Full Circle

Today I helped a fellow writer start her blog. Well, really I just held her figurative hand and uttered tips while she searched and clicked and filled in text boxes. But I was her cheerleader. Her morale booster. Her, dare I say it, resident "expert." (And mind you, the quotes are VERY need for any reference to me as a blogging expert. I have much to learn.)

So as we sat side by side at Starbucks, we learned from each other. I helped her pick a name and an url. She reminded me why I wanted to start a blog: the appeal of writing on a regular basis (its possibly too damning to say "every day" especially when under renovation). I coached her on formats and elements to include. She shared a blog registry for being found and enjoying other blogs. I encouraged her to just start writing her first entry to conquer that "white page" intimidation. She offered a tip from a blogging seminar she'd attended: don't start more than one blog. Which speaks right to me: a gal with three. Three she loves. Three that she created for different audiences. But three that she doesn't keep up with properly. Hmmm.

In our hour and a half together, she found her way into the blogosphere. And I found my way back to my first blog. And why I started blogging in the first place. Thanks Lynne.

Much ado about To Do

I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by my To Do list for this month. All of a sudden, I have too many big things demanding my attention and too little attention to spread around. I know: whiney whine whine. But indulge me. Just for a moment. I think I'll feel better.

Sometime between now and November 30th, it seems I must:
Write 25,000 words
Buy a bath tub
Make Butternut Squash soup
Pack up four rooms (ok, smallish rooms, but packing, none the less)
Play bumper cars on 95 enroute to Philly for Thanksgiving
Play Super Aunt for four days while in Philly
Buy a shower regulator
Start packing up the kitchen
Move all the books and two large pieces of furniture out of our bedroom
Boss my kids around
Boss my husband around
Eat & drink
Maybe sleep
Walk the dog
Feed the cats
Send out fundraising letters
Throw crap out
Wrap Christmas presents for Philly family
Chair a different fundraiser
Update my facebook status
Update my blog(z)
Calm the dog from all the jackhammering and unfamiliar noises
Find the cats who have hidden from same
Make a birthday cake for my mom
Harass everyone I know who has recently redone their bathrooms
Drink some more
Throw more crap out
Remember to pack presents for Philly family
Consider Christmas card options (slimmer by the minute)
Buy more boxes
Schedule nervous breakdown
Consider sleeping
Drink even more.

There. That should cover me for a while. And thanks: I do feel a smidge better now. Just a smidge.

Sunset Serenity

I was driving home from dropping my daughter off at acting class last Monday evening and happen to catch a glance of this gorgeous sky as I crossed a river that opens into Long Island Sound. So breathtaking was the view that I whipped out my cheesy cell phone to take a picture just to remember it by. I knew what I really needed to do was rush the last 2 minutes home, grab my camera (and hubby!) and zip back, fingers crossed, to try and capture whatever was left by then.

There is something restorative; life-affirming; magical about a sunset... at least to me. Just standing out in the falling darkness, watching Nature do her stuff is a true treat. (Having my honey at my side was nice too!)

Well, here you go. The sky could not have been more beautiful. Enjoy.





These two were taken from the Old Mil Bridge, spanning the Sasco River.



This shot was taken from the Country Club of Fairfield (shhhh.....).

NaNo. NaNo. NaNo. It's my every waking thought. It should be my every waking move, but somehow life gets in the way. Or sick kids. Or dinner. Or laundry. Or Facebook. Or... well, you get the idea.

Still, I am on track as of last night. The goal? To write 50,000 words in the month of November. A daunting challenge to be sure. This year I am emboldened. Empowered. Enslaved to my computer. Energized. Insane. (Ok, I was that last year too.) But I am GOING there.

Meanwhile, I am procrastinating here, looking for motivation. I have already paid the bills. Done the laundry. Bossed the kids around (who have the nerve to be home today!). So not much else to do, but go pound out 2,000 bon mots.

Yep. Here I go...

The Little Show that Did

It is a rare parenting moment when a well-intended event occurs and everyone actually enjoys themselves as had been fantasized about!! And when sweet childhood memories are further buoyed by watching the kids excitedly engaged in the same thing, it's a double whammy! Seemingly unbelievable as well, but I digress.

Such was the happy outcome of our NYC jaunt last weekend to see "The Fantasticks" for my daughter's birthday. A theatrical classic I remember seeing when I was in high school at its original NYC haunt: the Sullivan Street Playhouse in Greenwich Village. It had a show-stopping 42 year run there before closing five years ago and moving uptown to its present location at the Snapple Theater at Broadway and 5oth.

But it's not just good theater that makes a Fantasticks ticket so fantastic. It's the fact that this is musical theater pared WAY down. And still it woos ticket holders and makes teens laugh and clap. Here, in a 150 seat black box theater, there are no Lion King costumes, no Phantom of the Opera chandeliers, no Mama Mia lyrics. What grabbed my kids from opening to close was all the benefits of the intimate setting. Here was theater up close and personal, but with enough drama & surprises (for my son) and memorable songs (for my daughter) to rival the best of Broadway. All a testament to its claim as the World's Longest Running Musical.

The simplicity of the sets and costumes MAKE theater goers pay attention to the story and the actors and the lines. The eight characters are marvelously brought to life with shrugs, glances and grimaces that can be seen and enjoyed by all as the last row is only 6 or 7 rows back. Gems of lines hang in the air for a moment before finding a happy home with anyone who wants to remember one for longer than the show ( a personal fave of mine: "A retinue of scoundrels..."), as there is no need to project to row FF or worse, work around amplification delays. There is even the potential for the actors to break character and offer good-natured chastising any latecomers to their seats, further underscoring the "we're all in this together" ambiance.

Of course the story is as old as time: Boy and Girl meet, fall in love and then have to be torn away from each other to realize what they had was pretty darn good. But once again, the simplicity and intimacy of the production make it clear to audience members of ALL ages, what the moral is and how close to home it is to all of us. It is not lost behind parallels to the Disney movie rendition, or the flamboyant finale choreography.

The guffaws and smirks and singing of tunes that my kids gave me in return for a night of Fantasticks theater far out-weighed the WOW factor of other shows we have seen together. And for a pair of kids whose experiences are usually measured against either the latest video game or the extent of musical appeal, this show was a wonderful "unplugged" family event that delivered so much more..

How Sweet the Berries; How Sharp the Thorns

Friendships are a lot like blackberries, it seems.... the good ones are juicy and worth waiting for. Worth the time and the energy. Worth the watching and wondering. There are some that look appealing; but you can tell, by a gentle touch, they're not quite ready to savor yet. Even the obvious unripened ones, nestled in the perfect place to be picked, offer promise of more to come, if you can be patient. Then there are those pesky thorns. The thorns are friends who have betrayed, abandoned, or just withered on the vine. No matter how careful you are, one always seems to scratch you on the way to the good fruit.

Like blackberry bushes, some friendships are planted deliberately: nurtured, pruned, well cared for. Easier to harvest with a clear provenance; a known growing location. These are the friendships encouraged by repeated exposure: at school, at work, at worship, at an activity. The shared comfort of a known commonality. Like going to the garden center and letting an expert guide you on your selection. "Part shade? Rocky soil? Low maintenance? Try this." Then there are the bushes that spring up unexpectedly. Sometimes from seeds offered by an existing bush. Sometimes from seeds blown in from elsewhere. These are the serendipitous friendships. The ones involving risk.... a certain leap of faith and commitment to continue...no garden expert wingman.

I've been thinking a lot about friendships in the past two years--how they ebb and flow. How the obvious ones seem to be less cared for and the happenstance ones are somehow more precious. How some stand so strong through whatever life deals them. Challenged by distance or circumstance. Held together by a tenacious bond or even just a wish and a prayer, but sustained, none-the-less. Others fold like a house of cards. Just like that. Years of sharing and caring.... decimated by a single action.... intentional or otherwise. Often there is an effort to rectify things. Just as often, there are those who chose to shut down and drift away. As if to say, this friendship was never worth the effort anyway. Goodbye and good riddance.

To which I say: Dang. Dang that people don't try to put themselves in other's shoes. Dang that one hiccup is deemed worthy of throwing the whole thing away. Dang that in general, friendships are treated as if they are disposable; when they are no longer pretty, or useful or fit into the current state of affairs, they get tossed aside. What happened to reaching out? What happened to caring? What happened to attempting to restore what once was before delegating it to the rubbish heap?

Absolutely there exist poisonous friendships that need to pruned back and even pulled out. But like most things, prudence must be paid. Cutting down the entire berry bush just because the birds got to the berries the week your were on vacation seems a bit extreme. Perhaps the current passion towards organic gardening will offer friendships a more cultivated soil for growth. Seek harmony and think how your efforts will affect the whole system. Don't use any chemicals or synthetics. Work creatively with what nature deals you: storms, pestilence, the unexpected. Revel in the irony that by composting and adding decay, you will be rewarded with a beautiful, healthier product. Still, keep a watch for those thorns.

"FB" = FaceBook or FauxBlogging?

It is hideously embarrassing to note the date on my last post. Scary monster masks and all. November? I mean honestly. What kind of writing passion or discipline am I trying to nurture here?

I know, I know: holidays and such got in the way. Lame excuse, but I'll go with it. Then came New Year's and I REALLY wanted to post before the calendar flipped. Nada. January scurried by and so did any hopes of meeting a deadline that month. The next month, my birthday sang out before me like a day of writing reckoning. Instead the month moseyed along with vacation and then a week of lunches and frivolity. A twinge of guilt? Maybe. But no blogging. Alas.

Introspection was order. (After all, what else are birthdays good for besides gifts, counting gray hairs and getting your way? But that's another blog all together.) What was my barrier to blog? Not a desire to write (although I will happily grab the gold ring mea culpa during December to defend myself). Not a void of ideas (oddly, they seek my company when I least expect it: driving the car; waiting in line; dare I mention the shower?!). Then the ugly truth wagged a finger at me from my computer screen. "facebook," it whispered. "FaceBook," it chanted. "FACEBOOK," it finally screamed. (I think the "...you moron" part was implied.)

Call me slow, but I was taken aback. Could it be my intimacy with FaceBook was derailing my blogging? Had the convenience of a ten word status or a profile-posted news clip had taken the place of my need to be thoughtful and creative? My need to express myself; to share a quirky point of view; to carouse with fellow readers was being sated by an international house of porn! UGH! I felt lured into a brothel by Big Brother! Sure it was fun, but oh the pain for not being careful. Was I in it for the cheap, quick thrill? Or was I looking for more?

To be sure, FB has its place and appeal. Where else can I find a world of acquaintences at my finger tips? I can chat with friends from near and far, from now and then, from my high school and from my kid's schools. I can feed my Word Twist addiction; monitor the doings of 300 of my closest friends and enjoy the huge internet hug of birthday love when my wall was beseiged by greetings and cheer. But it just isn't the same as my blog. In many ways.

Shrouded in shame, I offered my perspective of FaceBook as the FauxBlog to a fellow writer and FBer. I expected her to look pensive and comment in a thoughtful way. Instead she looked me straight in the eyes with as much patience as one can muster when a friend declares the obvious and informed me that she too has fallen off the blogging wagon in favor of FB. "It fills my need for an audience. I'm kind of ashamed to admit it." Her confession only provided the solace that I wasn't alone.

Just as my daughter's $39 Lands End Fuggs (Faux Uggs) provide only part of the thrill of owning a real pair, FaceBook can only deliver a piece of the blogging pie. And no whipped cream. I now know, FauxBlog can only get me so far. Excuse me while I change my status before I run to the gym.