Me, the Mall and the Space Station

A week and a half ago I was watching the 6 O'clock News. The weather man announced that the International Space Station would be passing over around 9pm that night. "Look for a white light moving northwest to northeast." Ok. I'll keep it in mind. I like to see stuff like that. Made salads for supper. Did the dishes. Decided to go the gym.

I was riding the bike, reading as usual, when I remember what I'd heard. Glanced at the clock on the wall. 8:55. Plenty of time. Curious I decided to check it out. Left my book and towel on the seat and walked outside. The sky was absolutely cloudless. Dry air. Clear as could be. The most beautiful dark sapphire blue color. Perfect for station gazing.

I made my way to the center of the big parking lot trying to put myself in-between the tall light posts where I would have the best vantage point. Still wasn't real dark but it would have to do. Better with my hands up shielding my eyes. Started looking up and to my left. I had no idea if the 'bright, white light' would be low, close to the horizon line or high above me or even somewhere in the middle.

There! Oh, my gosh! It was white and it was bright and it was coming right at me at a decent clip from my left side. The station was easy to spot and it was alot bigger than I expected. In fact it was much larger than some airplanes you spot flying at higher altitudes. I found myself walking straight ahead on a 90 degree intercept to its movement so this incredible wonder of modern science would float right over my head.

Felt like good karma or something. I watched it continue on until the light faded, then disappeared. Just me. All alone with the space station. In a parking lot. Feeling very, very cool.

Jesse James, Sandra Bullock and a Cliche'

As soon as the news broke about Jesse's infidelity I told my husband if I was Sandra I would have looked that creep in the eye, pointed my finger right up in his face and said "Thanks for reducing this marriage and my career down to one stupid, bound-to-be-repeated-a-million-times cliche: Talk about being blindsided. Really, Jesse, great job. Thanks. Thanks a whole @#* lot."

She hasn't been seen nor heard from since the crap hit the fan and her life as she knew it splintered into a million pieces. Hopefully someone on the magazine staff with a kind heart called to give her the heads-up so she had time to get away before the mad feeding frenzy began. After her heartfelt, emotional speech at the Oscars (with Jesse sitting in the audience with puppy dog eyes moist with unshed tears.....gag me) how stupid, betrayed, raw, bewildered, enraged, embarrassed, foolish and used she must feel.

Here she was on location out of state, filming a movie, earning a paycheck. (Before marriage was Sandra in headlines due to promiscuous behavior, clubbing 'til 3am, getting stupid traffic tickets, shoplifting, dressing like a wench ~ the usual stylings of a steriotypical Hollywood bimbo? No. She worked hard at her craft and kept a lower profile.) And her husband is back home acting 'entitled' shall we say (Hmmm....seems to be going around these days...maybe 'ole Jesse will ne the one to sign up for therapy this week) on a couch in his garage. Ouch! Talk about sad irony.

Granted her hubby was married to a porn star, works on choppers/cars, is tatooed from here to there. All the usual 'bad boy' stuff. Clues to behavior? Who's to say. Sometimes love just sucks. Even when the lady is doing all the right things, the choices made by others can muck everything up. I give her credit -- she was willing to give her heart. Too bad the recipient just didn't understand the true value of the gift.

The Yellow Purse, the French, and Easter

I was getting in my car to go grab a bite for lunch and I saw this girl across the parking lot sling her purse up onto her shoulder. It was a yellow leather bag and the color caught my eye. Wasn't anything super special. Didn't match her shoes or her belt. Didn't really match anything at all truth be told. Just a cute bag. That was yellow.

POW. Yellow. Shoulder strap. Up out of ... well, I'm not sure where the 'where' actually is (or was) ... this niggling thought reared its head, rudely poking me (more like an annoying pestering really) in the memory department. SNAP. I caught a flash of a yellow purse on my brain screen. Square-ish kind of shape. Bright yellow. Quilted. Something long....long..... forgotten. My curiosity was peeked. A square-ish, bright yellow, quilted, shoulder bag that I obviously had. Sometime. In this lifetime. Hunger pangs would have to wait --I had a mystery to solve.

I sat in my car letting the 'ole memory run a background check. I got a glimpse of some kind of pattern on the material. And the feeling it was from my high school days. Dig, brain, dig, because now I was definitely determined to filter through all the layers in the gray matter filing cabinet to try and figure it out. Like taking two hands and digging in the sand at the beach to find some hidden kind of treasure. Almost there.... just a few more seconds....getting the sense that I've almost unlocked the mystery and.....FLASH!! It was like I had a fuzzy snapshot jump off the page of some forgotten album, complete with old-style serrated edges and the words "In Front of the Eiffel Tower" written on the white border. ...and was that me with the haunting yellow quilted bag hung on my shoulder??!!?

Oh, my. I probably thought it was just the PERFECT accessory for my bright yellow canary coat that I took along as well on the spring break trip my senior year with a group of fellow French students, assuming (sorry, no cable Weather Channel existed then) the weather would want to cooperate and be pleasant because: it was the week of Easter; everyone puts away their dark winter clothes and reaches for wonderful spring shades and fabrics; we all want to think about blooming bulbs, blue skies, and warm sunshine. RIGHT? Well, let me tell you that would be everyone except the entire French population which, as I found out Easter morning attending mass at Notre Dame, thoroughly intended to cling to their drab putty gray and ugly nondescript brown overcoats well beyond that landmark Sunday. I'm telling you I looked like some poor lost canary surrounded by a herd (yes, a herd) of the somber old, dull morning doves. Oh, geez. Did I look just a little tiny bit out of place or what?

Well, let me make an announcement: Wake up, people!!! This is Paris -- You know: P-A-R-I-S. City of Light. THE the fashion capitol of the planet. Ring any bells!??!! Home to Chanel and Yves St Laurent. Hellloooo!!? I guess someone forgot to inform the natives. And, above all, we were celebrating the gift of eternal life. The greatest sacrifice given, the greatest love ever shared. Ever heard of it?? Guess not. And sober?? All glad hearts and smiles must have been prohibited by law. Oh! And don't forget to include bright colors in that as well.

Bet I made a big impression. Bet I shook their world. Nah. On second thought they probably went home and gossiped about the crazy American girl who must have been out of her mind. Wear yellow on Easter? Are you nuts? And happy? Who ever heard of that? Too bad I didn't have any marshmallow Peeps to pass out. That woulda drove 'em right over the edge, like lemmings to the sea. Talk about a Kodak moment worth capturing.

Hair -- the LEAST of My Worries!!

When I entered the salon on Tuesday night my hair was 6 inches longer than when I left two hours later. The color had gone from pretty darned blond to a darker blond with some lighter blond woven highlights. (When I was leaving another stylist saw me and sucked in her breath and stared -- "You cut all her hair off!!!")

I was ready for a change...or so I thought. Four days later I'm still trying to figure out what to do with this shorter length that now gentle curls just under my ear lobes. I've experimented with a curling iron, hot rulers, and just plain straight.

Still shock myself when I catch my reflection in a mirror. Not comfortable at all with this look I haven't sported in over eight years. Gone is my ponytail tied with classic grosgrain ribbons. The varied collection of clips and barrettes lie idle on the shelf. No chignons possible now. I am just as confident with or without the long locks. But my self-image has changed because I still catch myself lifting my hand to flip the ends over my shoulder as I lean over or go to gather the entire mass to clip up while at the gym as always was my habit.

This new do -- Does it make me look younger? Older? Updated? So far the reviews have been stellar, applauding my decision. I still have my reservations.

But you know what?? Hair grows. It is one of those wonderful things in our life that doesn't change....just goes on and on. The Earth didn't stop turning because of Tuesday night. I'm not scarred. Didn't lose a limb. Not blinded or lost my sight or life. As an old co-worker used to say, "There's just a few days between a good and a bad haircut." So simple yet so true. Bad dye job? Try again. Uneven? Trim it. Too short? Just wait those few days.

Hair. It defines us. Drives us crazy. Makes us feel like a queen. A sexy siren. Or grounds us and makes us realize we are beautiful just as we are.

My Evil Twin

Wow. It has been four months since I wrote last. I have really missed this. Carving just a little time for yourself out of the day is good for your soul. Self-expression is important by whatever method or talent you possess. Mine is by the pen. I watched the DVD Confessions of a Shopaholic and fell in love with her by-line "Girl with the Green Scarf". I debated on changing my site's name to 'Girl with the Sharp Quill' but I didn't. Too copy-catty. But seemly that title echoed the other side of my personality....the one I can't seem to control!

I am a Gemini thus I can legitimately claim I have a dual nature. (Must admit I could care less about any of that astrology stuff. Don't even have any desire to learn about it.)But even though I have no interest doesn't mean that I haven't discovered how to use my birth date for my own purposes. Woo-Hoo!! Bordering on perfect really. Here's a great example: Growing up I was a goody-two-shoes, get good grades, stay-out-of-trouble-kind-of-girl (except in first grade when I decided I did NOT need a rest period on my little rug-thank you very much - so I would whisper to my best friend between the legs of desks and chairs and got shooed out into the hall two times....but that's another story for another day.) So whenever I did speak up or contributed a definite opinion people would look at me and say, "I didn't know you were like this!!' Heellllooooo, people!? Just cuz I didn't speak up all the time...like some others did....didn't mean I had nothing to share. Well, anyway back to my theme. And what I learned was when and if I did state how I felt and if that perhaps was just a bit edgy, shall we say, or was a tad bit acerbic or even just a touch nasty I could blame it on my evil twin and laugh!!! Talk about ideal! The day I figured that out and actually stated it out loud pushing off some pointed comment onto my dark side, everyone cracked up. They thought it was funny! And EUREKA!! I knew I had found the excuse of a lifetime. An ENTIRE lifetime. How darned lucky was that??

Now. Now. I see where your head is going with this. Don't even think I abuse this alibi at the expense of hurting someone else's feelings or simply to satisfy a twisted sense of humor (which I do hav....never mind). It's always said with a sparkle in my eye and a smile on my face. Hmmmm. But which 'me' is it....?

Milestones

Have you ever read Simple Abundance? A very good friend of mine sent it to me. I leafed through it and even though I appreciated the time and trouble she went through to send it to me, I put it in my bookshelf and literally ignored it until Jan 1st of the following year. I pulled it back out feeling honor bound and determined that I would honor her selection consciously making the daily reads a priority.

Gotta tell ya it was a rough start. I scoffed (yes, truly scoffed literally) at some of author's exercises. I rolled my eyes (yes, again, literally) when she told me to light some candles, climb into my bed surrounding myself with pets, favorite things, and just enjoy the moment. WHAT?*#@?? Who has time for that crap? I have one day a week to get everything done that I want to and I'm supposed to throw open the windows, inhale the fresh air, make lists of what I loved about my childhood and fill a drawer full things that make me happy??? Well, I suppose it's cheaper than a therapist but really, Sara Ban Breathnach, are you nuts??

With much trepidation and head shaking I stuck to the plan and finished the book in 365 days. That was December 31, 1998. Twelve years ago. And I'm still thinking about it. When I took away the fluff, accepted that she referred to God as the Great Spirit and other some such nicknames, put my own prejudices behind me to go-with-the flow of the moment, I found that she had some interesting things to say. As Life would have it I actually 'lived' on July 3rd what she actually published in her July 4th posting. I had big expectations for that Friday. VOLUMINOUS big. The last day of work at a job I held for fifteen years. And let me tell you as far as those expectations went -- the day was a total flop. My feelings were hurt. My spirit was disappointed. I thought I would be treated as others who had left with far fewer years contributed than I had. So when I read that next-day entry, I was flabbergasted. She was writing to me. To me. Who knew the timing would be perfect for my life and what I had felt. Was still feeling. On that day. That singular day. It was one of those life lesson kind-of-days.

It is an interesting book. Worth the fifteen minutes you'll spend each day. I started out dragging my feet and protesting loudly. Oh! so loudly. I finished it feeling all the better for it. Do something outside the norm today. Go kicking and screaming into whatever it is you chose to challenge yourself. You'll be better for it, too. On some level.With some new perspective. Promise.

Took the Leap!!!!!! AAAAHHHHH!!!!!

We call it The OMG Call, those of us who experienced that phone conversation on both ends of the line and now had only half of our hearing left. A friend had called to tell me she had just discovered the sister of a friend was a literary agent in NYC. "ISN'T FANTASTIC!!!??? ", she screamed at me. Because of the overwhelming ringing in my ear it took a few seconds to let her words register. "YOU KNOW I AM GOING INTO THE CITY IN TWO WEEKS SO I CAN TAKE SOMETHING TO HER. PROMISE ME YOU WILL GIVE ME SOMETHING!!!! YOU HEAR ME??"(no, I can't hear a darned thing right now) I figured what the heck. I will send this person a sampling of what I had to see if I could get some kind of response. Sort of a barometer reading on my stuff. So I printed off some chapters and sent them along.

Didn't hear for almost three months. I had the stomach butterflies for the first couple weeks wondering if the agent had actually read it (or tossed it in the can); what impression she had(loved it? hated it?) ; did she share it with her buddies (and they all had a good laugh?). As weeks gradually flowed into months I eventually forgot about it. Then what do you know I received an email from her. I waited a day to open it -- guess I wasn't prepared to read a 'don't-give-up-your-day-job' letter. To my pleasant (and relieved) surprise she said that I had a smooth, readable style and should keep on writing and submit something later. Wow. And the kicker? I looked this professional up on the internet and the agency she works for is one of the biggest, handling huge contracts with all kinds of best-selling authors. Glad I didn't know that before....

I haven't finished that novel yet. The plot continues to expand, dialogues stream with all sorts of voices, characters keep on developing. My dream of publication burns bright. I'm having the best time challenging myself to draw the storyline out of my head and craft the written word to precisely reflect the lively, multi-layered tale that demands my attention day and night. My biggest desire is that when I've finished and the reader begins the first page of the first chapter they will be pulled into a world (my world!) which commands their complete and utter attention...makes them forget meals and miss appointments and lose a little sleep...that kind of stuff. Big dreams, I know. We shall see. Wish me luck!