A single turkey walks into a bar…

Good morning Travellers,

We have arrived at the first major milestone holiday for me as a single girl. Okay, technically my birthday was the first, but this in America is a BIG one. Or not. It’s come to my attention in the past few years that many people do not really celebrate this day beyond a simple acknowledgement. And while I’m certain some patriots consider that blasphemy, I find it comforting. Not just now as a single person whose family is far away, but because I think each of our lives is our own and why should anyone dictate what our days mean to us.

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Let’s get gratified

Buenas Noches Travellers,

I’ve been thinking a lot about immediate gratification lately and my life choices. How many times have I chosen faster and easier hop skip and a jump rather than bearing down the longer road to something that would have been more. Do you know what I mean?

I think so many of us have fallen under that spell. The internal pull to have what you want RIGHT NOW seems to be very popular with humans, doesn’t it? It’s also very popular with my cat Charlie, who greets me each evening with a loud MEOW that I swear sounds like “NOW!” As in food. RIGHT NOW.

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Are you curious?

Good evening Travellers,

Earlier this morning, I gave birth to a beautiful bouncing baby post. I saw it, held it, heard it and then published it. And then POOF, gone. ALL. GONE.

ALL MY WORDS GONE. All 1500 of them. There is no word to describe how that felt.

Imagine going thru the delivery of your baby, you see your baby, hold it and then, well, NO BABY. In fact, said baby went back into my proverbial belly, or rather mind in this case, awaiting future possible re-delivery. I guess at least I didn’t have to have an episiotomy, am I right?

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A few Friday musings on marriage, metamorphosis, worms and money

It’s Friday Travellers,

And I have a lot of thoughts, maybe get a cup of tea for this…

I’ve been trying to add up the number in my mind of women whom I have met since my divorce, who are also divorced, and have quite emphatically told me that they’ve never been happier than well, being on their own. Happily divorced. SO HAPPY. Not fake happy, like glowy. And all ages, not just mid-life or late in life, 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, I mean I bet it’s been near a dozen women now…some random strangers, almost like the universe is speaking to me…it just happened again last night.

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Raising the Dead

Happy Halloween Travellers,

OR All Hallows’ Eve, OR my favorite to say and most intriguing by far, Dia de los Muertos! AKA Day of the Dead. Which sounds like the name of zombie movie, but it’s really not…

I’ve been thinking about this post in my mind for the past few days because I have so much to say and want it be as meaningful in words as it is inside myself. I’m not sure I can do that because I find when I try to be profound, I always fall flat on my face versus just let the words come out…

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Storms

Good morning Travellers,

It’s a rainy one, all night, all morning. Think there’s been more rain here this year than any year of my entire life, no matter where I’ve lived. Rain. Rain. Rain.

Sometimes I feel like it’s trying to wash away something…(Listen and insert Bon Iver)

Last night, as the storm was coming, it was really quite beautiful…there’s is a strange beauty in chaos isn’t there? Though I’m not sure storms are really chaos, are they? I really liked how the sky looked like it was swelling around the sun, swathing it in darkness…this is around 7pm..it made a sunshine belly button in the sky…

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Do you have a Vienna?

Dear Travellers,

This past weekend, I was watching “The Politician” on Netflix, which was a lukewarm experience on the whole outside of two moments. Both of them involved Ben Platt singing. There’s a reason this man won a Tony, am I right?

Anyways, the second song comes near the end of the series. It kinda makes the other 7 hours of it all worth it when he sings “Vienna” which is Billy Joel gold. I think I may have all forgotten just how good Joel was as a lyricist much less pianist. When the song was originally released, I was just a little kid and didn’t even know what it was about.

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Need

Good evening Travellers,

I hadn’t planned on writing today, but heard a song and felt I had something to say after all…

Woke up late this morning, which was nice. Charlie is an awesome tiny spoon partner in bed. Never thought I would say that about a cat, much less live with cats.

Made brunch for the first time as a single girl. With my very favorite pancake recipe:

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A sprained life

 

 

It’s Friday Travellers,

This has been a rough one. It’s been almost four days since my sprain, and while I’m definitely on the mending road, it’s probably going to be another couple weeks before I am back to my full plyometric strength.

I stood on my front porch this morning, watching the sunrise in the distance. For a brief moment, I felt like it was saying, the world is still out here, waiting for you, but let’s be honest, the world stops for no woman. It was a really good one too. The clouds looked like rippled sheets across morning’s bed of a sky. The little waves were tinged with reds and pinks against the periwinkle blue. Even now it’s quite lovely…

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Mow it like you mean it

It’s dinner time Travellers,

I’m obviously arriving late today. Once you begin your morning in tardiness, it seems the entire day is chasing it’s tail. BUT the weather is splendiferous. I love that word. And I love this weather. ALL DAY LONG. Since the world opened it’s eyes this morning, it’s been everything a person wants in a day’s temperament.

Our morning walk bordered on transcendent, which you may think is abit heavy handed, but truly, the skies seemed almost backlit with blues, pinks and purples, the clouds were all drifty and it was peaceful. The three of us treading thru the world half awake. It’s the way days should begin for us I think, getting outside and greeting the world. And I mean all of us.

And in case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m trying to woo you into morning walks…

 

Speaking of outside, last night I had a helluva lawn mowing adventure. Adventure is being generous, but that’s what mowing is for me. It’s venturing into uncharted territory. I didn’t have any real lawn mowing experience prior to my divorce. I grew up with outdoor allergies which kinda gave me a hall pass. I think I sort of a princess as a teenager who eventually dropped the crown on the ground.

My backyard is ginormous. Not exaggerating…

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It’s every dog’s idea of paradise, but not the owner, me, who has to mow it. And lately, the grass is just erupting out of the backyard’s every orifice. Rapidly exploding like it’s on steroids, which presents a very specific set of problems. Problems I did not know existed until my single girl lawn mowing adventures.

Did you know that grass congeals on the underbelly of the mower itself when it’s moist? It does. And I had no idea. It’s really a special kind of awful. Then that thick build up causes the blade to stall out and the mower shuts off. In mid mowing sentence. What happens next can only be described as a maneuver I call burping the mower, to make it cough up all that grassy gunk. Then it wheezes and sputters to start again leaving behind little verdant mounds in the yard. (which you can see in the photo from and center.) Like grass poop. Or mower vomit, you choose. And you cannot mow over these little piles without upping the ante.

For the final hurrah, you have to gently tilt the mower on it’s side so you can scrape the remaining lawn mortar. It’s thick. It’s like wiping off the mower’s butt, similar to a baby, if that baby were metal, substantially heavier and able to accidentally slice your hand off. Otherwise it grows mold in the garage.

YAY!

Last night was particularly difficult, and I spent my entire evening battling the great outdoors. The things you learn as a divorced woman. And to my wasband’s credit, he was a masterful greens keeper. I am not. I am getting it done.

As I was mowing thru the more uneventful stretches of green, I considered maybe hiring someone to finish the lawn. Just the random patches. Because I was so frustrated and wanted to quit. But I wasn’t going to quit, then I remembered this short story that Stephen King wrote years ago called “The Lawnmower Man” which is in a collection called “Night Shift”. I think I was in fifth or sixth grade when I read it. There were group of us that read ahead of our class and Stephen King caught my attention at a young age. This particular story is quite grotesque and disturbing. And specific. The imagery is very David Cronenberg-Esque. It’s a bizarre take on something very mundane. I only read it one time, but I still remember it vividly. Random memory from out of nowhere.

Then I was thinking about the “American Dream” or the ideals that once seem to guide the citizens of this country. (Sharp left turn, I know.) And how mowing the lawn seemed to be portrayed as a source of pride for men of a certain era. They even wore shirts and ties and sometimes suits for the occasion! It was something they discussed with neighbors and manicured it weekly. Because having a home with a yard were checkpoints in that dream. Along with a wife, 2 kids and a job. They didn’t shy away from hard work, they made it fancy. They took pride in it. Or so it seems.

I can’t imagine that world…And I can wonder, were they happy? Was life simpler? Did having a checklist work out for them? Or was everyone stuffing their discontentment down into the soles of their soul?

Maybe they just chose to behave better, that’s where I leave you tonight..

Oh, and, I’m pretty sure women weren’t allowed to cut the grass much less burp the mower during that era. And I would certainly hate to miss those experiences…because I’m working on the DO, instead of the dream…