Me here at last on the ground...

Its my favorite time of the year.

It's not shocking that Maine does Autumn very well. Sweater weather. Loafers. Or rain boots. Wool socks. The summer folks are leaving or have left. The kids are back in school. I'm starting to feel like my feet are on the ground.

Thallia's fur coat is finally appropriate. 

I still get up way earlier than she does.

My I-Phone is finally becoming less important. Huge happy dance that my phone is not necessary for either of my new jobs. 

Yeah. Two new jobs. 

Scraping a living together seems to be the way up here. Two good jobs. No small feat and none too soon. One full time job that's 500 feet from my front door and populated with wicked nice people. One part time job with animals. I know! So good.

I manufactured both jobs; dropped off resumes at both places with pretty good cover letters suited for each job. Neither place was hiring. I'd applied to, oh maybe fifty jobs. Some were hiring, some not. Some were appropriate, some not. Hi Pizza Hut.

The part time job with animals came first and everyone, especially me, sighed with relief heavily. There were almost four weeks of the seven mile commute on the Honda Scooter. Mostly it was summer weather so it was fine but occasionally it was really foggy or super cold. Always one way was at night. Hat and gloves in August anyone? Anyone? No...?

I bought a fire engine red Honda from the late '90s. No rust, minor issues and (horrors) no air conditioning installed. Fixed the minor issues, bought it new tires and told myself Maine has short summers. No more scary night time commuting on Route 1 on the scooter.

The full time job came just as I was car ready, although I don't need it to get there as it's literally across the street from home. Great people (only four others! Hurrah!!) interesting work and zero stress.

I look forward to the snow flying.

A walk along Main Street....

One of us was incredibly thirsty and both of us had the giggles belly laughs. ...'Bout 45 minutes of guffaws as we took photos with my I-phone; everything was a good reason to stop and snap "so cute, beautiful, just very special". 

"Hold my water pleases oh please let me take a photo its so special see?..." 

We both found it hilarious at how thirsty she was and I tried very hard not to compose a poem in my head about how thirsty we both are. We laughed as she proudly showed how much fun it is do drink out of where the straw goes with out the straw. So scandalous. So hilarious. So fun. Her cuppa water lasted the entire 45 minute walk. The use of a good prop, mastered. Mid-summer magic hour Main Street madness.

Pretty, pretty things we found that looked lovely and interesting through my lens... 

All within two blocks from our respective front doors. We started at the store with the cool sun hats and turned around at the new bakery when the phone rang telling us it was time for her supper. I dropped her off at her front door but not before we met a dog in a dog suit. 

So hilarious. 

...isn't it rich?

I built a new house in Maine

with a loved and trusted relative

We decided to move in

and build many more houses

We'll fill out the neighborhood together

with charm, humor, good design and strong foundations

  

eager partner

istekli ortağı

good

ready

authentic

otantik

hazır

iyi

Trusted? Turkish translation by Google Translate

Effective Seasoning

From the joy

I find in the deliciousness

of my morning cuppa

I see a welcome

breath

...who will buy this beautiful morning?

Trying to sell things on Craigslist. Nothing is selling. I'm fighting demons emotional and demons financial. Courage and fear. More fear than I'm comfortable with.  

I filmed in an actual abandoned insane asylum about 5 years ago. It was a shuttered wing of an opened, state run psychiatric hospital in downstate Illinois. When I look back at the pictures from that era...

...an actual "cell"...

I remember feeling the history, the horror, the hopelessness. I wasn't afraid. I needed courage for other things - not for being inside a loony bin. I was excited to present this amazing location. Today I find myself with less courage than I need. Afraid of going bonkers. I hope my working hard at making it better works. I don't want to feel at home here. I'm tired of being tired. I am not at home with fear.

There is a new girl in my life. She's been with me about a year.

Last October I contacted three Turkish Van cat breeders that were driving distance from Chicago. I told them about Bud. I told them about Shazaam, who passed away right before my mom died, my long term romance ended and I moved house from the suburbs back to the city. I needed a friend.

I was looking for an adult boy Turkish Van but found an adult girl in Thalia. My first girl kitty. She's from Michigan. She is pure bred Turkish Van. She was 6 years old. She was an 'Alpha' kitty of her Cattery but when her owners had her fixed after her third litter, the other females at her Cattery began fighting her. She needed adoption. We found each other.

She is very pretty. She has the bluest eyes that put her beauty in Elizabeth Taylor territory. She is smart and funny. Brave and curious. We've had a year together and we both really like each other. I've convinced her to use the 2nd bathrooms toilet instead of a litter box. She talks to me in her meows often. She meows hi when I enter the room shes in. She fetches her toys and drops them at my feet. She helps me keep my heart opened.

one foot in front of the other

My neighborhood feels urban yet working class neighbordy. 

I walk a lot now. I walk for exercise. To clear my head. Reminding myself how lucky I am. 

Even when it feels like I've made my own bad luck.

I feel hope when my legs work like their spossed to. 

My mind is set free from walls and introspection and worry. 

I am able to feel the air of life on myself. 

And even find humor...

...in an anti-graffiti sign being tagged with graffiti.

I love you Mumbo

So ...hi.

Hope and re-invention lives.  I wake with courage and fear.

My last writing here was Mothers Day 2008.

I loved my mom very much. We did not have a simple relationship. She passed over to the other side a year ago last August. I'm still not over her absence. I know I never will be.

I wrote a piece for her Memorial Service (with perfect help from my brother) and spoke it to all of her many friends who loved her. 

Here is what I said after taking a huge breath from the bottom of my soul... .  .   .    .     .

Hi Everyone 

Hi Mumbo 

Hi Dinny 

...Dins 

...Dinsmore 

...Dinny Mouse 

...Mouse 

...Din 

...DD 

Mom 

My Mom was born in 1934, around the same time Minny Mouse was born. Her dad, Lxxxx Lxxxxxx, made her his Dinny Mouse. Dinny. The Dinny moniker stuck for a lifetime. She was “Dinny” when she met my Dad on the slopes of Mt. Mansfield in Vermont. “The Nosedive” to be exact, when it still had 7 turns. 1962. Dad noticed her fantastic skiing from afar but when he got close she had her ski hat down over her eyebrows and her parka up over her nose. All he saw was her bright eyes. 

Dinny taught me and my brother to ski before we could walk. A former ski instructor, she had gobs of skiing to do and a lifetime of instructions for all of us. Here’s a great one.... 

Mid Seventies - Same mountain in Vermont. February... Mom - her beautiful face tan from skiing in the sun and a big, warm wonderful grin. My brother is in front of her. She is frozen and thrilled, and so is he. She is instructing him how to warm up ones fingertips when they are so cold they hurt... “like this” **I demonstrate** It works! She instructed us well.

Dinny Mouse radiated a cheery demeanor that made her a light in our lives. I have a distinct memory of her skiing by me in the early 1980’s in the middle of a mean and cold blizzard and she literally shouted to me “jolly, jolly, jolly!” 

For the last 20 years, some of my favorite times with her were here in Sakonnet. It’s November and we’re walking. There is a dog with us - Cooper or Zachariah or Jack... This is where we have our best conversations. Walking among the stone walls of Sakonnet. I see her wearing a hat, maybe sunglasses, maybe not- but what is clear is her voice. She is concerned, earnest and she has questions, (lots of questions) and also ideas (perhaps a specific instruction), she wants to listen, she wants to learn. Above all, she cares. She really does. At least once when the sun breaks though to light the fragmity or the ocean glows in an exceptional way, she will stop, take notice and say “now how good is that!”

Today I see her clear as a bell swimming in her church - the ocean. I see her everywhere. I see her as Philipies Beach, her Tappens swimming spot, Warrens. I see her as the full moon, the adirandic chairs overlooking ocean and the 2 frogs I met in our driveway two weeks ago. 

Dinsmore had style. Great at dinner parties, small talk and big talk. Easy to talk to, funny and extremely loyal; she was best friend to at least 6 woman. 

Dinny herself was everywhere... full of Zipity Doo Da zest, specific instructions and a laugh. 

Dinny Mouse 

Dinny 

Dins 

Dinsmore 

Mouse 

Din 

DD 

Mom 

Mumbo! 

I love you Mumbo.

Here's how she looked through my lens the summer of '08...

I. love. you. Mumbo.

 Her Church. Her favorite place in the world. 

Just when I stopped opening doors...

Privacy.

For me - my privacy in the city was an easier guarded commodity than when I grew up in the country. 

I talked about my privacy issues with my mom a few years ago... I was not all that shocked to learn that she never thought about "privacy" in respect to the rest of the world when she was raising me and my brother in the 70's and 80's. She had a very easy perception of herself. Nothing to hide really. Never occurred to her. She rarely (if ever) embarrassed herself. She and my dad raised my brother and I in a warm, sort of lovely, New England town. Not farms, but not suburban either. Privacy wasn't an issue for us. Back doors were left unlocked.

  

My life in big cities for the past 20 or so years has not been about privacy. Seeking it or otherwise.

Privacy has been the result.

Wikipedia says privacy is, among other things, "...the ability of an individual or group to seclude themselves or information about themselves and thereby reveal themselves selectively". 


Turns out writing here instead of a vacuum made me hear a voice in my head that was close to who I wanted to be.

I miss here.

I reveal myself selectively. But it's a voice that leads me. Helps me see who I am. Who I want to be.

Can I live with over-sharing anxieties and still live writing and photographing my world? Gonna try.

Privacy and me go deeper than over-sharing journeys. I like to be alone. I have shut people out when I needed them most and I don't know how to stop it. Not all in the name of privacy, but I can't think about my thoughts on privacy and not notice my loner tendencies to my own detriment. Big detriment.

This forum may help me find my voice again.

Finally knowing the one I wanted was yours...