raise your glass!

today is a very special anniversary for me. 4 years ago today i had surgery to remove the lump in my breast. 4 years ago today, i chose life.
as it so happens, today i get to go and be picked at and probed and have half my lifeblood removed to check and see if i am still winning this war. i think i am.
i always meet this day with trepidation. my usual confidence takes a bit of a nose dive. the what-ifs start to circle in my brain. i want to know but i don't want to know, unless of course i can be guaranteed the right answer. there are no guarantees in life. learned that lesson 4 years ago.
everyday i live with a double edged sword above my head, but the key word is that i "live"
so no matter what the outcome of today's tests will be, i still have reason to celebrate and i am confident that in 4 more years time i will be celebrating again.
as i have told you all on one or more occasions - "only the good die young" so i will be here for quite some time to come!
cheers!

bag lady blues

i'm in deep trouble.
there was a time when i never left the house without make-up, heels and a properly put together outfit. over the years i relaxed that rule a bit, but now that i'm "retired" i seem to have relaxed it too much.
i gave away alot of my shoes and any outfit that smacked of office. what that has left me with is my casual clothes and what i fondly refer to as my bag lady outfits and my homeless coats. i find myself reaching for the comfort of baggy layers, scarves for both my head and my neck, shapeless wool sweater coats and anything in sweatsuit material. some call it boho chic, some call it schelpping.
went shopping the other day and found i had filled my cart with all of the above. i put them back and started over. but what to buy? what to wear?
i talked to a friend about this the other day and she said " welcome to my world!" i've noticed other people as well who have retired, just throwing on any old thing. i'm not going to do housework or gardening or painting in a dress and pearls ala june cleaver, but surely to god when i do leave the house i should be able to put together an outfit that says yes i still have self esteem yes i care how i look and yes i'm worth the effort!

in light of all that is happening in the world right now, my wardrobe problem seems pretty trite, but if the world is going to fall off it's axis, i would like to go out in style!

maiden, mother, crone

in pagan times and not so pagan times, woman have been assigned 3 stages of life. maiden, mother, crone. all self explanatory. each stage marked by the moon and the cycles of womanly functions. theoretically, all the woman of the tribe would menstruate at the same time.(imagine the bitch sessions if you will). i believe there is some truth to this, having lived with several women over the years and finding out that after time we did sync our cycles. enough history and biology lessons, i have digressed.
my point is, is that i am now a crone!. it's an ugly word. conjuring up pictures of old withered, witch like hags.
i don't mind being a crone, for with it comes experience, wisdom (hopefully) and peace with ones self. i just don't like the word (label). many aboriginal tribes around the world and some religious groups call them the elders.(they also include men in this category). i'm not big on this one either as it's just a euphemism for old.
i'm not old!        any suggestions as to what we should change the life stage name to? i'm open to anything more upbeat, more life affirming, less derogatory.
and well it's true that i am no longer a maiden, i am still a mother and i'm not ready to sit by the fireside just yet. unless it is with a glass of wine and the husband.

a terrible beauty

this is part of a rock formation off the coast of the sea of cortez. note the deep crevices,wrinkling and pitting.
this was formed from hundreds perhaps thousands of years of being battered by the wind and sand and salt. it has stood up to the test of time. what was once a smooth surface has now taken on a character of it's own, a terrible beauty.
i liken this image to my face. it to has been battered by the elements, worries, joy and grief. i can name every wrinkle. those smile lines?- my children caused them, my grandchildren deepened them. the furrows across my forehead?- worry from when my son ran away, when another was very ill, when they said yes it's cancer. the discolorations? too much time in the sun, too many cigarettes, too many glasses of wine. the crows feet?- they also are lines of happiness- from years of laughter and smiles of contentment. the bags under my eyes?-partially an inherited feature and also from many sleepless nights worrying about loved ones and about myself.
every line, wrinkle, crevice tells a story. my life is written upon my face. no cream will erase it, surgery would just cause different scars and injectables would just mask it for a while.
i like my face. and as the years go by, more stories will be written upon it, more laughter more joy and yes even more sorrow. but that's okay. for an unlined face hasn't lived, hasn't experienced, hasn't succeeded, hasn't failed. i have done all those things and in the years to come, i will do more. and more wrinkles will tell more stories and one day, i to hope to be a terrible beauty.

it's a big world out there

everyone says that when they retire they are going to travel. i am no exception. alot of the items on my bucket list are of places or things that i want to see or do. most of them require me to travel great distances in order to see them. i plan on crossing off most of them in the next few years before i get old and feeble. i don't want to stumble through the streets of paris with my walker, if i'm to stumble, let it be because i've had to much french wine, not because my strength has given out. now is the time to do it and i have begun the plans for our big european adventure. the "grand tour" if you will.
late summer/early fall of 2013 we will be jetting off to far flung places,to walk in the footsteps of the kings,stand in the shadows of stonehendge, climb the steps of the colosseum, wander through the catacombs, eat at local cafe's,marvel at the museums and cathedrals, ride the rails and sail the open seas. do i romanticize this trip? you bet i do!. this is the trip that dreams are made of.
i would go tomorrow, but the husband has obligations. this is not his dream, it's mine, and i think he will come along for the ride, but if he doesn't i shall go myself.
in the mean time, while i wait for him to be ready, i have several smaller trips in the works. this will have to satisfy my wanderlust for now. mexico, houston, the badlands,tofino, a trip or two back east to see family, vegas and hawaii are all on the agenda.- first stop cabo san lucas!!  see you when we get back!

i kissed a girl and i liked it

i have fabulous girl friends.
everyone of them is distinct and the wearer of a large personality.
some i have known since high school, some just for the last couple of years and then there are the ones who seem like they have always been there.
why do we connect with some people instantaneously? and some not at all? there is a chemistry among women, we are able to spot an ally from the first conversation, we can shift through the social niceties and zero in on like minded sisters. i have dismissed hundreds of "potential" friends because of that first meeting. did i judge too quickly? i don't think so. i either love you on the spot or i don't. if you have to grow on me then something is missing and it will never be quite right.
woman are so lucky! we are able to show our affection for each other and not have to worry about offending social norms. little girls hold hands in the school yard, friends spoon on freezing camping trips, we kiss each other on the lips, we can caress an arm or back when a friend is in crisis. no one thinks anythig of it.
men, on the other hand, can't show their affection. they are limited to back slaps or a punch in the arm. (except of course, football players, they are allowed to grab each others asses). men have the homophobic gene which most women do not possess. i feel sorry for the men. they are missing out on another whole level of intimacy that has nothing to do with sex.
so this is a kiss on the lips to all my friends, thanks for being who you are are. you have all enriched my life in many diverse and wonderful ways.
xoxoxoxoxo

a picture is worth a 1000 words

i take pictures. lots of them. my children call me the paparazzi. sometimes they get mad at me because i take so many.
one day they will thank me.
years ago, when my mother was in the later stages of alzheimers, i sat down with her one day. and we went through her pictures. some people she remembered, many she didn't. the ones she remembered came with  stories. stories i had never heard before. she told me things that day that i never knew. secrets she had kept for so long. i got to know a part of my mother that she had never shown me before. pictures brought those memories out of hiding. we both knew i was losing her and she gifted me her memories.

everyone deserves to be remembered.
everyone has a history.
have you ever gone through old albums and have a long forgotten memory spring into your head? suddenly, you are back at that place, that time, and it feels like today, not a 1000 yesterdays ago.
that is why i take alot of pictures. one day, when i am old, i will be able to look back and re-live my childrens youth, the family vacations, the birth of a grandchild, the sweet and the bittersweet.
i will remember the laughter and the tears and i will give that gift to my children.
and maybe a secret or two.

those were the days my friend

i have to go bathing suit shopping. if you are of the female persuasion,over 25 and have had a baby or 2 (or 4) then you understand the dread.
i'm not fat, but i'm not 20 anymore either. gravity, time, babies have worked their evil alchemy on my body. i need to cover up.
the bathing suit store is jammed with all these cute little strips of fabric that would no more cover up a mole let alone this aging body. then there is the rack. you know the one. the one at the back of the store with a dozen or so ugly, black numbers that you have resigned yourself to. they cover the tummy, have wide straps and sometimes a "flirty" little skirt to hide the top of your thighs.
i will try on every suit in the store, nothing will fit. i have a very long torso. so most bathing suits give me a wedgie. not attractive. the perky little salesgirl who wears a size 0 will tells me i look great in everything. she lies. the mirror does not lie.
i will look back at the fabric strips and remember when the only problem was what colour? how many? and will i get arrested if i wear this in public?
i will end up buying the black one with wide straps with as much bum coverage as possible. but not the one with the little skirt. i just don't feel flirty.

courage my love.........

i have been "retired" for exactly one week now. hmmmmmmm. i can amuse myself quite well, that is not the problem. i am feeling a tad isolated. all my friends work, so most days it's just been me and the dog.
i need to get out and meet people who are at loose ends during the day, and therein lies the problem. i'm shy.
don't laugh! you know it's true. when you first met me, who started the conversation? you did! once someone gets the ball rolling, i'm fine, but don't ask me to start it up. can't be done.
meeting new people scares me, i avoid social situations because of it. it's not that i care if they like me or not, it's just the initial encounter. my mouth gets dry, i have an urgent need for a cigarette (which these days is social suicide). i would rather be dropped into the pits of hell than be the first one to say hello. so i come off as a snob or (sometimes rightly so) a bitch.
since the world is not lining up at my door.........
today i am going to talk to a stranger. never mind that my mother drilled into me that you NEVER talk to strangers, today is the day i initiate a conversation.
does talking to the bank teller count?

is it spring yet?

            this is part of the lost gardens of heligan in cornwall england. i want to go there one day.

 this is such an ugly time of year. and my garden is no exception.
i kept putting off the fall cleanup of my garden. tomorrow i'll get at it. this weekend for sure, and then it snowed. i never did get it done, and now it looks like one of those children you see in the save the children ads. dirty, neglected, sad and unloved.
dead flower stalks, scraggley bushes, fallen leaves, a broken flower pot or two. it's not pretty. i will have my work cut out for me if and when spring ever decides to arrive.
i was wandering through the rubble and lo and behold! my heliotropes have poked through the snow, seed pods ready to burst into bloom any day now and my magnolia bush has tiny buds appearing. can spring be far behind? this inspired me to haul out my gardening magazines and start making a wish list for the weird and the wonderful, no petunias for me, i like my jungle.
this year i will have more time to devote to my garden.
perhaps i will make a moss sculpture of my own.