It’s Friday

In the old days I had a reminder on Fridays to blog.  I totally ignored it. But last week after I posted a blog (after a 2 month hiatus) on a Friday, and then Janelly said she missed my blogs, I thought “maybe I’ll try blogging on Fridays again” – just for Janelly. And then I totally forgot about it, until now.  It turns out, as is consistent with my life now, and maybe always, that the best laid plans…

Next Thursday I’m leaving for San Francisco.  I have a lot to do to get ready to go. My Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are all booked with various commitments which left today to pack, etc. AND get ready for the craft show that will be on the Saturday when I get back.  I get back on Tuesday night.  Work Wednesday and Thursday which leaves Friday to pack the car to be ready for the 8 am craft fair on Saturday.  So I was looking forward to getting my act together today. And then….

Last night, coming home from mom day (the day I visit mom) pulling into my city garage, that is under construction, I did not judge the entrance around the construction barriers correctly and caught the corner of the barrier and it popped off the corner of my bumper. I mean talk about WTF. So instead of coming into the apartment and getting started on “stuff” I needed to get done for my busy busy week, I sat on the couch, pissed off, and ate M&Ms. I was asked to send a photo of the bumper to a friend who thought her husband could fix it but I wasn’t going back over there last night.  This morning I didn’t even want to get out of bed and think about it.  BUT I did get out of bed and walked over and took the photo sent it to her and then decided to send it to another friend who works at an Auto Collision Repair shop.  She told me to bring it on in.  I did and they popped it back into place and used a zip tie. I mean talk about God being good but so is Janice, James and Tony at the Collision place. After that problem solved I came home and got all the clothes out for the trip.  AND, AND, I was able to get all my stuff in ½ of my suitcase.  So the person I’m going with can hopefully get their stuff in the other half and look at that, saving money and luggage space. Now, at 4 pm, I’m in my P.J’s and have a little bit of time before my evening commitment and out comes a blog.  I mean, how productive was I today even with an unexpected car incident.  Don’t you wonder sometimes how you get it all done? I do. Like when I’m entertaining and I have lofty goals for a menu and somehow, miraculously, I get it all done in time.  Although I don’t entertain very often now, like never, I still remember how I used to pull it all together.

Speaking of that, I am wondering if it’s time to part with all my dishes. I have 7 or 8 sets of dishes.  Mainly just different dinner plates, not like total sets.  But living in this stupid city really limits my entertaining options.  Nobody wants to come in and risk getting shot, although I’m starting to think as long as they are not selling crack they’re probably going to be okay, but I can’t promise that. I really, really want to move out of the city.  REALLY.  But in the meantime my part time job is just a walk up the street and my rent is paid for another month so I’m here until at least October.

The moral of the story? There’s always time to blog. Or maybe it’s that things always work out? I don’t know, but here you go Janelly. Just for you.

xoxox

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51

Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker

I was on a call today about promoting my book.  You know the one, the only one, Finally Florida. Which led me to look at Goodreads, which led me to update my Books Read page which led me to the fact that I have an Author page which showed me that this blog is connected to Goodreads so it automatically posts on my Goodreads Author page.  I have been so absent from writing that I forgot all about that.  I’ve obviously forgotten all about the fact that I’ve been a writer.  Well, I haven’t really forgotten it.  It’s in the back of my mind, always.  And I have my book on a table in the middle of the room so every time I walk by it I see it and remember, oh yea, I did that. For awhile I was working on subsequent books and then the Jars happened.

I have been utterly consumed with decorating Jars.  In the spiritual world (assuming like everything is connected to everything else) I have no frickin idea how decorating jars would be connected to writing.  Other than they are both creative endeavors and Julia Cameron (author of the Artist’s Way) would be very proud of me for expanding my creative self. But it doesn’t help sales of my book. Nor does it expand my goal of writing more books. So today I made a date with two other authors to see what they do to promote themselves and to try and get back to the writer that I am. I mean even Patrick hasn’t sent me a reminder to blog in MONTHS.  MONTHS!  But I am determined to revive myself as the wannabe writer than I am, or was, or am going to be again.

There is so much happening in my life since retirement. Sometimes I want to cry because I’m so busy and I really long for those beach days when I just grabbed a chair and sat on the beach and read a book.  I had no (or minimal) friends in the Florida area so I was not making plans for lunches or dinners as I do now.  It’s no one’s fault but my own.  I love my friends and I want to see them and I see a free day on my calendar and bam I have a lunch planned.  That’s how it starts you know.  Then while I’m on the phone catching up with someone who I haven’t had lunch with I start painting a jar. I am a multi-tasker at heart.  Often times when on the phone I’ll start dusting. I got that idea from Peggy a long long time ago. I dusted today while talking on the phone.  I don’t have any more jars to paint at the moment. I need to go buy some more.  But now my adorable, beautiful apartment is littered with jars and napkins (that’s what I decorate the jars with, napkins). So anyway, how is a girl supposed to find the time to write?  Oh wait, and then I thought, financially I should probably get a part time job because well I always knew I’d have to support myself in addition to Social Security right? And although I had hoped that my book would be an overnight success and then I’d be this sought after author, well, it hasn’t happened, yet.  And when I started decorating these jars it never occurred to me to sell them.  It only occurred to me to sell them because I was making too many and had no idea what to do with them. So I decided to try and sell them. That venture has just begun so whether it becomes lucrative or not is yet to be seen.

But, so, work, yea, I called a temp agency and at first there was no response.  Was that the Universe telling me no need to go down that path?  But then I doubled down and called again and this time there was a response and then they found a job that was supposed to be one day and going forward I would only be called in when the other woman called off.  Well, after the first day, “can you come back on Wednesday?” So I was like “sure.” Then it was “can you stay longer?” I agreed to two days a week, 11 am – 3 pm. That was their hours set, not mine, but it worked for me. Then they called and asked if I would work 3 days a week instead of two. Wasn’t this just supposed to be filling in for the full-time person who I was in there supplementing for when she called off? After a long call with Diane who said “you need to set boundaries” – I pulled myself up and stuck to my guns.  Two days. That’s it. That’s my boundary.

Okay then it was two days from 11 am – 3 pm.  The very next day, “can you stay until 5?”  Okay fine, and then when I go into the office the very next day, keep in mind this is like my 4th day in the office, they tell me the other girl has now quit.  For gawd’s sake. BUT I stick to my guns and no I will not work 3 days. NO. Then “well can you come in tomorrow?” (it was for a Thursday) and I said “nope, it’s mom day and she takes priority, sorry”.  I mean what have I gotten myself into? Why can’t they leave me alone?  The curse of doing a good job.

There are a couple of things I do like about the work.  Like there’s an electric typewriter still in use. I, for some reason, find this so much fun when I get to use the typewriter.  It’s so nostalgic and it all comes rushing back to me, those days of long ago before keyboards and computers.

I bought an electric typewriter once for my mom, when she was living in Virginia.  I can’t remember if she was blind already when I bought it. I might have thought that the memory of typing could be fun for her but I can’t remember the “when” of when I got it for her.  I do remember she gave it away and it broke my heart.  But if she was blind I can certainly see why. I mean really, she could type but she couldn’t read it back.  What’s the use? But I can read things back. Perhaps typing a book on a typewriter would be fun.  Hmmm, maybe there’s a spark of something there.  Hmm Hmm Hmm.

Let’s see, other aspects of working, well I don’t really mind it.  It’s full of tasks and to-do lists and well it’s not a bad thing. It’s only a couple blocks up the street so I am getting exercise when I walk there. There’s a Target on the way home so I can run in and get something to eat for the walk home (for dinner) if needed. The whole working thing makes me feel a little younger actually when I leave at 5 with the rest of the workers I weirdly feel a little young again. So there are some emotional plusses to this work-a-day thing. It’s just that I want to go away. I want to go back to Virginia for a long weekend and well if I have to work on a Monday how does that work? I shouldn’t have to worry about this work business when I’m in retirement. So I’m a little perplexed as to how it fits in the bigger picture.  My mom day (I go help with mom) is on Thursday or I could travel on a Thursday-Sunday thing.  I guess I could move Mom to Tuesday one week, work Monday, Mom Tuesday, work Wednesday and then go Thursday-Sunday..  But I just hate to accommodate stupid work.  See?  I have authority issues.

Isn’t this just like me?  Rambling on and on with just brain dumping. I mean it’s just so me. And why have I forsaken myself (and my writing) for all these months?  I’ll tell you why.  Jars!  Honestly Jars!

I love my Jars. I’ve done one Flea Market (no sales, not one) and one 2-day “Fair in the Woodlands” which wasn’t a huge success but also not a failure.  I’m hoping to do another flea market tomorrow and then I have a few craft shows in September and more to come in the fall.  There’s a lot to learn about all this and I am really enjoying all of it. I do kinda wish, in my dream head, that I just had a store front to put them in instead of lugging all this stuff around to craft shows.  Especially since my car is parked ½ block away in the city and loading and unloading is a challenge. I’m up to the challenge but wouldn’t it be easier just to plop them in a storefront, and I live in the back of the store?  LOL.  And people just come in and take what they want.  I honestly don’t even care if I sell them I just want them out of my house because I make too many! But I might as well sell them.

Okay this has gone on long enough.  If anyone at all reads this then that will be a miracle.  But not as much as the miracle I am feeling in writing it again. It’s all coming back to me.  I can be a writer AND a jar maker, a candlestick maker and baker. But not a butcher.

Hmmm, maybe I’ll make some chocolate chip cookies.

Xoxoxo

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1911

Step away from the mirror

Nora Ephron wrote a book called I Feel Bad About My Neck and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman. I haven’t read it so I just now bought it. I do not like my neck either and as a matter of fact I’m starting to look into that Cryofacial stuff.  Freezing fat.  I recently learned about that process.  I’d hate to cut myself open and regret it (Courtney Cox, Jennifer Aniston) but I could get behind freezing. Besides my neck issues, I have almost always appreciated my face. 

I’m not sure if this was only a Sewickley thing but very few of us in my day, in high school, wore makeup.  My dad was never a fan, to the point of asking me on my wedding day what that “shit” was that was on my face. My wedding day.  And really the makeup on that day was quite subtle. The “earth mother” look was a term used to describe all us Sewickley girls (Sewickley being my home town) because I had a friend from another school district who was known as my friend with the makeup.  LOL. It, makeup, worn on a daily basis anyway, was foreign to us. We were all natural beauties.

There was a boy, Patsy, RIP now, who was gorgeous in high school.  One day he went through a windshield in a car accident.  His face was completely scarred. With him in mind I would tell the boys driving us around in high school that they better make damn sure I’m dead if they decide to wreck the car so I don’t get scarred like Patsy.  Does that sound conceited or insensitive?  Damn straight it does.  But it was the one feature that I thought was good enough on my body.

Have I taken it for granted all these years that I run out of the house, on any given day, for any reason, without makeup?  Do I take it for granted?  No.  Am I cognizant of it?  Yes. However, as I am aging I have asked a couple of friends (see above mention of friend) to give me a lesson on applying makeup.  They have not cooperated.  This is not to say I never wear makeup.  In fact throughout my book, Finally Florida, I have mentioned often about date night and putting on mascara. I’ve worn mascara.  And I’ve worn eye shadow.  I’ve worn blue and green eye shadow.  I have photos of my face with makeup that I would never ever show anyone else because I look like a clown.  But I’ve also looked okay with makeup when applied correctly. I’ve recently started to apply foundation on a more regular basis.  At least to get through the winter months when I can look so bad.  And I am aging.  I’ve accepted that.  Even with aging I still think my face is okay, round as it is, without makeup, most times.  And I still primarily run out of the house with no makeup because that is who I am.

HOWEVER, today, after texting with a group of friends about an upcoming brunch, I got hungry and decided to take myself over to Cherries Diner for a waffle (yes a waffle). I threw on a skort and Tshirt and was ready to go.  I looked in the mirror and thought, no.  But not wanting to put on makeup to go to the Diner that caters to mostly homeless people I started for the door.  There’s another mirror by the door.  I looked.  I stopped.  I went back to the bathroom and thought about my face.  I picked up a washcloth and splashed it with water.  I thought maybe I just need to wake it up.  The cold water did help slightly but there were/are these circle things under my eyes. Eff.. so I picked up this eye cream, expired in 2020, and applied that. Then I left the mirror. I stopped again, got the sunglasses and a ball cap and decided that was good enough.  Out I went.

When I analyze the situation, and am completely honest with myself, I don’t really like my face now after I look in the mirror. I don’t like my chin or neck, I don’t like my boobs, I don’t like my stomach.  I briefly was envious of my blind mother never ever having to face the mirror again and in her mind she can look any way she wants to look. I have half a mind to go around and cover up all the mirrors but then I would just catch a glimpse of myself as I walked by the all-glass PPG building and be mortified that my skirt was tucked in my underwear (something I would ordinarily catch looking in the mirror) so covering up mirrors is not an option. I do have a full length mirror that I think I look okay in when I’m ready to go out the door.  But when I get to my sisters, in the same outfit, and look in her mirror I am horrified. When I don’t look in any mirror I look like myself.  I look like I did in my 40’s. Let’s face it no one looks like they did in highschool at this retirement age, but I can live with 40’s.

I have read all the mantras and affirmations about accepting myself as I am and I really do, until I look in the mirror. Then I have to start all over.

In the meantime, until I learn to accept myself just as I am, or let’s be honest, follow through with the Cryoskin thing, I will wear sunglasses and a hat and as my mother said to me 30 years ago when I first started noticing my drooping eyelids, get away from the mirror!

xoxox

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9

What are you doing?

My mother asks me every day, several times a day, what I’m doing.  Yesterday, when I was visiting, she asked me many times, “what are you doing tomorrow?” I know as the adult person I am, and the 91-year-old that she is, that she is just trying to make conversation, and she has forgotten what I told her two minutes ago, but the child in me, hearing my mother ask me, makes me tense up, as if when I tell her I’m doing NOTHING I should be ashamed, embarrassed, and inadequate.  Then, I feel like I have to justify the fact that I’m doing NOTHING by telling her all the stuff I’ve been doing over the past week, or weeks. And truthfully, this past Monday, I woke up thinking “I’m doing too much, I’m trying too hard, I’m retired, knock it off.” And so I vowed to myself to quit working on all the stuff I’ve been working on and be retired.  However, I still feel that twinge of guilt when I have to tell my mother I’m doing NOTHING, even for one day.

It’s been one year since I retired.  I celebrated, quietly, with my own thoughts, on April 15.  That was my one-year anniversary.  Although I think going forward I’m going to make it more of a celebration.   Maybe take myself out to dinner.  Maybe get together with friends and eat cake.  I don’t know but I think the anniversary of retirement is something to celebrate.  It’s like the date you finally start living. Like born again.  Do you think this is what all the Christian evangelicals mean when they say you won’t get into heaven until you’re born again?  Do they mean retirement?  Because, to me, that’s what retirement STILL feels like.  Heaven.

I have been busy though.  Yes, a lot of that business is lunch plans, dinner plans, hopping on a webinar to learn about stuff I like to learn about.  The occasional hike.  Travel planning (although I’m kind of at a stand still right now) BUT additionally I’ve been working hard on that book of mine.  First it was a lot of the drudgery of formatting and getting it posted correctly.  I realize now that I’m supposed to do all that BEFORE I post it but, ya know, live and learn.  By the time I have the next book figured out I should have all that formatting done prior.  It’ll be easier.  But anyway, first the formatting, and then learning about marketing and promotion.  Trying to figure out my website (not done yet) trying to figure out the review business (and it is a business) and trying to market the book.  So there’s been a lot of reading, webinars, trial and error.  And then there’s the jars.

I started messing around with decorating jars at Christmas time.  I have no idea how I stumbled onto making these jars, but I did, and then I became a little obsessed with making them.  Jean calls it therapy. She’s not wrong.  I get lost in the jar making and it helps me not obsess about book business, or mom, or whatever else I may be obsessing about in any given moment.  Then, I realized, I’m making these jars and what am I going to do with them?  Soooo, I started looking into how to sell them.  They’re too costly to ship, so I ruled out Etsy.  I mean it’s over $10 to ship a jar.  It doesn’t make it cost effective.  I looked into selling at Farmer’s Markets. That would be my choice and I think it would be soo soo fun.  BUT you need a tent, you need weights to hold the tent down, you’d have to know how to put the tent up, you need a table for display and well you need help.  I have none of that.  No tents, weights, tables, or helpers. I did find a flea market that has indoor space and for a small fee you can get an indoor space AND they provide a table and chairs. However, I can’t get anyone to respond to the emailed request or the two phone calls.  I need to go there on the weekend and see if I can find a help.  But I have not done that…yet.  Sooo, then I thought I’ll sell at a store.  Sure, they take a cut of the sales, but I could just see if they sell at all and then I’d know if I can keep making them or not.  No one that I’ve reached out to by phone or email has responded.  But then I found a posting on Facebook of this store that is opening nearby that is going to have all home-made products for sale.  I contacted her and she responded!!  She LOVED my jars and had a spot left that I could share with two others.  We made an appointment to meet.  I was excited.  Exactly what I wanted.  A spot in a store and what if these other two went to farmers market and they had a tent?? I could share with them.  I’d even pay the $50 booth fee if I could just sit under their tent.  However, I have this cold that just won’t stop.  I think it’s allergies.  I don’t think I’m contagious.  But I told the woman I have this cold but I’ll wear a mask.  She said no problem, but she would prefer if I get sicker not to come and we will facetime.  I was sooo excited.  This was it.  She was in constant contact.  The day of the meet I was coughing like an idiot.  It just wouldn’t stop. I thought I can NOT go there with this cough.  They will all hate me.  So she said it was no problem and we’d facetime.  I emailed her early, told her about the cough, gave her my phone number and waited by the phone for the facetime call.  Nothing. Nada.  I have sent her no less than 4 emails. I started to think she was in an accident of some sort and was feeling sorry for her family.  Surely she was dead.  That was the only explanation I could think of for her unresponsiveness.  But then, then, she posts about how excited she is for the store opening on May 1.

I’m devasted.

This was why on Monday I thought, I am trying waaayyyy too hard to make something work.  The book, the jars.  It was feeling like work and I’m exhausted. So I quit.  I reminded myself that I am retired and just took a step back.

Then I sent in another application to be an extra in a commercial.  Did I tell you about that?  I was an extra in a TV show about a month ago.  That was fun.  I mean loonnggg day doing mostly nothing, but what a fun thing to experience.  So I thought I’d apply to do that again.  I mean really you do nothing and it’s a new environment for me.  I will say though, it is not an ego booster to be an extra.  The crew HATES you.  I think that they think that every extra is hoping it’s their breakout role to be a patient in a hospital scene and that is going to catapult them to stardom.  I assure you that is NOT my intent.  My intent is to have fun and see how another world lives.  And I don’t have to do anything but show up.  Well that’s not quite true.  For the show that I did I had to take outfits to change into.  Which was a pain cause I’m lugging all these clothes around a set.  We had to change a couple times, but then was never called back to the set.  A lot a lot of sitting. And eating!  Soooo much food. But I’d do it again.  If I get the chance.  The first time I was so engrossed in everything going on, but next time, when I become the expert, I’ll just take a book.  It reminded me a lot of sitting in an airport waiting for the delayed flight.  You get used to sitting there and pull out your book.  I can see getting used to sitting there in the background crew area and just reading a book.  Maybe I could leave a copy of Finally Florida in a strategic location and someone will pick it up and say….hey….we could make a series out of this?  That’s why the crews hate us.

So this week I had lunch on Monday with Angie, lunch on Tuesday with Kathy, a city hike and lunch on Wednesday with Sally (like 8 miles and my feet were crying) Thursday is mom day where I cook for her and sit and read to her for the day and so today was my planned NOTHING day.  But really not nothing, here I am typing a blog.  That’s not nothing.  I moved some money around, but that was late last night so that might not count.  I talked to my brother.  We got disconnected twice and then he had to hang up on me for real.  I played Wordle.  Took me FIVE tries.  Not a good day. I’ve had two cups of tea. I’m looking around my “corner” where I sit to type these things and do my internet research, and write and I’m thinking maybe that couch is the place to be today.  Maybe there’s a movie on I need to see.  I mean it’s my NOTHING day.  So I need to do nothing.  Ooh, movie, maybe, maybe I’ll take myself to a movie.

Nah, that’s too much work.

xoxox

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9

City Living

I would like to write a mystery novel.  I’ve started watching “The Last Thing He Told Me” on Apple and after two episodes I’m writing twists and turns in my head on how I think this story could go.  It’s not really a fun quality as I’m constantly trying to figure it out, from episode 1. I usually have it figured out before the end. I’d love to write a story with lots of twists and turns. Currently, I have started two other books. And I’m not motivated to work on either of them so I don’t think I should start another one, in another genre, that I’m totally unqualified to write.  Still,,,one day I’m gonna do it.

So here’s a funny story, sort of. The other day, well first, to set the scene, I have this cough that I got from my mom.  Not Covid.  Just a deep cough.  I thought maybe it was one of her “near death” symptoms, until I got the same cough, and then just realized she made me sick. So anyway, I was feeling pretty poorly the other day; however, it was a beautiful sunny day, warm temps, so I thought sitting in the sun would do me good.  You know when you’re sick and go to sit outside you just throw on a T-shirt, jeans, and on this particular day I threw on a very wrinkled flannel shirt as like a light jacket. I grabbed my book and phone and out I went. Okay, so here I am sitting on a park bench, a bit disheveled looking, because I’m sick and that’s what most people would look like if they went out to their yard sick, and I notice this young man struggling to keep his pants up. At first he was on his phone with one hand, the other hand kept pulling his pants up. At some point he just leans over, pants fall down, then his underwear fall down half way. He’s propped up against a wall, ass out, and he stays that way for however long one does when they get high like that. Could have been 15 minutes could have been 5, could have been 30.  I don’t know.  But all I kept thinking was we are behind a school (there’s a charter school in my building) – Not only that, but ya know we city folk just want to sit outside and eat our lunch in the sun or read a book.  I sent the mayor’s office an email, which I am now wont to do as a city resident, suggesting that at least have a police officer, or security person walk through the park once in awhile.  Just walk through, ya know?  After a few minutes of me with my holier than thou attitude and disgust with city living these days, the guy leaves and I pick up my book to read.  I read about one paragraph and start nodding off. I’m sick you know, and my eyes hurt, and I’m that kind of sick that I just keep nodding off.  And I realize had police walked through, or a security, there was not much that separated me from the guy without his pants on.  Sure I had my pants on (I think) but I was nodding off on that park bench, I was disheveled looking and well you see where this is going don’t you?  Clearly the man with his pants down was high, and clearly I do wish that someone would walk through and just move him along, but clearly I too could have been mistaken for an undesirable.

On another day, when I was dressed appropriately, I was walking down 5th Avenue, coming from Target (the old Kaufmann’s/Macy’s) – it was a cold day, and you know how they have these squares that are like planters, with a tree and some flowers, an elevated concrete planter thing?  Know what I’m talking about?  Well there was a woman, just fell right over in there and she couldn’t get up. It was cold, snow on the ground cold.  I mean it’s like astonishing to see this woman who just fell over and now can’t get up and she’s talking, asking in a very normal voice for someone to help her up. You want to laugh but it was so pathetic, and sad, and like how do you respond, beside wanting to help her get up, which I assure you most people want no part of.  I did stop to see if I could assist in some non-physical way. There was one man trying to lift her up.  He was having trouble.  She was a big woman.  I really didn’t want to help pull her up because I was positive I would pull my back out. Luckily another man came and between the two of them they got her upright.  She was suffering from the same affliction as the man with his pants down was suffering.  The two men righted her and I asked if she wanted me to call anyone.  She said no and off we went, left her sitting on the edge of the cold planter. No one was sympathetic to her plight. This is the glamorous city life I lead.

That said I just got my notice to sign my lease for another year of city living. I am told often by friends and family that I don’t belong in the city in a high rise. I need my own little yard where I can fall asleep in my t-shirt, in my own chair, where no one will confuse me with a homeless heroine addict. But even if I could, I would not know where to move.  I am all over the place with where I want to call home next. So it looks like it’s another year of city living for me. Maybe this is the year that the city will turn around.  Maybe they’ll add rooftop sitting to my building? I’m positive there is a book in there using my city living as a backdrop, with a lot of twists and turns.

xoxo

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61

Where were we?

It’s been so long I don’t know if I remember how to blog. What is it I do again? It was much easier when I just sat down and wrote what came to mind. I guess that’s what I’m doing now. What is coming to mind is that, now that I’m an author, I need to do author-like stuff, and I am fumbling through this. Like a ship lost at sea, looking to the horizon for any sign of land. That’s kinda poetic isn’t it? Maybe I’ll start writing poetry.

Cutting to the chase, as they say, I need to post my 5 star review on this blog site. I haven’t done that yet have I? I put it on Linked-In but I think I need to put it on this site as well. You know, self promotion and all. Self promotion is what self-publishers must do. And if I understand it correctly so do people who are published by actual publishers so, you know, I don’t feel that bad about it. Anyway, at the bottom of this page will be a copy of my review that I received through Readers Favorite. I think most people have seen this on my Linked-In or Facebook so I apologize for listing it again here. I’ve recently sent out for another review. You have to pay for these reviews you know. Well you probably didn’t know that, but I’m telling you, that’s what you have to do. Which isn’t always true, you can also get some free ones. Like this one I have listed below, I could have gotten a review for free, but it takes longer so I paid for an expedited one. I figured I’d see what a professional thinks about my book and if it was going to be bad I probably would not be self promoting it. I’d move on to another profession, like decorating mason jars (I’m actually doing that too). Anyway, I’m so excited that I got this great review that now I’m not embarrassed to ask a local bookstore, Portkey Books, in Safety Harbor (which is next to Palm Harbor, which is where Finally Florida takes place) to carry the book. (phew, long sentence) And how cool would that be if they carry the book that took place where I (I mean Victoria) lived at the time. I would buy it there at Portkey. I do like an independent bookstore. In Sewickley I buy at Penguin Bookstore. (I haven’t asked them to sell my book yet. Just haven’t gotten there.) I am a supporter of independent bookstores. The problem is, though, when you want a book you just get it where you can get it. Now, if I lived IN Sewickley, or if I was doing some afternoon lunch and shopping there, I would definitely buy a book in the Penguin, but if I’m sitting in my apartment and I have to have a book, well I’ll buy on Amazon which apparently independent bookstores hate. I mean who knew? I have so much to learn. I also went in Barnes and Noble last week and bought some books in there. They’re a big store. Is that a bad thing? I say not. I love a bookstore. Big or small. And now I have at least 5 books by my bed that I need to read. Literally 5 books. Usually I only have one or two backed up. But I’ve gone on a shopping spree. Also, I’ve discovered this stupid game on my IPAD and it’s keeping me up at night and keeping me from reading those books that I need to read. I am rambling aren’t I? I feel like myself again. 🙂

Okay so other than the book business consuming me, I had a girls weekend with Ellen and Jennifer in DC. Last year we were at Ellen’s beautiful mini-farm (farmette?) This year Jennifer’s in Bethesda and guess who should host next year? I’ve already called my brother in Palm Springs and said I thought maybe I could host at HIS house. He didn’t say no. Otherwise I have an L-shaped couch in Pittsburgh. One person could sleep left, the other sleep right, and one in the bed. We had alot of fun site seeing and even remembered our alma mater which we sang together, in key, at Jennifer’s neighborhood party. We weren’t even embarrassed about that (joined by fellow classmate Lucy.) The Cherry Blossoms were stunning. Here we are:

After the girl time I drove to Virginia to visit my mom’s house, you know the one I lived at in the woods, the beautiful house that we sold. It was emotional. The last time I was there was when I was moving back from Florida to Pittsburgh and I stopped there with my Penske truck. At that time, I ran into the then almost empty house and loaded up the kitchen table to bring up to my sisters since I was there with a moving truck. I made a cup of tea, with the pan still there, and sat on the porch. That was the last day anyone of us Monahans were there. I can not explain how heart wrenching it is to not still have that house in our family.

First, when I got to the area I went and visited my grandparents graves. They look good, although next time I’ll take a rake and rake the leaves out. They are buried behind the Salem Baptist Church that one of my relatives (Uncle Abner, I believe) founded. My grandfather was in the choir there. My aunt played the organ. As kids we went to that church every Sunday, when we were visiting there, and we were related to everyone. NOW, the church is still there and it is an Arabic Baptist church. I can’t even wrap my head around that. In Goochland County, Virginia, very backwoods (very affluent county but like in the middle of nowhere) and there is an Arabic Baptist church. There is also an arabic man buried in the cemetery. The cemetery is only about 30 graves, mostly all relatives, and now this newest member. I am proud of the county but also just like amazed.

After the graves I went to the house. The new owner, Scott (not to be confused with my brother Scott), was out of town, but his mom was there to greet me. I was crying as I pulled in and as I got out of the car she said, first words out of her mouth, “are you crying” – and I couldn’t answer because I was indeed crying. So she gave me a big hug and I bawled to this stranger, in a big bear hug, who now lives in my house (well she doesn’t live there, but close enough). It was surreal, the whole thing. From the Arabic Baptist church to these strangers living in our house. It was hard to process. BUT, I will say that after my initial crying jag I smiled the entire time. She was/is so lovely, showed me every inch of that house. It’s all new furniture (except they do have a couple pieces of ours we left there that they saved!) but it still looks like the house. He has a dog and a cat and to me the animals are welcome additions. I haven’t met the owner but he is such a nice person that if I was 20 years younger I would try and marry him. He is so kind, and he loves the house. He’s made paths all through the woods that we walked on, but didn’t go too far into the woods because there is a bear. I think there’s always been a bear there but my blind mother never saw the bear so I think they just co-existed nicely, as they were not a threat to each other. Well, anyway, it was a wonderful visit. I also visited a neighbor (who claims to be reading my book!) and then spent the night at our friend Norie’s. Norie has been my mom’s friends since the early 1950’s. My dad and Norie’s husband were roommates at some point. That’s how long my mom and Norie have been friends. Isn’t that something? about 70 years. Here’s a story about Norie’s home where she gives tours and lectures on moss gardening: Eden Woods

I forgot how beautiful the Richmond area is. And I was so happy to be reminded of it again. I was also reminded of my friend Lori, who I was close with while I lived there with my mom. Lori died shortly after I moved away from Richmond (from cancer.) I pulled up to a store only to remember the last time I was at this particular store was with Lori and teared up again. There were alot of tears this weekend.

In the end though, through all the tears, it was such a wonderful visit. I’m elated that the person who bought “our” home loves it so much and so open to our visits. I sat on the porch all afternoon with his mom. I didn’t have to clean any windows or screens, or set mousetraps, or make dinner, or do any work. I just sat there and enjoyed the beautiful weather and the trees that I have literally grown up with my entire life. I felt rejuvenated afterwards. I felt like I was “home” – I felt like I could leave there and come back “home” to Pittsburgh and I can go back there again when ever I want. I feel like “home” is a very big thing in my life. Always trying to figure out where that is.

This has turned out to be a long blog. Just like the old days. Just like when I would report on what I’m doing in Finally Florida. I mean just like that, isn’t it? Although really there is so much more that I didn’t touch on. But maybe that will be something for me to blog about later. I really should be doing this more often. I could blog about my jars, my day as an extra (although I can’t talk about that yet), next week I’m going to work at the Pirate games, I mean lots of goings on. And I think I sold 20 books this month. Now if only we can get that up to 2000 or more a month, I’ll be able to pay my rent!

xoxox

Book review of Finally Florida – Readers’ Favorite: Book Reviews and Award Contest (readersfavorite.com)

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101

Today’s the day

I have not forgotten that I’m supposed to be a blogger. I have gone from Blogger, to Author to Publisher and now promoter.  It is soooo much work.  I can certainly see why you would pay someone to do all this for you.  It was suggested to me that now that I have figured out a lot of the formatting issues that I could also be a paid formatter of books.  But I would rather be a writer.  One thing that Finally Florida mentions continuously is the desire to be a writer, you know, like of books. So kinda cool that it happened, in the way that it happened, because I sure didn’t foresee turning all those blogs into a book.

On the subject of formatting, there are two versions out there.  Both have the same text/story but they have different covers.  One is through a company called Ingram Sparks that is the company used by bookstores and libraries and larger outlets, and then the other version is the book found through Amazon.  Had I known ahead of time how it all worked, I probably could have just picked ONE of those outlets and still sold on Amazon or I could have chosen expanded distribution through Amazon and skipped the Ingram Sparks version but alas I did not know prior to this shitshow of this process.  And now if I want it sold through Barnes and Noble I would have to pick yet ANOTHER version to format and upload and just enough already!  And really I don’t want to get bogged down in all the formatting, editing and subsequent marketing, I just want to get my silly stupid head back and blog about nothing.  So I’m putting marketing on hold.  I am only sharing these details to explain my blogging absence and because I’m exhausted from my day and rambling on about nothing seems to be my niche.  I will add that anytime I see someone post something about my book (like Peggy did last night about reading it) it is somewhat surreal.  It takes a moment to register, like wait, that looks familiar! Oh yea, it’s MY book!  HA!  So fun.

Otherwise, I am still retired, still loving it and still letting life unfold day in and day out. Today I am exhausted because I’ve been spending a lot of time with my 91-year-old mom who acts like she’s dying until you call hospice and then she tells them how great she feels and nothing hurts and then you just want to kill her. As soon as they leave then she’ll ask for help getting to the bathroom, after she tells them how spry she is. These old people. WORSE than those dam kids.  A representative from hospice just told us they had to release a 104-year-old who just kept getting better. That was not encouraging news to my mother who does not want to live until 104. I’ve been a hospice volunteer for some time now, but it is a totally different experience when it comes to your own parent. Well at least it is for me. It’s just she sits and tells us one thing and then when we try and get her help she tells them a completely different story. Her vitals are good.  Lungs, heart, blood pressure, oxygen, healthy as a horse.  She has no illnesses, no terminal condition.  Her knee hurts terribly from arthritis and originally she refused to do exercises or wear a brace or anything to help herself.  But in front of a doctor she’ll tell them it doesn’t hurt and then she says “of course I’ll do exercises” – when they leave she refuses.  PAIN IN THE A**.  It’s exhausting.  She could do things to help herself, she could walk more and it would help improve, but she is 91 and doesn’t want to do anything to improve.  And for never going to a doctor she is dam healthy, other than losing her sight, not a darn thing wrong with her.  Which under normal conditions, without the blindness and inability to walk without pain, would be so wonderful. I am told I should be happy that my mother is still living and I feel bad for everyone else in the world who says “I wish my mother was still alive” “you are so lucky” – but these are not lucky times. These are stressful and exhausting times. BUT I do feel fortunate that I am able to spend the time with her that I do.  It’s a very mixed blessing for sure. I’m thinking of turning the blogs that I wrote that came after Finally Florida, the blogs when I was living in Virginia with mom, into my next book. But there’s so much more to me and mom since that time, and apparently more to come. I think I have to wait awhile for that one.

For now I’m going to get caught up on some TV.  Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

xoxoxo

PS – today’s feature photo has no significance other than I wish I was there, on the beach…again…

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72

Where am I?

Don’t worry, I know where I am.  Geographically anyway.  I am in anything-but-sunny San Francisco. Yes, I experienced the national grounding of airplanes yesterday and my flight was delayed for 4 hours.  BUT I will say everyone was calm.  When the flight at the gate next to mine cancelled, no one seemed upset.  Everyone just got in line to reschedule. The gate attendant got on the announcer thingy and said it was a good day and appreciated everyone’s patience and that not one person yelled at her. Even though many people had connections to catch they just went with the flow. The gate people (customer service I guess) also seemed so pleased that it wasn’t their fault.  But it was an awfully long morning.  Up at 3:30 a.m. expecting a 7 am flight to be in the air and not leaving until 10:30…well, it was a long day for everyone.  But but but at least we were not cancelled. I did not want to have to pay for another taxi ride and lug that luggage around.  So the taxi driver was on time, as they usually are, and he hoisted my bag into the trunk, which I knew was under 50 lbs, I made sure of that, and at the airport I left him a big big tip because of his sad story he shared and did the jerk get out of the car and help me with the bag, getting it out of the trunk? Noooo, he did not.  It threw my whole morning off.  He knew how heavy that bag was, he was bigger than me, plus that’s like his job isn’t it?  Or maybe it isn’t.  Well, ruined my morning. But here I am in San Francisco, once again.

I was thinking last night about how “used” to things we get. Last time I was here everything seemed so new, and it was.  The architecture, the stores, the streets, and I just looked all over constantly.  Couldn’t get enough of the differences.  This time, granted it was pouring down rain, I don’t think I looked at anything.  I knew what the architecture looked like, I remembered the stores, the streets, nothing was awe inspiring and we just came home.  Like that quick I am used to SF. BUT tonight, we are going to a very cool restaurant, at least we think it’s going to be cool, and it hasn’t rained all day, and I was appreciating the sunshine, and sitting outside in a tank top and loving every minute of being here.  Plus, I now I have my own room to stay in which was different than the last time I was here when I was on the very comfortable couch. I mean soon enough I’ll be staying for weekS (plural)…maybe…I mean I don’t want to really bother them. But I love being here.

What else can I share, as I have time to waste between now and dinner?  It’s a little too overcast to sit outside now.  Not as warm as it was earlier and the dog, who refuses to leave my side just can’t get comfortable when sitting outside.  He tries to sit in my lap but he’s a little too big and he can’t figure out what to do with his head.  I tried setting up chairs for him next to me but he wasn’t going for it, so we came inside.  He’s happily sleeping on my bed.  That’s all he wanted.  A nice soft bed. I love my grandpups.

happy sleeping pup

Other than reporting my geographical whereabouts, in other news, my book release, or announcement that it’s available on paperback, went over pretty good.  Lots of great comments on Facebook and I think I even sold about 10 of them.  How about that!  It’s not easy being an artist and putting your creativity out there. I don’t even share this blog on Facebook.  Mostly because it was just started as a way to communicate with friends when I moved to Florida in 2014 and so everyone that read it already knows me, and can be very forgiving when I say stupid things, cause, well, they know me. I did pick up some people that didn’t know me but then they seemed to be forgiving too.  But I never thought I would open myself up on Facebook.  I’m too nervous about being criticized.  My brother and sister-in-law – well they are so talented.  My brother is stoopid talented musically, but really talented creatively overall.  Him and his wife now play music in bars around their Palm Springs neighborhood and having the time of their lives.  No more world tours (as they both have done separately in the past) but just having fun.  They play cover songs. I asked my brother why he doesn’t play any of the songs he’s written.  I’m telling you he’s stoopid talented and his songs are good.  And he said “nobody wants to hear those, they like the songs they already know.” See what I mean?  Stooopid. Maybe he’s right, as I am not his manager, although I should be, but I think the issue for creative people is the fear of not being liked. People don’t want to hear or people don’t want to read or people won’t buy that. Whatever that is that you do. You don’t want someone taking your hard-earned very personal work and saying “this sucks” – and that’s what an artist has to face anytime they put something out there.  Did anyone watch 60 minutes last week with Hans Zimmer?  I mean does it get any better than Hans Zimmer?  And even he is afraid of sucking. Well, anyway, that’s why I was not planning on putting my Finally Florida on Facebook. But then my talented artist sister-in-law put my book out there on her feed and I thought to myself, well, if you want to be a writer and have anyone know you are a writer then you better put your writing out there.  And I did.  And I am very pleased at the responses on Facebook.  Now granted this is before anyone has read it, but I did get a quick email from a very old (as in long time acquaintance, since first grade) who said she was almost late for work as she kept reading it…I mean that’s a GREAT compliment. So I’m pleased.  I am even having some thoughts about marketing and doing more stuff with it. And there is a lot to do. But, I like how I’m thinking.  Long term thoughts. So that’s fun. And all because I got brave and took a chance and put myself out there.  It’s like I’ve opened up a whole new ballgame in my head, which is good timing since I am retired, don’t you know.

Doesn’t mean I don’t fear the criticism.  I guess that’s just part of the game of life.

Xoxox

click to purchase on Amazon
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A nice way to start 2023

I received an email from Amazon today with the subject “Your paperback book has been published!” I cried. Seven years after I thought about turning those posts into a book I’ve done it. Finally Florida is a paperback book, for sale! For real! And like you can buy it! I have a proof copy with this Not for Resale written across it, and I have to say every time I walk into the room and I see that book sitting on my chair I smile. It’s just a cool, very cool, milestone. Disclaimer though: self publishing and formatting yourself, especially my book with the blog posts, is a nightmare. I’ve been messing with it for literally months. It’s not perfect. There are headings on pages where they should be on the next page but I couldn’t figure it out so I just gave up and decided it still reads the same. Good enough for a first edition 🙂

I only ask this, if you do read it, if you could please write a review.  You can’t write a review without buying it, I don’t think. Otherwise you’d have a lot of false reviews out there.  You don’t have to write anything long.  Just like “it was pretty good, can’t wait until she improves…” Even though most of you already know it’s mundane drivel, not the next literary masterpiece, any positive review is helpful. You could say something like I’m pretty? Or I make good chocolate chip cookies if you can’t think of anything else to say. Reviews are what drive sales up and give exposure. Who needs Random House, right?

I’m an official “author” now. No longer do I have to say I’m a writer. I’m an actual author; a writer of a book, article, or report.

Happy New Year and prayers for Damar Hamlin

Get your copy here (that’s the wrong photo for the book but it works)

xoxoxo

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Merry Christmas Cake

I made my annual Pistachio Cake today.  I used to have to make 2, and wished I had made three because everyone loves this cake and I never had enough.  I got this particular cake recipe from my high school boyfriend’s mother.  I was 15 years old.  I remember her giving me the recipe and emphatically telling me to start it out in a cold oven. Doing the math that recipe was given to me approximately 50 years ago. FIFTY. That’s the same year Franco Harris made his immaculate reception. (RIP Franco ☹) Every year when I make the cake I think of Mrs. Nieman (boyfriend’s mom) and their kitchen where she entrusted me with her recipe. Fifty years that recipe has stayed with me. And for fifty years a favorite Christmas memory tied to that cake.

At Thanksgiving this year my great niece (Mya) asked my sister (her grandmother) if she was going to write down her recipes so Mya will have them when my sister passes.  We laughed out loud, but I mean talk about being proactive. Mya is on it. And I guess we are the old people now.

Here is hoping you have comforting memories that are at least 50 years old and this year give a favorite recipe to a young person who will think of you in fifty years!

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah.

xoxoxo

Go Steelers!

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