The Decades

I am 7:

What I remember: Not much except that times were tumultuous. I was forced to change schools between second and third grade because of redistricting. I was in an integrated school, and then, I wasn't. I'm sure the impact of that would have been felt seismic if my family wasn't imploding. My mom and dad separated between my seventh and eighth birthdays--as memory serves.

I am 17:

What I remember: My graduation from high school. It was a glorious time. Beyond the excitement of graduation was the elation of the next steps, being on the precipice of my future and freedom. Or so I thought. Long story short, my planned move to the dorm was cancelled, and I spent the next two years commuting to college and fighting to survive the onslaught of my brothers' antics and my mother's growing medical and mental anguish.

I'm 27:

What I remember: Kindergarten. My son had two orientations in two schools. The first orientation was rendered moot due to an argument his dad had with the landlord of our apartment building. We were evicted. Thankfully, another apartment, only a few blocks away, was available, so we moved in. Despite the second apartment being geographically closer to the first school, we were out of the district. Hence, the second orientation at the new school. My daughter was entering the parenthetical terrible twos. Twenty-seven was a blur.

I'm 37

What I remember: Upheavals. In the workplace, the CEO of the parent company died. Two years later, the executors sold the family of businesses, ending one era and beginning a new one (for me). On the home front, my marriage was crawling toward its eventual end. My 15-year-old son and my 12-year-old daughter had their eyes, hearts, and hopes trained on me for guidance.

I'm 47:

What I remember: Being in a relationship. My mind was falling in love with the idea (and the act) of falling in love. It was a long-distance affair, meaning it wasn't without its logistical challenges.

Dance Me To The End of Love

I'm 57:

What I remember: Nothing super specific; my mother died four years prior (my dad, five), and judging by my archives for the year, blogging was not a top priority. Between over-arching grief and focusing on the newish job in a new (to me) industry, I was putting one foot in front of the other and just moving right along.

One of the November posts from that year contained this quote:

"It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences."   -Audre Lorde

and creatives

Twenty Eighteen

Ho Ho Ho!!

Oh wait, that was last week.  This week is Auld Lang Syne time; a time to ask that haunting question about old acquaintances. Time to reflect on the previous three hundred and sixty-four days that covered twenty-eighteen.

For me, twenty-eighteen was mostly consumed with my daughter's accident in January and the physical and financial difficulties that followed for both of us. Our personal financial difficulties were exacerbated by the homeowner's association ineptitude and our building's perpetual state of disrepair.

There were times that I didn't think we'd make it here but with the help of generous friends, luck, and grit here we are, looking forward to twenty-nineteen, planning for a future for even beyond the next three-hundred and sixty-five. Well, cautiously. One. Day. At. A. Time.

All the troubles aside, there were good things about twenty-eighteen that are worth remembering.

Meeting two blog friends in real life and experiencing the city of my birth through their eyes was one such thing.

Another was my son being cast for an episode of a network TV show. And seeing him on screen. He's been acting professionally since his second year of college and while I've seen him on stage many times, and even on the small screen a few times, this time seemed somehow...extra. Maybe because this job made it necessary for him to join the screen actor's guild, which means he'll be compelled to go out for more screen work. Let's face it, screen work means not only visibility but also money. It IS a business. It is a profession.

All-in-all, I guess twenty-eighteen sums up as a break-even kind of year.

May your days be merry and bright and may all your christm...oh wait, that was last week...
Cheers and Happy New Year to all!

"we'll take a cup o'kindness yet, for days of auld lang syne"

Go here for more blogs. 

T = together. time. . . .

Daughter has Mexicana radio flowing, soup simmering, grill fired up, sous chef Cinnamon at the ready. Son has stories. It is fun to be on the sidelines, watching, listening, learning, laughing. May your day be spicy or sweet, whatever your heart and soul desires. Happy Thanksgiving.

Pass the Rum Gravy, Cabbage, and Rolls

Truth be told, I haven't had rum in several years. In fact, the last taste of rum was gifted to me by a very dear friend. I don't there will be any rolls either. It has just occurred to me that I forgot to buy them and unless there is something vital that seems to have been forgotten as well, dinner will go on without them.

No biggie.



Yes, there will be a dinner. Poultry, dressing (not stuffing in my corner of the universe) macaroni and cheese, cabbage (two ways--with meat and without) and . . . I know I'm forgetting something, can't put my finger on it...oh well, point is, food.

And drink. And . . well, and . . . just . .

Truth be told I'm not feeling particularly festive. I'm trying for daughter's sake but my heart really isn't in it. But, there will be food and if the cabbage (both ways) and the macaroni and cheese are any indication it will be good. Maybe not great, maybe not amazing, but good. Okay, very good.

Damn, the gooey, cheesy . . good. Must stop tasting.

Truth be told, while not feeling particularly festive I do recognize there is much for which thanks should be given. And so I do give thanks for my decent health, the good health of the actor and his sister, the comfort of loving pets, shelter, food (damn, the gooey, cheesy . .) drink, other family, friends particularly those who have experienced a recent turn of (woot woot) events allowing for a sense of safety, security, inching toward home,  warming me all over.

Yes, there will be a dinner, the menu changed (slightly) to minimize the onslaught of memories.And while not feeling particularly festive, I am thankful to be here to be able to share a meal with my son and my daughter and to have connections with people who bring me great comfort and joy.

Peace to you.