Indigo Elixir

A long walk under a sunny blue sky, with just enough breeze blowing my hair, from my parked car over the bridge to the edge of dry land.
Between the water and the cloudless sky it seems every shade of blue is used with various intensity depending on the direction I'm looking.

The scene is balm for eyes that need a fresh perspective. Rushing waves mingled with seagulls and distant voices drown out the noisy demands that continually mull over in my non-beach mind. Senses are re-awakened to warmth on my skin, cool water around my ankles, the impression in course damp sand that my feet make with each step.

Hunting for treasure, that's what I'm here for. Scouring the line of shells left by high tide for that special few that will make it into my pocket to come home with me. I know I'll not leave disappointed, I don't think that's a possibility, not here. Passing up a couple pieces of green and brown sea glass I bend to claim for myself the white ones. For whatever reason today the first shell to attract my attention is a black one, that too is worthy of a bend, and with that decision I continue searching for more of that color, having already decided that the pieces will come together as a necklace.

With treasures gathered, plans and ideas established I start back satisfied that once again, creation in it's unequalled splendor has been an elixir for my soul. I will make the black shell necklace and wear it reminded of the healing qualities offered freely to everyone who'll take advantage of what is always there. Indeed, a treasure has been found!

Time devoted to rest wholly needed,

stretch, recline, think.

Time infusing thirsty thoughts

with inspirations drink.

Time with sun and sky and surf and air

for breathing deep,

Time to see and hear and absorb treasure

I might keep.

Time invested plumping up my parched

wilted soul,

Time for salty frothy steps where the

tides roll.

Time with surfers and sailors and gulls

at the seashore.

Time again indigo elixir, work magic

once more.

pj

Stuff

Payday, woohoo! Go to the mailbox, retrieve the statement, put on reading glasses, "unzip" the envelope with a letter opener (it makes such a nice crisp tear and spares my fingers a possible paper cut), look directly at my take home pay, and sigh disappointedly. There it is, the fruits of my labor, the reward for my effort, what I exchanged those hours of my life for, grains of sand on the bottom of the hourglass once mine at the top still unused, now gone. I just shake my head and think I can't keep doing this, somehow I have to change this. I mean, I work so hard for this, this, pittance. There's things I want to do, stuff I want to get, this isn't gonna cut it!
For years when my kids were little I seemed to adhere to a mindset of accumulation. I think that is a typical characteristic of youth, the great pursuit of stuff accumulation. Being a big family we were often given things, clothes, toys and bikes, household gadgets, furniture, even an artificial Christmas tree that I continue to use to this day. I was as glad and thankful to accept as the giver's were glad and thankful to have someone to take the stuff off their hands! I would sift through, keep what we could use or had need of and space for, and pass on to someone else what we couldn't.
I'm a seamstress, crafter, decorator, designer who re-purposed long before it was "green" to do so! I took the term "one man's trash is another man's treasure" literally, finding tables, chairs, mirrors, Christmas decorations, glass vases and bottles, a steamer trunk, wheel barrow, and assorted items that have served us well after a good cleaning, painting, or makeover, and many things that I was able to re-craft and sell. I still have items that remind me of the days in the old station wagon with plenty of room for whatever we may find on our daily route between home and school, that I could just pull over and require one of my poor reluctant kids to throw in the back. Fortunately they were not too awfully traumatized by this activity as they now actually call me to tell me about what they "found"!
When they were little and pre-teen, they brought home bikes and lawn equipment, trimmers, mowers, even riding mowers that they re-built to be what suited their purposes. When they needed new rims or tires they'd find someone else's cast offs to get rolling again. They would get those mowers running and in fact kept our yard mowed that way for many years, and even mowed the neighbors yards, and got paid to do it! They taught themselves how to repair and build what they needed with pride in jobs accomplished, and new skills acquired. They had some of the best bikes around, maybe even THE best, one of a kind stop and take another look bikes! The boys had a reputation around these parts, they were the boys seen riding around town on the tall bike with the surf board, or the bike with the long front fork, or the boys who could be hired for lawn work. One bike built from scratch, using recycled or refurbished parts had a school bus yellow paint job with freshly painted black flames. After a brief first spin around the neighborhood upon completion, it was parked by the front door where in a 1/2 hours time it was stolen, never to be found. It's especially heartbreaking when bit by bit, piece by piece, that bike was given time and attention, culminating in a start to finish personal design of an 11 year old. Excitedly anticipated, proudly completed, a masterpiece, that some fool having no regard for person or property, without any sort of permission to do so, took. Came onto our privately owned little corner of the world in the broad daylight of a sunny afternoon, and took for himself what was in no way his to take. A young boy's labor of love, stolen, gone, only the scar left. After all these years it still makes me sad for him.
Unfortunately, that was not the only bike stolen, nor have bikes been the only stolen things. We have been robbed of tools, toys, cars, and peace. Our house has been broken into twice. The things stolen from us were of no great monetary value, a little cloisonne heart from my great aunt when I was a little girl, a cross cut by a jeweler friend out of a piece of stone brought back from a Colorado vacation, a high school championship ring, electronics, two origami dollar bills from a 12th birthday lunch. Just sentimental "things" that would not even fetch a nice price in a pawn shop. The thieves may have just tossed them by the way after realizing they would be of little or no use to them.
Our cars have been plundered, pushed out of the driveway, glass broken, wires cut, stereo equipment stolen. First cars are like good friends to 16 and 17 year old boys. One son made a custom fiberglass speaker box to precisely fit the back of his car. After working and finishing installment in the wee hours of the morning, he woke the next day, only a few hours later, to find it gone. He never even got to see it finished in the light of day. A thief was just watching and waiting for the house to go dark to make his thoughtless self serving move. Another son had his car almost stolen, but for a "kill switch" it would have been, he was left with steering column and ignition repairs, and a bent door frame. His second car was stolen right from the driveway, 15 feet from where he slept, 2 weeks after he'd completed the body work and applied a fresh paint job, all himself. The car was found stripped and returned a mere shell of what was stolen, after he paid the towing bill required to reclaim his property. He installed lights at the driveway to shine on the cars, and boots the wheels every night now. There have been numerous attempts, successes, and police reports. Happily one car thief was actually caught and required to pay restitution, as if that's really even possible. All else, just gone
We have done what we could to prevent future incidences, and yet it isn't enough. Today when my daughter went to her car to go to work, she came right back in the house to tell me someone had been in her car, the glove box was open, papers all over, radio gone. Her car is a beat up old junker, we didn't think there would be any reason for concern over it. She called me from work to ask me to check if her cd's were still there. They were not. She cried. they were cd's she made, songs she picked to make collections to suit whatever mood she was in. Her Keith Urban cd was in the case, the one she bought last summer on our vacation which included seeing his concert. I bought her the tickets as a high school graduation present.
It's stuff, I know it's stuff, but it's our stuff. Stuff that we invested our time, our attention, our very limited financial resources, our ideas, our emotions, little bits of ourselves into. No one else will fully appreciate that but us.
It is just stuff, but it is stuff that we worked hard for. Stuff that belongs to us either by purchase or by creation or both, stuff that is our personal property, in or on our personal property with rights to it belonging only to us! When anyone helps themselves to what is ours, not theirs, we must wonder what more might they feel entitled to help themselves to, what else might they have no regard for? As they steal our stuff, they steal our freedom to pursue whatever happiness the accumulation of our stuff may bring. The stuff that makes our home pretty, even if it was picked up at the curb. the stuff that makes our life more comfortable, such as a way to and from work and wherever we go. Stuff that was presented as a gift for an occasion or a job well done. Stuff that when we see it reminds us of things we want to remember. Stuff that our paychecks, our hours, our effort has purchased, OUR STUFF!
It takes a lot of time and sacrifice to be able to replace these things. Some of them will not be replaced, by choice. Some of them, most of them, cannot be replaced, they were one of a kind, handmade, or just old and unavailable now.
I see the numbers on my pay statement and know the exchange of time for dollars is not just compensation. I will use those dollars to pay for the necessities of living in our home, the one we've been in for 22 years. The only "home" the younger kids have ever known. A few of those dollars will go for un-necessary things like a meal out, or a new cd. The dollars will not last long at the rate they've been coming in and going back out. And as history has proven the stuff those dollars buy us may not stick around long either.
It would seem thieves would steal from targets that appear to have abundance, you know, live in big houses, drive expensive new cars, the ones you'd expect to have all the latest stuff. It would seem that the potential to be caught would not justify the risk on small peanuts like us. It would seem. Of course that is probably relative. Maybe when the thieves look at our house, and our cars and our stuff they do see abundance. Perhaps I see the abundance of others and it would seem I myself am "less fortunate'. Perhaps relatively speaking it is not as it would seem.
Every time this sort of thing happens I am inclined to say to myself, "It's time to pull up stakes and move to another place", leave the home we finally have made improvements to, finally have space well utilized, move to a better neighborhood. Then the mailman brings my pay statement and I think, perhaps it is not as it seems, relatively speaking.

5 points

I have to work in the morning, early. There isn't time for blogging, sleep is next on my to do list, but I really want to blog, blog blog blog. There is so much in there, my head and heart, that wants to come out, it's just that time is so short on workdays, and workdays usually leave me uninspired, but today is harboring yesterday's leftovers, and a whole week of thoughts that consume and spill out through my fingertips to the keyboard onto the computer screen. There is satisfaction in expressing them at least like this, if not to another person. I don't need feedback, just an outlet for expression, thus I blog a few key points.
1) I am privileged to have great parents.
2) My kids make my life full.
3) I wish for a different source of income, but am thank full for the one I have.
4) My needs are met, and surpassed.
5) I know who I am, where I came from, and where I'm going.
Goodnight...
Thank you Lord...

Ridiculous Nonsense, a Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, in a gingerbread house, lived a little girl with golden locks, and so she was named. She had a brother who was once a wooden boy, his name was Pino-grigio. They had 3 neighbors, one lived in a straw house, one in a wood house and one in a brick house, combined with their own gingerbread house, it made for a very integrated neighborhood!

Pino-grigio was a mischievous lad, once he stuck his thumb in Mama Bear's plum pie and then claimed he was a good boy, and when Mama Bear wasn't looking he'd be nimble and quick to jump over her candlesticks! Mama Bear didn't find his antics very amusing, so all he got for supper was 9 day old pease porridge, while Golden locks porridge was just right.

One day the two of them, Golden locks and Pino-grigio, started out on their bikes to Grandmothers house stopping to pick up Little Red while riding through the hood. The children decided to leave their bikes at Little Red's and walk the rest of the way to Grandmother's. They left a trail of crumbs to mark the path for their easy return, but we all know there is no such thing as an easy return in a fairy tale!

Deeper into the woods they went, passing Pete the rabbit with a cottonball tail, and a parade of children following a guy with a pipe. There were 3 pigs, a sleepy dwarf, and a grumpy dwarf who huffed and puffed at them as they walked a little too close to his daisies, and there was a bridge that had a troll underneath threatening to do them in. They even saw Georgie, they'd never met him but knew it was him by all the girls crying nearby, and the scent of puddin' in pie. There was the tiniest girl they'd ever seen living in a thimble, and blackbirds, lots of blackbirds. It was always such an adventure going to Grandma's house!

It was lunch time but none of them had packed a lunch, fortunately as luck would have it they came upon a giant beanstalk laden with big beautiful beans, the children loved their vegetables, beans being a favorite they exclaimed "fe fi fo fum beans beans yum yum"! As they picnicked under a tree by a tuffet Little Miss (she was quite a dish!) joined them for lunch, which was a nice surprise since they didn't even know she lived around there. Along came a spider and they all got up and ran away with the spoons, they always had spoons with them because Mama Bear always told them "you never know when a good spoon will come in handy", and she also always said "now don't you go giving your mittens to kittens, you know how the Snow Queen loves blowing in a surprise nor'easter!" Mama Bear was always prepared! She carried a great big satchel with paper and pencils, tissues, lemon drops, lip balm, a sweater, of course a spoon, and in case any of us got thirsty she brought along the kitchen sink!

When they finally arrived at Grandmother's house, the kids were a little surprised to see what big eyes she had! She told them it was because she had become worried they were "detained" by the wolf that was big and bad. She was relieved to see they were okay!

After a long days journey with lots of adventure it was supper time. Grandma dished up some curds and whey, and for desert some big juicy apples. Supper at Grandma's was always so special. When they finally finished eating their tummy's were full and their rumpty's large and humpty! They laid down, closed their eyes, and fell fast asleep.

At the stroke of midnight they awoke to find themselves in the midst of a pumpkin patch surrounded by mice. Nothing was familiar, where were they? What happened while they slept? They didn't even recognize each other, they were big, all grown up! They didn't know what to do, or who to go to for help sorting out this phenomena. As they looked around they saw a cottage in the clearing up ahead so they went there and found a kind old woman spinning wool on her wheel. She told them they were a mess and showed them to the powder room so they could clean up. The mirror mirror on the wall proved they were not fairest. After a bit of grooming they again went to the old woman asking her what they should do. She told them that at one time she had so many children that she too found herself in the predicament of not knowing what to do, and that in the end everything worked out just fine. She was able to finally move out of that old shoe she lived in to this nice comfortable furnished cottage, complete with even the dishes that she affectionately calls by names, like her "Mrs. Teapots" and the cups "chipped" and "cracked", she doesn't mind the imperfections on them because they remind her of the good times when all the kids were home back in the old shoe. She thought perhaps they could be better helped by the fairy godmother and gave them explicit directions how to find her, "be very certain you take the right side of the fork in the road", for if they did not they would find themselves in the land of the wicked witch, and there is only one way to be released from her cold bony grip. Many the lass asleep under her spells, and the lads turned to toads.

They left the old woman and began the trek to the fork. When they arrived Golden locks started on the fork to the right, while Pino-grigio started left, Golden cried out "no Pino", I distinctly recall the old woman's instructions were to go right, but Pino-grigio was insistent she said left. Sadly, it was there that they parted ways.

Many years have passed since that day at the fork in the road. Golden locks found her prince charming at a ball his mother arranged for him. She wore a beautiful gown, and a tiara of diamonds, and danced until midnight in glass slippers. She had vowed never to be out past midnight ever since that fateful day at Grandma's house when she was a child, and hastily left the ball as the clock's strikes counted down. In her haste she ran right out of her shoes leaving them behind. Prince charming ran after her only to find broken glass where she had been just moments before. He knelt down and cut his finger trying to pick up the glass and had to be rushed to the emergency room for 347 stitches. They never saw each other again. It's okay though because along the way she met a toad and a beast, and even though it turned out they really were a toad and a beast, there are the children they had that fill her life with joy. Golden locks still hopes that one day Prince Charming will start a facebook account and she'll find him there, until then, she just pecks away at her keyboard making blog entries and checking for him on facebook.

Little Red missed the hood so much she started a 12 step program for displaced make believe characters addicted to yesterday's fiction. She never eats apples anymore.

Pino-grigio wound up in California working at a vineyard. He has since branched out on his own and is said to have a very successful plum pie business, he tests each of them himself before shipping them out to vendors by sticking his thumb in them, a method he knows to be tried and true.

Grandmother took a few college classes and got her pilots license. She flies around the country visiting the grand kids and the great grand kids. When the kids left her house that night without so much as a goodbye and didn't keep in touch 'till a long time later she decided she would never let so much time go by between visits again! Grandma's a firecracker!

Turns out the old woman in the cottage only made up all that stuff about the fork in the road and the wicked witch and the fairy godmother, she was just a hoot with a crazy sense of humor. She knew they'd find their way, they just needed to step out and start! She had raised all those kids in that old shoe after all.

She figured it out, and so would they!

And they all lived crazy, goofed up, unpredictable lives, but mostly happily ever after.

Oh yeah, and Mama Bear got married to a guy named Bradley. She met him as he was passing through town and stopped in to her shop where she sells sea shells, he had 3 boys of his own and that's the way they all became the Bradley bunch!

The moral of the story:

Blackbirds eat crumbs.

P.J.