No one should complain that there weren't enough warnings about Hurricane Sandy and what a huge threat she posed to the Northeast United States. I know that all the publicity about it certainly got me riled up and worried! I was more worried about my friends in NYC and Massachusetts than I was about where I lived. I expected horribly high winds, torrential downpours, flooding tides and all sorts of mayhem. My worry powers were in full force and my friends were all advising me to stop worrying so much. Really nothing unusual. I stayed home from work yesterday because my youngest daughter wasn't feeling well. She'd had the energy of a wet washcloth the day before so I didn't think it was wise to send her to school. She perked up a bit yesterday though and it was nice being home with her just like the good old days when I was a stay at home mom. My pup Jazzmin was worried about me because I was worried and my very dog expert friend told me I needed to calm down so she'd relax. Well Jazz and I had no problem relaxing on the couch for much of the afternoon enjoying quality snuggle time the likes of which we haven't had since last winter. My youngest perked up considerably and played with toys and actually ate so I knew she was feeling better. Back to the storm! The winds began picking up here in the afternoon just as predicted. I was concerned because they were northerly winds and all the advisories kept saying that tree root systems around here aren't used to northerly winds so the potential for them toppling was higher. I have several large trees in my yard, one of which is a towering pine tree right on the north side of my house. I didn't enjoy the thought of it blowing over and potentially wiping out my deck, my car or half my house. I moved my car out of its potential path just in case and hoped that the towering pine was strong enough to hold its own. The wind was a bit gusty but certainly nothing worse than I've experienced here before. The rain was off and on but nothing really concerning. The weather reports kept saying the worst was yet to come though so I was still bracing for the worst. Fortunately we'd had power all day and I was crossing my fingers that it would remain on. I was getting the girls ready for bed and then poof! Power was gone! I groaned in dismay because my youngest is afraid of the dark and it's rather tricky finding flashlights it utter darkness if you don't remember where you last laid them down. My oldest and I found the flashlights which helped us find some other battery powered lights to illuminate the darkness. I ended up going in the basement and digging out some Halloween LED light up ghosts for the girls to use as nightlights and I think I did an awesome job improvising. I only hoped the lights lasted through the night or until power was restored. I was awakened two hours later by the various beeps and whirs that accompany power being restored in my house. I was very happy it had been restored so quickly! I then stumbled around in the unexpectedly bright lights and turned everything off from earlier before returning to bed. The power remained on and when my phone alarm went off at 5am I came out in the living room and was confused by the amount of light coming in through the windows. I opened my deck door and was greeted by a glimpse of the nearly full moon glowing amid the swiftly moving clouds. I smiled at the sight of it and thanked all the powers that be that for me anyway, Hurricane Sandy turned out to be much ado about not that much.
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My father was a great man. He wasn't perfect by any means but as I say, perfect is boring and quite honestly, unattainable. What made my father great was his kind heart, caring nature, quirky sense of humor, passion for and knowledge of history, and most importantly, the love he had for his family. That love lives on even though he has departed this world and every day his spirit touches me in some way. I am a mere shadow of the person he was but I strive every day to attain such greatness. I expected last week to be tough and it certainly had its low moments but they were countered by some amazingly unexpected high moments. Life has tested me over the past couple months and given me challenges I managed to overcome even though I stumbled a bit. My faith in certain things left me but my hope for those same things remained. This past week I was shown that even though I lose faith and succumb to the darker side of shadows, faith never completely gives up on me. Hope is a very powerful force and it is intertwined with faith whether we realize it or not. There was one thing I could not give up on, despite saying I had and trying to convince myself I had. I can't explain why I didn't give up, why I couldn't let go, aside from the fact that I just didn't want to. There was perhaps a different reason, a deeper meaning behind my inability to release that last little bit of hope. Whatever the reason, a great gift was bestowed upon me last week and it proved to me that I have the most amazing best friend in the world! It also showed me that shadows are not something to be feared because they can not exist without light. So while I expected my path last week to go one way, it went a completely new way and in a lovely upward direction. I still had sad moments where the tears from missing my father flowed freely, but amid those moments the love of my friends and family shined through, lifted me up and kept me strong. I learned to smile again and I laughed without restraint and I sang loudly and off key in my car to songs that I hadn't wanted to hear anymore until that moment. My oldest daughter noted that I was going around the house singing my snippets of show tunes again and when I asked if it bothered her she said "No!" For her to say that tells me that I was lower than I realized. The 10 year old girl who had always rolled her eyes and grumbled when her mother sang "I feel pretty" was now smiling at the sound of my voice and that was yet another blessed gift. I am one person but I am made better and held together by the spirits of my family and friends. I shall never take that for granted again and I will pay heed to my father's voice in my head when he tells me "Be patient." Slow down, breathe, relax, have faith, hold hope and continue on the path and the rewards will always be surprising. My father's 68th birthday, 5/6/2009 October. It used to be my favorite month. Halloween was/is my favorite holiday because of the mystical aspects of it, not because of the scary aspects. I like black cats, flittering bats, full moons and magic. The magic of October has weakened for me though and now it is a month I just try to get through. Ever since my father died in October of 2009, I dread October. My father died on a Wednesday and for a very long time Wednesdays were horrible for me. They're still not my favorite day but I don't believe they're cursed anymore. I've had some very good things happen on Wednesdays in the past year and I try to focus on that. I always try to focus on the positive but it isn't always easy. Holidays without my father are painful. His birthday, family birthdays, Father's Day and all the big holidays have lost so much of their warmth without him. I still remember how happy he was on his last birthday when I frosted the cake in a cute if not exactly artistic way. I loved making his birthday cake because he always made mine when I was growing up. I was returning the love and thoughtfulness he always bestowed upon me. Three years. Sometimes it feels like three seconds. I'm back in that moment on that Wednesday sitting at my old kitchen table with my mother sitting across from me in tears as she tells me that they took him off life support and he passed that afternoon. I still remember that small flicker of hope within me that made me believe for just a moment that she'd tell me that he'd started breathing on his own. He hadn't. His spirit was still strong but his body had endured too much and he couldn't physically fight anymore. I understood, I did, but I still cried and it still hurt worse than having a knife twisted in my heart. My father was gone. I would've given anything to have him back. I remember hugging my father for the last time. Oh how I wish I'd hugged him tighter and longer! I told him I loved him like I always did when I left my parents' house. I couldn't imagine then that I'd never be able to hug him again in my lifetime. For several months after his passing I didn't want anyone touching me, I didn't want anyone close. I felt I'd failed him somehow and that letting anyone touch me would just bring more pain. I didn't truly have that choice though, I had two very important people that needed my touch and care every day: my daughters. Without my daughters I wouldn't have had the strength to get out of bed every day. As much as I wanted to pull the covers up over my head and wallow in sorrow and darkness, I couldn't. I was a stay at home mom and they depended on me and it wasn't within me to fail them. I am so truly blessed that I have my girls, they saved me. Losing my father brought several things to light in my life. I realized that life was too short to waste being unhappy and afraid. I no longer wished to be an unappreciated doormat for my then husband and so I sought divorce. I knew I'd need to provide for myself and my daughters so I went back to work. I wanted a place of my own without memories of a failed marriage so I started looking for a house. All rather drastic measures to take for a girl who was still trying to figure out who she was without the physical presence of her father. I felt my father's love for me and his strength within me and I still do. As desperate as I am to hug him just one more time, I know that isn't possible but I also know that he will never truly leave his little girl. I did not set out on an easy road after my father died. I did not remain safely within the sheltered cave that had become my life up until that point. I sought a brighter light and a better future and I do not regret any of it. I am happy with my life and I feel I'm doing a pretty good job. Yet I will admit that something is still missing. Though it might be easier for me to give up on love after everything I've been through, I can't. Despite the fact that every man who has hugged me since my father died has only brought me heartache, I still believe a good man exists for me. A man like my father who can love and accept me unconditionally and who can share his heart with me without qualms or fear. I have loved men but that love has never truly been returned and so I keep searching. When I connect with someone I do not entirely believe it is just coincidence. Everything happens for a reason. Every connection comes from something deeper, some kindred spirit. Each connection begins a new quest and I am ever hopeful for the future. It will happen when it is meant to and then the bigger picture will finally and completely make sense. I have faith. I got my hair cut yesterday afternoon. Usually a "hair cut" for me is about an inch off the ends but this time it was more like five inches. I felt it was past time for a change and my long hair was becoming more of a hassle than it was worth. Long hair has a tendency to get caught in coat zippers, earrings and sometimes even in car doors. I certainly don't need that kind of aggravation on a daily basis. Cutting off so much length was also symbolic for me in a way. I'd grown my hair long to prove that I could and to increase my visual appeal to the opposite sex. Visual appeal certainly has its place but I have far more inner beauty than can ever be seen by the naked eye. By cutting my tresses short I feel I've freed myself from the tangles of my past and can now move forward with a much lighter and more flowing stride. October is a rough month for me and it has certainly had its tribulations thus far but I keep chugging along. I've made it to the gym 4 out of 5 weekdays the past two weeks, I go on my one mile lunch walk whenever it isn't raining and I walk Jazz over the hills on nice evenings. I admit that I am a stress eater so my diet hasn't been perfect but I'm doing my best all things considered. I will make it through this month and life will continue to improve and I will reach my goals. My faith falters at times but it never totally fades and it eternally returns stronger than before. I am moving forward while returning to pieces of my past that I'd somehow forgotten bring me pleasure. In rediscovering past quests I am finding fresh ones and this prospect genuinely excites me. Using knowledge I've acquired in previous endeavors for new and different adventure is always a fun challenge and I welcome it! My writing and artistic prospects are also taking unique new paths and I am eager to expand my creativity in stimulating ways. Sometimes transformation comes upon you and sometimes you create it within yourself but how you embrace it and learn from it is all that truly matters. The world is full of knowledge and facts and endless information and eternal life experiences. I have a great thirst for knowledge and I love to learn new things and being a ghost writer has certainly helped feed into that. I wasn't always quite this thirsty though. I remember groaning along with everyone else when I was assigned my first research paper in high school. The idea of looking through several books and gleaning just the right facts from them did not appeal to me. Once I started though I quickly realized that I had a definite knack for it. My favorite English teacher, Derek Hulse, helped me sort out what was important information and what wasn't when it came to reviewing and grading my first research paper. The assistance and insight he gave me has been invaluable in my life and I am grateful that I was fortunate enough to be taught by him and be counted among his friends. My knack for research is a very handy thing as a ghost writer. I write about anything and everything and as I'm not omnipotent, that takes some information gathering on my part. I find a topic, read what the client wants and if it appeals to me, I accept the assignment and start writing. When I'm focused and the information is easy to find I can write a 500 word article in a half hour. If it's a topic I already know about and love it might take me 15 minutes. For an article that requires several different resources for information, the project time can be an hour or more. All assignments have a deadline far longer than I usually require and I strive to complete them as quickly and accurately as possible. As a ghost writer I've looked at and usually not accepted assignments that require 10 keywords used two to three times in a 200-300 word article. This is someone's attempt at using SEO (search engine optimization) to get their content found but there's a very large problem with this technique. Such a high density of required keywords makes an article practically unreadable. There can be very little true, important, sensible content in an article made up almost entirely of keywords. People want to read something interesting, they don't want fluff stuffed with SEO words. Perhaps these types of articles work in improving a website's ability to be found, but if the site doesn't properly explain its purpose, traffic to it will eventually diminish. There's nothing wrong with reeling people in as long as there's something worthwhile at the destination. In my endless research gathering for both professional and personal interests, I have encountered a fair share of online articles that are so filled with typos and grammatical errors I can't leave the page fast enough. I do not profess to be perfect, far from it, but I know what a readable well-written article looks like and what a keyword-stuffed, fluff article looks like. Having content on a website is obviously important but it's even more important that it be relevant and accurate. I strive to deliver well-written articles to all my clients and I don't accept a topic unless I feel I can do it justice. I've yet to have an article rejected so I must be doing something right! After my oldest brother and I moved the big heavy washer and dryer into my basement this past Saturday I didn't really have the energy to tackle my shelving project until the next day. I slept in until the nice late hour of 7am Sunday morning and then shuffled about for an hour or so trying to completely wake up. It was still overcast at 7am but Jazzmin's internal doggy watch apparently felt it was time to wake Mama up so she was at the side of my bed staring at me until I acknowledged her existence. I enjoyed my breakfast and then decided to tackle the shelving project. I opened up the box my drill came in and groaned at my stupidity for not charging the battery the day before. Curious, I pressed the trigger and was pleasantly surprised to find that the battery had come fully charged. Apparently I'm not the only DIYer out there who lacks foresight. I then gathered up all the tools necessary for the job including the shelves, brackets, supports, level, drill and 3/8" drill bit and headed into my youngest daughter's bedroom. My oldest daughter helped put up cute wall clings over my youngest's bed and I didn't really want to rearrange them because they never stick right the second time. I managed to find a spot for each bracket that did not interfere with the clings and that would provide proper support for the shelves. I set about mounting the brackets which first involved using my level to make sure they were straight and the same distance from the ceiling. I then made marks with a pencil until I somehow managed to lose that pencil in my daughter's bedroom and was forced to get another one. I also managed to misplace two screwdrivers that I didn't find again until the project was done. In the process of climbing up and down off the bed and in and out of the room to fetch things I discovered that it's not only possible, but highly likely that I will step on a bright orange and black cordless drill even though it isn't in my direct path on the floor. I stepped on the drill and the drill bit several times and I don't recommend doing so. I would've put the drill up somewhere except then I'm certain I would have managed to somehow lose it. I do believe I've mentioned before that I am not grace personified. Drilling the holes for the wall anchors was enjoyable in that using power tools always makes me feel rather rawr. My little drill didn't have as much oomph as bigger ones but it worked. Making the holes was actually the easy part, cramming the anchors in was a bit of a pain. Next time I'm choosing my own anchors because the ones that came with the brackets had to be squished down and shoved in and by the time I was done, my finger strength was about gone. Live and learn like always. When the brackets were mounted I stepped back and was pleased to see that they actually looked level and evenly spaced! I then grabbed my shelf supports...and discovered that they didn't fit the shelves. Ugh. So much for the employee at the home improvement store actually being "helpful." I was dismayed that I couldn't finish the project right then but I already had plans to meet a friend for lunch and there just happened to be another home improvement store near the restaurant. I showered the sweat off, dressed and headed to the store and sure enough, they had the right length and style of shelf supports. I returned home from lunch with my friend and quickly finished the shelving project. I then began artfully arranging my daughter's plethora of toys and stuffed animals on the shelves. I made her favorite toys easily accessible and put the ones she probably forgot she owned on the higher shelf knowing I could always get them down if she wanted. I then made her bed with fresh sheets and comforter and tidied a bit more and stepped back to admire my work. I was certain she'd be pleased with the results and I was indeed quite proud of myself. There had been a couple minor snafus but nothing I couldn't handle. When I brought my daughters home later that day I suggested that my youngest check out her room and she eagerly stripped off her coat (throwing it on the floor) and ran into her bedroom. My oldest was on her heels and I smiled when they both expressed how surprised and pleased they were with the shelves. My youngest immediately began doing stuffed animal roll call and was soon happily playing on her bed. I sat on the bed with her while my oldest went to do more "mature" 10 year old girl things and we all had a lovely rest of the day. This single white female can do it herself and the rewards are well worth it! Me & my new B&D drill My youngest daughter loves her stuffed animals and toys. She loves them so much that she insists on taking several to bed with her. After several weeks of this, her bed always becomes rather cluttered but as she has the smallest bedroom and storage space is limited in my 900 square foot house, I had to figure out a workable solution. I am rather fond of home design and remodel shows and on such shows they often tout the importance of using vertical space, i.e. installing shelves on walls. This sounded like a good idea indeed and so I set about implementing it. I grew up with two older brothers and was married forever so if a house project needed doing, there was always a man to do it. Now that I have my own house and am happily divorced (yes, I said happily, not a typo), it's all up to me to do house projects. While it's true I could have asked my oldest brother to help me with the task, he had already said he'd help me move my friend's slightly used but working washer and dryer into my basement. I figured him doing me that favor was enough to satisfy brotherly love and loyalty for a while. I didn't want to push my luck. Shelving project in mind, I headed to a big box home improvement store Friday evening after work. The shelves to support a collection of stuffed animals and toys didn't need to be anything heavy duty so I started perusing the selection of those white painted wire shelves used for closet organization. There was a package of two four-foot shelves and the price was right so I placed them in my cart. I then picked out the brackets I needed and started looking for the shelf supports. None of the supports in the aisle looked right and my confused expression eventually drew the attention of an employee. He helped me find what he thought would work and I added the supports to my cart. I know from watching and helping with several home improvement projects that shelves need to be securely mounted to the wall to ensure safety and longevity. The brackets for the shelves included anchors and screws and as I know you can never find a wall stud when you need one, I was certain I'd have to use anchors. Installing anchors requires drilling holes. I didn't own a drill so off to the power tool section I went. Now I am certainly not trying to sound sexist here, but it is very rare thing indeed to see a woman among the power tools unless it's the holidays and she's shopping for her man. There were a handful of men in the power tools section thoughtfully pouring over the selection of drills and bits and sanders, etc. and then there was me. I glanced at the cordless drills and saw a small Black & Decker one that appealed to me but as the boxes for them were in a different aisle, I decided I'd move down and pick out some drill and screwdriver bits first. Thankfully the shelf brackets said exactly what size drill bit was required for the included anchors and I found that in a set of 29 drill bits that was on sale. I could have just purchased the 3/8 inch drill bit that was needed for the job but I'd learned from observation that there always seems to be a need for a decent sized collection of bits. As I'm certain I'll have more home improvement projects down the road, I made the most economical and sensible choice. I also grabbed a small package of double ended screwdriver bits and then went to the aisle with the cordless drills in boxes. The one I'd see on display wasn't in stock so I grabbed the next size up for only slightly more money. I now felt that I was properly "armed" for my shelving project and made my purchases. This may sound funny, but buying tools always gives me this cool sense of power and empowerment. I am a single woman and I own my home so it just makes sense that I should be able to take care of whatever needs to be done. I admit that I have no desire to ever attempt to repair my vehicles and prefer to pay qualified mechanics to do so, but my house is different. It's a lot of work to maintain a home in the country, especially one on 1.4 acres but I always manage and I'm constantly learning. With each new task I accomplish, I gain more pride in my home and in myself and such qualities are not a bad thing to possess. How did installing the shelving go? Well, that's a story for another day... Traverse the Sky - 10/3/12 Even though my Canon PowerShot is a vast improvement over my old Sanyo digital camera, it still can't capture the true depth of my paintings. Not all of my paintings have texture but those that do are best appreciated by curious fingertips running over the unique ridges and valleys of the acrylic medium. Perhaps it simply isn't possible to take a photo of any of my paintings that begs the onlooker "touch me." I have been trying for many years to take good pictures of my paintings and certainly some of them are more photogenic than others. If I've used metallic paint in the creation it will reflect the flash and wash out the detail of my brush strokes. Not using the flash though makes the picture appear darker than it is and doesn't capture the colors and layers of paint. Taking my paintings out on my deck to photograph them in the sunlight definitely helps. I'm forever crouching down at weird angles or tilting the camera funky to get the painting in the view screen straight so I don't have to crop it later and lose the details around the edges. I only have a few photos where the entire painting is actually in the shot, most of them have been cropped because the photo came out more skewed than I thought. It feels like an endless and frustrating quest when all I truly seek to do is share my art with the world. Photographs of beautiful places can compel and invite people to visit a particular destination or perhaps seek out similar beauty where they live. A photograph of somewhere real probably has more pull than a photo of a two dimensional painting. Yet if that painting is one of many great works on display in some amazing art museum it can in a way be a destination. My house is far from a museum but it is definitely a gallery. Nearly everything hanging on my walls is a painting I created. Some of those paintings are framed but most of them aren't and even the framed ones aren't behind glass. As I said earlier, my paintings need to be touched to be truly appreciated. Glass casts reflections and hinders the view of my paintings and so I have a stack of frame glass tucked next to my dresser in my bedroom. Maybe someday I'll paint upon that glass and see what I can create that way. In the meantime canvas and watercolor paper are my surfaces of choice and I will continue to use them to express the artist that lives forever within me. Sunrise over 4th Lake in the Adirondacks I read an interesting (and short) book the other day by a woman who said she had to reinvent herself several times over a three year period. She didn't do it to please someone else, she did it to better herself and I really liked that message. In the past I have reinvented myself to please men but I discovered that doing so is a very bad idea. I am me and I am out to create a new and better incarnation of me, for me and me alone. Improving myself in positive ways will have a positive affect on everyone around me. I still believe that when you put good out there, it comes back tenfold. In the spirit of reinvention I have added a few new pages to my site to highlight what is truly important to me and what I'm passionate about. I will be revealing more insight into the creative process behind my artwork, exposing more of what inspires me and bringing people along as I become a healthier version of me. I will also be doing something I've never done before: linking to other blogs and articles that I've enjoyed. As a writer, I know how wonderful it is to have my words acknowledged and so I shall be giving credit where credit is due. For whatever reasons, I have more successful interactions online than I do offline but I am certain such contact will eventually carry into the "real world." I welcome all comments on my blogs, pages, pictures, etc and if you have something you would like me to write about, have questions for more or just saw something you think is cool, let me know. As a ghost writer I have become a temporary expert on all sorts of subjects and I have an endless thirst for knowledge. There is so much more to this world than most people see and more to me than even I knew. Today is the first day of October and autumn started several days ago. Autumn is my favorite season as the leaves on the trees turn vibrant shades of red, orange, yellow and purple. There is an abundance of purple leaves this year and I saw the first hints of it during my trip to the Adirondack Mountains this past August. I'm sure it has something to do with the peculiar weather conditions we've had and I am enjoying the unique violet hue among the trees. As much as I love the fall, October has been a challenging month for me for the past three years. My father passed on October 21st, 2009 and ever since then the entire month has a different feel. I have vowed to make October a strong and productive month for me though. I do not believe there is any set time that is appropriate for mourning the loss of a loved one. When someone precious to your heart leaves this world, dealing with that and accepting their absence is a long and perhaps never ending process. The pain is certainly less than it was three years ago but it's still there. I went to some bereavement support groups in the months following my father's death and there were people who lost loved ones over 10 years ago but they still teared up when talking about their grief. It takes as long as it takes and everyone heals at their own pace. My father's spirit is still with me and he looks out for me as best he can but I believe I am finally getting the hang of flying with these wings I started spreading years ago. My father had health issues before he died and he had suffered several strokes but his passing was still sudden and from something we never expected. After his first stroke he was rehabbed to almost 90% and his strength and determination was truly inspiring. His health issues scared me and kicked my butt into taking charge of my own health. I changed my diet and began seriously working out and lost 50 pounds in six months pretty much on my own. By the time I had my second daughter I was in much better shape than I'd been with my first daughter. It was also a bit easier to get back in shape after I had my youngest but I'm certainly not one of those celebrities that snaps back into perfect shape when their baby is two weeks old. I am and will always be a work in progress and I think we all are. There's no fun in being "done" and it's up to us to continue challenging ourselves to become better than we are today. I admit that in the hotter summer months I'm not exactly fond of working out so the cooler months of spring and autumn are when I really hit my stride. In order to get back on the exercise "wagon" I have started going to the gym four days a week before work. I only have about 20 minutes to work out by the time I get the girls on the bus and get there but I make the most of it. As long as I've got some up tempo music playing on my phone MP3 player I'm all good. I also take daily lunch walks of at least a mile when it isn't raining and walk Jazzmin on evenings I don't have the girls and the weather cooperates. Jazz and I did a lot of walking in the snow and rain this past winter and spring so I'm sure we'll get back into that soon. Nothing fazes that pup and when I say "Walk?" she runs to the door in eager anticipation. She's a great little motivator and I think she'd walk for 100 miles if I had it in me to go that far. If she ever manages to trip me and get off the leash I have no doubt she'd walk that far alone... Along with getting back in "fighting shape" physically I'm also going to re-awaken my creativity and start painting again. Painting is my favorite way of expressing what I'm feeling and my creations can always be translated in so many different ways. I have a handful of blank canvases just yearning to be caressed by a brush. I also do smaller works on watercolor paper because I like how versatile acrylic paint is on it when I add water. Water is essential in all of my paintings; it is how I blend my colors together in a background. Water is essential to life as is change. Life is always changing and flowing and diverging down paths we never anticipated. I shall keep my head and hopes up, maintain my steady pace and be vibrant, but I shall not fall. |
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