Embrace The Suck

Ah, Halloween! That special time of year when monsters and ballerinas set aside their differences to walk hand in hand around the neighborhood in search of coma-inducing, sugary treats. I was going to write a long, well-formed essay on the strangeness of this fall ritual that seems to have taken on a life of it own. For instance, why is it called a holiday? Isn't that supposed to mean holy day? Perhaps in the days of the ancient Celts, Halloween's ancestor feast day was considered holy. But I find it hard to put the concept of holy and begging for candy in hob goblin clothing in the same sentence. Particularly because I've got a bit of a sugar headache from eating a good portion of leftover candy, I think an essay is out of the question. I'll just write a few bullets and let it go with that. I don't think I've ever been a real fan of Halloween, either as a kid, or as an adult. I think one has to be really secure in one's own skin before she can throw hersel

"Mothers, more commonly known as "Mom," are not only the backbone in the nuclear family sturcture so essential in perpetuating the existence of the civilization of mankind as we know it today as well as insuring the developmentally fulfilling future cycle of the human race, both on this planet as well as the realms it will someday reach beyond ... But also ... they kiss booboos too."* At about this time five years ago, I was standing with the rest of my family at my mother's bedside. She was dying. We all knew it, yet weren't quite sure how to let her go. The hospital personnel did what they could to ease our decision. A priest prayerfully guided our thought processes. Only one nurse was a little crabby. Maybe not so much crabby as matter-of-fact. The patient on the respirator on the bed in the cubicle was just that - another patient -not her mother. Still it's hard, even after this much time, not to be resentful. Mom was basically gone to us earlier in

"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." Sylvia Plath Does anyone but me remember the Hanna Barbera cartoon character Quick Draw McGraw and his alter ego, El Kabong? Dressed in Zorro-esque fashion, the masked McGraw would foil his foes with a surprise attack of his trusted acoustic guitar, aka a "kabonger." Althought Kabong often destroyed his guitar in the process, he usually got his man. Lately I've felt like I've been "kabonged." Not by a guitar weilding cartoon horse/man. I haven't seen any of those, which I think is probably a pretty good thing. No, I think my kabonger is more the kind of message that keeps coming from places you don't expect - the universe? God? a magic 8 ball? Everywhere I turn, a mysterious yet compelling messenger tells me "Write." "Write what?" I ask. "Anyth

"Real luxury is time and opportunity to read for pleasure." Jane brody Today was the kind of day one has to have every now and then. A stay-in-bed-and-read-all-day day. It's been a long time since I've read a thriller that really captured my attention. Usually I read a page or two, fall asleep then wake up to turn the light out when the book falls out of my hands and makes a thump on the floor when it lands. The Poet, by Michael Connley kept me reading til the toothpicks fell out of my eyelids. I just could't make myself come fully awake this morning. Mainly because I slept late this morning, mainly because I was up so late reading last night. Also . I'd peek every now and then at the clock or the cat, then roll over and go back to sleep. Once I heard the walker bump down the hallway, I knew I had to get moving. I drug myself out of bed, did what I had to do, then worked my back to the bedroom. The cats were a little startled to see me back so soon. Neither w

I think it is official. The Christmas season is upon us. I'm not talking about the religious version of the baby in the manger with a star shining brightly overhead and angels singing a delightful glor-or-or-ia. I'm referring to the merchandizing frenzy that often resembles a school of sharks going after a bucket of chum; customers fighting over the last few Tickle Me Elmos and the merchandisers who know how to stock the shelves with just the right number of the giggling muppets to keep harried moms from starting a riot. For the last couple of weeks, stores have been decking their aisles with tinsel and garlands. I've already seen the season's first Christmas trees up and decorated. I've passed by boxes of wrapping paper and greeting cards. But my real clue that the holidays are nearing is in the number of catalogs the postman puts through our mail slot every day. It's embarrassing. It's pointless. Most of all, it is a sad reminder of how times have changed.

Last week I was looking forward to taking a road trip to see the Smokey Mountains decked out in their beautiful fall foliage. Circumstances beyond my control caused a postponement, perhaps a cancellation of the trip altogether. Nothing like a little angina (not mine, my Dad's) to let the air out of one's tires - metaphorically speaking of course! All's well that ends well, however. We got Dad home from the hospital and settled back into our daily routine after only three days. Still I needed a change of scenery. On a whim, Jack and I left my sister, Jean in charge of the homefront while we headed north on Highway A1A. We discovered the old beach road ends rather abruptly in a stand of sea grass. This is probably because Fernandina calls itself an island. Feeling wild and carefree we decided to turn the corner and follow where the road led us. A drive along the Florida coast soon turned into junket through southeast Georgia. The temperatures had dropped to a pleasant 70-some

"By prevailing over all obstacles and distractions, one may unfailingly arrive at his chosen goal or destination." Christopher Columbus Over five hundred years ago Christopher Columbus bumped up against the first spit of land he and his fellow seafaring explorers had seen in several months. I can only imagine that they experienced something of an elated "Woohoo! We did it!" feeling, combined with a dizzying snippet of "what now?" I also suspect there were a few sailors that told old Chris they weren't stepping foot back on those boats until some of the luscious looking tropical treats were added to the menu. Call me crazy, but I think that turning the anniversary of the day that proved to be the beginning of the end for the natives who had been living in the old world for thousands of years into a holiday is a little strange. Don't get me wrong, I think Columbus and the boys did an amazing thing. No doubt saying goodbye to friends and family for a

In an attempt to replicate for Jenni James [antijen.blogspot.com]the same birthday blogs she composes for her nearest and dearest, Wendy and I have put our heads together and come up with a bunch of reasons we love Jenni. What we lack in number we more than make up for in a lovely little jaunt down memory lane - at least it was lovely for us. Remembering the Jenni Thomas of old is almost as good as calling the Jenni James of today a friend. We are the lucky ones. Here goes: 1. My first meeting with Jenni was when she came to our house to buy a quilted vest I had made. It was denim with a big circle patchwork star on the back. As I recall, her mom had seen the vests at a craft show and wanted Jenni to be sure to get the one she liked best. Little Miss Thomas gave each vest a good going over and serious consideration before making her decision. At least that's the way I think it happened. Maybe she just grabbed. The end result was the same - they left with a vest and smiles on their

Papa Bear: "A good plan is like a road map: it shows the final destination and usually the best way to get there." H. Stanley Judd Baby Bear: "I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day. " E.B. White. Ahhh, Oct ober. It's not just a month on the calendar. It's the harbinger of a change in seasons, football match-ups, apple festivals and fall foliage. Not to mention the beginning of the end of the year holiday season, that begins with Halloween and runs through Christmas. Unless, of course, you follow the merchandizing calendar which had pumpkin and scarecrow decorations for sale shortly after the 4th of July and will be featuring New Year's Eve noisemakers and Valentine cards in the same newpaper ads. The thing I like best about October is the difference in temperatures, albeit minimal when one lives in Florida. There's just something about the way the air fe

There are a couple of blogs of which I am a faithful follower. When the authors don't post on a regular basis (my regular not their's)I fret. Then I fuss. Then I fume. I know it's strange. After all the beauty of having a blog, instead of say, a newspaper column, is that it's personal and one can write whenever one pleases. The true irony is, I seem to be an avid reader who looks forward to daily log entries but only post my own whenever the muse stikes. One would think I would have more understanding of my readers' bated breath. Wrong! Apparently I'm more self-consumed than that! For those fans who have not given up on me and still check this site on occasion, I do apologize. Sometimes the words flow freely. Sometimes they are nowhere to be found. Sometimes I get busy doing other things. Sadly, I've realized that my ability to multi-task has gone down the tube. Lately I've tried to remember how in the world I ever juggled more than one, possibly two(or