Summer Solstice musing

Summer Solstice is my favorite of the Sabbats. The longest day of the year played out in the embracing heat of the new summer. In years past I would have planned a ritual with a party after. Not this year. I'm not ready to throw parties yet. I wonder if I ever will be.

Besides I had a busy day planned. My daughter Elvira and I were going to hit as many of the annual garage sales as we could in my historic neighborhood and the neighboring one. She cancelled after I'd already gone out for several hours, because Rock Dad has the flu, and she had to tend his music store. Later in the day I was going out with another friend to visit a local sex store and then maybe get some dinner and drinks. After that Rock Dad was supposed to play a show at a downtown bar, but he had to cancel because of that flu. Within the space of about 10 minutes all of my plans for the day disappeared like smoke in a downdraft.

So I walked around the neighborhoods by myself, picking up a few bargains and engaging in a few conversations, but mostly just browsing and moving on. I found a jig saw for $2 .... or maybe it's a saber saw. I don't know the difference and I don't care, but I know I need one. And I found some books and games for Coraline. I came home when the sun hit the apex, and my bag was full and heavy.

I stripped off my sweaty clothes, turned on the fan and stood in the breeze while I decided what to do with my unexpected free time.

I decided I might as well check Facebook, although I wasn't terribly enamored of a conversation going on there. I wrote a long answer to a question a friend asked on my Reticulated Writer Facebook page about last night's post, and just as I was about to walk away from the keyboard and fix some lunch, a message popped up from my friend The Hot Italian asking me if I wanted to go to a nearby glen and hike.

I considered the 3 hours I'd already spent hiking around the neighborhoods as I typed in my answer: I just needed to get something to eat and then I'd be ready to go.

And now instead of feeling like I'd been abandoned, I felt fortunate my afternoon had cleared so we could spend some time together. We message back and forth a lot, but we rarely see each other face-to-face, even though we live 15 minutes apart. We've been friends -- close friends -- for over 4 years, and we've never gotten together on the spur of the moment. And yet in so many ways, she was the perfect person to spend Summer Solstice with.

I'm just going to list some of my impressions from the day: limestone stairs, dirt and rock paths, splashing waterfalls, meandering streams, sitting on a fallen tree breathing in those negative ions that come from water rushing over stones, talking about sexism and addictions and strap-ons (I might have given advice to a lesbian about something I know dick about) and artificial vaginas (that's another post, and I'm not talking pocket pussies), about relationships and 25% and change and the mysteries of tarot and people who smoke on the path with no regard for those of us who want to smell nature, about the past and the future and letting go and crazy fuckers and who owns angst, about the lives we want to live and the lives we're forced to live.

We ended the hike by climbing up a tall stack of uneven limestone stairs, soaked in sweat and friendship, muscles aching and, speaking for myself, with a full and satisfied heart and a great need for a drink of water. We agreed we deserved ice cream, but we didn't get any. Next time.

Oh, Miss Serendipity, I love it when you disappoint me by turning my plans upside down, and then throw a perfect Summer Solstice gift at me just because you can.

It's days like this I wish I could hold on to. Summer has always been that way for me -- so hot and sweet and much too short. I needed the reminder that I've been spending a lot of these pre-summer days alone -- working on my house, playing music, reading and writing, working on my house. I have so much to do here, it's overwhelming. I haven't even been on a bike ride this season because of all the work on my to-do list. I thought I would be done with so many things and moving on .... but I have to be patient. It's hard.

And yet, I'm also fitting in some important unplanned time too -- a weekend trip to visit Drake and Montana, an evening spent listening to a blues jam and playing pool with my theater sister Trick Shot and her fiance Lights, and today's hike in the glen with The Hot Italian. Summer is the time for following whims. Please, Miss Serendipity, find me more whims, and if it pleases you, toss in an elf or two to finish those chores in the night while I sleep.

If you could do anything on the spur of the moment, what would you do? Who would you do it with? And what the hell are you waiting for?

November 18: A list

It's not fair. Thanksgiving is mere days away and I'm sick. I am willing it to go away by morning, but tonight I feel like my head is being banged around inside a jar.

I got a lot done this weekend, and spent time with good friends. In spite of the encroaching scratchy throat and drippy head, I managed to play 9 games of pool; blog; spend an afternoon cleaning up the church property (which is what made me sick. I should have stayed out of the dusty, pollen-coated, tall-weeded wetlands. Sometimes I realize too late I've wandered into the allergy zone); pick up my freshly killed turkey from Farmer Mak and catch up with her; bake a pumpkin pie; dance to my favorite classic rock band; evade a creeper (with a little help from my friends); accept a blue-eyed man's number and not throw it away (new chapter, baby. I never even give them an chance .... but more about him no matter how it turns out. Flattery doesn't usually break through my barriers, but the blue eyes gave him a leg up); blog; share a big, abundant Thanksgiving dinner with countless friends (OK, maybe 200 or so); shop for Christmas presents with my girls, Elvira and Coraline (my ass was dragging and I was whining in the most unattractive way by the time we finished -- worse than a toddler); drag myself home; take a long nap; avoid craziness no matter how many enticing hooks it throws out (when someone says he or she is crazy or shallow or a butthead, just fucking believe it and practice active avoidance); start cleaning up my island (should have done it sooner); start the laundry; watch Homeland; make several long lists to guide the next three days leading up to Thanksgiving; blog; determine to go to bed by 2:45 and will away this awful, juicy allergy attack.

That's the highlights, but I'm grateful for almost everything on the list. The creeper .... yeah, not so much fun.

I confess. This is not my most interesting or entertaining post. My apologies. I'm in list mode, and I feel like shit and my muse Dolores is afraid she'll catch what I've got even though I told her it's not contagious. She's so fickle.

And people keep telling me about poop.

I'm opening myself to some fresh winds blowing through my life. First I will give thanks -- for gifts that will continue into the next year and for gifts that have run their course -- and then it's going to be time to write some new chapters for the new year.

Gratitude feels good. Try it. What's on your list for this week?

PS: Two more posts until I reach 300 published posts. Yay!

Filling the Bucket

I promised to write about dancing* on the pole Friday night and so I will, but I have to tell you, my ass is dragging tonight. I packed way more socializing into one weekend than a girl should and then some. So much that I turned down a dinner invitation tonight so I could come home and take a nap, and this is not normal behavior for me. Other people can't keep up with me, but I usually can. (Maybe I need to see a doctor. ) But I'm tired in a good way. Tired in a way that filled my bucket. Tired because my peeps surrounded me this weekend with love and support and food and dancing and laughter. So much that I couldn't do it all like I usually do. So much it was like  Woodstock, only without the mud. So if you're only interested in the pole, skip to the next post. I'm typing though and I want to say something about the rest of the weekend, about how very blessed I am by the people in my life, if only because the Universe gave me a great big old reminder that I probably needed as much as the next person does.

Example of a Vision Board

Friday night I spent a rare evening with one of my besties, The Hot Italian. We're in touch almost every day, but we're both too busy to get together in person very often. I had planned to go to an annual blues fest in Hippie Town, one that I haven't missed in years, but I took the opportunity to haul my guitar over to her house to jam and read tarot cards**. Only I forgot my cards, and we didn't get the guitars out to blend harmonies on even one Indigo Girls song. We just talked. We talked about dreams versus the illusion of security, taking leaps of faith, careers versus doing what we love, what we're missing versus what we have. She encouraged me to create a vision board and she'll be doing one too. I have to admit, I'm not a follower of the law of attraction movement, but I like cutting pictures out and gluing them on mat board, so I'll probably do one just to see if anything surprises me. Maybe I'll talk more about that in another post. I left her house about 11:00, but .... more on Friday night in the next post.

Saturday my soul sister, Colorado, came with her daughter to spend the day. We used to see each other almost every day, and we had some wild adventures....until she got married, moved 60 miles away, joined the corporate world and became domesticated. (OK, and really happy, but whatevs.) We don't see each other that often any more, so a visit is cause for celebration. Except, we didn't do anything exciting--drove around a neighborhood I'm thinking about moving to, shopped the downtown Goodwill, and ate lunch at a little deli. And talked a lot. It was wonderful. Even though she's just down the road, things have changed and I miss her. The first time we walked out of a grad school rhetoric class and introduced ourselves, we bonded forever, in spite of my extreme extroversion and her puzzling introversion. Somehow the mix made for some crazy adventures and stories. And somehow she showed up Saturday just when I needed to be reminded of who I am.

After Colorado left, I headed over to a porkfest in the backyard of some friends and spent the evening eating every kind of yummy food and getting many hugs and kisses and laughs and way too much talk about my sex life and....need I say it? Pork. Pork loin on the grill with apple BBQ sauce and smoked pork chops and tables loaded with sides and many desserts. And wonderful friends who are determined to get me laid properly and soon...and often. And who want to get out on the bike trail with me and sing karaoke and who praised my milk licker. Yes, I took a mason jar of milk licker and traded my host, Angry Badger, what remained in the jar for a leftover smoked pork chop. I planned so many adventures in those few hours, I'd be busy for the next five years if I did it all.

While I was there, my son's girlfriend texted me and said she'd left some rum cake on my front porch. Mmmm. It was delicious with a glass of cold, raw milk. She's the one who got me on the pole, so more about her later.

Today, Sunday, I changed plans I'd made weeks ago and still had a great day. I signed up for a historic three-hour bike ride around the city about two months ago. I was excited, and unfortunately I told someone I was close to at the time about it. But when I looked at the Facebook invitation to get the details and saw the RSVPs that had appeared after mine, I decided it wouldn't be much fun to go on that ride after all. I just don't dig mean people. So instead I agreed to be an extra in a movie. I hit a different bike trail with The Diplomat that ended  at a local theater (where I performed in my first play last fall) and did the movie shoot instead. Again, some good theater friends were there and I met some new people. I'm sure it was more fun than the other bike ride would have been, and I left with a tub of hummus. And got in a 13-mile ride.

And then this afternoon I went to a performance of Harvey. I haven't written here about my theater experiences this past year, but I will eventually. It's so much fun to go to plays and know several people in the cast. I have performed with three actors in today's play, been directed by the director, and performed on that stage. Again, it's like going home or to Cheers where everybody knows your name, and the people get to be like family. After the play though, I'd had enough and I begged off dinner and came home.....And finally I sat down to write. I started to write about dancing on the pole, but I wrote this instead.

I know this sounds like just another busy weekend, and so it was. I'm sorry I didn't make the blues fest, and I really wanted to go on that group bike ride, but I'm not complaining. When I look back at all the people who shared these two days with me, and I think about how much I love them and how much love I receive from them....I almost can't hold it all in my heart. My heart has broken in a couple of different ways this summer. The birth of my granddaughter broke it as it stretched to receive her and this new incarnation of my daughter as a mother. That kind of breaking, overwhelming as it is, brings unfathomable joy. And then there was other damage that is still healing, still raw no matter how ready I am to move on. And with both kinds of heart-break I know my peeps are there to hold me together and either celebrate with me or talk some shit in my defense...they've got my back and my front. Oh, but you wanted to read about the pole. Next post......with a photo. Tomorrow. I promise.

* I know how to dance, so trust me when I say I use the word "dancing" to describe something that doesn't look like me dancing.

** Yes, I do readings. So does she. It's not expensive and it's worth it.