I will remember you ...

Last Saturday was, perhaps, the most awful day of my life.

Always an early riser, I had scheduled an 8 AM appointment for my sweet boy, Toes. We had been dealing with kidney failure for nearly three months, and twice a week I took him in for fluid replenishment, a sort of kitty dialysis. Except, this morning, I was there to see the doctor.

He wasn't eating, and in my ignorance, I thought there was something wrong with his mouth and that's why he wasn't eating. Maybe he had a toothache or something.

When his condition was first diagnosed in early May, I asked the veterinarian how I would know when we had reached "the end." I didn't want him to suffer. I just wanted to give him the best quality of life possible for as long as Nature permitted. The vet responded with a simple statement. "He will stop eating." And, there I was on a steamy Saturday morning in July thinking he had a toothache. How could I have forgotten?

It's been five days since then, and, in retrospect, it was denial. I didn't "forget." I didn't want to remember. I wanted there to be another answer. A simple solution. Even a complicated solution would have been more acceptable that no solution. But. There was no solution.

Upon arrival at the vet, the technician took Toes out of the exam room for the doctor to look at his mouth. I had insisted that something was wrong, perhaps with his teeth. I sat down, scrolled through my email and played a game of Dots. Then the veterinarian came in wearing her white lab coat, holding a sheet of paper with red marks on it. She said things like "kidney failure" and "danger zones" and "seizure." My brain fell down into my stomach causing a great pain. My heart was hurting. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, splashing on the paper she showed me with the red marks on it.

How could this be?

The vet was sympathetic and kind as all veterinarians should be, so, I asked her: "If it was your cat, what would you do?" She had mentioned her own cat earlier, when we first began the exam.

She paused. Then she said the words I didn't want to hear. I wanted to put my hand over her mouth. I wanted to take the question back.

In her gentle, quiet voice with the tiniest Scottish brogue she said, "I would let him go."

Even now, as my fingers dance across the keyboard, I have a knot in my stomach remembering the sick feeling in my chest, the knot in my gut, a sense of reeling as though I was losing my balance. But, I wasn't falling. My heart was breaking.

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Toes came to me through my younger brother. Never married, ever the loner, my brother is a cat whisperer. Since we were children, he always had a thing for cats. He loved them.  And, Toes came from that environment, raised from a kitten, knowing only love and pats on the butt and treats. In 2009, the recession cost my brother his job and, eventually, his home. When he prepared to vacate the premises, he asked me to take one of his three cats. I told him I would. "Pick one," I said.

Whenever I visited him, Toes would be the one to sprawl across the coffee table, pawing at my hand to pet him. He was friendly and affectionate, so, I was glad he was the chosen one to come to my house. He arrived by car, sitting in my brother's lap, no kitty carrier visible. Once we were inside the house, we hung out, allowing the cat to get a handle on his surroundings, including our two female cats, Minka and Minipussy.

After about an hour, my brother left, and, in the blink of an eye, Toes disappeared. It took me an hour to find him, hiding between the full length winter coats tucked away in the doll room closet, where he would spend most of the next month of his life.

The thing about cats is that they don't all adapt easily. Toes had known only one home, only one master, and now he was in a strange place with strange people. It was sad to see him hiding, but, every day when I got home from work, I would coax him out to eat and be brushed. He had a thick coat of glossy black fur adorned with a white chest, white paws and white whiskers. The ultimate tuxedo cat. And, he was a big boy, weighing in at 18 pounds. My brother said his father was a Maine Coon and he thought that accounted for his girth. My husband called him Bozo, because, when he ran after the other cats, he seemed clumsy.

He was a lap cat. And, a foot cat. And, he insisted on sleeping in the bed with me. Early on, he would scratch on the bedroom door throughout the night in his attempts to gain admittance, and after a couple of months battling with my husband, Toes won. He became a bed buddy cat as well.

He followed me around the house, from room to room, sitting on my feet when I sat, standing guard nearby when I was on my feet. He was nearly always at the front door to greet me when I came home from where I had been, whether I was gone eight hours or eight minutes. I had never experienced this kind of affection from a cat and his behavior lead to my husband and daughter referring to him as "Mom's dog."

-------

You might wonder what the symptoms of kidney failure are in a cat. Toes ate mostly dry food. Back around Christmas time, we began to notice that occasionally, within 15 minutes after he would eat, he would throw up. We changed foods, offered wet food, and most of the time, things would return to normal. Until springtime.

That's when I noticed he was losing weight.

I would often pick him up and carry him from one room to another just to get him out from under my feet. One day, I picked him up and he felt different. I called the vet and made an appointment the next day.

You'll never know how much I wish I taken him sooner, that maybe he would still be here. The vet said, "No." It's a part of the aging process in cats, he said. Maybe he was saying that to make me feel better. Maybe it's true. I don't know.

I never knew a love like that with a cat. I've loved dogs in my life. And, more than a few cats. But, this one was different. He was a soul mate. And, I will miss him for a long, long time to come ... maybe always.

I hope it's true what they say ... that when you get to Heaven, all the cats and dogs you've loved will be there to greet you. I sure do hope that's true.

Piggly Wiggly

"Oh, how I long for the days of the Piggly Wiggly."

Piggly Wiggly was the first true self-service grocery store. It was founded on September 6, 1916 in Memphis, Tennessee by Clarence Saunders.  This "new" model of grocery store would change the way Americans shopped for groceries.

For about 15 years now, since around the time the gay community discovered Wilton Manors and adopted it as their own, there's been a drive (pun intended) to change the character of Wilton Drive, the main drag through the central part of the island city. The most common refrain is to "make it more like Las Olas," which is a 7-block stretch between downtown Fort Lauderdale and the beach to the east. East Las Olas Boulevard is peppered with high-end shops, restaurants and bars and it's been a touristy place since the days of Spring Break and "Where the Boys Are."

When I moved to Wilton Manors in 1987, this tiny piece of real estate was just a suburb of downtown Fort Lauderdale. Surrounded by the south fork of the Middle River, it was home to doctors, judges, bank vice presidents and school teachers with a population of 11,000 or so. Mostly middle class, we were neighbors with others like us, young families with school age children.

In those days, there was a Piggly Wiggly in the shopping center on Wilton Drive at NE 6th Avenue. It was accompanied by a Social Security office, a paint store, a small exercise studio and a coffee shop. A bar with a pool table occupied the corner store, naturally called "The Corner Pocket," and the end spot adjacent to the Drive sold sunglasses.

To the south were little strip shopping centers in the blocks along Wilton Drive. There was quite a variety of offerings that regular people might need or want. A plant nursery on the south side of the shopping center offered native and exotic plants cultivated in decorative clay pots along with  advice on how to get things to grow. Next to the nursery was a strip center with an antique store, a record store, a doll shop, a quilting shop, and About Town Lock & Safe, which I think is still in business today. Across the street was my favorite thrift shop, Hidden Treasures. The two women who ran it had big personalities and a whole lot of style and their ever changing collection of merchandise made a favorite spot for many local fashionistas.

Dairy Queen, painted by Nia Nakis

On the west side of The Drive further south you would have found an office supply store, insurance agency, and hair salons. The Junior League Thrift Shop was a fun visit, offering high end women's clothing and accessories for really good prices. There were two laundromats, a Burger King, a camera shop and a few bars and restaurants, the best of which was Wings 'n Things. And, Dairy Queen, which survives today and is a landmark for locals and visitors alike.

Since the Great Recession, a lot of things have changed around town. Taller buildings. More people and more cars. Lots of bars and restaurants. And, not many businesses like what there was when I came here to live.

I get that change is inevitable, but, I don't think all change is good. Sometimes we need to just leave things alone. Humans have the tendency to be short sighted and I thing that's what's happened to Wilton Drive. Many of today's small businesses struggle to survive. With little daytime traffic and the overall impact on retail of the internet, it's a tough go for those selling their wares. Rents continue to climb and local leadership tends toward creating a "tourist destination" rather than serving the tax paying residents in the community.

Wilton Drive is never going to be like Las Olas Boulevard. You cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Eventually, they will figure it out, but, for me, it's a time gone by. Hence, I long for the days of the Piggly Wiggly, when things were easier.

Life, Art and Fashion Dolls

Since 2012, I have been a part of a team of art lovers running a little neighborhood art gallery we call Art Gallery 21. The building used to serve as the Woman's Club and has now been re-purposed as a cultural center and home to the gallery.

On March 9th this year, we hosted an exhibit titled "The Art of Barbie." The international icon of fashion and style celebrated her 60th birthday and we were blown away by how many people came to the opening and to the exhibit in the weeks that followed.

It's not the first time I've been involved in an exhibit of Barbie dolls, but, this time ... this time, it was art. Beautiful art. Amazing art. Created by amazing artists.

We were blessed with the donation of two photographs from Sharon Wright, who I have the pleasure of knowing personally and whose career I have followed since she first took pictures of Poppy Parker. She's an Emmy Award Winning film maker, actress, model and all around terrific human being and the proceeds from the sale of her photos went to support the art gallery. I think it was extremely generous of her to donate her pictures and I love her for being so kind.

And, she wasn't alone. We also received a donated photograph from Rebecca Berry of "Inside The Fashion Doll Studio," which sold the first night! The artistic talent I've discovered in my journey as a doll collector continues to amaze me.

Which just goes to show you ... doll people are the best kind of people there are. They ARE artists. And, doll lovers. And, generous of spirit. And, I'm so lucky to have been a part of this. Thank you, Universe!

The first day of the last month of the year ...

Being a grownup is hard work. The responsibility of a job places time constraints on how we get things done and I've been lucky to have a boss who tolerates my tardy arrivals when I try to cram too much into the early morning before I leave my house. But, I grow weary of the long commute. When I began working at my current job back in 2005, it took me 25 minutes to get from my house to my office. Today it requires 40 to 45 minutes to make the same journey. That is 7.5 hours per week spent in my car getting back and forth to my job. Or, 16.25 days per year. Insert a sad face here. Why? There are just too many people in southeast Florida where I have lived for the past 41 years. And, the rich developers keep building high rise condominiums priced for the wealthy. Affordable housing? Not in Florida. Not anymore. So, my long commute may well grow longer.

I've always worried about money. I never had enough of it.  As I move closer to retiring from my full time job with benefits, I'm getting butterflies in my stomach. Will my meager retirement income be enough? Will I be able to find part-time and/or free lance work to fill the gap? Will I grow into one of those sad old ladies at the nursing homes whose families have abandoned them because they had to sell everything they owned to be able to qualify for Medicare to get into the nursing home in the first place? Now, THAT is a frightening prospect, for sure. Should I work til I'm 70? What do I really want to do? Why am I so anxious about this?

The current proposed tax bill making its way through the Senate this week scares the bejesus out of me. This could change the way we live in America. I think of "The Hunger Games" and the division of classes and I fear we are hurling toward a time when the rich have everything and the rest of us just survive. I am stunned at how the dynamics of class division is being manipulated in the media today to prevent oppressed groups from joining forces into a united front against the government's actions to rob from the poor and give it all to the rich. Apathy runs rampant. Where do we go to to protest? Our legislators aren't listening to us!

My escape from all these tough issues is, of course, art and fashion dolls. They are way more fun and way less stressful than all that other stuff, but, I cannot ignore what is going on in this tiny life of mine. My struggle to survive is nothing compared to those in Yemen, for example. Yet, a struggle it is at times. I've kept my tongue in my head for a long time now. That's over. I'm writing. Finding these words has been a real effort this morning, but, there they are. My thoughts. My truth. My joys and my fears. Mostly my fears today because the Senate is voting on that fucking tax bill that will make the rich richer and richer. Insert another sad face here and let's call it a day. Time to start decorating for Christmas!

Around here ...

I haven't been here in awhile. Did you miss me?



That's what I thought.

There's lots been going on around here. Just to catch you up on things ...

... hosted five ... count 'em! 5! ... art exhibitions at Art Gallery 21 at the Woman's Club of Wilton Manors between October 2015 and May 2016.

... finished my eleventh year visiting fourth and fifth grade classrooms and talking about living in the Everglades. (Yes. We live IN the Everglades, on drained land.)

... preparing to install a museum exhibit which I have titled, "the Barbie story," using my personal Barbie doll collection to show her #evolution as a social icon and popular children's toy.

... working with the City of Wilton Manors Leisure Services Department to bring the "official" Wilton Manors Visitors and Newcomers Welcome Center to the art gallery.

... getting stronger in Jazzercise classes, increasing my weights by one pound and jumping for the first time in two years!

What have you been up to???

Reflecting on Road Rage

This morning, on my drive to work, I had a most remarkable experience. I stewed over it for more than two hours, then posted this to Facebook:

WARNING! If you get behind this car and the woman driving doesn't proceed because she's chatting on her cell phone, whatever you do, do NOT blow your horn to alert her to the situation. Otherwise, she will jump out of her car and yell at you and threaten you. That's what she did to me. Jeez! What a grump!





I thought that would allow me to put the incident to rest. But. It hasn't worked. I keep seeing her grey Victoria's Secret shirt and her bunched up hair, with that big mouth of hers not six inches from my face, yelling, "You don't want to fuck with me!" and, for a moment, I thought she was going to hit me. I just stared at her, thinking that if I didn't respond verbally, she would back off. And, she did.

I thought about giving her the finger and saying, "fuck you," but, in the nanosecond that it took me to choose NOT to do those things, I considered it would prevent things from escalating. Some folks are just looking for someone to go up against. For this particular individual, it wasn't going to be today and it wasn't going to be me.

The more I thought about what I coulda, woulda, shoulda done, the more I came to realize how vulnerable we are in our cars. Had I not had my window down enjoying the morning air, would she have smashed it? Had I attempted to back up and go around her, would that, could that have resulted in an ugly accident? And, the ferocity with which she attacked me, albeit verbally, and that element of surprise ... are those not the techniques the terrorists used in Paris and other locations around the world? What person thinks they're going to be shopping for bread or having dinner or sitting at a stop sign when some lunatic decides it's time to shoot them, bomb them, attack them, whether with weapons or with words? How are we to respond? Do we just sit there as I did or do we take action? And, how do we know which is the right thing to do?

After stewing over this for the better part of the day, I will make a conscious effort to be kind. I don't feel like being kind, to be perfectly honest. I feel like pounding some bitch's face in. But, I'm going to choose peace and joy and kindness. I'm also going to think about carrying my gun in my car.

If this was karma coming at me this morning, then I must be kind. Think kind thoughts. Do kind deeds. And, hope that wench in the black VW Jetta with Florida license plate 725LMK doesn't cross my path again. Next time I might not be so nice.

Freakin' Friday Fodder

There was a nice article in the Sun-Sentinel earlier this week about how the Mayor and Board of Commissioners of Wilton Manors had directed city staff to find an appropriate location within the city to fly the rainbow flag permanently.  I hoped that my neighbors who had shared their concerns over the flying of the flag in front of City Hall saw the article and that it would offer them some reassurance that they weren’t being rejected for being not-gay. I understood their feelings. More than once in the past week or so I have heard or read statements along the lines of, “It’s like they want to get rid of us.”  I have felt that way a time or two, myself, but, sloughed it off as me being too sensitive.

So, there I was, flipping through the online edition of the South Florida Gay News this morning, and on page 2, above the Table of Contents, the headline read “Wilton Manors City Commission Votes To Fly Rainbow Flag Permanently.” There were little photos of individuals with little quotes under them, so I zoomed in to see what folks had to say.

RJ Petrucci: “Yes the WM community should have an incredible favorable bias celebrating the gay residents and tourists that turned the ghetto slum of 1995 into a world famous upscale vacation destination in 2015.”

And, David Mann: “Str8s have the whole country to feel comfortable in; Wilton Manors gays have a few miles of city block.”

I read those quotations a couple more times, just to make sure I was understanding what was said. And, then, I realized that my heart hurt.

I’ve lived in Wilton Manors since April 1987. It wasn’t a “ghetto slum” then, or I wouldn’t have bought a home here. It was a perfect neighborhood for a family with kids. The elementary and high schools were within walking distance and Hagen Park was a block away. Instead of bars and restaurants lining Wilton Drive, there was a Junior League thrift store, an office supply store, a hair salon, an exercise studio, the Piggly Wiggly store, and Wings 'n Things, along with many other small businesses, all providing services to those of us who lived here. It wasn’t a slum. It was a small town in Florida.

And, as for us “str8ts” having the “whole country to feel comfortable in … “ I’ve been here 28 years. Where the heck am I going to go? I have invested nearly half my life in this city, as have many of my other not-gay neighbors. Where could we possibly go after all this time and “feel comfortable?” What a thoughtless comment that is ...

The word “divisive” was reportedly bandied about during the commission meeting when the decision was made to find a place for the rainbow flag. Now, I understand why. Those gay property owners who think they have somehow saved our city need to realize that all the “str8ts” who accepted them when they came here are as much a part of the city’s revitalization as they are.

I like the word “diversity” much more than I like that word, “divisive.” We're each one different, for sure, but, we're all human beings. It takes all of us, working together, to make our little island city a place of peace and prosperity. I sincerely hope a rainbow flag doesn’t spoil it.

My favorite "She-ro," Katniss Everdeen!

Ever met Katniss Everdeen? You may have encountered her on the printed page. Or, maybe you discovered her at the movies. What did you think? Did you love her?

I sure did!

I have read the Hunger Games trilogy. Twice.

I read the first book, "The Hunger Games," right after Christmas 2010. It was the second book I purchased for my Kindle that I had received as a Christmas gift from my darling husband. I started reading and, honestly, I couldn't stop. I know it was written as "youth fiction," but, the characters had heart, the story was plausible, and the writing was really well done.

I downloaded "Catching Fire" the day after I finished the first book and it, too, caught my fancy. It took me a bit longer to get through the second book, though; I found myself going back and re-reading to make sure I understood what I thought I had read. There were new characters, too, and I had to keep them all straight in my head, which is no easy feat!

"Mockingjay" was the most challenging read. It was slow going in the beginning, but, about a quarter of the way into the book, it began to pick up momentum. By the time I was 50% through the third book, I couldn't put it down either. I was hooked. I adored Katniss Everdeen's spirit. And, I understood her tortured heart.

I saw Jennifer Lawrence on "Good Morning America" doing an interview prior to the release of the first movie. Amy Robach was asking her if she thought her life was going to change after the movie came out, which I thought was a really dumb thing to ask this beautiful young woman who was clearly enjoying the fans. She responded that it could be hugely successful or it could bomb. She didn't appear to be worried about it one way or the other. Her responses to Amy's questions was so fresh and authentic and I remember thinking, "Don't change. Don't change."  Stay like you are!

As we all know, "The Hunger Games" made Jennifer Lawrence a superstar and, as all superstars should, she was fashioned into a Barbie doll, designed by none other than the acclaimed Mattel designer, Bill Greening. As a fan of the books, the movies and, of course, Barbie, I purchased each one as they were released. Earlier this week Mockingjay finally arrived and as I was removing her from her prison of plastic, I made some observations about this line of three Katniss dolls.

First and foremost, all three dolls are articulated. Let me repeat that. AR-TIC-U-LATED. And, at a decent price point of $24.95.

I have put emphasis on that quality because Barbie dolls have never had anything more than "bend knees." And, that's a crying shame for such a beloved icon as Barbie. I have doll collector friends who have swapped bodies so they could pose their Barbies in more realistic positions for photographs and display. Why can't Mattel give us articulated Barbie dolls? Okay. Maybe not every single one, but, I would love articulation for the Repro dolls in my collection, and the Barbie Basics, and the other pop culture dolls, as those seem to be the ones most appealing to adult collectors. Surely, adult collectors are a part of their business model. And, surely they want us to keep adding to our collections. Don't they?

Back to Katniss.

My Mockingjay!

The costumes for each of the dolls is quite detailed and each Katniss comes with her bow and quiver of arrows. The hairstyle on all three dolls is her braid, worn to the right side, but there are subtle differences in hair color and the treatment of the tendrils around her face from one doll to the other.

My Google research lead me to discover that she used the JLo head mold for the first doll and I saw one claim that a unique sculpt was created for the second and third dolls. I see very subtle differences between them, but, it's not glaring. In my humble opinion, all three have the same mold, but the second and third have better face screening than the first doll. Based on MegannArt's nude pic of Katniss that I found through Google, I think the body is a Model Muse body. But, I'm not an expert on these things. If you know for sure, please share.

I don't normally collect pop culture dolls, but Katniss Everdeen was a must have for me because of her literary value. She embodies the spirit we want all our girls to have. Brave. And, kind. With strong leadership skills. These are the types of characters we hope will inspire our girls and so I say "Thank You" to Suzanne Collins for creating her.

I'm also sending out a "Thank You" to Jennifer Lawrence for bringing Katniss to life on the silver screen and giving her those qualities of strength and integrity that we seek in our heroes.

I've seen the first three movies (in the theatre, then purchased on DVD) and am looking forward to the final installment in just a few weeks! I reread each book before going to the theatre, as a refresher, if you will. So, I'm currently rereading "Mockingjay" for the third time before Part 2 hits theatres. I understand why they split it into two movies. There's a lot going on!

On November 20th I will dig out my Mockingjay pin to wear on my jacket and head to the theatre with great anticipation! I will savor this one last visit with my favorite heroine, Katniss Everdeen! And, you know what else? If we had more Katniss Everdeens in the world, I am certain the world would be a better place. But, hey ... that's just me.

Now, if Mattel would kindly use the articulated body of Katniss for a few Barbies, I could find true happiness.

My "Mayberry" ...

NOTE: Tuesday night I made a little speech to my mayor and city commission. I ran a little over the three minutes they allow for "public speaking," but, I think I got my point across. Here's what I said. You decide.

I moved into my home on April 12, 1987. My daughter was born five days later and she grew up in a neighborhood where we knew everyone on our street. She walked to elementary and high school and spent many hours at Hagen Park and Mickel Field.

I awoke in the wee hours this morning thinking about The Andy Griffith Show’s episode 10 from season one, “Stranger in Town.”  It was on cable TV last night. The citizens of Mayberry were suspicious of a young stranger who seemed to know everything about them. It turned out that his army buddy was from Mayberry and he had loved hearing his friend talk about home. After discharge, he began subscribing to the local newspaper and he had decided to come to Mayberry and make it his home. Thanks to the sensitivity and wisdom of the local sheriff, the folks of Mayberry came to see this man deserved to be welcomed because he loved their small town as much as they did.

So, there I am at three in the morning thinking about this, and I had a little epiphany.  I’m watching my “Mayberry” morph into something I don’t recognize and I can’t do anything about it.

My daughter is 28 years old now and, sadly, I don’t know everyone on my street any more. Of the ten houses that line my block, four of them are vacation rental businesses. Today, three are lined up in a row, across the street from where I live.

There are those who say these houses were blighted and their rehabbing has increased our property values. I don’t know if that’s true. I agree that they look pretty. But, the thing is, they’re not part of community life. There’s no one to know. They’re not residents. And, that makes me suspicious.

When this whole conversion thing started a few years ago, it took me a while, but, I came to accept the business across the street. After all, I didn’t have much choice.  Then, I discovered there were two other vacation rental businesses on our street, but, they were scattered in between my real neighbors, so, I worked at making peace with their presence, too. I knew the State Legislature had stripped municipalities of the ability to regulate vacation rentals in any meaningful way, so, I knew I had to be patient and give the cities time to find a way to rein them in.

Then, last month, an owner occupied house between two vacation rentals was sold and I’ve learned it is being converted to a vacation rental, making three vacation rental businesses in a row, across the street from where I live. So, I have come here to ask. Can you do anything about that? Is it okay for 40% or 50% of a residential neighborhood to be Stepford Wife vacation rental businesses?  Don’t we, homesteaded residents, have a say in this? And, if not, why not?

U.S. property laws guarantee me the “right of quiet enjoyment” of MY property. That’s pretty much gone from my life and, I admit, I’m mad about it. Please? Can you guys help save my “Mayberry?”

Thank you.

august, however ...

Honest to God. I don't know where the month of July went.

My recovery from spinal surgery is going well. I'm incredibly grateful for modern medicine and for an amazing surgeon. I can walk without stumbling and I no longer need any kind of pain  medication to get through the day. Don't get me wrong; the recovery is a lengthy process, but, I'm so glad I did this. I suspect when my recovery is complete (about 6 months after surgery) I will continue to be grateful for the improvements in my quality of life!

Not being able to do simple things has had its challenges, though. I cannot lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk (which weighs 8 pounds, by the way), so, no big grocery shopping for me. (I can do desserts and cat food, though!) I also cannot vacuum or clean the cat's litter boxes and I can't schlep the laundry basket. I can, however, wash dishes and put groceries away and I'm excellent at folding socks and underwear! My darling husband hasn't complained once through all this, which is why he is my prince!

I've resumed working on the Island City Art Market at Art Gallery 21. Things languished during July. I have to admit to a week long bout with depression. It had been so long since I was depressed that, at first, I didn't recognize what was going on. It passed, though, and I'm most grateful for that.

I went with friends to see Ali MacGraw and Ryan O'Neal in "Love Letters" at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts and I'm so glad I did! They were lovely together! Even more so than when they made "Love Story." One of those friends works at the Broward Center and while he couldn't arrange a meet-and-greet with the actors, he was able to  procure autographed Playbills for each of us. I found this to be one of the most thoughtful gifts I've received in a long time. Thank you, Bill!

I put two dolls up on ebay and one sold. Ebay made $2.40, Paypal made 90 cents and I made 8 dollars. Needless to say, I didn't relist the second doll. It's just not worth the hassle. However, I have an idea for a doll show! (A new project!)

I visited Office Depot today and they are stocked with school supplies galore! Oh! How I love school supplies! New pens and pencils and notebooks and reams of paper and a new 3-ring binder! Those were the things that made going back to school worth doing! It's hard to believe that the kids will be back in the classroom in just a couple more weeks!

I hope my readers are having a wonderful August! Carpe diem!

around here ...

The last twenty-two days have been a tumultous ride.

Among other things, I have been ...

experiencing an anterior cervical discectomy and fusion. There is a long recovery time.

discovering a plethora of technical papers written by physicians, nurses and physical therapists, about spinal fusion, but little from the patient perspective.

recalling the pre-op experience like a trip on LSD, sort of like "A Family Affair." 

feeling extremely naked and vulnerable. And, scared.

extremely grateful for the outpouring of love and support.

aware that I am truly blessed to be married to my darling husband.

watching cable TV where I saw five Meryl Streep movies in five days. "The French Lieutenant's Woman;" "Falling in Love;" "The Devil Wears Prada," twice; "Julie and Julia;" and my most favorite of all her movies, "The Bridges of Madison County."

laughing and crying through the first season of Netflix's new series starring Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin, "Grace and Frankie." It's simply wonderful and incredibly real!

learning to walk normal again. For several years now, I have literally stumbled through life. Today, I can walk a straight line. The danger of falling has been reduced significantly, and THAT is a really big deal.

enjoying just being still.


walking with my dh every morning just after sunrise, while the air is cool.


counting my blessings.

a little Friday reminiscing ...

I saw this picture on Pinterest and saved it to my phone. It reminded me of an earlier time in my life, when I was still figuring out who I was going to be.

I lived in Key West, Florida from April 1975 until October 1982, before the Navy sold Truman Annex and the cruise ships arrived. For most of those years I drove a 1958 Nash Metropolitan just like this one. It was a hardtop with bench seats and the gear stick on the column. It was "Caribbean Green!"

I bought it for $260 from an older woman named Shirley who lived on the Gulf side of Big Pine Key. She purchased it "new" in Miami and drove it into the Keys and it had never been further north than Miami in its life. It had 5,800 miles on it when I bought it and it had been sitting in her garage for a few years. With the help of a friend, we put a new battery in it, and it started right up. The body was made of galvanized steel making it resistant to the rust that permeates vehicles in the subtropics and it was a very sturdy little car! It was an awful lot of fun to drive!

During the years I owned this car I was involved with the local community theatre group at the Waterfront Playhouse. One of the directors, Ruth Newton, brought guest artists into town for one or two shows at the theatre to raise money. One day, she asked me if I could pick up a man at the Key West airport. His name was Kevin McCarthy and he was doing his one man show, "Give 'em hell, Harry." I was to take him to the Pier House so he could check in to his hotel room, then bring him to the theatre.

When Mr. McCarthy (I never could call him Kevin) approached my car in front of the airport that day with his leather valise in hand, he laughed at my car, then told me he had done TV commercials for Nash-Rambler in the 1950s for the Metropolitan. He said there were less than 14,000 of them produced, which seemed like a lot to me, but, I would learn it really wasn't much. He seemed quite delighted to be escorted around Key West in my little car and it was certainly fun for me. He was an absolute gentleman the entire time and actually talked of his wife and son with much fondness. I took him back to the airport when it was his time to depart and he gave me his address and phone number and told me to call when I finally made it to New York City. I never made it and now he's gone. But, I've got this lovely memory!

I also had the privilege of schlepping Academy Award winning actress Estelle Parsons around in 1979 when she came to do her one woman show, "Miss Margarida's Way." My girlfriend and I were her "handlers." They didn't call it that back then, but, that's what we did. We took her shopping, out to eat, drinking, and, I'm telling you, she was a wild woman! She called us on stage during her performances and I do believe Kristy and I held our own during the improvisations! It was a dynamite experience to be that close to that kind of talent and I prayed some of it would rub off on me!

Superman's love interest, Lois Lane, drove a custom Metropolitan on the 1950s TV show, and that did as much to make it famous as any of the television commercials. Mine was the only Metropolitan in the Lower Keys and for those few formative years I was someone special because I drove that car.

I grew up in the Commonwealth of Virginia with a very bossy (some would say overbearing) mother, so driving around a tiny island at the southernmost point in the United States, far away from her, in my little Lois Lane car gave me the freedom to discover myself. I really needed that. I needed to be around other people, especially other women, who lived their lives on their own terms. It showed me the way I wanted to go. And, while it's not an easy path to travel, I think it's much of the reason I've been able to find joy in the face of despair. I had great role models and for that I am eternally grateful.

around here ...

suffering from an Earth Day hangover! As an environmental educator, April and May are popular months for learning, so my calendar has been filled with events and school visits.

working on wrapping up the school year and the Everglades Eyes children's art exhibit at Old Davie School.







admiring all the new dolls revealed by Integrity Toys last weekend and wishing for some play time.

shopping for 1:6 scale white lace fabric for a wedding dress for my Jacey Birch Barbie doll, and, I'm here to tell you, it's easier said than done.

realizing what a remarkable young woman my granddaughter has become after witnessing her speech to a crowd of attorneys and judges at the Coral Ridge Yacht club recently.







ordering a new Danbo, two new Poppy Parker dolls from the 2015 collection, and Vanessa and Veronique from the Fashion Royalty line of dolls.

discovering that the new bathing suit I ordered from a catalog fits. Lookout, beach!

marveling at the Royal Poincianas that have begun blooming this week.






worrying about the planet. There are so many things we could be doing better if we could just get everyone to do what's right instead of what's profitable.

thinking about my dad this Memorial Day weekend.

Happy Earth Day!

Since I took up photography, I have had some lucky accidents with my camera. I'm always impressed when the really good pictures are shots of plants, birds and flowers. We live in paradise here, and I'm just so tickled I have these images to remind me where I am! (As if I could forget!) The kingfisher catching a fish and the 'gator pics are two of my all time favorites!

Happy Earth Day, friends! Enjoy the ride!

 flowers and bees

 water lilies

 Everglades flowers

 a moseying  'gator

 kingfisher's lunch

 flowering trees

Jacey & Trent: a real life fairytale

One Saturday night last summer, my darling husband and I were watching the evening news on Channel 10, the Miami ABC affiliate, and Jacey Birch was the weekend anchor. When the weather guy, Trent Aric came on, there was some joking going on between the two of them, and we both commented on their chemistry! It was fun to watch!

I remembered seeing a picture on Facebook that they were "dating," and, then, for who knows what reason, it popped into my head ... Barbie and Ken!

I rooted around in the Barbie room for a redheaded Barbie (I have several in my collection) and found Suite Retreat™ Barbie®, one of the Silkstone dolls from 2005. Her hair seemed to be a very close match to Jacey's, so she was to become the chosen one. I had a beautiful hand knit red dress made by my doll friend, Vince Nowell, and it was exactly the same shade as her lips, so it seemed perfect for this little beauty! It was definitely something Jacey would wear!

Now, for that Ken doll! Where was he? I had purchased the first Silkstone Ken, but, I couldn't recall ever taking him out of the box. Hmmm ...

Sure enough! There he was! Still in the box at the top of the closet! The Fashion Insider™ Ken® Giftset from 2003!  His dark hair was like Trent's, and they both had that great athletic build. The suit and tie would definitely give him the air of a TV meteorologist, so ... it was done.

After dressing and combing and primping, (although I never did get that tie to look right!) I took a picture of the Trent & Jacey Barbie and Ken dolls with my camera phone and tweeted it, tagging Jacey & Trent. I hoped they wouldn't be insulted or think it weird.

They weren't insulted and they didn't think it was weird! As a matter of fact, Jacey tweeted this picture back!  These were my people, a couple with a great sense of humor! What fun!

It wasn't too long after that weekend watching them on the evening news that they went off together on an adventure to Thailand. They posted pictures of the places they visited, and it was clear from the photos they shared on Facebook that their relationship was something special ... it was clearly grounded in friendship and fun ... and, for all of us paying attention, we were so  hoping they would fall in love with each other. We would be rewarded!

Before Thanksgiving last year, Trent accomplished a feat of magic! He proposed to Jacey on television. Or, rather, in the television studio where it could be filmed for the whole world to see. You can watch the proposal here, and grab a tissue! You'll tear up!

Their fairytale romance took on new meaning for so many of us! We had a wedding to look forward to! We had our own "royal couple" to watch, and we knew these people. They had been in our living rooms and kitchens, talking to us about news and weather and traffic. They were part of our family.

 On April 12th, Jacey and Trent were married on an island in French Polynesia. It was just Jacey and Trent and their officiant and, to be perfectly honest, that seemed like the perfect way to do it. So much of their romance had been shared with us, their adoring fans, and it was only good and proper that the most intimate moments should be between just the two of them. I applaud their choice.

They will be headed home soon. It's been joyful to watch their antics as well as their romance. That Trent Aric is quite a jokester! And, Jacey? She's just sweet and lovely and a formidable animal advocate, which is why so many of us love her! She's a voice for those who cannot speak for themselves, and that's what makes her a noble princess to us.

Thank you Jacey and Trent for letting us in on the magic of love! We wish you happily ever after!

contradiction #352

I was listening to NPR on the way home from work the other day. There was a story about Paul Rand and his declaration as a candidate for President.

At the Florida Turnpike interchange with I-595 I heard Rand say, "How many people here have a cellphone?" There was a little pause.  "How many people think it's none of the government's damn business what you do on your cell phone?"

Whoa! Mule!

What did he say?

Did I hear that correctly?

If the government doesn't have any business telling me what to do with my cell phone, where do they get off telling me what to do with my body?

When I got to the office, I Googled Paul Rand. Who the eff is this guy? He's a supporter of the Tea Party Movement. (I know what that is.) A libertarian. (I don't know what that is.)

So, I Googled Libertarianism.

It came up on Wikipedia as (Latin: liber, "free") is a political philosophy that upholds liberty as its principal objective. Libertarians seek to maximize autonomy and freedom of choice, emphasizing political freedom, voluntary association and the primacy of individual judgement.

Libertarian socialists have been strong advocates and activists of civil liberties, including free love and free thought.

This didn't sound like the Paul Rand I heard about on NPR. Where was that word? "Conservative." How could he be a libertarian AND conservative at the same time?

Talk about being confused ...

Going back to his original statement and my question ... my cell phone, my body? Are they not BOTH my personal PRIVATE property? 

colored flowers for the rabbit to eat, that it may lay colored eggs

Easter is a funny Christian holiday. You never know where it's going to fall on the calendar. Could be March. Could be April. I've wondered about this for ever so long, so, today I Googled it and found answers. Yes. That is plural. There's not just one answer.

For those readers who may not know, Easter is when Christians celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, who rose from the dead on the third day after his crucifixion and ascended into heaven where he is seated at the right hand of God. These events are recorded in the New Testament of the Holy Bible.

However. What does that word mean?

res·ur·rect

rezəˈrekt/

verb

1. 
   
2. restore (a dead person) to life.

   "he was dead, but he was resurrected"

   synonyms:

   raise from the dead, restore to life, revive "we believe that Jesus was resurrected"

   • revive the practice, use, or memory of (something); bring new vigor to.

     "the deal collapsed and has yet to be resurrected"

     synonyms:

     revive, restore, regenerate, revitalize, breathe new life into, bring back to life, reinvigorate, resuscitate, rejuvenate, stimulate, reestablish,relaunch "he admits that the prospect of resurrecting his career is appealing"

Given the literal implications of resurrection, it makes sense that Easter should be celebrated at the beginning of Spring, when everything is new again.

So, it appears that some folks decided that Easter would be celebrated on the first Sunday after (but, never on) the Paschal full moon. Theoretically, the Paschal full moon is the first full moon occurring on or after the spring equinox.

On the two equinoxes every year, Spring and Autumn, the sun shines directly on the equator and the length of day and night is nearly equal – but not quite. (Which is a whole other conversation for another day.)

In 325 AD the Council of Nicaea (the first Christian advisors, of sorts) established that Easter would be held on the first Sunday after the first full moon occurring on or after the vernal equinox. From that point forward, the Easter date depended on the ecclesiastical approximation of March 21 (the first day of Spring) for the vernal equinox.

Easter is delayed by one week if the full moon is on Sunday, which decreases the chances of it falling on the same day as the Jewish Passover. Got that?

According to the New Testament, Jesus celebrated Passover before he was crucified, so, clearly Passover is linked to the Christian holiday of Easter.

BUT!!! Easter and Passover are based on two different calendars. Easter is based on the solar calendar, the calendar commonly used today. In Western churches, Easter is dated as the first Sunday after the first full moon of spring which means it will occur somewhere between March 22 and April 25. Eastern Orthodox churches have a different approach based on the lunar calendar.

Passover, on the other hand, is based on the Jewish calendar, a lunar calendar that has twelve 28-day months. (Oh, the moon!) The Book of Leviticus, chapter 23, verses 4-8, puts the emphasis on the first and seventh days of Passover, calling for "gathering of a sacred assembly and abstaining from regular work." I have attended a Jewish Seder and the message appears to me to be similar ... many of the aspects of communion seem to have been taken from the Passover tradition. Renewal. Restoration. Or, as the Baptists say, "Born Again."

When I was a girl, Easter meant a new dress and new patent leather shoes, which I think was my favorite part of all the Easter brouhaha. There was always this atmosphere of newness in my mother's family (she had six sisters as nutty as she was!) and my mother prided herself on being a fashion conscious and modern woman. We always looked good!

As a child, Easter also meant dying eggs beautiful shades of red and blue and green that would be hidden for us to find and chocolates filled our colorful Easter baskets. For kids, Easter was a party with lots of cousins and ham and potato salad and lots of pretty new clothes. I don't know how we comprehended what Easter really was, but, somehow the message got through.

The way I think about my religion is more spiritual these days. Like the New Year, I'm eager for renewal and a new opportunity to get it right, if such a thing is even possible, that is.

I suspect there was a Jesus, and, after reading those New Testament stories so many times, I imagine that he was a radical, preaching love and kindness, which seems to have been unheard of at that time. We have different methods in the twenty-first century for crucifying people, but in Jesus' time, love and kindness were not qualities associated with conquering new worlds, so they treated him really bad. They made an example of him. I guess that Sanhedrin council thought they should just nip it in the bud. Clearly, that didn't work very well!

I watch daily the religious wars in the Middle East and it breaks my heart. If it were my world, everyone would start fresh come Easter Sunday, whether Christian or Jewish or Muslim or Buddhist or Agnostic. A fresh start for everyone would be good for the planet! I wish that each of us is renewed, restored and find a chocolate rabbit waiting for us!
Happy Easter!