Stain-glass Eyes

When I was a little kid, growing up in St. Ignace, Michigan, there wasn't anything like a "Yard" or "Garage" sale.  (No one I knew, even had a garage, let alone extra items to sell)  I do remember going to the local dump out on Cheeseman Road, though.  Dad would usually have a trailer of junk to drop off at the dump and would let my brothers and me scrounge around looking for "good" things.  Items like bike parts, dishes, pans, and tools.  I didn't care what I was looking for, I just liked being there.  I liked climbing the hills of junk, hoping to be the first one to say, "Hey, Dad, look what I found!"  Any individual attention for achievement, in a family of ten children, was worth vying for. Since then, I have been to many of garage and yard sales. I've even had a few myself, while living in Gaylord.  My favorite was when we took the total profits from the sale and all went out for a big dinner at the Sugar Bowl Restaurant,

U of M Medical Center Ann Arbor I got one of those "self-addressed" envelopes in the mail last week.  One you address yourself, after you have a mammogram.  It's ready ahead, to be sent with your x-ray results inside. I don't give mammograms much thought.  I've always had good results and didn't have any reason to believe this one would be different.  I have to admit, though, I let the envelope sit on my table a couple of days before I opened it.  When I did, I was told I would get a call or I should call,  to reschedule another image.  My first one didn't look like it should.  "What does that mean?"  I thought.   I tried to distract myself from thinking about it. It was a Saturday, before I opened the dumb thing.  I couldn't call, I had to wait until Monday morning.  Fortunately, I helped my daughter, Heidi, with her yard sale, over the weekend so I was plenty distracted.  I kept thinking of the odds of a mammogram not looki

Dear Creeping vines. You slowly, slowly put one leaf after the other, branch after branch climbing up the old red bricks. Like a pod of dolphins, you lean against one another, maybe for confidence and for strength. Insects living among your velvety, green cushions, puts the birds in a frenzy. They spend the day hopping to feast the samples from your pillows.  In and out, massaging your back, they flit. You, so generous and silent. I wonder if they feel your sighs of pleasure, as they loosen the insects' grip on your hair. You seemed so fragile when I first saw you in the spring. With your tentacles just branching out from the ground. Summer seemed luxuriously spread before us, didn't it? The sun slanting in on us in the morning, leading into the noon heat, making us cower for a mid-day rest. How quickly the Junes, Julys and Augusts go. How unforgiving they are of us. How stupid we were to forfeit our chanc

After I had a cup of delicious coffee this morning, I decided to lay on my yoga mat and stretch out my aching body.  I felt like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz.  With no slots to squeak oil into, I did the only thing I know what to do for this aging, fifty-something, non-so-perfect, body.  I stretched. Brewing Coffee (from Derek Wolfe) Pour Over (from Heidi) Coffee Mug (from Elizabeth) I opened the slats on the shades in my small apartment and felt the sun rise on my face as it got warmer.  "No place to go, nothing to do…"  I could hear Kathy Jungas, in my head, at her Bridge to Wellness Yoga Center, in St. Ignace, preparing her students at her yoga class.  She talks her students into being relaxed and mindful, staying in--- the now . My Yoga Mat in the sun I spent the day at my daughter's, yesterday.  (My next blogpost will be titled: Yard Sale in Ann Arbor ) She had a yard sale in preparation for her move to Germany.  It wasn't as easy a

I stopped to notice small mushrooms popping out of weeds and grass. They whispered to me, "It's our time, our place." The clouds wiggled their dance with the sun. Shadows performed their games on the concrete. Happily they acknowledged the fungi.  "It is your moment, your space, tra-la-la",  I walked in rhythm to Schubert in my head. Listening to the banter of shadows and mushrooms. Smiling at a realization of my alliance with the living. This moment I am. "It is my time, my place." Sun, sky, soil, fungus, plants, rocks, bones. I shuffled through the shadows, dancing my belonging. Wishing the feeling to go on and on. I turned the corner and crossed, as the light beamed, "WALK",  I checked for texting-maniacs who may not see me, and headed across the street. I heard a loud, offensive buzz I hadn't noticed before. It was a mower, violating the sound waves, it's long arm jutting, cutti

Nashville Airport I feel sad leaving Jeannie.  We have such a glorious time together, and there was never a time I didn't feel loved, wanted and needed.  At the same time, I felt my love accepted, wanted and needed.  It's a good fit.  But….goodbyes are hard.  We work ourselves into a bit of a frenzy about 48 hours ahead of time.  We get more frantic watching the time slip away.  We reread our lists so we can see if we actually "accomplished" anything.  Truth is?  Just being together accomplishes all we could ever hope for.  We're learning.  The tasks we want to finish aren't even important compared to the unconditional love shared, the new memories made and the bonds deepened. Sitting in the airport waiting for the boarding call, I know the time is up.  I'm traveling back with more than a few new outfits, accessories, and pictures.  More than the framed, stain-glass art Terry sent back with me to "hand

While traveling to Tennessee last week, I patted myself on the back for selling my home and moving to Ann Arbor.  No trip downstate.  No stay over in a hotel, or car-parking fees at the airport.  I took a shuttle from my apartment to the airport.  I didn't have to worry about someone mowing the lawn while I was gone, watering my plants, or worry about forgetting to shut the garage door! My flight was an hour and a half and I was walking out of the plane to meet up with, and hug, my sister, Jeannie.  I still have many transition adjustments to make after moving, but they seem to be falling into place as time goes by.  My apartment is so small I'm amazed at how quickly I can clean (thoroughly) the whole place.  When I have company, I rarely let them in the kitchen, there isn't room enough for two to stand, side by side,  in the kitchen.   No pets are allowed in my apartment, so I'm not even tempted to get a cat or a dog.  I probably will get some fish, like guppies t