Feeling Lucky

My nephew Schyler is a college student at Webb . This prestigious University keeps him busy studying and I rarely see him anymore.Recently he stopped by to return a book of Art History that I lent him to study from. I immediately grabbed his hand and dragged him to my dining room where I presented him with 12 chickens in a large octogon box. " Look I exclaimed, I have chickens!" His reply was completely relaxed and respectful, as he knows his Aunt Stephanie well. "Oh wow, they are really cool."
This was the child I sat beading with in my studio when he was a little boy, and this was the young man who visited me after school on Fridays for a ...It's not my birthday present,surprise.
I love this child because he has maintained his kind and thoughtful attitude as he is growing into his own manhood.
As he sat with the little bird it became relaxed and walked across his arm and up his shoulder. She knew. She was safe and this was a nice guy. I was glad I had made sure I was a part of his life,despite my busyness. Now he was making time for me and I was grateful.
I guess it doesn't matter if you are into bunnies or chickens, if life is being kind or it's craziness is keeping you running. The important thing is to carve out the moments that you can only hope to remember. They return, and if you are lucky they delight in your chickens,

City girl meats blow drier

I grew up in Queens. Elmhurst to be exact, and that qualifies me as a born and raised city girl for all of my formative years. The only green I ever saw outside was on our two week vacation to the Island, and two weeks of girl scout camp up in the country. My Mom was allergic to animals so my only pet was a turtle, and we all know what happened when they failed to thrive. I wasn't unhappy but I lacked the fresh air and sunshine of country life.

I suppose that's why the first chance I got I returned to the beach I loved and the shores of the Island that made me ache unless I was standing on her soil. To this day if I am sad, I get on my hands and knees and work the earth until my exhaustion gets a hold of me or until the light is gone and I can see no more. I have surrounded myself with not only pets but farm animals that I take great pride in caring for.I especially like chores that no one else will do. For me it is a privilege and I would be hard pressed to give it up. What makes me laugh is the surprise I find in each of the little things this city girl discovers. This very morning my baby chicks were suffering from a common dilemma. Seems they have trouble during this first week of life with their new food and digestion. Things don't always roll smoothly so what needs to be done for 4 day old chick is one must bath and clean their bottoms and then because they can't be in a draft all wet...you guessed it-blow them dry. I laughed out loud seeing myself in the mirror this morning . Here I was still half in Elmhurst holding a wet 4 day old designer chicken and blow drying his bottom after his little bath. Yikes. After I was done my husband returned home and noticed. "Gee the chicks look awfully fluffy I guess they really are self sufficient pets"
Hummmmm I replied, I guess. Now I wonder...should i clue him in or keep this little privilege to myself? Small steps towards a country life.

I get the feeling we are being watched.

Chicken with the hairdo says to chicken with the laid back look...Someone is watching us and i think it's in our best interest to stay cool. They seem to have doubled in size and noisy! Well at least these little rascals are healthy and thriving. no wonder they call girls chicks. yak Yak yak
sooo cute sooo sweet .

They came in a box

Sixteen perfect little creatures,and only three days after they were ordered. I guess that the woman who created My Pet Chicken .com is very tired because I can only imagine how many other mid-life tree huggers like myself were watching Martha Stewart this Easter week and caught her the day she devoted the show to chickens. Bravo for the small business person and bravo Martha for introducing this lovely creature into my life.
Here is my list of discovery for today and I am sure to keep this list ongoing.
Chickens come in many varieties and it's perfectly acceptable to order and enjoy them for their colorful display and unusual pretty eggs. Chickens do not know how to eat when they arrive so I can safely say I am responsible for dipping their little beaks in water and then into the special organic grain which is a neat trick because now only a few hours later they are very self sufficient. Chickens sleep in a funny splat but when they are handled or you pet them they wake up and jump to the beat looking like they haven't a moment to waste. I like that because it reminds me of myself. Lastly the whole reason that I ordered chickens and that I am so excited about these adorable creatures is that chickens can sit on your lap and be cuddled. Go figure,who knew? I believe these rumors folks because it's not just Martha that has boasted of this little unknown fact. I ran around my school sharing my excitement today and boy I guess I am the last to know anything about the personalities of chickens!
You'll be hearing more on them you can be sure. After all they are only one day old chicks today.
What fun lies ahead. Perhaps a baby raccoon? You didn't hear it from me.

"Today is the day...

For all it's worth today may as well be the first day of spring. I know this to be true because a few years back I decided to dig a small pond and along with a neighbors frog,eventually I got fish. As most know I am a sucker for all animals and yet I refuse to name anything that I eat so my fish remain anonymous. There are many kinds, I have tried your standard goldfish, and of course the expensive Koi. My favorite is a seemingly a funny cross breed named shabumbkins. They all have their pros and cons but in the end the goldfish seem to survive. Koi are wrongly named I found and easy prey to big blue birds that swoop and land plucking your investment quickly down their rather slender throats. The first time I saw a blue heron I ran for my camera, now I run for a baseball bat, but they always get away.
The shabumbkins don't freeze and thaw like the goldfish, yes you heard me freeze and thaw.
What an amazing trick. So today was the first day I saw them swim and thus for me the day the earth opens it's eyes.
I photographed some lovely buds on the trees and ate my breakfast scone in the garden. I will continue with my afternoon chores of opening beds. Later on today I am sure to regret not knowing when enough is enough; but for now I will throw caution to the wind.
For this very first day I will try to remember the cold dark afternoons that I felt sad because there was not quite enough sunshine and be grateful that now there is. For today I will be grateful for the goldfish that woke me up to remind me ...Today is the day the Lord has made,let us rejoice and be glad!

No Good Deed…

My husband is very nice. He is presently unemployed, not too many people building extravagant houses these days. As one would imagine it is a difficult time for a busy man who is caught in a limbo of time. Nevertheless he has taken to doing many things since he is capable, and he like others has found Ebay.

I approve of his activities because he reminds me of my father. He too was destined for a early retirement but gleefully kept busy for the next 30 years. My Pop would walk the streets of Queens finding projects in broken items tossed away from neglect, or lack of imagination. He brought them home and on the kitchen table in our three room apartment he made them born again. Dexter does something similar except since he is reviving car parts he rarely gets them for free.

Recently he did a friend a favor and listed his old BMW for sale. For his meager commission he spent an enormous amount of time listing, checking, interviewing and finally securing the final purchase. The original owner seemed detached at best, and agitated at most to participate in an activity which seemed to interrupt his life. The day arrived when I returned home from work and my husband announced… “The car is gone!” Thank Goodness I replied; but it was premature. Within hours the phone had rang and the car along with its new owner were stranded. An “as is” sale was less than an hour old but seemed grossly unfair. My husband never mentioned his reputation as a seller being on the line, or that it was not his burden anymore, he jumped in the car and raced to the rescue.

Today the car sits still 70 miles from its final destination. My husband paid for the buyer to take a bus home, our seller still detached and disregarding his moral responsibilities.

The upside is in knowing the arrangement is no longer in between someone who wants a car and someone who clearly doesn’t care. I married the man who does, and as far as I am concerned that is the best thing he can do with this time in limbo.

Independent Thinkers

Everyone knows I love my pets. Presently I have three large dogs,one black cat,and four very stubborn bunnies.
My animals are independent thinkers and here is a little story to prove my point.
I do not spoil my pets but for the short time they are here with me but I do try my best. I don't think that any pet should be treated like a person and I stand by my convictions. I do not put my pets in fancy sweaters, I do not give them people food (I try not to) and I do not arrange play dates for them as one would for a small child of this indulgent generation. I believe they need to be allowed to act like dogs or cats and find their amusement in what dogs and cats do without my help.
My daughter Catherine also has a dog, a female Shepard mix named Sophie who she adopted from the North Shore Animal league. Sophie loves to come and play with my crew and we are extremely fond of her.
Since no one in my family has a trust fund that I know of we all went to work today and left the puppies at home safe in their respective spots.When I returned from school I had one dog more than when I left.
According to the neighbors Sophie burst free of her gate and went to call on the Great Dane across the street. On route she met our Samoyed Molly whom she is very fond of and they frolicked gleefully until they were tired .Molly headed for home behind the property fence that she has meticulously chewed a neat whole in and Sophie followed. Now my Lab and my Golden stay in a fenced kennel during the working day hours and Molly doesn't know how to get in the house on her own so my best guess is that Sophie, a master at turning the latch to our deck door led her inside where they were tucked and tuckered after a long afternoon out on the town.
Proving my theory that dogs do not need arranged play dates and are independent thinkers.
I wonder if when my girls start having children of their own Sophie will arrange the entertainment.Now that would be a neat trick.

The Bike Path

Today I took a personal day to catch up with a life that feels sometimes out of control. I rested my sore throat and rested my busy mind , An abundance of memories flooded me as I wandered through today; mostly of my Pop Johnny. He lived with me in the last 6 months of his life and he knew had to tell a story like nobody else. What was even better was he knew had to finish one. We, he and I, had a thing about the first two wheeler he bought me. I asked for red, he bought me blue. When I questioned how Santa could make such a gross error, he plainly answered, Blue is better.

So the battle began. All my life I tried to get him to stop telling me what I wanted. He intern told me what I thought and how to feel. Therapy, religion, holistic self searching...nothing changed. I married a man like my father the very first time, and it only got worse from there.

When I was strong enough to leave him and my troubled sence of self, the first thing I did was buy my own red bicycle. My x applauded me when he saw me ride it home, and I was on my way to healing a womb that was very long overdue.

Periodoiclly I would tell the story only to hear my dad grown in the background."Not that gosh-damm-story about the bicycle...can we please let that go?"

And when I built my present home I built a path now made of 176 bicycles re-claimed from the dump, woven as the armature for a fence that encircles my property and keeps preditors like deer at bay.

There are sections of tricycles and sections of Blue bikes,broken ones and ones that you could fix and ride. I even have two tandoms that I use as guideposts for entering the path. My "bike path" is a work of art and the springboard for many a long summer nights tale.

The best part of the story was the night before my father had his fatal stoke we sat by the fire, my present husband Dexter,my dad, and I. Johnny began..."Did I ever tell you about Steffi's first bicycle" he turned and asked my husband? I almost fell off the chair. "No, answered Dex gingerly. "Well she asked ....and he told the story true down to the last detail. EXCEPT one thing. When he got near the end he said. "and well you know it was a good thing that I knew the man at the store, because we took that blue bicycle right back and got her the one she really wanted."

My mouth dropped open and Dexter looked pale. The circle had come around and here he was needing to make it all right.

"Yup I said it was a great red bike POP". Go figure.

I look at the bikes now and realize it bothered him more than it ever bothered me. He never spoke of it, but he carried it around.
I collected 176 bicycles that make a path in a circle, just like we did. He brought us back to the begininng with the truth as he knew it. Life seems to be a combination of both. I'm not sure I'm any more together than I was yesterday
but it was nice to take a day and remember the abundance of love we each had.

The last thing i will do is cry.

No one should ever have to write about death unless one is reminiscing about a loved one who lived a full life; death should be kept still and respected in it's quiet unassuming place. My opinion,my blog.
This will be my exception.
I attended a funeral for one of my students this past weekend. We were not exceptionally close but he was still one of mine, from the first year I began teaching at my present school. He graduated 19 short years ago, he was only 31.
His death brought many unlikely people together. We cried and prayed,we cried and sang. We cried remembering what a silly ,happy funny kid he was and I think the last thing we will do when we think of him is cry some more.
He left a child and a family that adored him. Sisters,a grandmother and a Mom.
I kept thinking of them.
How would they face tomorrow after such a tragic loss?
There is only one answer for this I think and for me perhaps it is the greatest lesson of the day.
They will because they have no choice. Life although we sometimes pretend that it is ours to do with what we want, is not always so. There are bad things that happen to good people and good people who make bad choices. Sometimes the bad wins.
I will try and remember that I pretty damn lucky in the main scheme of things, but I want to go on record as saying my heart is still broken.
I didn't know him well. but when i think of him, that happy,funny kid; the last thing I will do is cry.

"Bless me father for I have snowed"

Is anybody else tired of the snow?I hate to be a Negative Nancy but I certainly am. I ache for the spring breezes in my hair and the warm sun on my face. Two short days ago I heard some singing birds and when I scouted them out I located 4 cardinals singing merrily by my rabbit hutch and all seemed quite perfect with the world. Now it's white outside and it looks like March is really still arriving whether I acknowledge it or not.
Remember when you were in grade school and pinkie swearing that neither you or your best friend would tell that you prayed to the snow-god for a day of foul weather (hence a day off from school?) Being raised Catholic my mother always reminded me that praying to false gods was a sin so if i got caught it meant a trip to confession on Friday and well thinking back that poor priest must have been crazy in the winter months. Imagine all the kids of the 60's lining up on Friday afternoon. "Bless me father I have sinned it has been a month since my last confession". I got down on my hands and knees and with all my heart prayed for a blizzard. I don't think it ever really worked, but I certainly did confess each and every time we did it and Father Russo did give me an act of constrictions to repent.
Perhaps that wasn't enough, perhaps the Karma in all of this is we get what we ask for and here it is. Sorry everybody, it's probably all my fault. Lets just hope the god of snow has a sense of humor and spreads it out over a period of time, like amortizing a debt. Pinkie swear I am not praying for anymore,but it was nice to enjoy an extra like-saturday day of snuggeling in !

crocheting baby hats

Just make sure that when you change activities they burn the same amount of calories.I missed the mark by substituting landscaping for crocheting baby hats . Oh well they are cute.

I'm not counting calories..

I am very proud of myself this morning. I went to the gym to do my usual thing, and according to the en-famous elliptical I burned 17 calories! Imagine that. 10 minutes of discomfort and I was able to burn one jelly bean or less.
I could probably list 100-things that equaled the caloric workout as I was once a runner and counted almost everything-that I ate. No more. This was another gift my daughters bestowed on me from birth, a unending rev-ing-metabolism which kept me thin for over 20 years. Thank You Catherine and Emily. So what happen now?
Well if you have been following, Chapter 2 in my book on a Mid life Sense of Humor has to do with knee joints. I bet many of you youngsters have never given more than 30 seconds of thought to either of your “knees”. Guess what? They are in cahoots with your eyes. It sucks, as you kids would say.
One day my knee felt kind of wobbly and the next thing I knew they were trimming the meniscus and claiming the knee had worn down. Can I remind someone that they failed to warn me about what wears and what doesn’t.
Whatever...
I am now mostly greeted by the following, Hey are you limping? No I wobble.But wait it gets funnier. I am too young for a knee replacement so I get to wear a big hard brace which I am told I’ll be capable of performing Olympic Sports. Really? I don’t like sports; pushing for the Olympics is far from likely.
Here is my compromise. I have committed to going to the gym 5 days a week to build strength in my legs. I lift a few wimpy weights to kill time because I am embarrassed to go in and be done with the hard work in 20 minutes. I walk on the treadmill for 10 and my favorite machine of torture the elliptical. Who said it was great? You fibber. It hurts and after 10 minutes I burned 17 calories. So ladies eat your vegetables and stay away from the butter because the days of running after your toddler are numbered and your knees are keeping you in the dark.
All is not lost however, there is always a nice piece of Godiva waiting for me at home and since I'm not counting calories...

A little Spinach

I have an abundance of blessings all of which I am reminded of each day. Up until my mid-forties my eyesight was one of them. I never wore glasses of any kind and I was afforded perfect sight with little to even remind me that others had trouble. Like most everyone I have become dependent on reading glasses, each year more and more, and each year the prescription gets stronger. Why this should become a subject to blog about is simply that it reminds me that with each challenge I need to renew my subscription to my “Mid-Life Sense of Humor”; a magazine I plan to write and publish any day now.
Chapter 1 may begin with something like...”Today I needed to wear my Glasses to Brush My Teeth.” True story. I know where they are,my teeth that is, I just couldn't see them. So why is this a surprise? Well, why hasn’t someone warned us.? Perhaps because no one would believe it. However for those of you who trust my blatant naivete I am here to warn you, your day will arrive!
Perhaps there are wonderful things to look forward to in the future. A less hectic schedule, grand-babies, more bunnies. Perhaps I will brush first and learn to put the glasses on afterwards to check for Spinach. For today I remain UN-amused. Glasses for hygiene is pushing it. Yet there is an abundance of things that I remain grateful for despite my arrogance. Husbands that take you out in the middle of the day for lunch with no apparent reason, children that call just to say hello, and strange puppy dogs that befriend you in stores because somehow they know you are one of them. Lovers of all things heartfelt. Damn the glasses. My loved ones don’t care about a little Spinach.

Thank God it's not heriditery

My daughter Emily is home for Presidents week as a teacher of first graders in NYC.
She is smart and pretty and reminds me of the pied-piper around small children. They flock to her ungracefully screaming her name as she enters a room. She is in love with them and for this someone will pay her,Thank You God.
What I am amazed at most, is that Emily can unclutter any space in a fraction of the time it took to make the mess, and seemingly with no effort.
Thank God my weakness's are not hereditary!!!
Emily tackled the attic this week (which is unfair to ask anyone in their right mind). I knew after 8 years of marriage and 15 years of prior children from the last house that it was a failure before it began.
yet...she sorted ,threw away, organized by like kind and even went through every paper.She claimed and I believe her that 60% of the clutter is now gone and the attic is a vision to behold.
My other daughter has not gotten wind of the event yet and I know this could be problematic. Catherine and I could make a artist trading card out of drier lint.
I made Emily a promise I would not pick thru the garbage but Catherine never made such a deal.
Will this jeopardise their perfect sibling relationship?
One will hope not . All I know is that Emily is a genius and I feel like I accomplished something grand this vacation.
Bravo for children with talents.

What I found at the bottom of the piles.

Junky things are not the only thing I collect.
Bad habits, old friends, and countless rituals seem to offer me comfort.
When I finally reached the bottom of the piles that I had assigned myself as homework this weekend, I had approximately three separate tasks.
The first one remained the dreaded bills and all of the headaches I needed to file through. These things are just problems to be solved. They were swiftly removed to the next office space in my house and await a burst of bravery later in the week.
The second pile holds all the “stuff” that needs to be removed. Garbage, junk mail, pieces and parts. Most of these things are just lost objects that may someday make interesting parts on a mosaic,but for now are creating clutter and chaos,and preventing me from a peace of mind. I wish I had discovered this years ago, but I didn’t. No use whining, just get busy , throw it out, and move on.
The third and last pile remains the challenging one. Like a centipede it has many legs. How many?
Thousands.
Here is what I concluded.
The third pile is for all of the “stuff” that I still feel committed to using in my life. This is the part that feeds my soul. Concrete or conceptual this part helps me deal with the first two piles,and this time around I have learned one true thing..
I don’t imagine I will build a sculpture, or paint a picture that will knock the world on it’s back. This said I probably should limit the amount of clutter I attempt to manage since it can easily get out of control. On the other hand I still may say something in my own arena that will make a difference to some child and perhaps that is the magnificent criteria.The stuff that stays now has a purpose.
As the new year comes and goes, as we make resolutions, promises, wishes for a better tomorrow I can say this. I still have a lot of stuff.
It still makes me happy and I think I will probably still spend a lot of my time collecting, sorting, and cleaning up after a big part of it. This year there will be one big difference. I will know why it is mine, and I will take care of it so it lasts, to go on and do good things.
Not a bad weekend of homework,if I do say so myself.

Beware...Slow learning curve ahead!

I have mastered many things in my life. Some by just showing up,but mostly with unbridled perseverance. I like re-arranging the furniture each time I clean a room. Change is my friend even though it makes most organized people crazy. This should have been the first hazardous sign I took to heart.
This remains my third attempt at Blogging for day 2,and I won't lie, I'm frustrated.
I'm not sure what really happened but both previous attempts were somehow lost and it made me wonder if in fact I am just creating more excuses NOT to stay on task, and which is in fact what I am blogging about to begin with.
Let's put this to rest once and for all and review.
*The bills are on my dining room table flirting with my chandelier and making bets that i will not complete my assignment by tomorrows afternoon date.
*I spent some time folding felted sweaters despite my promises not to, because burning the unwanted papers in the fireplace wasn't enough of a distraction. Even after I opened the flu.
*I came to the conclusion that I need to speed up my production of felted crafts or that too will become a issue for blogging.
Lastly, the learning curve on life is way too sharp and I want to be the first to admit that I can only limit myself to one new job,one new electronic gadget or one new "activity" IE like blogging each and every day. It's just too much. I will be way too long winded if i start my 20 things we lived without in 1974 speech BUT SERIOUSLY
a Walkman and an i-pod shuffle are very different! For those of us who seem to get lost on the way from the laundry room to the kitchen here is a good tip. Give yourself a break and pick one new thing. This generation is moving too fast for us mid-life-ers.
Slow learning curves ahead folks.Good to know.Goodnight everybody.

I have stuff

I have more stuff than anyone may want or need in a lifetime. This creates many problems , but the one consistent thread that seems to keep me tangled is the need to manage it all. I love my stuff.
I love collecting, hoarding,organizing, sharing,and mostly playing with all of the things in my life. I HATE carving out the time it takes to manage it. I resent the mundane things like the need to eat, sleep, get to work on time and most importantly, pay for my life.
Oddly enough I buy very little stuff! I make most of the things I surround myself with. I recycle everything. My job as an Art Teacher demands I create multiple quantities of collectibles. It is just the storage I have difficulty with.
Here is my first solution for this blog entry and I am going to try and follow my own advice.
Today a friend sent me a lovely slide show that was meant to inspire me with words of wisdom. One numbered thought asked "If something was true a year from now,would it make a difference?" I have decided that the first plan of action in my overflowing dilemma is to identify the tasks at hand and ask that simple question. "If my felted sweaters are not color-coordinated in my studio by tomorrow ,will it make a difference in my life?" The answer was quite simply NO.
As for the pile of bills,lesson plans and various papers that I seemingly hate to organize and intern deal with, the answer is undoubtedly YES. I will find the missing photos, I will collect the tax information, I will toss the unnecessary clutter and tomorrow I will return to my Blog and report how it went.
Will it be possible to accomplish in one day what I could quite possible put off for more than a year? I let you know,one can only hope.