The summer has come full circle. A weekend after Labor Day, four months after my birthday, another perfect Little Giant dinner. My jeans, which were loose in the season's beginning are now too tight, but no matter. There's a whole winter to shed those summer pounds. It's been a season of good food and bad. Total extremes. I feel ready to start watching what I eat again, having come to realize how important good food really is to me. And why bad food is really hardly worth eating.
Will I ever get around to posting the 50 birthday gifts I'm giving myself this year. Maybe. Maybe not.
Can I capture the joy of jumping in a lake and sunning on a dock? Falling asleep in the hammock? Watching the fire flies in July?
The most important gifts were shifts in behavior and perception. Allowing myself to get a foot massage after karate one night. Taking an extra day at the Omega Ecstatic Chant weekend. Not rushing for a thousand things.
If nothing else this year, I want to learn to relax with myself. To be. Without judgement. Without hurry.

the great gift

One of the great gifts of 50 years/50 ways is the way in which it has made it so easy for me to treat myself.
If I counted every little thing I've done for myself I'd end up way over 50 by the end of the year. And that's a good thing.
It's funny how we get into a little habit of denying ourself small things, in the interest of saving money, or being practical. Getting out of that habit, into one of indulgence is a good thing for someone like me, who has a tendency to hold tight reins in wierd ways.
There's something adolescent about turning 50. It feels like a reminder, or a reason, to rebel a bit. Go out on a limb. Live a little.
What I don't want to do is become one of those nasty 70 year olds who thinks that they have every right to be rude and obnoxious simply because they've been on the planet that long. My guess is that these folks haven't used their turnings of age to find truer paths.
I intend this 51st year to be one of exploration and expansion. I may flail around a bit, but life is a process. There aren't any shortcuts. Well, in truth there are, but maybe they just balance out the long and winding roads we sometimes take for sight seeing, and others because we're a little bit lost.

lost time

It's been about a month. I crashed at Omega just days after my 50th celebration.
Larry and I had a lovely dinner in Amenia at Serevan. Weeks later, I can't remember what I actually ate, but just that it was a perfect summer night, complete with rainstorms. It traditionally rains on my birthday - thunderstorms actually - which I love.
Now, it's July 4th, a rainy one at that, and I am over my birthday but still adjusting to life after Omega.
All year, for the last 4, I have looked forward to my artist in residency at one of the nation's first holistic learning centers. And every year, my life shift subtly aftewards.
I'm having difficulty on reentry. Just as I had difficulty in settling in. A week and a half later, it seems like a century ago. But as usual, I am changed. The usual humdrum seems not only humdrum, but unbearable.
For three weeks, I woke at 5am, stayed in bed til 7, and crashed at 10 or 11. Back into my regular life, the television is a constant assault. Three weeks without was heaven.
I miss the sauna. Having meals prepared. Not having to do dishes. And having my schedule predetermined. Whenever I was scheduled to be in the art hut, I added an hour previous, to smudge and set the intention of the workshop. It was an amazing opportunity to delve into the sacred, and integrate it into daily life.
I miss that. Already I am rushing daily. Still, I am drumming space. And lighting sage. But the hub bub of worldly life takes over.
It's July 4th. Larry and I went to see Live Free or Die Hard, and at first I was assaulted by the intensity, but relaxed into the entertainment ultimately.
Now, back at the house, a fire in the fireplace, candles burning, a few glasses of wine later, I attempt to celebrate life. Independence? I'm not so sure. But a day off at least.
The patter of the rain is soothing.
I've been sleeping really hard, and late.
Strange dreams. Strange waking life too.

the morning after

I wake a bit depressed. This too is something to celebrate. Life's sufferings a counterpoint to its joys.
The quiet I always crave in the midst of the whirlwind that is my usual daily life is bittersweet this morning. Larry left early this morning for his San Jose soujourn. The house is a wreck, strewn with remants of our mad dashes back and forth between our home here in the country and our working weeks in the city. Winter clothes destined for upstairs storage haven't quite made it to their summer destination. But, it's a good day for the packing up I need to do. Overcast, with promise of rain, I don't feel pulled outdoors to weed and watch the grass grow.
Having left everything to this last minute, the idea of pulling together everything I need for my residency at Omega--art supplies, clothes, music, drums and more --is an overwhelming task. But I've got all day. Morning coffee is one more moment of procrastination before I begin.

june 2 no. 2

Alright. Maybe slightly pathetic that at 10:42 pm on the night of my actual birthday I am blogging. But Larry has to catch a plane to San Jose in the morning. Early. And I'm headed for Omega for 3 weeks tomorrow evening.
We spent the day doing not much of anything. Got the hammock up, which we never got to last year. So major accomplishment, and more so because I actually spent some time in it before it started raining.
2nd year in a row that birthday dinner was marked by torrential rains. Which I actually love. Cleansing. Intense. And full of memories. When we were kids, we'd stand beneath the gutters, showering in the downpour. I spent a few minutes earlier in the day, sitting in the tent listening to the rain. Nothing like it.
Dinner at Serevan in Amenia was gorgeous. I was a bit depressed on the way. Partly because I'd been drinking white wine all day and my buzz was wearing off. But also just the reality of the moment.
But once there, a smoker martini in my hand, I felt a bit better. And the food was just delicious. I had salmon; Larry had black bass. The presentation was lovely. And the mix of flavors a nice surprise.
We drove across Bangall Amenia Road, a lovely drive, just as it was getting dark. On the way back, lightening lit up the sky.
Now, as I sit here blogging, Larry is packing.
I'd meant to have a little bon fire and burn a ball of herbs from South America meant to help one cast off all that no longer serves. A shamanic medicine ball of sorts. But the rain has left everything too wet. And it's too hot to start a fire indoors in the fireplace. So maybe tomorrow.

no. 1 full moon dinner at little giant

An amazing dinner with dear friends at Little Giant. I wish I'd taken more photos, but alas I was drinking too much wine. I keep trying to remember that the joy of digital is taking as many as you can, and weeding out the rejects later. To be honest, the evening is a bit of a blur, owing to the fact that I was having such a great time. The best of nights are like that. You remember snippets of conversations, but the whole is a bit like a dream. I feel so blessed to have been surrounded by such wonderful friends. And a big smile washes over my face and my heart everytime I think of it.

actual day

Well it's officially June 2nd, the end of my 50th year, the beginning of my 51st. At least I think that's the way it works. So in some way it seems like I should have been celebrating for the last year, culminating on today. But never mind. This is what it is.
I am having a very normal day. Doing laundry, dishes, a little bit of puttering in the garden. But I did open a bottle of white wine at 11am, which I would normally not do. And started the day with a croissant-- another little treat.
The hammock is up and I've had my first swing of the summer, with wine glass in hand.
Pics to post of the fabulous bday dinner at Little Giant. And more to come.

ronni's salon

I have to admit that this birthday has got me a bit freaked out. Maybe it's just that I haven't been going to karate class enough and those endorphins aren't working for me. But the bloom is definitely off the rose and won't be coming back in this life time anyway.
Any opportunity to take my mind off my sorry little self is more than welcome. And this Tuesday night, I begged off my weekly date with dear friend Sanae to visit with McCann expats who are meeting monthly on the last Tuesday of every month to wine, dine and dish.
The pasta was delicious and the company delightful. As I like to say, there's nothing like drinking a bit too much every once in a while to revive one's spirit and soul. Isn't that the real purpose of a bacchanal?

a beautiful morning

the scent of wet grass is in the air. the leaves are dripping. the birds are chirping. sometimes waking up to a beautiful morning is celebration enough.

red velvet

today i made gluten free red velvet cake with cream cheese icing. delicious. i made a lobster roll for lunch. and pitched my tent in the yard for the summer. tonight we're having dinner with my folks. so many celebrations in one little day. how lucky am i?

first of 50 or more

Fifty schmifty. I may celebrate in a hundred ways or more. But whatever I do, I'll be posting them here. Don't count on consistency, rhyme or reason. I'm going for joy.