Sunset to Sunrise

It is just after 6 a.m. and across town a woman sits in the early morning overcast with a worried expression on her face. It was the same frown line she fell asleep with.

Is all well? I hope so as the last post found idle sleep and comfort, a metaphor for the raising of the white flag, the end of a long battle. She dreamed about those words, visualized the folding table that doubled as his source of rest, and knew the expression his face held in sleepy moments. She was glad he found the respite.

A long night was spent before the last one and the hours before sleep held confusion and pain and rest was not found in soft cotton or the warmth of proximity. She needed the rest last night to raise against the mighty titan that was making his way towards her to wage battle eleven stories above the city skyline. But, none was found. The small text never appeared, a voice was not given to ease her into that good night.

So she sits alone in her room and worries about the one she holds closest to her heart. Is he well, did he not see her attempts to reach out in confirmation of his wellness. She will carry that knot into her battle today and fears the weakened state she finds herself in. It is in contradiction to the words he wrote in the folds of many smiles and photographs of mountains. Now she is the one who is upside down, nervous and wanting.......

Links

Big skies, warm smiles, wills, meetings, comparisons, rental cars, heat and brisket, a woman with a heart of love, a family, a small cat who wants in as much as the woman with a heart of love. Church service about family, God aims the arrow and all in the pew know it. Communion, spiritual, physical, family communion is the theme of the time they spend together.

Babies and water and grown women lifted overhead to feel the splash that brings them round to childhood again. Men show strength, cuddles are offered to mothers, sisters, cousins and to the stranger who found her way among them. A father offers affection to the portal of the one he truly loves and cannot show it to in physical form but beams with pride when he thinks no one can see him.

Missions made their way into view, medals were purchased and blessings were sought from brothers and dipped in water just like the dynamic of the day before; blessings were sought from a father, praise was needed from a brother - all those in need were washed in the water just the same.

A theme was omnipresent and understated. Love, renewal, faith, communion, washing away, treasures bought, blessings sought - and given. The stranger bids farewell and receives acceptance and kisses and embraces that show hope and the extension of communion outward to others. God works in wonderful ways.

Giving Away

When I was a little girl, I had a rocking chair that was white with a gold eagle on the back of it. That was my favorite possession along with my Baby Tender love and my Chrissy doll, both of which suffered horrid haircuts at my hands.

I am not sure what happened to my rocking chair because my mom was a chronic cleaner and gave everything away that was not used anymore. So, my doll house, my rocking chair, my first bike and Baby Tender Love are are lost on the horizon and have probably long made their way to the dump or have seen many trips to the Goodwill bin as families use and discard my childhood favorites. Ouch.

Update on Sand for Sale

My girlfriend, Ann is going to Destin for the upcoming holiday weekend. She and I were talking about the sand for sale Blog I wrote and we were cracking up about selling sand for $8.50 a bag.She is going to bag up a bunch of sand and bring it back to Atlanta with her and we are going to sell it in front of the Pottery Barn store at Lenox for $7.00 for a six pound bag.So, if you are in need.........stop by for a discount - if Pottery Barn can do it, so can we.

Lance and Mel - San Antonio

Lance and I went down to Texas to meet some family - I really enjoyed myself and found the people who were special in my boyfriends' life to be a great group of folks.

We spent days talking and walking and eating great food (although I am seriously questioning the need for re fried beans for breakfast) and sweating it out in the delicious Texas heat.

I learned a lot this weekend about love and being humbled and facing fear and lots of questions from curious people who were trying to figure out what I am made of, where I am going and how I have come the the point I am now. It was all great fun and I would not have traded my long weekend in Texas for all the tea in China.

Now it is off to the genteel countryside of North Carolina - another weekend of introductions. My boyfriend will be surprised at how many of their questions have been answered in his writings and in my descriptions about him. He will be off the hook, and free to enjoy a little southern hospitality and long walks in the woods - with me holding his hand every step of the way.

Ouch

Most days I feel like I am stuck in between some bumper cars. Not full-on automobiles that can kill you on contact, but those rounded ones that run on electricity and bump you from behind full-force when you least expect it, sending your head snapping and leaving you steering to get away.

It seems that everywhere I turn I am getting bumped. I have been stuck on the ride for 6 months and really wish the carnival would leave town so I could get off this ride and all the bullies would move to other entertainment.

To learn more about the physics behind what I am feeling - check out the link below....

http://www.learner.org/exhibits/parkphysics/bumpcars.html

I Want To Go!

I have the itch again - that is what it is. I have been home for a couple of months now, and the travel bug is nipping at my heels. Do you ever feel the urge to just get on a plane and haul off? A friend (:-) of mine has the ability to cut and run any time - that must be a nice feeling. However, the double-edged sword of that is that he is on an airplane all the time so getting off of it is the break that most of us look for when we want to get on one!

I think that is humorous and is what I returned from lunch thinking about. I wish he would ask me to cut and run with him. I would be a great partner in crime - and when you can bring your love life along with you in your overnight bag, there is never the missing element. Isn't travel so much more fun when you have someone to share it with and compare notes with and scheme about the next days activities with?

Well, my weekend is going to consist of cleaning out my attic and getting ready for a move that will have to take place over the next couple of months and considering I want to get away for the 4th of July weekend I better get at it. But, if the opportunity to go were presented I would drop that attic lickety chic lickety split.

I want to smell jet fuel again......

Star Light......

I find myself wanting more in all things. I want to finally just be myself and be enough. I want to play the role of woman, female, feminine. I want to be led, to be heard, to be held and to be special - just the way I am.

For many years I have been cheerleader, unwavering supporter, earner, cleaner, chef and constant faithful companion. I kept waiting to drop the pompoms, have a day to be supported in my dreams, quit working and focus on having a family, stop spending Saturday's cleaning and cooking while others were outside in the sunshine, and finally, have someone to be that faithful companion to me.

I want just to be enough to trip head-over-heels for and have that be known to all, and to me. I would be careful with it, and happy in it. I had so many years of weighed emotion and measured responses, or no responses at all. Now I want someone to Tom Cruise me on the Oprah sofa of life. To be so excited that rooftops are not high enough to shout it from and my ear is the soft place they want to whisper it to, and that I know my strides are matched and that we are the same in emotion, in desire to be part of the collective.

I just want to know that I am loved and that I am special in someone's eyes and that I am seen for who I am.

I just want to be enough. Chick moment over now. Back to reality.


Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight.

Buying Sand

When I got home from work this afternoon, I sat out on the back deck in my favorite rocking chair thumbing through the new Pottery Barn catalogue. As I was browsing the pages I noticed that they were selling 5 pound bags of sand for $8.50. I thought that was really funny. I think I would rather get my sand and shells (sold out) from a beach trip so that each time I walked by the container that held them I would remember happy times. Call me old fashioned.

Sand for sale - there's a new one.

My Favorite Picture of Paris

This was taken from the steps of Montmartre. I had taken the train from St. Germaine to Passy and walked up to Sacre Cour for the Latin Mass. Afterward I walked around the artists square and found this beautiful vista. I just love it because I can remember the moment I stood there, and just how happy I was. Isn't it funny that a smell, or a song, or a photograph can bring the past so vividly to the present.

I wish I was there right now!

We're Going Riding On The Marrakech Express

Marrakech, Morocco

Pony Express

I don't really mind being the Pony Express if you would just say thank you once in a while. It is my personal time you know. It is not on the way to the place my personal life begins. It is not your fuel or time or extension. Actually, I think the riders on the Pony Express got paid for the run. I did not read that in the contract or factor that into the rate. The rate for my personal time is triple.....and I don't guarantee delivery by 7 p.m. All considered, you owe $2266.08, or just perhaps a smile and a "thank you."

Last Night In Paris

Posted from my travel journal - April, 2005

It is my last night in Paris. It is well after midnight and the bells of the city have become quiet. You are gone and we all feel the weight of it.

I was sitting in a café tonight catching up with two friends of mine when the bells began to ring all over the city. Cathedrals great and small rang the solitary alto bell that signaled your passing. We all knew it instantly and orders were given to waiters, "L'addition, sil vous plait." Checks were paid and the streets begin to fill with the faithful and respectful. The bells summoning us to pay respect, to offer prayers and to remember the work of the simple Polish man, Carol Wojtyla or known more to the world as Pope John Paul, II.

Prayers were offered, and candles were lit. Strangers sat side-by-side in silence. It was monumental and sacred and special.

So, I am sitting here in the window of the Hotel Dockhan's Trocadero, overlooking the one of my favorite streets, Rue Lauriston, and dreading my departure tomorrow. I am thinking about the events of tonight, I am comforted by knowing that my prayers are still burning in Notre Dame and will be long after I am asleep.

The Souk

Posted from my travel journal - March, 2005

http://www.morocco.com/destinations/marrakech/

I was standing in the middle of an ancient walled city tonight, the Medina of Marrakesh. As we wound our way through small corridors toward the Souk, it was hard for my eyes to make the adjustment from street lights to lanterns and wood smoke was heavy in the air. What opened up before my eyes was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in my life. What appeared to be a long black wall came into focus as a sea of people. There must have been 5,000 massed together in that square. 11:00 p.m. in the Souk.

Snake charmers with cobras sat next to fortune tellers from the desert and men who played instruments that were unfamiliar to me. Monkeys and birds sat on shoulders of men with weathered skin as brown as a berry and tough as leather. The air smelled like cinnamon and spices and smoke. Meals were being prepared on open fires - outdoor restaurants Moroccan style. I was standing in 1001 Arabian Nights.

My attempts to pass as just one more French woman in the entourage I was with was feeble, and even though I was careful to speak only in French to the vendors, I was always responded to in English. The smiles that were sent my way were of a knowing sort and the question came again and again.... Est ce vous etes Americane? How could they tell, what gave me away. Finally, I asked a man who was selling Babush, the traditional Moroccan shoes that I was purchasing for myself and a friend of mine back home. He replied, Americans carry themselves in a certain way that no others in the world do. It is no use for you to speak French to us, we already know from the moment we see you that you are American. I found it amazing that we carry this with us like a flashing neon banner that even a good accent and a foreign language cannot hide.

The Moroccan people are amazing and friendly and serve mint tea to everyone who enters the shop. It is not the sort you get from a tea bag that reads "Twinnings" it is fresh spearmint and tradition that makes it so good. I was told to barter for everything. To pay the asking price is an insult to the shopkeeper and a good debate and meeting of the minds is sport and respectful. The better negotiator you were, the more respect you paid to the mind that was playing chess with you. I loved it and got pretty good at it tonight; remembering to be polite but firm and inch my way up in price as they inched down. When the middle was met, the deal was struck and more tea was offered with a smile and a handshake of congratulations. It was really something.

We ended up at the old Kasbah tonight for dinner, what a parallel from where we had just come. Courtyards held trees that filled the air with the smell of orange blossom, and dinner was served in large clay platters - fresh vegetables, lamb, curried chicken and beef, oranges simmered in cinnamon, all served against the backdrop of flowing curtains, intricate tile work and ancient wooden doors. I sat there are wondered about all the events this place had seen over time and what secrets it could tell me. I also thought back and sang that song from the Clash "Rock the Kasbah" in my head. Couldn't help it.

We are all back home in the Palmaire now and it is well after 3 a.m. I have to head off to bed and try to get a little sleep before trying the bartering again tomorrow. We are going to a special shop for carved doors!

I will be dreaming of the Souk and the monkeys tonight for sure!

Coon Dog Day

http://www.saluda.com/

My parents live in a small town in Western North Carolina called Saluda. They have an event there every year called Coon Dog Day. I kid you not. There is even a Coon Queen. That has cracked me up for years!

My parents have been back and forth to Saluda for as long as I can remember, lake houses and small cabins, mountaintop retreats. There is something about a town where Mr. Thompson still runs the local small grocery store and has known me since I was about 10 years old. There is usually a hug for me when I pop in and a remark from him about how much I have grown up over the years.

Saluda still has a soda fountain, and the local men meet there on Main Street to have breakfast club or play a game of chess in the afternoon. The door of the soda fountain is a wooden screen door that makes that cool old spring stretching sound when you open and let it close behind you. If that isn't the sound of summer, I don't know what is.

Heartwood Hammock, The Brass Latch, the beautiful Victorian houses that sit in the hills overlooking old Main Street are still a treat to visit. I grew up there off and on, square dancing on Friday nights in the old school building with Jimbo Bailey; eating at Green River Bar-B-Q, or hiking to a hidden waterfall with Laura, my buddy that lived across the lake. It was a great time in life.

So, if you ever want to go to Mayberry, head on up 85 To Greenville and then take Highway 29 on up to a little bit of paradise. Who knows, maybe I will head up there for Coon Dog Day. The shirt alone is worth the drive.

Belgrade and Vladimir

http://www.beograd.org.yu/cms/view.php?id=220

I was thinking tonight about my trip to Belgrade a couple of years ago. I was in Paris and had an invitation to fly over to Belgrade to visit my friend, Vladimir who was home visiting with his parents.

I had recently seen a documentary on the freedom movement called OTPOR on Public Television and had read a book by Michael Parenti called "To Kill A Nation", so needless to say I was curious about the realities of the country that the UN had bombed and that Slobidan Milosovic had devastated by stealing the Treasury from.

I landed in Belgrade on a Friday morning and could not believe the wave of heat that was coming at me from every direction. It was like a Florida summer on crack! The temperatures were around 100 degrees and I was melting like an ice cube.

It is funny though, because the story I have to relate is one of me being a complete pansy!! I was dropped into the middle of the biggest culture shock of my life. I was met at the airport by Vladimir and his friend Sladja who owned currency exchange places and had a great car that I was praying had a rocking air conditioner. Even at full blast it could not keep up with the heat penetrating the car. On that weekend trip away I think I lost 10 pounds just from sweating!

Anyway, for a year or more, I had heard from my friend Vlad about the amazing "Serbian Hamburgers" that would put the American ones to shame. I figured I would try one and it would be consumed somewhere like a Fudruckers or something. You can imagine my surprise when the next morning it was announced that we would be having one of these for breakfast. At that point, all I wanted was an Egg McMuffin and a coffee, but I was game for anything because I was starving.

We drove through a city full of fully-leaded gasoline blowing buses on our way to the "Place" where the best burgers in the city were served" and my exposure to all the gas fumes was killing my appetite. When we arrived at the center of the city, we pulled into what looked like a flea market area with lots of open-air vendors serving food. Everything was out in the open and unrefridgerated. I was a little nervous about it all and stood watching small women with large knives cutting chicken breasts up and piling them in big pans - right on the counters.

As hungry as I was, I let my friend order himself a hamburger and watched as they put warm mayonnaise on the bun and cooked him up a pattie. I thought to myself, "I will watch him for the next couple of hours, and if he does not die from salmonella I might try one". Needless to say that after eating a couple of apples and waiting out the impending doom of my friend I was about to pass out from heat and hunger. He thought I was a complete pansy and did not put two and two together until later that afternoon when I told him I really needed to eat and would get one of those burgers. I could see the light bulb go on in his head and he turned to me and said, "Mellissa, have you been watching me all afternoon to see if I would get sick from eating the food?". Uh oh, busted. I hate friends that know me so well!

To end this, I ate that hamburger and it was the best one I have ever had in my life. I ate one every day after that until my return flight to Paris the following Tuesday. Sometimes in life we just have to watch for danger and let someone go before us to clear the way. But how I wish I had one of those burgers right now. Yummmm.

Thanks Vlad!

A Little French Charmer

A Little French Charmer

A Room With A View

A Room With A View



On one of my trips to Europe, I ended up in Interlaken, Switzerland which in literal translation from German means "between the lakes". I was fortunate enough to have the privilege to stay in Lord Byron's room and it was such a treat. This is the view from the floor to ceiling leaded glass window, and I daydreamed about what masterpiece Lord Byron might have written there.

I cannot describe to you how beautiful this small city is, but tell you that if you ever want to see God's handiwork at it's finest, hop the train from Zurich to Lucerne and board the Glacier Train to Interlaken. You will stand for hours with your mouth open. The three largest Alps, Eiger, Monk and Junfrau Joch are at your feet and God is right above them laughing at you!!

Story People

Hello anyone,

One of my favorite writers is Brian Andreas who created Storypeople. He always seems to write exactly the sentiments I think. How I wish I had his talent or at least the ability to write things down before he does - as my thought process mirrors his own. I would like to share one of my favorites with you:

"I've always liked the time before dawn because there's no one around to remind me who I'm supposed to be, so it's easier to remember who I am."
Brian Andreas

www.storypeople.com

Emotional Baggage

I was thinking today about making a sign for my front door. It would read:

"All emotional baggage must be checked before entering. You are permitted one carry-on item which must fit in the small coat closet by the front door."

Of course, I would have the "size-wise" holder outside the door to help people determine if their baggage was too big to bring inside

Swansong

Take a step back
and lock it away.
Another end,
another day.

Highroad, low road
A payload to heavy
To take either one right now.

I am tired of it all
It happened to me
Summer
Spring
Winter
Fall

Time to retreat.
I get it, I got it
I ate it, I bought it.

See, I invited all this to my door.
Man, I won't do that anymore.

Do you ever?

Do you ever dream of running away? I do. I find myself dreaming of it a lot lately. I actually thought about getting in my car with my two dogs and just driving off and escaping my life the other night. If my boyfriends car had not been blocking mine, who knows what might have happened.

The pressures we subject ourselves to and are subjected to by outside influences is overwhelming at times, and the body's flight/fight mechanism kicks in and prepares to make its stance. Naturally if you feel that you have been in the fight and are loosing the battle, the flight response kicks in and there you go - reaching for your car keys or spending mental time planning your escape. Sometimes I dream about the lottery win scenario and then I realize that it will never happen to me because I always forget to play the lottery. Jung would have a field day with that one.

Well, time to make the donuts!

I Want To Go

I have the itch again - that is what it is. I have been home for a couple of months now, and the travel bug is nipping at my heels. Do you ever feel the urge to just get on a plane and haul off? A friend (:-) of mine has the ability to cut and run any time - that must be a nice feeling. However, the double-edged sword of that is that he is on an airplane all the time so getting off of it is the break that most of us look for when we want to get on one!

I think that is humorous and is what I returned from lunch thinking about. I wish he would ask me to cut and run with him. I would be a great partner in crime - and when you can bring your love life along with you in your overnight bag, there is never the missing element. Isn't travel so much more fun when you have someone to share it with and compare notes with and scheme about the next days activities with?

Well, my weekend is going to consist of cleaning out my attic and getting ready for a move that will have to take place over the next couple of months and considering I want to get away for the 4th of July weekend I better get at it. But, if the opportunity to go were presented I would drop that attic lickety chic lickety split.

I want to smell jet fuel again......

Hit & Run

I was thinking about those deer again today. The one I saw get hit on GA400 and the one lying helpless in the street in Peachtree City trying desperately to get on her legs again and remove herself from harms way.

Forbearing, forewarning - those two incidents were so meaningful to me personally! This is the last day of the first week of my 37th year and some serious housecleaning was done. I had to let go of a friend who was robbing me emotionally and to a man whom I was falling in love with. The first hit was the kill on GA400 and the second has found me damaged but alive and trying to get my legs up so I can remove myself from the highway where danger will return.

I realized that I am genuinely happy with myself - that I have come through some amazing trials in my life over the past two years and am emotionally and financially well. I am not toxic to others or confused about my past or where I want to go in the future. I thank God for that.

Even though it was hard to lock in battle with another person, hold my ground, stand up for myself and cut out the cancer, I did it. I have no animosity for the person that I was falling in love with - how could I? He brought me back to a closer walk with God and my spirituality and for a couple of moments in the span of time returned the smile to my face. I can stand proud knowing that I was loving and caring and dedicated to learning, listening and trying to understand what this person was going through. I hoped he was really ready to get out of the water, but the longer I stood at shore and waited, the more I realized that he was just treading water and had no intention of coming toward the shore.

So, I am off to clean out the attic - and, who knew that yesterday the attage for that was a metaphor for cleaning out my life. Green jersey clean and folded, washed with Tide and made ready for its owner - a lovely man with too much pain to get close to.

Hurting

Now I feel it 

Every bit 

My heart is aching 

My soul was hit 

 What now? I think

Feeling myself begin to sink 

Carried to the abyss 

By the undertow of the Titanic 

 I reached for you 

Time and time again 

Trying to hold on 

For both of us 

My grip was not strong enough

To overcome personality 

 So, now I feel it 

Every bit 

My heart is ACHING 

My soul was hit.