Ill

I have a very good friend who's been ill lately. I mean really sick. Sick to the point of not being able to get out of bed. Funny how illness can be a gift. Because of this severe illness, he was forced to go to the Dr. He rarely goes to the Dr. They saw how sick he was and ordered lab tests. The results were not good. Besides a white blood cell count that was off the charts, his cholesterol is in the high 200s. Really not good. He is 43 yrs old and at risk of sudden death because of changes in his body that he cannot see. When the Dr. spelled out those risks, he had a true wake up call.

Later he talked to his mom. He has a family history of high cholesterol and heart disease and his grandfather died from heart disease. He is not overweight, does exercise, but needs dietary modification. I think he need medication.

I decided I'd stop in to see him last night, with the news heavy on my mind, and the antibiotics restoring him more to his old self. What if he suddenly wasn't here? How would that loss impact me? My kids? His family? We'd had our share of ups and downs, but when you got right to the heart of the questions-do you care about him, would you miss him if the worst happened, do the petty disagreements and behavioral insecurities really mean more than caring for another human being who just wants to love and be loved--I was a bit shaken to realize that Yes, I do really care for him. I would miss him if he was taken suddenly. Petty disagreements and insecurities are things that can be forgiven when you work at compromise and not taking things like yourself, so seriously.

So, we had a very nice time. We talked. He was caring and affectionate, just like always. Overlooked my protective emotional distance, just like always. Talked about his job, his lifestyle changes he must make. About wanting to go skiing this winter and missing company for the holidays...I told him take one thing at a time...missing him a bit is good.

Random

Feelings and thoughts can really be a curse. I've been alone with my thoughts and feelings for a few months, trying to "get to know me" to "figure myself out". Its a big chore. I have come to the conclusion that I'm really messed up! My thoughts can run from happiness at having my alone time, boredom with sitting there absorbed in these thoughts, frustration with trying to figure them out and in so doing, figure out what I'm Supposed to DO! Then I seek some connection and entertainment so hit the FB page...then I'm dumb enough to feel jealousy or inadequate cause some guy "friends" have 100 other "girl" friends which triggers feelings of anger for being so dumb and naive to actually think that me, one of 100 could make a difference in the life of some guy "friend" who lives half a country, or a whole country away!! Ridiculous! Always the knife of not enough...not pretty enough, not smart enough, not sexy enough, not enough to keep a husband happy and a marriage going....never enough....

When that realization hits me I start to put up the dumb shields and walls and decide that I'm OK just how I am and no man has anything on me and to hell with all of them...blah, blah, blah! What a crock and a royal waste of time! Screwed up! thats what that is! Cause then my little girl will do something, like forget her jeans, i mean ALL 6 pairs of her jeans, at her dad's apartment on the day that we are having family pics done and I, (cause I've lost my friggin mind and need some excuse to vent and be an ass!)lose it! Start lecturing my dear 7yr old daughter about how irresponsible and disrespectful it is to continually take clothes I've bought her and leave them at her dads. Then when we need them for something specific, like family pictures, I have to take extra time and effort to drive over there and wait for her in the car while she goes thru all the clothes to find them (I can't go help her and take what I want her to wear- its HIS place). Never mind how irresponsible and disrespectful this whole dumb lecture is in the first place! She's in tears cause she's heard me say how I think she cares more for her dad than for me...when in fact I've not really said that...I think... but after the crazy rant, I'm not really sure what I've said (I have, in fact been forgetting a few things lately, like leaving the tin foil in the fridge and the milk in the pantry!). So she feels like she's betrayed me somehow, heads downstairs in tears, while I start to rehang clothes up in her closet and my 12 yr old says she'll bike to her dad's and bring back the jeans (more to get out of the house, I think...who can blame
her)! I stand in their bedroom marvelling at how easily I can get angry and think back to what the heck started all of it...my own feelings and thoughts of being insignificant, unworthy, unloved... great gift to pass on to my girls...

Sundried Tomatoes

I love everything European. French in particular. And nothing says "South of France" like sundried tomatoes. Thanks to inspiration from Alton Brown I've been making my own oven-dried "Sundried" tomatoes all summer.



First you need the basic ingredient- garden fresh tomatoes! I am lucky that my tomatoes have been awesome this year. So I am very glad to continue to use them for another week or two. Harvest what you can, or buy from the farmer's market. It doesn't matter the kind or the size, use whatever you have.



Turn on oven to 170 degrees. Clean them and slice into 1/4 inch thick pieces. If using cherry tomatoes or little romas just cut in half. Place on a cookie sheet and have the edges touching. Really pack them together cause they will really shrink. Sprinkle with kosher salt and spices of your choice (I use dried italian seasoning right now, but I have also harvested, cleaned and finely chopped my own basil, oregano, rosemary and parsley which are great!). Then sprinkle liberally with olive oil and a very light sprinkle of sugar over the top (helps make a nice glaze on the top).




See how packed together they are? And aren't they beautiful! Now place in the oven for a minimum of 8 hours. I prepare mine and put them in overnight. I wake up to a glorious aroma permeating my house!



And voila! Finished product. All glistening and crispy. The intensity of the flavor is wonderful. I have them on a bagel with cream cheese in the am and add them to sandwiches, or even pop a few for a snack (what my kids love to do with them). In a glass or plastic container, place the little gems and drizzle a light coating of olive oil over top. Keeps them from drying out in the fridge. Cover with plastic wrap and they'll keep for 4-6 weeks. They can be frozen, but mine never last longer than 4-5 days! Enjoy!

Ms. V

On a lighter note, another book I'm working on with a bit more humor...

I looked up from my position in front of the flower bed. That damn dog was barking again. Would they do something about it this time or will I, again, spend my afternoon fighting down the feeling of annoyance? This is not the county! Animals should not be left outside all day barking and carrying on. He's losing "Good Neighbor" points by the dozen! I grab my hand hoe and scrape a little harder at the ground in front of me. Why do I allow this to get to me? I wonder. Cause I have a dog and HE isn't outside being a pain to the entire neighborhood! So what if I'm the only neighbor home! He should be more respectful!

Oh damn! I just dug out the entire petunia having been so wrapped up in my self-righteous mantra! A little chuckle escaped me, "see V, that'll teach you to be so high and mighty and not pay attention!" I scolded myself. Argg! Ok, ok, three deep breaths, let the feeling pass. I sat back on my heels, breathed in deeply, (damn dog is STILL barking!...) out with the bad thoughts...breath in..."My God that Jasmine smells wonderful"...I feel myself starting to relax...Out goes the bad...("Inconsiderate boob--leaves an animal out all day...")...Breathe in...and ....there...I feel better, can't even hear the bloody dog anymore! I open my eyes at the same time I hear him call out,

"Jack, NO!"

I spin on my heel, thinking I'm about to be accosted by a large, black lab, but no. There he is, taking a shit on my lawn, right before my eyes!

"Adam!" I yell. "Get your dog AND his shit off my lawn! I can't believe this!"

Adam rushes over. He looks afraid of what I might do to his dog, with the wild look of shock and rage so evident on my red face and my arms flayling wildly in Jack's direction.

"This is NOT OK, Adam. I've had enough of your animal using my yard as his toilet! I've had it!" I stammer.

" I know, Ms. V. I'm so sorry. Jack got away from me when I was in the backyard. I guess I left the gate open." he said as he bent to pick up the dog mess with a baggie.

" Adam, its not just THAT! Although THAT is certainly enough," I said pointing to the evidence, "Its all of it! Leaving that animal outside all day to bark and bark incessantly, to let him run loose in the cul-de-sac while you and Lacy are inside the house and he uses everyone's front yard as his bathroom! Look at those Boxwoods, Adam," I pointed to the bushes between Adam and Randy's yard. " Those Boxwoods are dying because of the urine left by Jack. They were healthy and lovely before and now Randy has to have all of them torn out and replaced. Is that an OK thing, Adam? Does Randy deserve that expense because you can't be bothered to control your animal or have enough respect to keep him on a leash so he CAN'T defile other people's yards? Its just not what good neighbors do, Adam! And you're a policeman for heaven sakes! You should know better."

Adam was angry, I could tell. Maybe I went too far, but I had to say my peace.

" You're right Ms. V. It isn't what a good neighbor would do. I will talk to Randy about the bushes and will do my best to keep Jack off the lawns. But he likes being outside, and I'd feel bad keeping him locked up inside all day."

" Then make some arrangements for a dog sitter or take him to one of those doggie daycare things, or something. I don't know. I just know that 10 hours of barking incessantly every day is inhumane...for the neighbors! Fix it Adam!"

With that I turned to get back to my flowers. There--I'd said my peace and lived through it!

Now to replant the petunia. Ahhh, what pleasure I get from my flower gardens! Pulling weeds, dead heading and cleaning up spent growth, watching a seed or bulb become something beautiful...it calms and delights me. And right now I need some calm and delight! I planted the two jasmine plants on each side of my porch earlier this spring. Now, in mid-May, they are letting off a heady fragrance that gets thicker as the air warms up. The small white blossoms burst forth spreading their gloriously sweet scent onto the wind like violins playing a solo. Sometimes soft and light, sometimes strong and thick, but always a pleasant surprise. I'd found some beautifully unusual pansies this spring as well. One set, a jewelled tone purple with wrinkled petals and a yellow center. Another set has faint lavender petals with deep violet centers and sunshine yellow edges. My favorite is a burgundy velvet with slight white along the edges and a vibrant yellow center.

" Ahhh, the beauty that is nature!" I thought with a smile. So lost in my admiration was I, that I didn't hear the car drive up. The slamming of the car door startled me so much that I lost my balance and pitched forward, nose first into the azalea bush.

"Gram! Are you OK?" Enquired my granddaughter, as she ran towards me.

" Yes, dear. I'm fine." I sputtered. " Just needed a closer look at the flower dear, that's all!"
I stood up and pulled her close and squeezed. She smelled clean and fresh, just like her name...Rayne. My pride and joy!

What possessed my daughter to pick the names she did for my granddaughter, I'll never know, but it has been both a source of pride for its originality and embarrassment for its quirkiness throughout her life. Try introducing yourself in grade school as Rayne Bo Brighten! Even some of the teachers got a chuckle out of it...poor girl!

"How are you, Gram?"

" I'm fine my darling. Just fine. Come, sit up on the porch and tell me all about school and such."

We linked arms and walked up to the porch. We sat opposite each other and I poured her a glass of sun tea.

" So your mom tells me you've made a decision about school. That you decided to go local. Which works out very well for me, I'll have you know!" I smiled at her.

" Oh Gram..." She smiled. " Yes, I'm going to stay here an go to U of P. Their drama program is very good and I can continue to act with the Community Arts Partnership while I study."

" So you are going to make the theatre your life, huh? Are you sure about this? Maybe you should minor in something else--law or engineering or something!" I stated, only half joking. Theatre was hard work and even harder to actually make a living at.

" Gram! Very nice push for a " realistic occupation" Rayne laughed.

" I'm just concerned, Rayne. You know, the whole starving artist syndrome. I don't want you to have to worry about money or paying your bills."

" I'll be fine, Gram. I don't need much and you and mom have taught me well about saving and planning for the rainy day. Besides, the Community Arts Center director has talked to me about a salaried position there so I'll have an income while I'm going to school and a position full-time when I get my degree. I love being a part of the theatre and I will be concentrating on directing and production, as well as acting! So, I have all my bases covered. Really Gram, I'll be OK."

" I know this is a true love of yours, Rayne. Has been since you were born. Always wanting to be center stage right from the beginning!"

Rayne smiled at the reference. She arrived 10 weeks premature inspite of the numerous methods used to attempt to delay her entry. Stubborn little bella! My daughter swore she decided to come that day simply because the doctors told her they'd been successful in stopping her preterm labor. Lindsay said the baby came just to show off! Maybe she was right, as I gave a sideways glance to the miracle across from me.

Rayne was showing off and showing them up at every turn. She delivered at 30 weeks, she cried on her own and didn't need help breathing. Her course in the NICU was rather unremarkable, not one setback, which in itself is a wag of the finger to fate. She ate, she gained weight and she came home after only a five week stay. She astounded us all. My daughter predicted she'd be a star...she was mine, that much is true.Even as a small child Rayne loved to perform. She took dance lessons and sang in the Children's church choir. She has a lovely soprano voice and she did her first solo at age 4 during the Christmas Pageant. That was also her first introduction to acting and she's been in love with it ever since.

She averages three plays per year, and graduated from amateur school productions to the semi-professional productions at age eleven. She's been acting professionally, meaning "getting paid", since she was fifteen years old. She's done everything from Shakespeare to stand up comedy and improv and everything in between. I guess picking the Dramatic Arts isn't any surprise. I guess I just wanted her to pick a profession with good paying prospects. But that would be my dream, not hers. Rayne has her own dreams to create and to fulfill, and now she's on the road to doing just that.

The Signature

This is an exerpt from a manuscript I'm working on, hope you like it:

The pen shook in my hand. Shook so violently that I nearly lost my grip entirely and I fumbled to stop from dropping it on the desk. I hoped my attorney and his assistant didn't notice. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm myself. Then, with my grip recovered and maintained, I poised the black tip on the dark signature line and slowly signed my name to the document.

Final. Over. Done. With the swipe of a Bic, black, fine point pen, 19 years of marriage dissolve and end. Making the life we had shared nothing but a bitter memory. Over, with the signing of my name...just like it had begun.

I finished the line, took another deep breath, let it out and looked up at my attorney. My eyes were dry, yet inside I was broken into a thousand pieces...defeated.

" Is that all?" I quietly ask him.

" Yes, thats all. I'll file it with the courts this afternoon. The judge should sign it and make it final within a couple of weeks at the most." He paused looking up at me. Although not what I'd call an attractive man, he had warm, kind eyes that were fixed on mine." I know this wasn't easy for you and I'm sorry you had to go through it. But, after dealing with your husband over these last several months, I honestly can't understand why you put up with him as long as you did." He smiled.

" Thank you. " I muttered, trying without much luck to offer a smile back. Little did he know I would have put up with it forever...thats how deeply I loved him and believed in our family. So, I pushed the chair away from the table, grabbed my purse and stood up. I shook his hand and turned to leave.

" Oh, we'll mail you a copy of the final decree once it is signed."

I nodded my head, the room feeling suddenly too hot and closed in. I need air, I thought. I walked down the narrow hallway, quickening my pace as I made it past the ever smiling and cheerful secretary.

"Have a wonderful day!" she offered as I pushed the down button on the elevator.

My hand was beginning to shake again. Inside the elevator I felt the tear slide down my cheek. I hurriedly swiped it away and looked to the floor as more passengers boarded the elevator. Damn! Why was their office on the ninth floor? I prayed that no one would notice me as I shrunk further to the back as the elevator while even more people boarded. Finally, after an eternity, the elevator stopped and everyone started disembarking.

I exited the elevator as another tear escaped my eye. My vision slightly blurred, I pushed my way out the heavy wooden door onto the busy, crowded street. I could feel the tremors starting and my shoulders were beginning to slump against the weight of the grief held captive inside of me. My stomache was knotted in one big wad of despair. I've got to get to my van before I completely lose it right here on the street corner!

I had three blocks to go to get to the parking garage. I forced one foot in front of the other, not really noticing the people or events going on around me, just following the crowd down Market Street. I was in a fog, yet completely aware of the tight rein I was keeping on my emotions. Please, I prayed with each step forward, do not let me crumble into a jelly-like mass of tears and snot on this sidewalk...please!

I rounded the corner onto Thomas Street and stepped into the parking garage. I took the stairs two at a time, the tears finally spilling over as I reached the top of the third floor. I heard the sob escape my lips, fumbled in my purse for my keys and said another silent prayer of thanks for keyless entry systems cause there is no way I could see to put the darn key in the door lock, tears pouring uncontollably down my cheeks now. I sprinted the last few yards, opened the door and threw myself into the driver's seat.

There, the trembling, the sobs, the grief broke free of their restraints and I was consumed. I had no choice, no longer any power over what my body needed to do....to weep, to yell, to curse, to pray, to question why this was happening? I had no answers, I simply rode the tide...until there was nothing left... just the stark black and white vision of my signature written on that page.