Nothing but blue skies . . .

I drove down to Bellmawr today, to share a lesson with BW and his mother.  I haven't seen them or Sergunchik in months, but I had a lighter-than-usual schedule this Monday, and saw my chance.  (Also, BW called yesterday and suggested we do another showcase, and I couldn't resist!)

Driving down, I was fascinated by the sky.  At one point, golden light poured through a break in some clouds high up, and the rays of light fanned out, streaking the clouds below with pale yellow and pink.  It looked rather as though an artist had taken a brush and gently smudged the edges of the rays of light passing in front of the clouds.  

When I was driving home, ribbons of tiny birds flew past over head, in undulating waves.  There must have been hundreds of them, all talking excitedly at once as they flew up and down, around and through, gradually making their way who knows where.

The sky itself was such a beautiful color - a bright sky blue at the top, gradually becoming creamier and creamier until it became the palest of hues toward the horizon.

The drive to and from was so pleasant, in fact, it felt more like an hour than like the nearly three hours the clock stubbornly insisted the round trip had actually lasted.

The universe is speaking to me, but what is it saying?

New Year's Eve, 2011.  Dinner with PAH at one of our favorite Chinese restaurants.  And just, I mean just, as we stand up to leave after a lively two-hour conversation, a couple walks in.  It is my friend since second or third grade, Deb T, and her husband of several decades.  I haven't seen Deb in several years; I think five or six.  As I hugged her, I said, "The Universe is definitely talking to us," and she agreed.  I will call her this coming week.  PAH agreed about the universe thing; he's been planning to ask her and her husband over with Jan, me (and now my guy as well) for some time.  The meeting was just too fortuitou and symbolic to be ignored.  (It is actually sort of like "out with the old, in with the old" - friend, that is . . .)

So far, the Universe seems to be speaking pretty clearly.  But that wasn't enough for me.  Driving home, I started to think wistfully about my guy, and then about brooks.  Why not, I thought (ignoring all the obvious answers to that question),  why not drive over to a vantage point overlooking Harry's Brook at midnight to see in the New Year at one of my favorite places?  And then, as I continued to drive, I refined the thought.  Why not drive over to Carnegie Lake right now, since I would undoubtedly fink out on going out again at midnight?  And then I thought of my mother, and my mother's house so close to Carnegie Lake, and decided to drive there instead of the stretch along the Princeton-Kingston Road, where there is a parking lot and easy access. 

Well, I drove to my mother's place, and drove all the way around the road going past Carnegie Lake until I found a spot to park.  It was amazingly dark, and I was wearing high heels.  Actually, as I tottered over the wet, grassy expanse toward the lake, several times I wasn't wearing high heels: they became stuck in the mire and I had to take them off to extricate them and then put them back on again.  It didn't take too many times until I was thinking that this had not been a spectacularly good idea of mine, but I was reluctant to turn back.  I proceeded very cautiously, not wanting to fall in a relatively remote spot.  Finally, I made it to the lake's edge.  I could hear the brook off to the right, and the occasional hum of a car driving across the Harrison St. bridge.  Off to the right, the lights of the cars on the Washington Rd. bridge shone on the lake below.  I could hear geese and ducks somewhere nearby . . .  And then I saw a shadowy form gliding on the water nearby.  "Ah, a duck!:  I thought.  "How nice!  How picturesque!  How -"  A really loud splash, that sounded more like a harsh thump startled me, and I mean really, really startled me, because it was quite loud.  Suddenly, no more duck.  "Well," I thought, "he's gone under catching a fish."  But I still felt creeped out, and thought it must have been a mighty big fish.  I peered into the darkness, trying to make out the surface of the water.  A large circle of ripples was spreading out.  Then I saw the form re-emerge.  At once I had the unwelcome thought, "Wait a minute.  I don't think that's a duck.  It doesn't really look like a duck ---- and ducks bob down and up again, they don't swim under water."  (I know, I know, I should have become a marine biologist with my exceptional perception and insight.)  The hideous possibility sprang unbidden to mind - it was a water rat.  A large water rat.  A really really - well, you get the idea - and it was swimming towards me. As it drew too close for comfort, I took out my keys and shook them, to startle the unwelcome critter and let it know it wasn't alone.  A loud thump, and it disappeared under the water.  I turned and walked determinedly back to the road.  I would have run, but I couldn't.  I felt rather disheartened.  What did it all mean?  What was the universe trying to tell me there?  It didn't seem like a very friendly message, somehow.  I detoured a few feet to peer over the stone wall at the brook where Deb and I played as children, and then hightailed it to my car and home.

So, Universe, I believe I got your first message loud and clear, but I'm not so sure about the second one.  Do me a favor though, please don't repeat it.  I'd rather find out myself as the year progresses.  Maybe it will turn out that water rats are sadly misunderstood, very loving, sweet creatures.  I can but hope.

Happy New Year to all, and to all, a good night.

Happy New Year!

Well, it's official - it is January 1, 2012.  Where was I a year ago?  I think I was pretty happy, happier than I had been in years, as a matter of fact: exploring woods and brooks, preparing for a ballroom showcase with rediscovered friends, doing artwork, hanging out with my cats and my buds.  I certainly had no idea last January 1st that in six weeks the consequences of one simple decision would begin to transform my life.  What lies in store this year?  I am better off not knowing; we all are.  Any happiness we might feel about a positive development we foresee inevitably will be blemished by the knowledge of a difficult event following close on its heels.  For myself, I will be satisfied if I continue to grow as a person and grow in faith, understanding, and dedication.  But willy-nilly, I will have to be satisfied no matter what.  Man proposes, G-d disposes, and He knows best.

Happy New Year's, or Happy New Year?

I spoke to a dear friend of mine on the phone today.  She is away from home, up North somewhere, due to circumstances beyond her control.  The subject of New Year's Eve celebrations inexorably came up.  I look forward to New Year's Eve and Valentine's Day with greatly modulated enthusiasm, even when I am dating someone, but especially when I am not.  (I admit, one of my baser thoughts when I am dating someone and it seems to be going well is "Oh goody!  I have a date for New Year's Eve!")  There is something about the pressure to go out and have a hysterically good time that defeats me before I even begin.  However this year is perhaps more debilitating than years past because I am dating someone wonderful - who is going to be in Florida for New Year's.  In case you haven't guessed, I won't be. 

I started feeling a tad desolate about it, until I had a revelation.  Now, my revelations are not newsworthy.  They are more along the lines of things other people have known practically since birth, so don't get your hopes up. You are not about to learn the meaning of life.  (This always makes me think of Jeannette McDonald in "Naughty Marietta," singing "Ah, sweet mystery of life at last I've found you . . ." to a palpably uncomfortable Nelson Eddy as he is taken away by the authorities, presumably to his death.  The mystery of life is love, in case you hadn't caught on.)

Anyhow, back to my revelation.  It isn't New Year's Eve, the holiday, that matters - it is the New Year itself that matters, all 365+ days of it, and there I have much to celebrate.  I have a great guy, I have great friends, I have a tiny but close family, I have a decrepitating but conveniently located house in Princeton, I have interests, and I have the two most lovable cats in the universe, even if they do need insulin shots every 12 hours so I can never go anywhere, and in addition, ineffable joy and fulfillment await me as the year ripens.  So perhaps my New Year's Eve won't make the Style section of the New York Times, but thank G-d, my New Year should be filled with blessings, admittedly accompanied by  the inevitable slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Whew! A lot of downer posts lately . . .

I found this vintage post card, on which the sender wrote, with modest wit, "I've been having my ups and downs."

I guess that could apply to me, looking back over the last several posts.  You'd never know how many wonderful, happy days I have had, how much enjoyment, how much pleasure, how much downright fun, probably because I'm too busy those days to write, and also because I am not including details about my life for the sake of privacy, and happiness is sappier conveyed without particulars.

Was it Tolstoy who wrote something along the lines of all happy families are the same, but unhappy families are unhappy in their own distinctive ways?  My ways of being unhappy aren't that distinctive:  a lot of concern about the physical condition of my house, finding the time and the right people at the right price to fix things, and dealing with work people effectively are right up there.

But in the big picture, the manayama rather than the hinayama point of view (I still remember my art history from decades and decades ago), my cup runneth over - coysee revaiyah.

I've quoted "music hath charms to soothe the savage breast" before, but for me, writing down the miserable, small, petty feelings I have when I am down can be quite cathartic as well.  Most of the time I remove the post, often I take out any specifics, and rarely, and usually inadvisedly, I leave it up.  So if the taste of my blog has been a bit bitter lately, please know that in real life, there is plenty of honey to sweeten my days (and nights).  And I'll try to stop kvetching!

Hanging in there

Collage memories; collage kvetches

I found this collage from the past yesterday by chance.  It is pretty - not brilliant, not innovative, not great art (those two words should be uttered with a breathless awe) - but pretty, so I thought I would post it.

I haven't been doing much collage lately.  I haven't been doing much of anything except what has become the usual, which is why I am particularly off my game today.

I defnintely want to make more things, create more cards, get my stuff out there -sound familiar?

Well, I'm tired and disheartened.  On top of everything else, my little bunny rabbit cat Tortellini isn't well.  Just got back from the vet, who couldn't really find anything, but Tortel definitely isn't right.

Life, life.  Right now I wish I could curl up under my bed and not wake up for a couple of weeks (assuming Orange Boy and Tortellini would curl up with me and have their food, water, and litter taken care of by a Fairy Feline Mother).

I have to do more to follow the sage advice of the Bratzlaver (Breslauer) Rebbe:  Do all manner of things to make yourself joyful.  I just need some time to figure out what they may be, and I'm so busy every night with Chir's things that I never have enough time to recharge my energy and get in touch with what I would like!  (And usually, whatever comes up that I would like to do falls on a night where I feel I MUST do the set thing.)  Kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.  Let me close by thanking G-d for all his mercies.  I may have concerns, but I am blessed, and conscious of that fact.