travels

In February of 2008, after dealing with the heartache of divorce and living alone again, I traveled to California for a week. Before I went out there, I kept telling myself and anyone who would still still long enough that I was going to reassure my family of friends out there that I was doing okay, that my emotional roller coaster ride was, at last, done. They had helped me hold tightly to my vestiges of sanity when it was after 1am here and all others I knew had been in bed at least a couple of hours. Sue and Paul had thrown out their lifelines to me, making sure I knew I was wanted, I was needed, I was loved. Now, I wanted to show them how much I appreciated having them in my life, that their hours on the phone with me had been a great success, because just look at how well-adjusted and sane I am now! That's what I said, or words to that effect. And I meant it, too.
So, off I flew. I spent Saturday through Tuesday in San Diego with my "little sister" Sue and her family, which includes three loving children she and Cyndi had adopted. It was my first time meeting the children, then 6, 5, and 3, and IT WAS GREAT! I reveled in the constant touch and interaction that little ones are so adept at providing. Every morning, I woke to one or more children trying to get in bed and snuggle with me. Every day I played games and had children climbing all over me, trying to sit behind me on the couch, playing around my feet. And the two dogs? Oh, they loved me! So much attention I got, so much tactile contact! On the Sunday, I got to be part of the oldest girl's belated birthday party, done with a medieval theme and attended by Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion, princesses, knights, the Good Fairy, and Cinderella. Wow! I even had a purple and green sea turtle painted on my face! The next day, Cyndi took me to some of my old stomping grounds by the naval base and out to the children's school to meet some of their teachers. On Tuesday, I got to spend some time one-on-one with Sue, talking and laughing like we did in college, having a drink or two along the way. Overall, not a fancy time, but a good time, a time of sharing each others' lives up close.
I got so very, very spoiled, but I didn't realize just how much until later. Sure, I did cry a little when I left them on the Wednesday to fly up to San Francisco. But I made sure they didn't see the tears because the two children who had come along didn't want me to go, either and I didn't want them to cry. But I had friends in El Cerrito waiting for me, my best friend Paul and his wife, and I was just as eager to see them. I had not yet even met Cathy!
They met me at the airport with open arms and loving hearts and took me immediately to one of their favorite sushi houses. The rest of my stay with them was spent constantly in their company, starting every day with Paul at one of his two favorite coffee houses. We spent the days going to standard tourist spots and doing standard tourist things (dining at Fisherman's Wharf and gawking at the seals, walking halfway and back on the Golden Gate Bridge) but also traveling on paths less known (going to the Awards banquet for the Search And Rescue group Paul is in, picnicking at almost 4000 feet on Mount Diablo, watching the sunset on Ocean Beach). Fabulous! Sharing the places and foods they loved with me, sharing hugs and laughter and happy times with me. Oh, so very spoiled I became.
After watching the sunset over Ocean Beach (shown on my blog, but with a fogbow), we had Thai food and they dropped me off at the airport. So far, so good. I do well at entertaining myself at airports, mostly walking up and down, looking at everything. The next morning, I was greeted back in Savannah by John & Deatre and had breakfast with them and the kids. Nice welcome to my regular life! Ah! Then, that afternoon, I joined my teammates at the bowling alley and regaled them with tales of Cali and felt great!
And then I went home. To my empty house with the suitcase waiting to be unpacked. No one there to greet me, to give me hugs, to provide contact. No one to touch, no one to touch me. And... I... lost... my... mind. I cried like I had no reason to live. I had to re-learn how to be alone again. It took a couple of weeks for me to get to the point of not crying myself to sleep.
Two weeks ago, I traveled again for almost a week in Cali, this time all in San Diego. Sue met me at the airport and we went to the children's school to get my nephew from his summer camp. I shared his room while I stayed, awaking each morning to children around me. I marched with Sue's family (and the children's school) in the San Diego Pride Parade, whooping and hollering with gusto! We went to Sea World and watched the great Shamu and two of his buddies dance in the water, followed by fireworks dancing in the night sky above the immense pool. Cyndi drove me and the kids to Anaheim for California Adventures and I got to ride and ride and ride with the children! Monsters, Inc, Soaring Over California, the Muppet show - great fun! The next day, we all went to Disneyland, a novel experience for me. I had gone to Disneyworld last year (for the first time since I was 18) and we grown-ups found it quite interesting comparing the two parks. We also had a blast each having a young one to share the rides with! I went on Dumbo and Space Mountain with Dylan (now 7), Cartopia and Buzz Lightyear with Cooper (he's 6), and the Matterhorn with Riley (4 in June). What a fabulous time!
And this time, I did not fall apart when I got home. Nope, didn't happen. My singing bird saw to that, though he had not orchestrated the events. No, the cosmos and my angels had intervened on my behalf to make sure my sanity was not mangled after my trip. How so? Airtran, my preferred mode of transport to the other coast, no longer flies from Savannah... but it does travel from Charleston, home of my singing bird. So, this time, I began my Cali trip from his arms in Charleston, on an absurdly early Friday, and ended very late on a Thursday evening, again in his arms in Charleston. My singing bird sent me away with love and welcomed me back with more of the same. I stayed with him until Sunday, when I finally returned to Savannah, just as I have on previous trips to see him. I had touch, that magical sense, my drug of choice, before, during, and after my travels this time. And that has made all the difference.

final outcome

The Southern Cross Novel Challenge 2009 has ended, as of midnight on Tuesday. I had a banner day on Monday, writing more than 6000 words that day... and burning myself out on these characters. You know those movies where there are no heroes, where all the characters are so morally flawed that there is no one to root for? Movies like "Closer" - well acted, lots of name-brand stars, but the characters are just so very wrong in so many ways. You see it once, and you're done with it.

Well, that's pretty much how I felt after my writing splurge on Monday: I was done with these people. All they were concerned with was sex, sex, sex. Not that they were screwing willy-nilly, any ol' body will do. No, they weren't that casual. But they did seem to want to flaunt their sexual prowess and positions and sensations... and it got to seeming a bit overwrought. Poor things, the coming was all they had going for them!

Still, I am proud of myself for giving it a shot and for the amount of progress I made. I ended up 46 of 167, with 17,000 words. Good job! There were about 20 entrants who completed the challenge successfully and got their gold stars. Cool, gold stars! Amazingly, though, there were more than forty entrants who never posted a single word to their count. Not one word. Zero. I have to wonder what happened to them? Did they forget? Did they just give up from the get-go? Maybe my next writing endeavor should explore that little mystery... maybe!

things I've missed

Tonight, I treated myself to a night at the ballpark. No, no cheap beer tonight (like I care about that). No special giveaways. Just a baseball game starring my favorite Single-A South Atlantic League team, the Savannah Sand Gnats. My boys of summer. And here it is already the 1st of July and this is the first game of this homestand that I've attended. I didn't realize how much I had been missing them, and all that comes with them.
So, a la Julie Andrews, here are some of my favorite things about this summer experience. Sitting with Willie Junior and watching him jiggle his eyeballs. Listening to Willie and John and Bruce and Arthur as they cheer on the team and bemoan their errors and the umps' bad calls. Joining in the fray, using my deep voice "so my boys can hear me."
Reveling in the little breeze that swoops through the stadium, renewing our energy. Smelling the popcorn and boiled peanuts and grilled beef hotdogs, and even indulging every so often. Clapping and clapping and clapping, to "working at the Car wash" and "if you're thankful and you know it" and songs I STILL don't know the names of. Saying hey to the regulars, both in the stands and behind the counters. Feeling like I belong to this big, noisy, summer-loving, baseball-maniacal family.
Watching the sun go down, painting the sky with a new palette each time. Sometimes with clouds, of different shape and texture, sometimes not. Light blue darkening to rich purple over the tall Georgia pines. The game lights coming on, bringing brightness to the lush greens and red Georgia clay. The American flag in left center field, always flying her colors, showing us who we are, one nation, regardless of color, sex, religion, education, marital status, job description, politics.
I have really missed this. I've been going to the games since 1996. I've been a season ticket holder for the past four years, but not this year. I knew I would be missing a few games, so I didn't buy my pass. As a result, I haven't been as attentive or attendant as I have in previous summers. I don't even know the names of all of my boys or their positions or their numbers. The boys have been having an especially good season, too, and I've been missing out on that, too. I think I'll go again tomorrow night, even though it'll be Thirsty Thursday and the stands will have far too many loud drunks. The field will be filled with my boys of summer, playing their hearts out on a hot summer night, and I want to be there to cheer them on. Go Sand Gnats!

progress!

Well, I've jumped ahead with my writing, though I have a LONG way to go to hit my mark. Still, I'm rather pleased that I've gotten this far. Truly! And I am now ranked 49 of 167 would-be novelists. Woohoo!

One thing I'm definitely learning: I'm not cut out to be a novelist. Nope. Short stores, I think I'm your girl. But the last book I wrote was my dissertation for my doctorate and that took a couple of years to complete. I even had about fifty graphs in it, so that cut down on some of the writing. (You know, "a picture is worth a thousand words" and all that, though making the picture can take about as long as writing the words would have.) Writing that book taught me that I didn't want any more doctorates!

Writing this book is teaching me that I may not quite be ready to let my freak flag fly in this direction. I would certainly have to use a pseudonym, because if any of this material made it to print, everyone would wonder what kind of kinko I am. I guess I spent too much time in the Navy. Or maybe I've read too many of "those" magazines. Or maybe I should blame it on the a-a-a-a-alcohol, as Jamie Foxx would say (though I have liquor of any kind - except virtual on facebook! - rather infrequently these days). Or maybe, just maybe, it goes back to me not being wired right.

I've read interviews over the years of folks who act in roles that are contrary to their character. Carroll O'Connor was one of the most educated, liberal, laid-back, accepting people on the planet, EXCEPT in his role as Archie Bunker, racist bigot extraordinaire on "All In The Family." For eight years, he let his alter ego loose upon the tv screen, to much acclaim. Then there's Robin Williams, a comedian who is left of center and off the charts, effortlessly letting loose his wit in whatever venue he finds himself. EXCEPT when he's Walter Finch or Sy Parrish, the sociopaths in "Insomnia" and "One Hour Photo", respectively. Talk about creeps! he completely let his dark side come out to play.

So, maybe that accounts for the words that flow from my fingertips when a "novel" is being written. Hey, it's all fiction, right? Fiction is defined as "works of imaginative narration, especially in prose form." Imagination is "forming mental images or concepts of what is not actually present to the senses." And fiction is just a milder word for fantasy, is it not? Why not make it sexual fantasy as well as romantic fantasy and dramatic fantasy? Why not, indeed? My writings are simply imagination gone wild, much like college kids on spring break: fairly harmless, but don't let the family know the details of your exploits!

52 of 166

No, I haven't become a Borg creature. My ranking has moved up slightly in a slightly larger field of participants. So... GO ME!!! After quite a hiatus, I'm back and up to 8000 words after a brief period of writing this afternoon. (Hey, it was slow at work and I jumped at the chance!) I intend to spend more time writing this evening, after dinner and my usual Monday night pursuits, i.e., watching The Big Bang Theory and How I met Your Mother. Yes, I am quite aware that they'll be repeats. Yes, I will watch them anyway, and enjoy every minute of it. There is truly so little tv I partake of; this hour of frivolity helps keep my sense of time's passage intact, much like the sun's travels across the sky help me during daylight hours. Now, to get some supper and clear my schedule of all else crying for my attention!

still going...

It's been a rather busy time for me, so I haven't had the time to write like I would have hoped. Still, I AM persisting, and that's the point of rising to a challenge, is it not? At a grand word count of 6100, I am now ranked 53rd in a field of 165. This was Day 16 of the challenge, so I do need to try to work in some more word counts in the next two days, before my friends from Hiram come on down. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I took a little writing interlude during their visit, but I don't know that I would be comfortable with them... or anyone at this point... possibly reading over my shoulder.

Now, I'm not saying that they would throw me off my game. When I start writing, the first few lines are hard, but then the characters move right on in and make themselves at home and I never quite know what they'll come up with next. Well, that's not exactly true, now is it? I have a really good idea of what will happen, and I'm actually a bit surprised about it. You see, well, are you familiar with the works of Harold Robbins? You know, the guy whose books all deal with sex, sex, and more sex? Well, my characters think they're in one of his novels. Only they're a bit more graphic. Yeah.

So, who's to say anyone will ever get to read this but me? Still, I am rather enjoying it. I can't wait to see what they're gonna do next!

here we go!

I am so very excited! This past weekend was a fabulous start to my New Year, filled with fun times with friends old and new. On one of the social sites I use - facebook, if you must know - I had beau coup wishes for a happy birthday, with quite a few from unexpected sources. Nice! I had gone to work on my special day, as I am quite a trouper and I was needed there, but I did get off a bit earlier than usual, allowing me to get up to my BFF's place in Hiram in time for a mojito before dinner. Very nice! Then she and I and the family all piled in to the car and off we went in search of cake. Big, monster, artery-chokin' hunks of cake, at a place known as Pasta Bella. I selected Lemon Meringue Pie, with a five-inch, beautifully sculpted, perfectly browned meringue topping on a three-inch layer of lemon curd. YUMMMM. Oh, did I mention the candle? Yes, boys and girls, there was a pink candle valiantly blazing atop the dreamy drifts of whipped egg whites, as well as a trio singing "happy birthday, dear customer" as the lovely treat was gently placed before me. My BFF had given me a lovely "aquarium" picture, a three-dimensional still life with fish, so to speak. I intend to place it in my Ocean Room, on the wall near the computer, so I can enjoy the new view as I converse here and elsewhere. She told me she had thought of my personal aquarium, my bedroom, as the location for the new art, but I would rather have it where I can look at it often through open eyes, not eyelids.
The next day, off we went to the trade fair at Centennial Park, where my BFF was to hawk her wares: beautiful purses, with pockets inside for essentials. Great fabrics, nice textures, several different styles of The Perfect Bag (at etsy.com). (Yes, I am QUITE shamelessly promoting her enterprise!) I even found a rather unique necklace for my little black dress: a strand of gray and black beads, closed with two sterling dragonflies on the side. Not only is it an unusual piece, but it also appeals to my asymmetry bent. I'll have to create an occasion to try it out... oh, wait, I can wear it at the Celebration of Daddy's Life scheduled for Sunday! Oh, nice! I think Daddy would definitely have approved!
Saturday night, one of my BFF's friends had a low country boil, with a twist. They use crayfish, with a few crab legs for good measure, instead of shrimp, and they season it with fire. No, truly, They say they're using Louisiana spices, but I have it on good authority - my entry and exit orifices - that it's fire. Even the corn on the cob and the new potatoes were so spicy as to be nearly inedible by normal people. Fortunately, none of them were present and we all ate our fill, followed by a trifle created by my BFF in honor of my birthday. A non-dairy concoction with cherries, chocolate-laced whipped "cream", and angel food cake, topped with Bing cherries.
Wait just a darn minute! I know what you're thinking. "That's twice she's mentioned her birthday and not said anything about HER eating cake. What's up with that?" Well, quite frankly, I think I'm done with cake for a while, after having a certain type of cake lay siege on my mind for better than two weeks. So, pie, trifle, cobbler, bread pudding, even brownies, but no cake, please. The angel food cake in the trifle doesn't count, as it's not whole, but torn into little pieces. So, there!
On Sunday, my bird from Charleston flew on down and we had dinner and a movie. Actually, we had slunch (too late for lunch, too early for supper) at one of my favorites (Chili's - their tilapia is so very tasty!), then the movie. "Star Trek" for the second time, this time paying more attention to the character Ayel, played by Clifton Collins, Jr. He was also in "Sunshine Cleaning", as a completely (COMPLETELY) different character. I had wanted to see "Star Trek" again, especially for the sword fight (!) and the view of Earth from space. The viewing was that much nicer with my bird by my side!
And the whole weekend, my brain was feverishly trying to work up concepts for my novel-writing experience. Oh, how about this one? Hmmm, how to flesh it out past just a few pages? Whose voice should be telling the tale? Should there be only the one point of view? How about a series of stories, woven together? That sounds like fun, but how to get the characters to meet? Where to have the tale set? When is the action and what is the action and why??? So, Monday evening I began my journey into the Southern Cross world, having finally settled on an opening gambit... and found, after the first few lines, that I had diverged from my original concept into one that felt more natural, more me. I'll be quite interested to see where this adventure leads!