we can be to each other.  And it made me think of a miniature Batman knocking on my door and how glad I am to have opened my door and taken some time to talk with the pint-sized super hero, sending him on his way with a hefty supply of his favorite candy, Snickers.  Reading the story about those two little boys this morning made me think of, pray and be grateful for the healthy, blessed children in my life.  We are blessed, we are blessed, we are blessed.  It made me think of two little boys who will never go trick or treating, wait for Santa Claus, blow candles out on birthday cakes.  There are a lot of kids like that.  Some whose lives have been snatched from them all too soon.  Some who are still alive under horrifying conditions.  Some who are still within our ability to help.  We need to remember these kids and to help them.  Not just at holiday time, but year-round, life-long.  We are living in an increasingly callous society where it's survival of the fittest, the weak be damned.  This is not only ugly, it is downright dangerous, because it breeds anger and resentment, never a good thing.  Going back to an earlier post, we need to come together as a people, putting aside political, sociological, even theological issues.  Don't preach.  Do.  Like the famous slogan goes, just do it.  Sometimes the smallest kind gesture has the biggest impact.  It is a domino effect, everything one does affects someone else, for good or bad.  We are all connected.  It is time to recognize this.  We are all one.  We all share the same home, the same planet.  We all breathe the same air.  What affects one, affects us all, one way or another.  Whether we like it or not, believe it or not, we all have the same Father, the same Creator.  Whatever we choose to call this force, God, Father (my favorite), Creator, the Universe, whatever, we are loved, flaws and all.  And, please, save the "if God really loves us why do horrible things happen?"  Because, we were given free will.  Some of us choose wisely. Others choose to do evil, then refuse to take responsibility for their actions.  Free will means we choose our path, we choose  how to react, we choose how to behave and it comes back to us, one way or another, sometimes right away, sometimes eons later.  But everything we put out there, reflects and comes back to us.  Okay, enough preaching, I am now stepping off the soap box.

Be kind to each other, we are all we have.

Until next time, be safe, be blessed, be loved.

This Bothers Me

From cnn.com, this was a comment on Sununu’s remarks on why Colin Powell backs Barack Obama “Sununu needs to go back to Cuba where he belongs. He is not a ‘real’ American.”

It was posted by someone with the tag annebeth66 and really bugged me.  Although I do not agree with Mr. Sununu’s remarks, annebeth66’s comment bothered me.  Why?  Well, who is this person to say who is a “real” American?  What tribe does her family belong to?  Because pretty much everybody who is non-Native American is descended from immigrants.  That’s right, folks, whether you are light brown, dark chocolate or lily white, you are descended from immigrants.  People not born here.  The only people that can actually be classified as “real” Americans, if you are going to take the position annebeth66 takes, are the Native Americans that were here when the Mayflower first docked at Plymouth Rock.

We are a nation of immigrants.  At one point or another our forefathers (and mothers, let’s keep things p.c. here) came to this country in search of a better life, be it freedom of speech, to find work, or freedom of religion.  A great many came over on slave ships.  Remember the folks who came over on the Mayflower?  They came here in search of religious freedom.  Wow, what a concept.  The ability to worship freely.  True, they did claim to be Christians.  So, one may say we were founded as a Christian nation.  But, still, we were founded on the basis of religious freedom.  Not the freedom to worship only as Christians, but the ability to worship freely, without fear of repercussion.  I tend to cringe whenever I hear the term “Christian” these days, because SO many people that bray (the loudest) about being Christian are anything but.  They are quick to point out the perceived faults in others, neglecting to see the huge beam poking out of their eye.  Sometimes I wonder if Jesus looks upon us from Heaven, slaps his forehead, sighs and goes “No, no, no, nooooo!”  Then I remember Mother Teresa, Pope John Paul, Gandhi, the many faceless, but nonetheless still there, people (some of whom I have the privilege of knowing and having as friends) that are in the trenches, quietly going about helping others, away from the spotlight, but truly practicing what others simply preach, and then I think, okay, there is hope.  They have differing political affiliations; however, instead of looking at their differences and arguing about them, they look for the similarities and ask “Okay, how can we work together?”  But I digress.

What makes a “real” American.  Well, hmmm, let’s see, when you are born in a country like ours you tend to take a lot of rights (which are really privileges) as a given and not really value them as the marvelous gifts they are.  Back in high school, it was popular to wear the U.S. flag on the seat of one’s jeans.  A lot of “real” Americans wore those jeans, they seemed to think it a great lark to sit on the symbol of one’s country.  Not one kid from an immigrant family wore those jeans.  Maybe because they couldn’t afford them, I don’t know.  I do know when I made a remark about that particular fashion at the dinner table one evening, I got an earful from both parents about the flag and why one should honor it.  This was around the time when saying the pledge of allegiance became non-mandatory.  A lot of “real” Americans chose to sit and blow spit bubbles while the rest of the kids were reciting it.  Who were the kids saying the pledge of allegiance?  Mostly immigrant kids, who later went on to become naturalized citizens.  You know, not “real” Americans.  We were taught respect.  Maybe those other kids’ parents were unaware their children were not saying the pledge of allegiance, but I tend to think kids, for the most part, mirror what they see at home.  I believe those who choose to become American citizens may be more “real” than those born here who take our precious rights, flag, Constitution for granted, not giving them the respect they so richly deserve.

When one becomes a naturalized citizen, one is CHOOSING to become American.  You are basically saying you are rejecting your birth country for this one.  You take an oath.  One of the phrases contained in that oath (or at least it was in there when I became a citizen many, many years ago, it may have been deleted or revised since) stated you are willing to take up arms against your birth country in defense of the United States.  My father had a problem with that aspect of the oath.  To him it meant he might possibly (not a likely scenario) have to take up arms against other Cubans.  He had family still in Cuba who sided with the Castro regime.  Even though these relatives did not bat an eyelash when he was carted off to jail, he had a problem with the concept of family taking up arms against family.  Not me.  I figured, heck, if I had to take up arms against other Cubans, well, they would be the ones who took my father to jail when Castro took power, or didn’t lift a finger to help him.  I had no trouble taking that oath.  Zip, nyet, nada.  Having arrived in the States when I was very young and having had a typical Southern Californian (back then) childhood, I consider myself American.  Proud of my Cuban heritage, customs, traditions, love the food, but still I consider myself American.  Who the heck is this annebeth66 to say I am not a “real” American?  If she wants me to row my way back to Cuba, because I was not born here, I want to see her row, row, rowing her … boat back to England or Ireland or whatever European nation her forebears came from.

Now, mind you, I do not agree with Mr. Sununu’s comment.  I found it distasteful and borderline (I am being generous here) racist.  Because, at least the way I interpreted it, he was inferring Colin Powell backs President Obama because of the race factor.  In other words, he has made his decision based on race, not as an informed, well-educated, intelligent citizen.  That is like saying, okay, well, if Marco Rubio is nominated for President one day, I will vote for him because he is from the same ethnic group I’m from.  Not because I agree with his politics.  I will vote for him merely because he is Cuban-American.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  Let me go off point for a minute here and say I am sick and tired of the hyphenation deal.  Cuban-American, Italian-American, African-American.  Enough.  We are American.  Period.  Remember right after the horrific events on 9/11, how we came together as a nation?  Mourned together as a nation?  There was no “You’re a Democrat, I’m a Republican” or “You’re Catholic, I’m Baptist.”  We just were American.  We are a melting pot, true.  We retain and are proud of our ethnic backgrounds, but we are Americans.  Just sayin’.

One of our most cherished rights protected by our Constitution is freedom of speech.  So, just as annebeth66 has a right to spew her vitriolic assessment, oh, I do love the first three letters of that word, they do describe so many, many people, so does Mr. Sununu.  Freedom of speech.  Cherish that right, people.  Protect it.  Because the way we seem to be going, it may well disappear one day.

This presidential election is and has been one of the most distasteful, petty, all-out disgusting, on both sides of the coin, elections I can remember.  The name-calling and pettiness have given a well-publicized platform to a plethora of bigots (of all races, ethnicities and creeds).  Still this country, for all it gets beat up in the foreign press, and in our own press, is the best one in the world.  I love this country.  I have loved it since the day we arrived.  We were welcomed, not only by our friends already here, but by our neighbors, strangers who had no clue who these Spanish-speaking people were, but opened their arms just the same and made us feel at home, safe, wanted, welcomed.  I am profoundly grateful every single day to be here.  I am thankful my parents left behind their country, their way of life, language, families, to come here and give me a better life.  One where I would be able to speak freely.  I am mouthy if nothing else.  People risk their lives for the chance to live here.  They may turn around and criticize it out the ying-yang once they do get here.  That is called freedom of speech.  Freedom.  That is what we stand for.  Whether we agree with their opinion or not, the freedom for people to use their voices and be heard.  Please, get out and vote.  It is not a right as some claim, it is a hard-won privilege.

So, you see annebeth66, a “real” American is not necessarily one who was born here.  A “real” American is one who realizes what a privilege it is to be here.  Who cherishes this country, protects your right to speak your mind, even when they don’t necessarily agree with what you are saying.  A “real” American protects and serves, even when they are not an actual citizen, but a resident.  A “real” American pledges allegiance to the flag and is willing to defend with his, or her, life what it stands for.  That is a “real” American.  Oh, wait, one more thing, God bless America.

 

Fall Has (Finally) Arrived ...

Sunday, October 14, 2012

How do I know this?  Well, for one, my a/c turned off automatically, it's been going 24/7 pretty well much since June.  For two, cans of pumpkin puree are in stock at the supermarket (when you see Libby's, Libby's, Libby's on the label, label, label, you will like it, like it, like it on your table, table, table).  For three, my make-up no longer melts in the short walk from my front porch to the car.  That's Fall, tada!

And for four, this afternoon I made my Fall Fabulous Fall soup, which consists of fresh mushrooms, corn, potatoes, onions, red, green and yellow peppers all coming together in a lovely bath of Alfredo sauce and chicken broth.  My own invention.  It simmers on my stove, scenting the house along with a lemon poppyseed cake baking in the oven.  And my a/c just kicked off again, confirming, yes, Virginia, it's true FALL IS HERE!!!  Next weekend it's off to the pumpkin patch with my neighbors.  I did order three pumpkins (small, medium and large) from someone at work, their daughter's school is selling them.  But Fall wouldn't be Fall without the annual trek to the pumpkin patch which sprouts (pun intended) up in a neighborhood church this time of year.

It has been a drizzly, raining off and on, gray skies, then blue, the gray again, weekend.  Perfect cocooning weather.  Have not had a chance to really work in my teeny tiny garden, but the roses are happy with all the rainwater they've  been getting, the Confederate jasmine has taken off like gangbusters and the ferns and plumbago, I swear, are smiling.  The lavender  appears to be holding its own.  I'm waiting until it is just a scooch cooler to bring on the impatiens.  Love, love, looove this time of year!

Have been in my pajamas all weekend, the only time I have poked my nose outside has been to feed the little homeless ones.  The yellow kit showed up for supper on Friday, have not seen him since.  But the little black one shows up regularly, now with two tiny kittens in tow.  They are beautiful, very skittish although one does prance up to me at times, then scootches back when I reach out to pet it.  Smokey looks on scandalized, how dare I reach out to another cat, no matter how adorable!

I did manage to ModPodge two hearts to the corner of my desk/dining table.  A while back one of my friends brought me some wonnnnderful Godiva chocolates wrapped up in this beautiful hot pink and orange cellophane and I thought, hmmm, these would make beautiful hearts.  So, today I ModPodged two of them next to the letter from Abuelo and the postcards from my godmother.  They looked like they needed a little glitter, so while the ModPodge was still wet I sprinkled some of Miss Jodie's pink glitter over them.  The result, I believe, is quite spectacular.  Am writing another little story for my beloved Whimbles.  If She of the Whimbles and her Faithful Companion, a/k/a The Master Exchequer, lived nearby I would trot on over to deliver the story along with a batch of my deeeelish Fall Fabulous Fall Soup.  But, nope, I will email the story and send a photo of the soup instead.  One day we will be close by.

Actually, FGM Martha (a/k/a She of the Whimbles) is going to be visiting the Cocoon sometime next year.  Which has, of course, set off a tizzy of planning, redecorating and general fluffing up.  So looking forward to her visit!   And Miss J. of my Tallahassee Peeps is hoping to come on down sometime before the holidays, along with her hubby.  Now, if only Miss K. would hitch a ride with them, we could have a grand time.  Of course, there is always the possibility of me driving to Talley before the holidays.  The only hitch there is ... I am afraid I would not want to return.  We will see.  Things work out.  This much I know.

Okay, signing off for now.  There's soup to slurp, stories to write and books to read!

 Until next time, be safe, be blessed, be loved!

Sleepless in Miami



Sunday, October 7, 2012

Can't sleep, too much going on, all good.  There are so many wonderful possibilities and doors opening for me, it is a bit overwhelming and so I find myself making cafe con leche and baking up croissants at 3:30 AM.  I was watching one of the Oprah shows on my DVR, her interview of Mariannne Williamson.  Quite interesting.  One of the things Marianne said was we choose whether to be happy or not, we are our own stumbling blocks, or something along those lines.  To ask yourself what do you want.  So I said "Self, what do you want?" and Self answered "I want my world back."  "Well, Self, that is just not feasible right now.  Short of time travel, you are pretty much SOL on that concept, so what are you going to do about it?"  Self can be rather bitchy at times answered "Bite me!" and blew a raspberry at me.  Is it raspberry or razzberry?  Well, you get the picture.  Speaking of pictures, when all this inner dialogue was going on, I looked at the big memory/vision board I have next to the armoire (my, I do love my armoire, it is just so me, off-white with the palest rose wash, decoupaged with Redoute roses AND Whimble doorknobs ... me) and saw your wedding portrait.  Both of you looking so radiantly happy, seeing what you thought would be a brilliant future, and I thought "That's what I want, I want you, here with me."  Only that's not going to happen, is it?  Not now, but definitely someday.  When I wake up, find myself on the other side, start walking, turn a corner and there you'll be.  But I digress, let me see if I can find my way out of this convoluted, wordy maze I have concocted.

What I want is you, my family, back together.  Here with me.  However, this is not possible, again, for now.  So, I have a choice, do I go forward and continue building a new life without you in it.  Or do I stay stuck yearning for what once was.  Afraid of truly moving forward, because it means accepting your absence and, in a way, leaving you behind.  This has formed a bumpy circle in my brain.  On the one hand, I am raring to go, create, fly, BE.  On the other hand, I feel a bit guilty that I am raring to go, because you are not here to share it with me.  And I don't want to share it with anyone else.  I want to share it with you and I feel if I really take off and fly, I will be leaving you behind.  Like I said, bumpy little circle.  I have had this conversation with myself many a time.  Sometimes more often than others.  This summer I had it a LOT.  Then serendipity stepped in.  You know what they say about serendipity, right?  It's God's way of remaining anonymous.  I pulled out the album for that lovely trip Mami and I went on, many, many years ago.  When the world was new, bright, full of possibility and wonderful adventures. When I thought I would conquer the world.  And there on the very last page was the card Mami had bought on our weekend trip to that magical, tiny slice of Heaven called Solvang, in the hills of Santa Barbara.  When I translated what it said "Wherever I am, you are there also" she said, "That's us.  That is us three."  I looked at that card, it is the very last thing in the album and I thought of that wonderful time, preserved in my memory like one perfect, clear drop of pure joy, and I realized it is time to fly, I am not leaving you behind.  You are always with me.  You are the air I breathe, the ideas I have, the joy and peace I feel when I am home in my cocoon.  You are my heart and my soul.  I could never leave you behind, it is impossible.  Because you are an integral part of me.  Because wherever I am, you are there also.

Someone at work remarked that their 11-year old daughter was starting to find herself.  She lives part of the time with her dad and part of the time with her mom.  I thought I never went through that phase of "finding myself."  I have always known who I am.  I am my father's daughter.  I am my mother's daughter.  Granddaughter of a toymaker/spinner of magnificent fairy tales and a housewife who was born to be a grandmother and made the best chicken soup.  Ever.  I never had an issue with being identified as my father's or mother's daughter.  Once at a family get-together someone came up to me and said "You are so much your father's daughter, he could never deny you."  I smiled and answered "Nor I him."  Once after my father had transitioned and I was living with my aunt she asked me "Who are you now, your mother is gone, your father is gone."  I told her, well, just because they are no longer here, doesn't mean I stop being me. They were not perfect, but they were there for each other and for me always.  Even in the middle of hell, we took comfort in each others' presence.  We walked through fire together and I am still their daughter.  I am me.

Reading Frances Schultz' recent blog posting on Yayoi Kusama, I became entranced by her Firefllies on the Water.  It took me right back to summer nights long ago and far away, the very last summer I spent with my godmother.  We would sit outside and listen to the nighttime concert of crickets, catch fireflies and my grandfather and godmother would spin fairy tales for me.  I have been obsessed with fireflies ever since, they always bring back a sense of wonder and magic for me.  Now that I have my own little nest and have been busy planting my (very miniscule) garden, I want plants that will attract fireflies, butterflies and birds.  Have this idea of sitting in my little terrace, once the weather cools off a bit more, having my morning coffee, butterflies flitting about, birdsong filling the air. I have been thinking of my godmother a lot lately, remembering and writing down my memories of her.  Often I have thought of traveling to where she died, going into the police records, investigating her death.  Someone asked me why, it was over 40 years ago, let it go.  I wonder if it was one of their loved ones, would they so easily dismiss it.  Her death was a catastrophic event which changed my family, tore it apart, my world turned upside down.  True, delving into the past will not bring her back, but maybe it would answer some questions and it would, in a way, enable me to spend a bit of time with her.  Touch history, if you will.

I came home last night to find the two little homeless cats I feed waiting for me on my porch. The boy had been gone for a while. He is painfully skinny and as I got closer I saw he has this horrible, gaping wound on his back, his fur has been ripped off.  You can see the muscles exposed.  I tried getting close to him, but he ran off.  So I put some food out for them.  This morning when I woke up and went out to water my hanging basket, there he was, meowing.  He ate two pouches of the wet food Miss Smokey snarfs at night.  Two.  Poor little thing was ravenous.  I managed to sit on the porch close to him, while he was wolfing the food down, and squeezed some antibiotic cream into the wound.  The sun was out, it was a beautiful, warm, early morning.  I watched as the warmth of the sun helped to spread the ointment, watched it sink into his exposed muscles.  He let me pat him on the head, BIG improvement!  Then he ran off a bit and just sat there looking at me, making it clear that is about as close a contact as he is going to allow.  And I thought, probably his wound was caused by a cat fight.  He is not neutered, Lord how I wish I could get him to a vet.  So I am guessing he got into a fight with another male cat.  But if his wound was caused by a human, on purpose, then my fervent prayer is that whoever caused it, suffer the same kind of hurt, of wound, only much, much deeper, to his or her very core.  I have no sympathy for those who inflict hurt on innocents.  I don't care how horrific your childhood, what abuse you suffered.  You know it's wrong and you make a choice to go ahead, you should suffer the consequences.  I am tired of people being asses and blaming it on something.  Sorry, that doesn't fly with me.

Ah, I am rambling.  It has been that kind of day, a little of this, a little of that.  A bit, actually a lot of gardening.  Some writing.  A truly splendiferous and very, very late breakfast.  Now it is clouding up a bit, the sky looks gray, as if a thunderstorm is trying to make up its mind whether to douse us or not.  Fall is slowly making its presence felt.  Slowly.  I set out my Halloween tableau, Halloween cats from Most Marvelous Magical Fabulous Fleaing Fairy GodMother, my purple witch, placed new fragrant votives in my little mercury glass Halloween votive holders, three etched with Jack O'Lanterns and one with a witch's hat etched in the middle.  I switched out the Spring/Summer wreath with its pink and fuchsia roses for my Fall one, its colors matching the new planter where my lavender resides.  I am hoping it will be  happy there.  This is my third one.  I bought two earlier when they first became available at my neighborhood Publix, they didn't make it through September.  But I am stubborn and do love the scent, so clean and fresh, so I am going for a third.  So far, so good!



I have been burning my Fresh Cut Roses candle since I got up and brewed my morning coffee.  Strangely enough, even though I slept only a few hours, I am not sleepy.  Can't believe I was up at 4:30 baking croissants, their scent still lingers mixing with coffee and the rose candle, it smells of home.  Next week out comes the big silver bowl to fill with Halloween candy (mini Snickers and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups) and I go hunting for pumpkins to carve the weekend before
Halloween.  Next month I bring out the Noel scented oil to go in the light bulb diffusers.  Already put pumpkin puree (from Libby's Libby's Libby's), brown sugar, baking soda and spices on my shopping list.  It is cocooning time.  Well, for me it is ALWAYS cocooning time, but this time of year even more so.

Yesterday, Friday, I had lunch with my boss.  My friemily will be very proud of me when I tell them that even though I had never been to that particular restaurant, Seasons 52, I did not, repeat, did NOT steal the menu.  Mainly because I was with my boss and she goes there a lot.  Don't want the serving staff going "Ah, there is that attorney with the loony assistant who stole a menu!" the next time she goes there.  My boss is a very complex person.  We met at a firm I worked at a few years ago, which got royally skewered by a bunch of nimrods and subsequently went under because of what I still believe was a vendetta, but I digress.  I like her.  Always have, always will.  The first day she walked into my department, I was the new girl on the block, they gave me her project.  Because the others did not want to work on it.  That always amazes me, but it turned out nicely for me.  We hit it off.  She was (and is) known for being persnickety and a perfectionist, I have no problem with that.  After all, it is her name on the documents.  I left the firm shortly after it changed hands and went to work for another firm, where I was quite happy and fully expected to retire from.  But ... that one ran into major problems and I was faced with finding a new job.  Enter my boss, who called one afternoon saying she had heard I was looking for a job and would I like to go interview for the position of her assistant.  I did and the rest is history.  Without a doubt, this is the most stressful job I have ever had.  Mainly because every time I think I am getting a handle on it, something new pops up, or a rule changes, or a judge decides to change whatever.  I am always worried I will miss something, muck something up, but I muddle through. The environment around me is very noisy and I have to make a conscious effort to concentrate on the job at hand and not let it distract me.  Sometimes I want to tell everybody to shut the f' up, but I bite my tongue. She has been incredibly patient.  I am good at the secretarial part of it, the legal part of it still gives me hives.  But we go along.  I have found her to be quite kind, generous, funny and fair.  She is a brilliant attorney and tolerates no guff.  From anyone.  I like that in people.  I hope we are a team for a long time.  At times I feel secure and confident.  Others the snargles return full force, biting into my happy like a hungry jackal.  I have learned to slow down and breathe when that happens.  Drink a lot of water and ride it out.  A few weeks ago they were back in full force.  I beat those f'ers back with a stick.  I am my father's and mother's daughter, I refuse to be intimidated, I will see the good, I will see the good, I will bless my circumstances, through gritted teeth if necessary.  That is from Simple Abundance.  I will remember "Wherever I am, you are there also."

Signing off for now ... Until next time, be safe, be happy, be blessed.

Ramblings on Fall, Friends and Fabulous Brownies

 

Fall kicks off my favorite time of year.  It calls to mind cozy nights at home, reading, getting together with my friemily, working on artsy projects, drawing, writing, gardening.  Stuff of bliss for me, which I do throughout the year.  But come September, they take on an added richness, sweetness, depth.  September through May, I am pretty much blissful.  Summer ... it's nice, but in my ideal world, it'd be exactly four weeks long, with Memorial Day, 4th of July, the Most Beautiful Baby Boy Ever's birthday and Labor Day all celebrated within those four weeks, then we'd be in Fall.  That'd be lovely.  Just four weeks of worrying about hurricanes and then boom, done.  Fall, fabulous Fall!!!  Cooler weather, gardening, rainy days, soup on the stove, brownies in the oven.  Croissants, mimosas for brunch on weekends.  Holidays around the corner, oh, yeah, B L I S S!

Today being the official start of Fall, I have been in a major nesting mode since I woke up.  Between bouts of writing, which tend to set off bouts of crying, I have been cleaning, washing, dusting, mopping and polishing up a storm.  Also baking brownies and making soup.  For some reason it is impossible for me to make soup for one.  I have to make soup as if I were feeding an army, or at least a very hungry large group of people.  It's a good thing that (1) I love soup and (2) one can freeze soup.  I have a well-stocked freezer.  Since I am still recuperating from a bout with the Major Mucks, this nesting mode has proceeded in phases, I clean a little, rest, wash the dishes while sitting down, drag my little fold-down chair to the bathroom and clean a bit more, rest and catch my breath, try to figure out how in heck to work the glue dispensing thingies I ordered for my new scrapbooks, write a bit, puff on my inhaler, finish cleaning the bathroom.  Get the new bed linens out, rest a bit more.  Feed the outside kits, check on the brownies.  Put fresh bed linens on the bed, reveling in that wonderful, clean scent of lavender and roses.  Curse a blue streak when Bella Bella Smokey Noella jumps on the bed before I finish making it, plunking her derriere on top of my garnet pleated silk pillows.  She yawns, showing off her pointy pearly whites, not caring a whit about my rantings about her @#$! cat hair getting all over my beautiful pillows.  She knows I have the sticky roller thingie I am obsessed with and shoots me feline dirty looks when I shoo her off the bed.  Of course, she jumps right back on again, the minute I'm out of the bedroom.  I go through the two stacks of books on my bedside table, muttering there are are entirely too many of them, but they are some of my favorites and I like seeing them there, they are like old friends waiting for me, so after a bit of rearranging, they stay.  Puttering, it's good for the soul.

 

 Tonight I will take a Falling In Love scented shower in my sparkling clean bathtub and then happily snooze in fresh sheets and pillowcases smelling of roses and lavender, the scent of brownies will hang in the air into tomorrow morning, when it will be replaced by the scent of lemon cake and freshly-made coffee.  I realized the other night while writing in my journal that what I love most about my cocoon, what I have loved the most in all of the nests I have lived in, is the peace that envelops you the minute you walk in.  In my parents' home, no matter what our financial situation was, we always found peace at home.  In the midst of hell, we knew that once we got home the world would make sense again, if only for a little while.  I was able to face dragons, because I knew eventually I'd get to go home.  The end of the day was always welcome, because it meant returning home.  I lost that peace for a long time.  I craved that peace for what seemed an eternity, while I was not living on my own.  Found it again when I moved into my cocoon.  It is this peace that comes from my deepest core and memories of home that keeps me going on difficult days.  Because I know that sucky as the day may be, it will be over with eventually and I will get to come home, to a very mouthy cat, jasmine and roses, twinkling candles and blessed, blessed peace.

                                                                                                                

Ah, I am rambling.  This was such an emotional roller coaster summer for me.  Work was hell, to put it mildly, with layoffs and uncertainty.  During one of my lowest points I decided to just put my best face forward, trowel on that happy face, take it one day at a time.  As one of my favorite parts of Simple Abundance says, bless my circumstances, through gritted teeth if necessary.  Been through weirder, more upsetting times.  Yet in the middle of this uncertainty, deep in my core I felt it would be okay, things will be as they must and they will be fine.

This feeling was further reinforced when a few weeks ago I got together with one of my best friends, her Mom and my goddaughter (her second child).  We met at her Mom's house, which is one of my all-time favorite places in the world.  I have spent many happy hours in that house, where I have always felt welcomed, loved, safe.  Drinking coffee, laughing ourselves silly and talking about any and all subjects.  One of my favorite memories is of one of those nights we all coincided in that wonderful nest, there was company visiting from out of town, the "adults" were all talking in the living room, the "kids" (us) at the dining table talking up a storm.  For some reason we got to talking about a rather risque subject, a male strip club (it was the days when Chippendale's was a new subject) and got a bit loud in the process, completely forgetting about the "grown ups" sitting just a few feet from us.  Until we realized everyone had gotten really, really quiet and we were yelling names for a club we would open and me, of course, yelling "*&^!, we'll call it *&^!!" at the top of my lungs.  For being an asthmatic, I have considerable lung power. I thought my friend's Mom's eyebrows would never fall back into place.  We slunk out, heads hanging in shame.  But a few weeks ago, when we got together I was reminded, yet again, come what may, friends, especially mine, will always be there for me.  Being with my friend, her parents, her children who I tend to think of as mine, is like being home, back when the world made sense, if only for a little while.  They are a little piece of what was once a very happy, safe, little world.  Which got pretty well smashed to smithereens and it has taken me a LONG time to realize that yeah, it got broken, but I still have them in my life, I have my memories and, dang it, I can make myself a whole new world.  You can't get stuck in the past because, no matter how happy it may have been, it's done, it's over, you have to move on.  I tend to wallow. I may look like I am moving forward, but inside I am bitching the entire time, wanting to find that magic time travel machine and go back.  Of course, were I able to do that, I would tell my young self: (1) He's never going to love you, you will never be blond enough, pretty enough or thin enough for him, you're going to make yourself miserable over someone who wouldn't give you the time of day, it is so NOT worth it, get over it, move on.  Trust me, further down the road you will meet someone who, to your utter amazement, will love you as is, make you laugh, make you nuts at times, but will make you happy.  Yes, he will eventually move to California after having a major row with you because you refuse to go with him, but you know this is the best for both of you and you will, oddly enough, remain friends.  Please, please don't tell him he reminds you of a tall version of Barney Rubble, do bake him chocolate chip cookies with walnuts, he loves those. (2) Save money, save money, save money.  (3) Life is going to majorly blow at times, but in the end, it will be good.  You are going to be blessed with some truly amazing, creative, brilliant Fairy GodMothers, who will be there for you through thick and thin.  They will inspire you to create, write, go fleaing, garden.  They will help you find joy in life once more.  One will gift you with the Most Beauteous Sleigh Bed Ever and give you healing hugs, one will introduce you into a magical world where tiny, wise beings live and go on most wondrous adventures, which you will record with her and her Companion and one will always remind you to Believe.  They will all help you "go forth and live the life you have imagined."  Even when you do not see the light at the end of the tunnel, trust me, it's there just around the corner.  Loved ones you once thought lost forever will find their way back into your life.  You are going to hold the Most Beautiful Baby Boy Ever in your arms and see his mother, who you love as your own, in his eyes.

 

You, my dear, are going to go through hell, but in the end you ARE going to be happy and, best of all, you will appreciate the joys and blessings in your life. As the President says, Forward!



Ah, I rambled again, didn't I?  What I started to say before rambling on down the road was that we had such a good time we made a pact to do this once a month, get together. The first Saturday of the month.  This time the meeting spot will be my house, we'll go to one of our favorite restaurants and then return to my nest for Cuban coffee and intelligent verbosities. Mind you, I am going to buy an espresso maker, one of those Cuban-coffee makers this week and practice, practice, practice.  I used to be pretty good at making Cuban coffee, long ago and far away, being once mad for a guy who lived on the stuff.  He always smelled so good, of cologne and freshly brewed espresso, a heady brew indeed.  Working my wiles, I decided to become a master Cuban coffee maker and used my Dad as my guinea pig.  He didn't sleep for weeks with all the coffee I had him taste!  That romance, alas, didn't work out.  We did go out once, it was funny that until we were actually on a date I didn't realize he talked incessantly ... about himself.  One fake asthma attack later I was home, in my pajamas and having cafe con leche with my parents.  Good grief, that was back in the 70s, before my rocker romance and move to L.A. That's a story for another time.

 

I have decided, come heck or high water, I am going to keep a positive attitude.  Even when I am positive the world sucks.  I will put on music and dance the blues away.  Even if that means being on mega doses of Advil for days afterwards.  Bought three beautiful scrapbooks, I am in love with them, all pink and ivory and rose-bedecked. They come already pretty much assembled, all you have to do is add photos and personalize as much as you like.  God bless Anna Griffin, love, love, love my rosy scrapbooks!

Whenever the snargles threaten, I will pull out my scrapbooks, text my friends, or read my favorite blogs, those being Rx for the Soul,  The Silver Pen, Frances Schultz and, best for last, the Whimbles. They are Silver Linings in my life, just like my friends and my Most Marvelous Magical Fabulous Fairy GodMothers, always providing inspiration, joy and beauty. I have my sights set, my ducks in a row, time to go for that brass ring, although in my case it's platinum with diamonds scattered throughout.  What can I say?  I love my twinklies.

It has been raining here all day.  I opened the blinds and watched the rain pour, it was lovely.  For a change, I was home during the storms, Silver Lining indeed.  Enough rambling for now, time to visit my beloved Whimbles, how I do love that world.


Until next time, be safe, be joyful, be loved.