Life in a Northern Town

This is why I love life in a small town:

I have been lurking on a message board on Cape Ann Online. It's an intersting mix of personalities, but they've been helpful and friendly so no diss'es here.

One of the regulars is someone who's been part of the annual Gloucester Lobster Trap Tree. I don't know him/her personally. But the other day s/he posted that the tree is coming down Saturday. I responded with a note that I hoped it stayed lit through Friday night, as my family was coming up for the first time. How I wanted them to see that beautiful sight.

Well, today, I got an official shout out on Cape Ann TV. They're keeping the tree lit Friday night. Maybe it's not just for me. But it's partially for me. And they don't even know who I am.

Faith in humanity? Yes please.

Opening Up the Window

You know that phrase, sometimes when a door closes a window opens? Well, I do truly believe that. But I also believe that sometimes you have to open the damn window yourself.

Yesterday, with all my quiet time on hand, I did a lot of thinking. A lot of writing. A lot of meditating. And, truth be told, I wasn't all that happy a camper when I went to bed. I say went to bed because I didn't exactly sleep last night. I'm sure I did drift off for awhile, which would explain the nightmarish images that taunted me, but I didn't get any real rest. I finally struggled out of bed only to find out Fuzzy kitty had pooped in my closet. My eyes were swollen, my skin still pasty, I had new loads of laundry to do and it was only 8 a.m. Banner day.

But, on the way into work, I decided to say Fuck It. I was NOT going to be in a bad mood. At our 9:30 staff meeting I was going to be happy happy joy joy.

The meeting went great. Lots of laughter, none of it that would pass a PC meter. My boss remarked in front of the whole team what a great job I was doing manning the website fort.

At lunch, I sat with THREE other people who live in Gloucester. Human beings. Who live in my town. That maybe, just maybe, I could one day meet for coffee.

I got a call back on a part time waitressing job.

I got an offer for free knitting lessons at a local needlepoint group. Most of the members sound older than I am, but you never know. They could have cute children/neighbors/nephews/nieces.

Another cool thing happened about which I am unready to share.

I know these are all little things, but they're serving to make me happy. And that's enough for now.

See, even if I had to prop that damn window up, it is lettting in some fresh air.

A Quiet Sunday

I finally got the quiet, restful day I wanted. I slept in today, cleaned, cooked, cleaned more, did laundry, cleaned, played with the kitties, and went for a walk. Oh, and took a long bath with my newly restocked supply of Lush bath products.

In fact, I turned off my phone and didn't even turn on my computer until about 10 minutes ago. I retreated from the world and it felt great.

I counted and I only spoke to four people today:
Dunkin Donuts drivethru girl
Guy at sandwich shop
Woman with yappy dogs on beach
Next door neighbor, who offered to fix my burned out headlight. (how NICE is that?)

I have to return to the world tomorrow, but for now, I'm enjoying my little holiday.

A Moment of Hope ... and Fear

Barack Obama is projected to win the Iowa Caucus. And listening to him speak, I am struck again with the belief - the hope - that He Is My President.

I do believe in an America of Ideals. An America of Principles ahead of Practicality. OF HOPE.

But I'm scared. The last few elections have been so close. We lost to Bush even though we didn't actually lose to Bush.

Can this country elect a black man? Will this country elect a black man?

I don't know the answer to that question.

I know what I want to believe, tonight, with tears streaming down my face.

And, I know that tomorrow, I will seek out ways to campaign for this man.

And, Huckabee? Screw you!

Navel Gazage

Already 2008 has been an eventful year.

But today, I won't post about the seriously almost getting seriously lost in the woods, with night seriously approaching.

I won't post about the amazing Shakti experience I had last night and again today at yoga.

I won't post about almost hydroplaning and coming within inches of a guardrail.

I'll instead post this. I am the kind of nerd that asks for books of poetry for Christmas. And this year I got a compilation of poems by Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate and oft heard on Prairie Home Companion. And this piece makes me very, very happy. Without further ado:

On Not Finding You at Home

Usually you appear at the front door
when you hear my steps on the gravel,
but today the door was closed,
not a wisp of pale smoke from the chimney.

I peered into a window
but there was nothing but a table with a comb,
some yellow flowers in a glass of water
and dark shadows in the corners of the room.

I stood for a while under the big tree
and listened to the wind and the birds,
your wind and your birds,
you dark green woods beyond the clearing.

This is not what it is like to be you.
I realised as a few of your magnificent clouds
flew over the rooftop.
It is just me thinking about being you.

And before I headed back down the hill,
I walked in a circle around your house,
making an invisible line
which you would have to cross before dark.