the t-shirt with me on it

At today's doubleheader, I wore my hair in a single ponytail.
And I wore the Savannah Sand Gnats' T-shirt that features me.
That's right - me.
Perhaps a close-up will help.

Can you see me now?
Let me help. First, look just above the "19" in the "Est. 1903" line below the picture. See the little boy standing in the aisle? Okay, look directly to his left. See the woman in the purple top, the one who looks like she is sitting right behind the pole?
That's me.
I wish I could tell you when that photograph on the T-shirt was taken. I recall the guy setting up the camera to take shots of the field. I recall that little boy coming down the aisle and standing by me. Then, the next thing I know, this T-shirt appears as a giveaway one night, to the first thousand fans, and I got one. As I looked at it, I realized I was looking at myself.
Just so you know, that is pretty awesome, to realize that someone captured you in a moment in time when you were relaxed and enjoying yourself. Truly, it is such an awesome gift for an anonymous stranger to have given to me.
Now, I document it here.
The shirt is at least ten years old. Actually, I'm fairly certain it was part of the "100 Years of Savannah Baseball at Grayson Stadium" celebration in 2003. So, it's eleven years old and fading with each wash and dry cycle.
I've tried to wear it sparingly in the past, to extend the life of the artwork. How silly, to deprive myself of wearing an article of clothing that brings me joy and good memories!
I intend to wear. it. out.
Just like Mister Willie does.

don't blame the bunny

me: Did you ask for this cold weather? I know that i most certainly did NOT.
1st niece: Absolutely not! Maybe it was Santa.
me: Well, he must have dementia. Not even close to December!
1st niece: maybe it wasn't him... Who could it be?
me: Easter bunny? His fur IS white - i think.
1st niece: Jason suggested that it might have been Jack Frost.
me: That trickster is quite likely.
1st niece: It seems he would have gotten cold feet.
me: :-)

Just passing time in the middle of the afternoon...

chasing a shattered asteroid, catching sun

Early this morning, around 5:40 AM or so, I rose to take my anti-hypothyroid pill. Actually, I rose to relieve my bladder, but then to take the little lavendar pill with its required cup of water.
When I saw the time, I checked the view outside: no meteor shower met my gaze.
I returned to bed.
I did not return to sleep.
Come on, you know you need to go outside to really look.
It's cold out there and looked cloudy.
No, I definitely saw some stars. You need to look for Orion's belt, then to red Betelgeuse, then stay on that line northward to Gemini. That's where the shower is to be.
I only saw a few stars.
And it's too chilly.
And it's too early in the day.
Or maybe it's too late at night.
I think it was to become invisible again by dawn.
It isn't dawn yet. It's still dark out. You need to go look.
Come on. How often you do get the chance to see meteor showers?
Go look.
You know you want to. It's the Geminid shower. You must.
I must?

So, I did. I dressed warmly, threw on my shawl, and headed out.
I was rather surprised that the night air wasn't cold.
Chilly, sure. But not cold.
That was a good omen.
I walked around, looking up, scanning the dark sky for the cluster known as Orion's belt.
I found the Big Dipper.
It was huge, too, spanning an enormous expanse of dark velvet, as it did in Okinawa.
I walked around toward the ocean, toward an area I knew would not have much light pollution, scanning the sky.
Still no bits of shattered asteroid known as 3200 Phaethon.
Maybe I'll have better luck tonight, I thought.

And as I was gazing toward the star-sprinkled dark above the ever-singing Atlantic Ocean, I paused.
Was that the Milky Way sprawled up there???
No... I think it's just an odd cloud formation... I think.
Look at the wind whipping the air around under that lamp! Wow!

Then I wandered around, enjoying the wind and the solitude. I kept trying to take a photo of the possible Milky Way stretched overhead, but the little camera on my six-year-old phone could not detect anything.
Then I noticed an odd fringe in the sky. What was that?
And the barest glow emanated just south of where I stood on the beach.
Well, why not? I thought.
That must be the start of the sunrise and I very rarely see those.
Why don't I do my own time-lapse photography, using my trusty phone, and see how long it takes for the sun to rise?
And so I did, snapping a new photo, in roughly the same place, every three to four minutes.
The first one in the series was shot at 6:26 AM. The last photo was taken at 6:58 AM.
No alterations have been made.
This was a fun experiment and certainly made it more fun for me to be up so early.
Now - YAWWWWNN - I'm going back to bed to await a more seemly hour.

... and YOU are the Grand Winner!

Imagine that you had won the following PRIZE in a contest:

Each morning your bank would deposit $86,400.00 in your private account for your use. However, this prize has rules.

The set of rules:
1. Everything that you didn't spend during each day would be taken away from you.
2. You may not simply transfer money into some other account.
3. You may only spend it.
4. Each morning upon awakening, the bank opens your account with another $86,400.00 for that day.
5. The bank can end the game without warning; at any time it can say, “ Game Over!" It can close the account and you will not receive a new one.
What would you do?
You would buy anything and everything you wanted, right?
Not only for yourself, but for all of the people you love. Even for people you don't know, because you couldn't possibly spend it all on yourself, right?

You would try to spend every cent, and use it all, right?

ACTUALLY This GAME is REAL!

Shocked?? YES!!

Each of us is already a winner of this PRIZE. We just can't seem to see it.
This PRIZE is *TIME* !!

1. Each morning we awaken to receive 86,400 seconds as a gift of life,
2. And when we go to sleep at night, any remaining time is NOT credited to us.
3. What we haven't lived up that day is forever lost.
4. Yesterday is forever gone.
5. Each morning the account is refilled, but the bank can dissolve your account at any time without warning...

So, what will you do with your 86,400 seconds?

Those seconds are worth so much more than the same amount in dollars.
Think about that, and always think of this:

Enjoy every second of your life, because time races by so much quicker than you think.

Take care of yourself, be happy, love deeply, and enjoy life!

Here's wishing you a wonderful and beautiful day.

Start spending...

********************************************************
This was shared with me today by my friend, author of MAGGIE: A SAVANNAH DOG.
I have no idea who wrote the above piece about time.

if not for a nail

To think I almost missed it tonight.
If not for the folks at the Congress Street Social Club, there might not have been a coupon.
If not for the Sand Gnats, I might not have had the coupon for the free appetizer.
If not for the coupon's looming expiration date, I might not have decided to use it.
If not for the SCAD Cinema Circle bringing one of my favorite films last night to the Trustees Theatre, I might not have been downtown.
If not for my long-time infatuation with Harrison Ford, I might not have gone to the film at the Trustees Theatre.
If not for my general ennui yesterday, I might have been downtown earlier to redeem the coupon prior to the film.
If I had been downtown earlier, I might have missed running into an ex-Chili Pepper and current PFS fan.
If not for him having a gig that evening at the Social Club, he might not have been there.
If not for him eating dinner there near the door as I walked in, I might not have seen him.
If not for our mutual friendship with the peace Guy, he might not have spoken to me.
If not for our mutual friendship with the PFS guy, he might not have mentioned the special screening scheduled for tonight at the Sentient Bean.
If not for my long-time infatuation with Paul Newman, I might not have been interested enough to go there tonight.
If not for Wash Plus closing early tonight, I might have been washing clothes too late for me to go to the PFS film.
If not for the PFS guy not being the best at getting the word out, the site might have been too crowded for me to find a seat.
If not for the special blue PFS passes given to me by the other Joe, I might not have had the cash needed for the ticket tonight.
If not for me giving a giant movie poster to the other Joe, he might not have given me the special blue PFS passes.
If not for the fundraiser at the Lucas Theatre, I might not have had the giant movie poster.
If not for my love of the title song of "Singin' in the Rain", I might not have been at the Lucas Theatre and run into the other Joe.
If not for my love of the indomitable JinHi, I might not have been such a generous supporter of the fundraiser.
If I had not lost all of my bids at the silent auctions of the fundriaser, the theatre might not have decided to reward me by giving me the giant movie poster of that night's film.
If the other Joe had not been a kind soul and new to town and a fan of that film and of movie art, he might not have agreed to take the giant movie poster (for which I have no available wall).
Whew!
If not for that string of events occuring in just the right order, I would not have been where I needed to be tonight.
And I would have missed the 1972 film, produced and directed by Paul Newman, adapted from a play titled, "The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds".
The film I had never seen, but I had read the book, oh so many years ago.
The story is even referenced by Leonard to Penny on the award-winning television show about physicists, "The Big Bang Theory".
A film about nuclear radiation and Cobalt-60 and gamma rays.
On a night when I've been writing a test for my students to take tomorrow night, a test about those very things.

Life is strange and beautiful, just like those mutated flowers.

fencing, u say?

I miss the peace Guy.
Sure, he comes to town about once a month and stays with me, so I get to see him when a lot of folks don't.
That's very nice and lets me know I am special to him.
But I miss talking with him every night.
Now, we have texting, though not every day.
It's not nearly as satisfying, but we do have some good talks.
Here's one from three days ago. Keep in mind that the day before all of this is when he found he had been given his desired work shift for the next few months: 10 AM to 6:30 PM, Monday through Friday, with weekends off. This is the first time he's had evenings and weekends off for several years.

me: I am sure that when u wrote [on fb] 'men in ATL suck' u meant 'men in ATL bars suck'. which means, as always, u r in the wrong place, dear.
me: Men in bars r looking 4 sex. Period. U need other social outlets. Srsly. U have lots of time to find Mr. Right. U r going to b in ATL for a while.
me: Slow down, you're moving too fast, got to make the moment last... and meanwhile, u have Rocky Palmer and and his 5 talented dancing fellows to ease ur tension.

him: Feeling groovy today. But not having any luck online, either.

me: U need real people, not cyber dudes.
me: Glad u got the song reference!
me: No queer quaker group? srsly, there should be.
me: Got class @ 6. u get Creative Loafing, check out some group activities. please?
me: U may even take up fencing! :-)

him: Fencing? You've got 2 b kidding. Do i look like erroll flynn 2 u? Lol

me: Well... U would have to lose the chin hair! hahaha!

after class...
me: I am so glad you will soon have 'normal' working hours! u will be able to hang out with people who r not energy vampires.
me: I think when u start getting off @ 6, u will have plenty of time to wind down. that will be great!
me: Plus, u will be tired. Fencing is hard work!

off key

Last night, I did karaoke at a friend's housewarming party. I sang a tune that has become part of my repertoire at the American Legion, as it is always greeted with enthusiasm by the predominantly country music crowd. I'm known as the "Rock Star" by the KJ there, and I suspect the others regard me as such also.
AnyWHO, others were singing at my chef friend's gathering, and I was even singing along on "Seven Bridges Road". So, as others were requesting that the host pull up songs for them to sing, I did, too. You know, being part of the crowd, participating, right? I had wanted to share a fun song with them, so I requested "Squeeze Box", a song right in keeping with the double entendre tunes of the evening... and, oddly, no one but the host seemed to know it. So they didn't get it. And justthatfast, I realized: I was no longer part of this group. I had thought I was, but I was definitely mistaken. I might still have a link to the host, and maybe to Cassadi's mom, but that was it.
Once upon a time, I was seeing these folks once a week, sometimes more often. Then a friend died and we still tried to hang together, but it wasn't the same. The linchpin which had held me to this group had fallen away, and, as will happen, I drifted. The others were firmly linked and held fast.
Sure, in the three years since our friend's death, I've invited them to events in my new circles and I have occasionally traveled in their circles and been there to share some special events. The little girl's birthdays. A few dinners with the girl's mom. The chef's graduation. The odd karaoke night out at a local corral.
I'm not sure how I ended up on the chef's guest list for tonight. I'm not sure how I even ended up going. No, wait, I take that back. I went because I hadn't seen him since his graduation and I am only too aware of how quickly someone can leave this world for another too far distant.
I did not want this opportunity to be lost.
So I went, bearing gifts to please the palate and the ear: panforte margherita from Italy and tales of creating Italian cuisine for a lunch and a dinner in Siena. I also brought ajvar, a versatile roasted pepper concoction from a kickstarter chef.
I'll be curious to see what he fashions using that! Maybe I'll even merit a taste of any new creation... maybe?
Earlier, I had briefly attended the Bastille Day party of some other friends. I had lost track of them - rather, they had lost track of me - since the divorce. We had all met through the trivia evenings my ex had hosted fifteen years ago at Fink's Deli, an eatery long gone from Liberty and replaced by a pizza chain. So, maybe you could say they were more his friends than mine for the first year or so, but surely not any later than that.
After our marriage ended, I still was part of the group. Birthday parties and baptisms for the children. Pool parties of all types, whether saltwater or the regular every-other-Tuesday session with cue sticks and colorful balls. Barbeques and holiday gatherings.
Then, that was over. A misunderstanding about my presence at the Tuesday pool nights, "drinking beer with other women's husbands", led to a horrific rift. Apparently, they forgot who I was and thought I had become someone else. Not the guys. They knew I was the same person I had ever been, just "one of the boys", so to speak. But one of their wives forgot and false accusations were made. In an attempt to salvage some shred of a relationship with this woman and her family, I allowed myself to be banished from billiards. And, even though some made an effort to continue a friendship with me, all of the children played together and I, of course, had no children to be invited to parties.
Last year, that started to change a little. A birthday party for the son at a state park. News of the daughter's winning essay on being fearless. An invite to the post-production play for Operation Rescue at the church. And you better believe I went every time I was invited.
The Bastille Day party invite went out Friday evening and I didn't read it until yester morn... but I worked it into my schedule for the day. You better believe that! This had been one of the summer events I had loved, hanging out with the friends and their growing children, playing in the pool and the yard, waiting for the burgers and dogs to come off the grill. Oh, yes!
I was greeted as if I had never left their company. How wonderful! The dog even seemed to remember who I was, though I am sure it has been at least two years since I was there. The world traveler shared her pictures of Denmark, as well as the tales and food she had brought back. She also had frozen whiskey sours for all - very nice. I wish I could have stayed longer, but I already had the chef's party on my agenda.
Still, life is looking brighter for the renewal of those friendships. I will hope for constructing a new harmony with the world traveler and her family. I'm not sure whether the others may lend their voices; perhaps so.
After leaving the chef's condo, I felt the urge to go somewhere, somewhere... but where? The beach? The marshmallow roasting? The new square over the parking garage? I decided on karaoke, as I was sure I would know at least one person there: the zombie friend. He's the KJ at the "Best Karaoke" joint in town, as well as being a longtime friend. So, off I went, planning to maybe do a few tunes and find my voice.
But I never did sing. Rather, I never did sing on the stage. I had a pocket full of songs I like, I had others on my phone, but I found myself preferring to enjoy the mini-concerts of others. One I sang along with a couple of fellows nearby, all of us belting out "Build Me Up, Buttercup" and hamming it up. For some other tunes, I sang along and noted them for the Rock Star audience. Amazingly, some songs I didn't even know, like "Ol' Red". Now, that's a country song I might do one day!
All in all, a nice night in the company of zombie and others.
Maybe I'll go again tonight and actually sing... Hopefully, in key.

odds

I seem to be at odds today. I'm pretty sure it's because my schedule has been thrown out of whack from yesterday's day off.
Heck, for that matter, Wednesday was pretty much a wash for me, too. I had felt like it was Friday all day; even though I didn't have to go to work that day, I had gone briefly, then I kept my usual afternoon schedule for a Wednesday. But, no, not quite. I did have a dental appointment that afternoon, which made it Friday-ish again.
I need to have a schedule, during the daylight hours especially, to help me run on an even keel. Holidays tend to upset that schedule by encouraging me to alter my body clock, sleeping in later, staying up later. Today COULD have been a Sunday, but the only news program I watch (CBS Sunday Morning) was not on to begin my day. Ergo, this was NOT Sunday. Nor was it a Saturday, because surely that was yesterday... right? If the day before was, indeed, Friday?
I remember not having such difficulty keeping track of the days of the week when I was once a shift-worker. True, that was MANY years ago: in fact, about three decades ago. I was obviously much younger then and somehow didn't pay as much attention to the actual DAYS of the week. The schedule was 2-2-2-80 and encompassed the working of forty-eight hours (six eight-hour shifts) over a span of five days, then having eighty hours off (slightly more than three days). The eight-day schedule very much suited me, as I needed to rise early only for two days of evry eight. Better yet, I had a three-day "weekend" that rotated through the actual days, allowing me to have days off when the majority of folks were at work. That meant the beaches would be nigh deserted there in Panama and Okinawa and San Diego, allowing me to enjoy the ocean and sun and sand uninterrupted. Very nice!
So, today, on this extra Saturday-esque day, it was odd for me to feel off-kilter. In an effort to feel more "normal" and to acknowledge this period of time to be a Friday, I even worked for a while today, spending several hours completing the grading of the last of the lab reports. (Yeah!) Then I went to a movie, as I tend to do sometimes on a Friday afternoon. But I had no plans for later this evening... which made me question whether this was indeed a Friday. Sigh. Back to square one again.
Perhaps tomorrow will set me straight again. We shall see. I do hope so.

five countries in 24 hours!

Okay, I may have exaggerated just a little about the time factor, but not much. Last night, I attended the 6:30 pm screening of a Swedish film, "The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets' Nest", as part of the PFS Film Festival at Muse Arts Warehouse. (I actually arrived circa 6:55 pm, but, as good luck would have it, the film had just started its opening credits. Hence, as you will see, the fudge factor on 24 hours.)
The film had English subtitles so we could follow along and I discovered something startling: I had absolutely NO IDEA what they were saying. None! Usually, I can at least partially match up the spoken dialogue with the subtitles in a variety of languages (Spanish, French, Italian, German), but I was stumped for Swedish. It was as if I had been dropped off in that land strange to me and was forced to rely on a translator to make my way. Still, "tack" PFS for that introduction!
After the film, I left Sweden and went in search of more familiar territory... and found it at Bonefish Grill. I had a gift card for that restaurant and was itching to use it! Noel started me off with fresh, warm bread and a plate of herbed olive oil for dipping. Ah, Italia! Grazie tanto!
Then, suddenly, I was transported back in time and geography to the early 1980's and Okinawa. The Ahi Tuna Sashimi had arrived! Lovely, lovely, lovely! Seared on the outside, rolled in pepper and sesame seeds, then sliced into rosy-faced circlets of firm, tasty flesh. As always, served with wasabi and pickled ginger, to spice up and then cleanse the palate. This also included a spicy chili scribble and a bangbang drizzle to change up this dish just a bit. Domo Arigato!
And now it was time to dip towards the equator and a cooler treat: ceviche! Now it was the late 1970's and I was in Panama, being introduced to Corvina Seviche, served in large brandy glasses with saltine crackers alongside. The variation last night had freshly toasted tortilla chips, nicely crunchy. I ate every last drop of the seafood, using a spoon to make sure I had plenty of the finely diced onions and lime juice for every bite. Muchas gracias para los recuerdos!
Sated, I wended my way home and settled in for the evening. Ah, nothing like a trip away from home to refresh the senses!
Then, this evening, REEL Savannah had brought to town a brand-new film from Poland, "Wonderful Summer". So, at 6:50 pm, I was in the theatre waiting for it to begin. (Whew! Just in the 24-hour timeframe!) As I had been married to a half-Polish man for a decade and a half, I had thought I would be able to catch at least a few of the words as they were uttered; sadly, no. Apparently, I only speak Polish food: kielbasa, kapusta, pierogi, golumpki, nalesniki. None of those were mentioned, so I allowed myself to once again to transported into the heart of a foreign land while I depended on subtitles to guide my journey. And what a wonderful, sweet journey it was, following a young woman through her first romance and job search. Thank you, REEL Savannah!

here I am!

I don't know why I haven't been here lately, but there ya go. I seem to be spending a lot of time on the computer, but it's all email and facebook and eBay amd craigslist - not my beach. I've gotten some more travel in, too - but not to my beach.
It isn't that my beach has been far from my thoughts. Never! I've just been too wrapped up with other agendas. I want to come to my beach, I'll even have topics to put forth in black and white, but something else always seems to beg my attention first. Well, I need to do better about that. I do, indeed. My beach is MY time and it belongs on my calendar at least as much - if not more! - as all the other things vying for my attention. As i do keep mentioning elsewhere, there are so many CHOICES of wonderful events to attend and people to see and places to be... but there is only ONE me.
These past two weeks, I have spent more time at home, after losing twenty hours of my life on the road between Pigeon Forge and home. True, the time spent in Tennessee was quite enjoyable and I spent that time with people I love who love me, so that part was all good. But the trip itself, trapped in a hot car, was the absolute pits. I drive a stick shift, so traveling mountain roads for three hours in the dark to get there, coupled with incredibly asinine road delays, was extremely tiring to my thighs and to my nerves. Thank God for my ex-sister-in-law's mom and sister and the jacuzzi or I might not have ever regained my sanity.
As bad as the trip up there was, the trip back was even worse. I again found myself cursing and driving and crying, this time in the heat of the day, all morning, all afternoon, and most of the evening. I, like most of the rest of the party, had decided to take a differnt way back home, to avoid the problems encountered on the drive up. Well, that sounds good in theory, but in practice, it really didn't alleviate the problem. Basically, I detest driving in mountains. Moreover, although I regard mountains as beautiful, I just don't find myself drawn to them like I am to beaches. This was my second trip to mountains in less than two months and I consider myself DONE with that for a while. (At least, I hope so, but I may have another trip soon enough to see an ailing friend.)
(Deep breath.) So, the one thing that helped me endure the ELEVEN hour trip back to home was this: I resolved to not travel ANYWHERE for at least three weeks. Not to Beaufort, not to Charleston, not anywhere out of Savannah. My bird laughed at the idea, but I've stuck to my guns on this one. Maybe it was the heat exhaustion, maybe it was the total lack of familiarity with my surroundings and no one to read the map for me... maybe it was jitters over some upcoming surgery. I think it was a combination of all those things and probably a few more that led to my resolution.
I sure miss Mama.

still here!

Oh, my goodness, my glorious bit of sand and surf still exists! I have been dreaming about this oasis of mine, this place to unclutter my thoughts, to make sense of the goings on around me. Sure, all the usual excuses abound for my absence, but believe me when I say this: my beach is always present in my mind, tugging on the edges of my thoughts, whispering the call of the sea, enticing me toward the gentle curl of the waves.
So many times, so very many times, a thought will arise that prompts me to seek out my beach and explore the path before me. But the physical world bids me do this, do that, so I make a few notes for later and I'm off to do whatever is demanded of me by others. I am now surrounded by bits of paper, jetsam floating on the surface of my desk, waiting patiently for recovery. The trick now would be to regain the thoughts lost in the depths of these simple notes.
"Trick or treat!" proclaims one scribble, "I do make a difference in chemistry! One of my students from 2000-2001 flagged me down at Spanky's to tell me so!" Oh, to recover the deeper story behind this bit of jetsam. I know I had an entire treatise in mind, and I'm sure I could recall its essence if I had the time. However, 'tis the season and I have not.
Another bit, torn from an unwanted postcard in a magazine, has a quote from Olivia Newton-John: "Nature is my church." So, if I give 5% of my pay to the man-made place of worship I've been known to frequent and 5% to environmental causes, does that satisfy the command to tithe? Just a stray thought, but I think I could have given it a good home and might yet.
"That young lady needs to work out her own salvation." This said by one of my Shekinah sisters to another, but it really struck a chord with me. After all, who else can save me but myself? Every twelve-step program out there is based, first and foremost, on the desire of the attendee to effect a change for the better in their lives. As any addict will attest, no change is possible if you don't sincerely want to work for it for your sole benefit. And, consequently, for your soul' benefit. Oh, yes, I could SO have waxed rhapsodic on this one! And may one fine evening, but this is not that night.
And another torn bit of a Jekyll Island program, no doubt scribbled on whilst I was homeward bound from the Shrimp & Grits Festival has two tidbits moored for safekeeping. The first says "can use music, smells, to time-travel to the past - we can try to predict the future - feet are still in the PRESENT time." Nice! I really like where I was going with that and look forward to diving in another time, but this next one... ah, that one begs for exposition! It says simply: "constellations of my world: school, job, friends, family, movies, theatre, music, lovers." To be always surrounded by such structures, whether visible or not, much like the starry constructs distant from this wondrous planet... reassuring, is it not?
The last bit for now is a page taken from the March issue of skirt! Alessandra H, a graduating senior at Savannah Arts Academy, advises "You can't be afraid of making mistakes - it's the only way to create something original." I'm looking forward to seeing what she offers to this world!
And now, time has come for me to say... later.

Random Quotes

I recently found this marvelous addition to my collection of quotes. Albert Einstein said "The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once." That would indicate that time travels along its own axis, independently of those in this three-dimensional world. Well, that's the same thing I've been saying, as evidenced here and there and again and in one of my favorites.
As you may have realized by now, time is a favorite topic of mine. So often I have heard people talk mostly of wishing they were younger or sometimes longing to be older and I cannot relate to anything that would involve arbitrarily changing one's age. Of the former, I have these queries. Are they wanting a return to the naivety of their youth? Would they want to again have to relearn those lessons that seem only to be attained through aging and experience? Would they want to be young and have their knowledge and memories? Wouldn't that make everyone else seem out of touch with reality, when, in truth, they would be the one guilty of that charge? Are they wanting to be forever young? Does that imply a wish to be a vampire? Why would anyone want to watch all those they know and love wither and die whilst they stay fresh as a daisy? Where would be the fun of that?
As for those who would want to be older, perhaps to be able to instantaneously reach retirement age, here are the questions for you. Would you truly be willing to shroten your lifespan just to decrease your number of working years? Would you give up the opportunity to vicariously enjoy more of the youthful years of your children, your grandchildren, your nieces and nephews? Are you truly prepared to live on a fixed income for the rest of your life, knowing that the political powers that be have their fingers on those pursestrings? What about health issues: are you in good enough health to enjoy your new-found leisure, or would the sudden advanced aging be more detrimental than beneficial?
Scary thoughts, especially in the wee morning hours. I'll stick with the age I've been blessed with, day by day, thank you very much.

irregular

These past few weeks have had their share of ups and downs, trials and triumphs. I suppose that's to be expected as I continue to explore my life post-divorce, in the midst of a new relationship, still learning how to live as a single woman in a world where couplehood is what I had known for so many years. These days, I feel a kinship to this Type I irregular galaxy, this collection of starlit chemicals known as NGC 55. A Type I irregular galaxy has no specific form and is composed of "a very diverse collection of objects." The descriptor informs me that "this highly detailed galaxy portrait [of NGC 55] highlights a bright core crossed with dust clouds, telltale pinkish star-forming regions, and young blue star clusters." (For more info, be sure to visit the website http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/ap090812.html .)

Dust clouds. I travel with dust clouds, sometimes obscuring my vision with scenes of how things once were, how I had thought they would always be. "Always" is an insanely long time; "always" is a course of action doomed to fail in a world where change is the natural state of affairs. "Always" is an imaginary construct, useful only as an adverb. People change, situations change, attitudes change, and time marches on along its axis. I've said it before: One cannot travel back in time to the same place one once was and expect to find one can step right back into that moment. That moment is lost as soon as the next breath is taken. Time waits for no mere mortal, and mortal all are we.

I've been working for a couple of years now on dismantling the dust clouds, allowing my inner light to shine forth more strongly on this new path I travel along time's ever-forward axis. I've gradually worked on letting in more light whilst also creating new light in the form of new adventures for my world. And I've been blessed to have new relationships forged with those stars close to me, those from the past as well as those new to my life. My energy is poured with both hands into new ventures, new spots of brightness to stave off the darkness of night, as I explore new beaches on other worlds.

50 is the new 40?

I don't know how anyone else's brain works, but I have some knowledge of the nature of my own. My brain likes to solve puzzles: crossword, jigsaw, sudoku. It always has and I've used that feature to my advantage time and time again, especially when I was in school. When I needed to write a paper, I would simply task my brain with developing the total topic and then wait for it to let me know the time was come to write. My friends and teachers didn't seem to understand that draft-writing and outlining were simply not useful tools for me in composition and really slowed me down.

The topic at dinner last night concerned age and appearances and included the assertion that "50 is the new '40' and 40 is the new '30'." Next thing I know, I've voiced a cohesive, multi-point argument. Unbeknowst to me and unbidden by me, this very topic was a puzzle my brain had taken on some time back and out of my mouth came the theories for the veracity of that assertion. Amazing.

First and foremost, I stated, we have MUCH better nutrition these days and, for many of us, that better nutrition began when we were in the womb. Better nutrition allows our bodies to better maintain every cell, every muscle, every organ, including the skin. With better cellular maintenance internally, and better skin care externally, we look younger longer. And for a nation so consumed by the appearance of the package, that translates to older folks looking a decade younger in the eyes of the beholder and the camera.

Second, we don't work as hard physically as our forebears did. We have developed tools to make our work easier and faster. No more do we have generations of skilled craftsman building a single mansion, or church, or monstrous public display such as a pyramid. With the tools now at our disposal, those edifices can be erected in a matter of months or years, not decades. Less strain on our bodies means less wear and tear on our physical appearance, allowing us to not show our age at the once-normal pace.

Third, we have more free time on our hands. Not only do the tools we have developed make our work easier, those same tools make our work faster, allowing us to work fewer hours. More free time should translate into better rested bodies, though that is not necessarily so. Still, more leisure time again means less wear and tear on our bodies, as many of us use that leisure time to exercise and tone the vessels that hold our souls. The benefit again is reflected in a longer stance with a younger appearance.

It's taken me longer to write this than for me to have uttered these thoughts last night at dinner. Amazing. I tell my students all the time that the subconscious brain is faster than any computer, that it is the source of our "gut feelings", of our instinct about a situation or a person. The brain is the keeper of every sensory bit of data collected by our bodies, as well as the library holding every word we've ever read. And yet, we depend too often on input from others to govern our own actions and beliefs. Not that it's a bad thing to look to others for advice and to take heed of their knowledge and experience. No, but we need to have more faith in our own database and continue to add to that store of knowledge, including one-on-one with other people. We need to accept responsibility for our own actions and decisions.

Me, too.

loss adjustment, still

The end of the year was very hard on me. I had to ask myself some hard questions, partly because hard questions were being asked of me, partly because a dear friend recently went through the loss adjustment that I did last year. I still communicate with my ex-husband, as does she with hers, and the question was posed: would I take him back, even though we are now divorced and have been living separate lives for more than a year?

Well, that would be akin to going back to your favorite place in the world, trying to recapture the feelings you had then. But even though you can revisit that PLACE, you cannot revisit that TIME. Time goes ever forward from the present moment, time is only available for visitation NOW. When you attempt to recapture a feeling from the past, you have already been changed by experiences you have had since that moment, so you are not the same, nor is time. The trick is to enjoy the moment NOW, so you can enjoy the memories later because you cannot, in this world, reclaim that past moment in time and space.

That said, my answer is no, he and I cannot be a couple again. I traveled that road years before, of forgiving and trying to forget the hurt, the loss of what we had. After about two years of hard work, he and I had recovered much of what was lost and were again moving forward together, creating new memories of our love and our life, finding new times to treasure, looking toward a future in each other's arms. I cannot struggle down that road again. My body may know his body, but my mind cannot allow that betrayal to ever be visited upon me again. I want his friendship, I want to know how he is doing, I want him to be happy... and I choose to believe that he wants the same for me.

duality

Light is known in scientific circles to have a wave-particle duality. Light appears on the horizon, then washes over the world with the brightness of a new day before receding back into the darkness. But light also consists of photons, tiny invisible particles capable of exciting electrons into outward-bound, dancing leaps of measurable energy. Waves of brightness composed of tiny particles of energy, just as the ocean consists of waves of hydrogen-bonded particles of dihydrogen monoxide.

I choose to believe that time, also, has a wave-particle duality. "Time is the fire in which we burn" says one of my favorite actors, Malcolm McDowell, as a Star Trek villian who attempts to harness a nexus wave of time to regain a happier portion of his life. Unfortunately, time only exists as such a viewable ribbon in the movies. Time proceeds ever forward, ever into the future, regardless of the events in its wake. All we can do is attempt to control it by marking its invisible passage with years, days, nanoseconds. Memories are the packets of time recorded in our minds, condensing the present moment's people and events into stored bits of energy which can be recalled by a word, an odor, a vision, a sound, a taste.

I choose to believe that goodness, too, can have a wave-particle duality. We witness small single acts of goodness every day: a phone call from a friend, a smile from a stranger, an unexpected gift from a loved one. But those single acts can foster other acts of goodness, larger displays of charitable intent which benefit not just one, but many, not just the recipient, but also the donor. Giving blood is one such act of goodness with far-reaching effects. Giving blood is a gift one provides to strangers in need, strangers who will never know the author of that life-restoring act of goodness. I choose to believe that the receipt of such a gift inspires a desire to impart further acts of random kindess. I HAVE to believe.