ruby red

the wicked witch is dead.

may she rest in peace.

may the sun set in the east.

moment to moment – one day at a time – May 18

Looking at the day ahead.  Still hobbling around on my crutches.  Afraid I did too much yesterday.  So damn hard to sit still.   It is especially difficult for me stop tidying up.  I never realized until I sprained my ankle how obsessed I am with neatness.  I do not like to have things left lying around.  Everything has it’s place.  Problem is my movement is limited, or at least it should be, and it is challenging for me to use my crutches and schlep things from room to room.

Still cloudy and rainy….promise of sun later, but I am not counting on it.

Spent the morning writing haiku and now am trying to decide it I should go outside to do some weeding.  With all the rain we have had over the past week,  the weeds think they can take over my garden and then invade every inch of uncovered ground.  Funny, they are so perky.  Damn things just stare up at me as if to say, “go ahead and pull me out.  I will be back with a vengeance tomorrow.  You know I have lots of friends just waiting to join me here in your yard.  I dare you to pull me up!”  Too bad guys.  I am coming in with my shovel and my hoe.  get ready.

Jimmy just cam in the room and suggested that we meditate.  I have not done any conscious sitting in over a week.  Probably a good idea, but definitely not one I would have come up with.  Until later.

last night’s dinner

neighbors, friends, family

lasagna, arugula salad,

a May night of delight

San Pedro Airport Belize

Here we are a bunch of gringos waiting for the next Tropic Air flight to leave for Dallas.  At least there is air conditioning.  There will not be air on the plane, not cold air anyway.  These little propellers planes flight just a few feet above the ground.  You cannot help but wonder if they have flight plans or whether they just head out willy, nilly and go where ever they want.  Oh well, we got here, I am sure we will get back.

San Pedro Airport

Celery walls, sun

streaming through tinted glass panes.

Tanned we sit, wait.

Flip Flops

Tee shirts, shorts, tank tops.

Tourists chat each other up.

Vacation ends here.

Boarding Pass

Copper, orange, red.

We board by colors not aisles.

Sit with me for now.

Aquarium Please do not touch the

glass walls of the fish tank where

sea creatures abide.

Tracheotomy

Man presses button

in his throat, turns to speak to

his wife.  She listens

Final Day Akbol – Commitment

Reflections

Risk it all for love.

Give your heart freely and with

no thought of reward.

Travel

Akbol, Belize is

an island paradise on

the Caribbean.

New Friends

Chicagoans are

authentic, lively and full

of Divine energy.

524 South Altgeld St.

Scene of the crimes that

molded my life.  Cold sleepless

nights pondering death. We Are One

M.S., cancer, Crones.

We suffer, we rebound, we

live in this moment.

Things That Annoy Me

I was driving home a few minutes ago from dropping off my son, who left his car at Playhouse on The Square last night (that annoyed me), when I noticed the sun glasses I just had new lenses put in were rubbing on my left cheek bone.  The are big and black and heavy and, at my age, they what looks like a permanent line on my face when I take them off.  Not good. I was right by the Eclectic Eye so I went in and got them adjusted.  They still hang on my cheek bone.  That annoys me.

It annoys me that my clients cancel giving me less than 24 hours notice.  From now own when I make an appointment I will have to let each person know that I have a 24 hour cancellation policy.  Okay good.

Just a few minutes ago I had a big list of things that annoy me and now I cannot think of a single one.  It really annoys me when I forget things like now or when I walk into another room and I know I went there to get something, but I don’t know what.  That annoys me too.

Oh yes.  I am also annoyed that my obsession with writing is cutting into my TV time.  I never watch television anymore.  I am behind on episodes of Downton Abbey, The Blacklist, Blue Bloods, Shameless, and I am sure there are more that I cannot remember.

I remember.  I am very annoyed that my friend and fellow yoga teacher Leah has at least 11 people in her 5:45 am Yoga Boot Camp and I only have four students signed up for my Gentle Asana and Meditation Series at 7:00 am.  Maybe I should have scheduled even earlier.  I am so excited about this series.  I love teaching people to meditate.  My meditation practice is a number one priority.  I guess I want others to be as enthusiastic as I am.  I truly do not know what I would do without the time I spend in silence each morning.  It sets the tone for my day.  Go Leah!  I will be there bright and early Thursday morning.

It annoys me that my sister, to whom I have apologized, written text messages, Facebook posts and emails, will not respond to me, but she does weigh in and say, “congratulations,” when I post that my wonderful daughter is going to have a second child.  What am I, chopped liver.  Hey sis, if you are reading this, I love you. Wish you would give me a call.

What else annoys me?  The stinky smell our vacuüm cleaner makes when we run it.  Odor de dog.  We have a big, black lab who does not smell, but when we vacuüm up her hair, it stinks.  No matter how often I change the filter,  the damn thing keeps on reeking of canine.  I think, once I finish this post, I will take the filter out, shake it and leave it outside to freshen up at bit.  Good idea.

My biggest complaint is airlines charging $25.00 to put my suitcase on the plane.  Really?  I remember when as a passenger I received a meal as well as a beverage on almost every flight – for free.  And we could check two bags for no charge.  What happened to customer service?

Here are some Haikus I wrote about the things that annoyed me on my travels yesterday from Santa Fé to Houston to Memphis.  The most annoying part of that trip was the

Houston Airport.

Heineken, Kingfisher-

Ants in a maze of chairs.

Filthy carpet.

Airline Passengers

Stone-faced we sit

waiting to board the big bird.

I am over it.

Cell Phones

Ear appendages

chords, blue tooth, connected to

the cloud – Who are you?

Airport Food

McDonald’s, Chili’s

Starbucks, Blue Bell, Smoothie King.

Pepto Bismal please.

February 3 One Year, One Day at a Time – Work

I started working when I was 15 as a checker at the downtown Kroger in South Bend, Indiana.  My Dad, who would never give me a ride to school, never offered to take me to dances on Friday nights, never gave me an allowance, never said, “Good job, Sarla,” took me to work.  I worked nights after school from 3:00 – 11:00.  He picked me up.  The keys on the cash register were stubborn and stuck more often than they gave way to my fingers. The numbers were hard to read and there was no calculator to let you know how much change to give the customer.

Many items were not priced or mispriced.  The shoppers were poor, under-employed laborers who tried to distract me so I would make the wrong change.  The manager told me about them the first day, “Stay calm.  They will be mean to you.  They will yell at you and tell you that you made a mistake.  Ignore them.  They will try to shake you up because that is when they can slip something through the line without you seeing it.”  I lasted two weeks.  I could never balance my drawer, my legs hurt, I got into fight with a customer, and I hated the f _ _king job.  The night the manager let me go, I called my Dad.  “Dad, come get me.  I got fired.”  He was pissed but he did come.

My next job was at a Taco Bell on Poplar in Memphis, TN.  I needed to save money for college.  Again, I worked nights after school and weekends.  It was the first Taco Bell in Memphis and I was on the crew that set it up and ran it for the first year.  Cannot even remember what minimum wage was then, but I can promise you it was not enough.  The smell of the grease hung in the air and permeated my clothes.  When left at night, I had a thick film of grease over every inch of my body.  I could not get the smell of refried beans out of my hair.  I kept that job until I left for the University of Tennessee.

When I dropped out of college in 1970, I came home to Memphis and worked as an insurance clerk at St Joseph Hospital.  Hated the job, but I made enough money to support myself.  I worked there for two years.  I left to go back to Indiana and work for my father.  That was a joke.  I went to work every morning in an office on Lincoln Way in South Bend.  No heat, no work, no Dad.  He never came into the office.  So I quit.

When I married my first husband, Jeff, who came to Indiana and rescued me from my own Shameless Showtime life, I got a job at Forty Carrots.  I worked with Francis and Doug Averitt for almost eight years.  I loved my job selling kitchen ware, fine china, Italian pottery, and silver ware.  I apprenticed under one of the cooking school teacher and eventually taught classes on my own.   I learned so much.

I left forty Carrots to go back to college during which time I worked three jobs waiting tables at three different establishments one of which was Solomon Alfred’s, now the Blue Monkey.  I was a terrible waitress, the kind that cannot remember your order, could not balance a tray, could not make change and who stayed after closing to do cocaine with the waiters. I quite because I knew I would never graduate staying up drugging into the wee hours of the morning.

I met my second husband around this time and eventually worked many years for him at Playhouse on the Square.  But I am getting ahead of myself.  First I worked for Thomason, Crawford and Hendrix as a subrogation clerk.  I only hated one job more than working a the law firm and that was the first job I had a Kroger.

Left there to return to work at Squash Blossom Natural Foods.  I worked with Jimmy and Allen and others for over eight years.  After Jimmy and I had an affair that ended his marriage, I went back to my husband, Jackie, and worked for him.  I made props.  I was the box office manager, and the editor of what was then Playhouse Profile, a monthly magazine for subscribers.  I did children’s shows on weekends.  I ushered, painted, washed plastic cups in the bar, hosted parties, went to galas and played the role of Mrs. Playhouse on the Square.

My theatre career ended when I finally applied for and landed a job as the assistant to Rita Halpern at the Idlewild Children’s Center.  I worked with an amazing group of women, Rita, Tansy and Sandra and others for over five years.  When I left that job I thought I would n ever make as much money as I did working there.  I was wrong.

I finally bit the bullet, rented the rehearsal studio space above Theatre Works for $8.00 an hour and opened Midtown Yoga.  That was in 1997.  In 2001, I opened what is now Midtown Yoga at 524 South Cooper.  I sold the business in January, 2013.  I still teach public classes, a portion of the Midtown Yoga teacher training program, which I started with Cyndi Lee in 2001, and workshops in weight management and meditation at the studio.  I have several long time private students whom I see weekly, bi weekly and some three times a week.  I also have many clients who come to me as a part of my new business, Being and Becoming, a whole life counseling service.  I am grateful every day for the opportunity to teach and offer the tools of yoga to others.

What I really want is to be a writer.  I have written since I was a child.  It is late in life to start a new career but I am going to make a go of it.  Tomorrow I leave for Santa Fe where I will take my first writing workshop with Natalie Goldberg.  I am starting from scratch.  At 62, I am blazing a new trail, one I hope will lead to a published story or novel.  I will not give up.  And best part about it is…..no one can ever fire me and I do not have any employees of contract workers for whom I am responsible.

So I plug away.  A post a day, a few lines in a book that now eludes me, a workshop, a writing class and whatever else it takes to learn how to be really damn good at this.

January 24, One Year, One Day at a Time – Really?

Commitments are great in the beginning and become less and less interesting as time goes by.  When I started this, One Year, One Day at a Time on January 1st, I was pumped.   I also started writing my book on the same day.  Two huge commitments, one to myself and one to you.  So here I am fulfilling my intention, the deal I made when I signed on to this task on 1/1/14.  Reporting in for the day.

My first private lesson canceled at the last-minute today.  Sick for the second week in a row.  Oh well, she understands she is responsible to pay.  I let her off the hook last week, but not today.  Honestly I was disappointed.  I really care about her, a lot.  So I took the time to meditate, cook chana dal, and take a long, hot bath.  Then I worked at the computer until it was time for me to get dressed for my second private of the day, which ended up being cut short.

Home for lunch.  Jordan came. Chana dal and toast with peanut butter. Then off for a manicure and pedicure.  Left there and went to the new Whole Foods to pick up a couple of items for dinner.  My first time in the new digs.  Felt a little cold.  I am the hippie who grew up with little hole in the wall natural food stores that smelled like incense and were run by pot heads.  Miss the old days.  But, I got what I needed, chard, green tea, sweet potatoes, and brussel sprouts.  Mission accomplished.

Home again.  Worked on my book.  Hard to do it, but I did.  So depressing.  Heavy.  What else can I say?

Light dinner of pan seared tilapia, chard sautéed in red wine and olive oil, and baked sweet potatoes.

Then off to Playhouse on the Square to see Monty Python’s Spamalot,  My son, Jordan, was in the show and he choreographed it.  Big dance numbers.  It was brilliant.  Don’t want to give anything away.  If you live in Memphis, go see it.  You will not be disappointed.

Funny, on the way home, I was thinking, OMG, I have to go home and write my daily review.  But, the minute I sat down I was, as I am every night, grateful to be doing this.  So I went from “REALLY? to really in just 10 short minutes.  Writing does that for me.

Casting off.

Janaury 23, One Year, One Day at a Time-Breaking Out

Time for change.  Time to move on.  Time to relinquish my hold on anything old, worn out, used up…detritus.  I learned that big word from my husband, whom I must say is a heroic word slinger.  He often uses words I do not know, have not heard and have no idea as to their meaning.  So I ask, “What did you just say, peripatetic?  What the Hell does mean.”  He says, “Someone who shows up everywhere.”  My response is, “you mean someone really annoying.”  and so it goes.

Funny, after writing that last little anecdote about my husband I feel better.  It is easy for me to turn in on myself, to tell myself I am not doing enough.  Today, after working hard all week, writing, teaching, seeing clients, teaching private lessons, taking yoga classes, going to spin class and therapy as well as an advisory board meeting and all the other things we do to stay alive, I hit the wall.  Not to mention that I have spent the past several nights coughing and blowing my nose, which, by the way, does not make for restful sleep.

So I did something good for myself.  I got a wonderful massage from Tom at Midtown Massage.  I highly recommend him and the place her works, calm, inviting and soothing.  Well, I left there so relaxed it was impossible for me to get worked up about anything.  I watched the most recent episode of Downton Abbey.  So sad.  Tons of unrequited love.  Painful to watch Anna pushing Mr. Bates away because of the rape and her fear he will retaliate if she tells him what happened.  I, of course, am a big fan of the truth so throughout the episode I am silently urging her to come clean.  No such luck.

Then off to Kerry Jackson’s celebratory party at Fish and Associates.  Kerry passed her CFP exam.  Go Kerry.  I’m impressed and so happy for you.  Best wishes as you navigate this new career.  May you make lots of money for others and in so doing do well for yourself.  Love you Babe.  Had to add that last bit.  I think the world of this young woman.

Now at home, here, at my computer, where truly I am the most happy and the most at home.  I have found my heart and soul here writing these words and so many others.  Today, after sitting down and putting down what I see, what I feel, what I did today, I am more grateful than ever to be who I am.

I must say in closing that there were two huge highlights to my day.  My son, Jordan, who, by the way, will be opening in Monty Python’s Spamalot, came over for lunch and actually stayed for a visit.  Love that boy.  So grateful that he is alive today.  Hope you can see the show.  It opens tomorrow night, January 24, at Playhouse on the Square in Memphis, Tn.  Ya’ll come now.

The other was my dear friend, Cyndi Lee, honoring me this morning by asking me to co-teach a yoga retreat with her.  Thank you Cyndi.

Fear Of Dying

I need to write about this…the dying thing.  Push away.  Push it way, far away.  Do…hands stuck on the keyboard, finger reluctant to move, fear of the pain of dying, not my death.  The death of those I love.  Yesterday, Sunday, December 29 I learned from a friend of the death of a two-year old girl.  A child who went to bed with flu symptoms and never woke up.  Pema, Pema, how do you breathe that kind of pain into your own heart?  In order to be a writer I must not hold back but to touch this pain, the reality of children dying is….is what?  Unspeakable?  Beyond comprehension?  I cannot imagine there to be a greater void than the one created by the loss of a child, one’s own child.  To enter the sanctuary of your child’s room and find them breathless, lifeless.  The wailing, the screaming, the sense of outrage, desperation, are there words for such a scene?  How do we as parents ever sleep knowing that our children may not awaken?  When my son Jordan died 4 years ago on January 3rd, he was exhausted, tired from a long week of rehearsal.  He came home from New York to be in Pippin, the opening show at the newly built Playhouse on the Square.  He was tired, but then Jordan is always tired so instead of driving home and going to bed, he went to the Blue Monkey Bar.  Within minutes he was lying on the floor dead.  His heart had stopped.  The bar tender, a nurse in training, performed CPR on him until the EMTs arrived.  Had he gone home, he would have died alone in bed.  We were gone, away in Pennsylvania.  Thank God, thank God he is alive today.

Amelia, my grandchild is here now.  I picked her up early today because her Daddy is now sick.  We think he has the flu.  Katie is better.  Greg is sick.  Amelia lives.  She is here, now, with us in her princess tent.

Breathe, breathe all pain, all joy, into my heart.  May I have enough of all that life offers…suffering and happiness in equal measure.  In the words of Dani Shapiro, “Are we using every last bit of ourselves, living these lives of ours,spending it, spending it all, every single day?”