Bob and I have two cars.  We have a stationwagon, and we have an economy car.  The little economy car is the newest member of the family, so it’s very appropriate that we are “celebrating” by giving it a name. 

Our stationwagon is a Subaru, so it felt both fun and perfect to call it the “Soozaru”, and that is what we had put on the license plate.  Our new little car is a Honda “Fit”.  What shall we do with that, which would be both fun and perfect??  The first suggestion was too obvious:  WE FIT or BOBS FIT.  Duh.  Or we could “cute” that up, by calling it WEEBY FIT.  That’s kind of fun.  It’s bright cherry red, so something with “cherry” in it would be fun:  what about CHERRY-OT (a take-off on chariot?).  Nah, not clear enough. 

What are other words that incorporate the word “fit”?  OUT FIT.  Hmm.  OUTAFIT?  A good idea if we were the type of people who partied just a wee too much, maybe.  STUFFIT.  No, that sounds a little rude, I think.    FOURFIT kind of works, since it’s always Bob and I, Max and Bigelow in the car: four of us.  Could make a cute license plate.  Also SURE_FIT.  Or FITZUS.  That’s kind of fun. 

I also like it when people place “-er” or “-ster” on the end of names, like the Bobster.  I used to have a boss that called me Soozer, which I enjoyed.  So we could call the car, the FITZER, or even, like our last name (Weissberg), FITZBERG.  I like FITZER or FITSTER.  FITZIE would be a possibility if only a female would be driving it, but I think it wouldn’t quite “fit” Bob’s style (pun intended). 

So I think that the front-runners are FITZUS and FITSTER…!  Happy Motoring. 

Part of my healing and balancing process is to focus on the positive and affirmative.  My mental health professional asked me this week to contemplate objects of beauty in my life.  I told her that whenever I sit outdoors, especially early in the mornings, contemplating Bob's garden and watching birds, is beauty to me.  She encouraged me to identify some symbols of beauty; she claimed that symbols of beauty can be powerful symbols of affirmation for ourselves.  I went home and looked around my home for objects that really awaken in me a sense of beauty. 

This is the first one.  Bob gave me this print as a gift because I was a dancer just like this for a very short time.  I'll never forget the way dancing with complete abandon in front of a small, appreciative audience, by candle-light, made me feel!!  It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, for sure.  When I enjoy this painting, it brings up that wonderful feel of joy and passion again. 

Another gift from Bob, I had admired this wonderful lamp in a tiny downtown store one year, when we were still dating.  Oh, I still remember what a wonderful little artisan store that was; all sorts of locally-made crafts and fine arts.  I looked at this lamp in the window and we both oohed and ahhed over it, but it never occured to me that it could be in my house.  However, Bob went downtown later and purchased it and then hid it in his apartment for four months until Christmas.  Boy, was I surprised!!  It's so beautiful when the light comes through the red poppies and the intricate leaves.  Isn't everything more beautiful when we shine the light on it? 

I found this extremely lovely and delicate glass bottle on the "Clearance" table at our local Nursery/Gift Shop.  This beautiful, tiny glass container was just sitting out in the garden with a layer of dust on it!  I got it at half-price.  I just love it.  There are delicate leaves etched into the glass, and it doesn't need anything in it; it stands alone!  It reminds me just of the clear sound of bells ringing on an outdoor green.  I feel a great amount of peace and simplicity when I contemplate it. 

This is the final piece.  This is just a hunk of glass that has this flower shape carved into its backside, and I don't know how they applied the color to it, but when the light shines through it, it is the most beautiful flaming rose.  This piece is very close to my heart and reminds me that I have a fire in my soul, or a strong heart. 

I encourage you to take the time today to walk around your home and identify things of beauty which really "stir" you to feel deep and affirming emotions.  It was a very valuable exercise for me.  I re-awakened my appreciation of these objects and brought them back to life again.  Now I have beautiful objects holding for me my intention to remember the positive, and remember beauty. 

I've lived lots of places in my life.  There were rented houses, houses owned for too short a time, new houses, crummy old houses, tiny houses, overgrown houses, and houses full to the rim with piles of junk.  They were my houses, but they weren't my home.  At the end of the day, I went home but I was never really home. 

Home is a spirit of self.  Home occurs when you finally recognize your place in things.  That place is home. 

When I was in high school, my family rented a house in Palo Alto, California.  It was a house on a corner lot, with overgrown shrubs and some tall evergreens.  The house was cluttered.  Our lives were disjointed and chaotic.  We all spun our separate ways like crazy metal toys on a sidewalk.  It was terribly hard to get everyone to show up together for meals, even on holidays.  We really didn't know what to say to each other.  It was housing, and we did come home to it each night, but I never thought of it as home. 

Such was my life as I grew up ... we were gypsies of a sort.  My parents struggled and survived, and my Dad moved us around to new placed to try new jobs, hoping to get one step ahead of the bills.  I graduated from high school and started working and pretending I was an adult.  I played house, and played with ways that I could make apartments feel like home, but I don't remember really feeling home. 

I was married a first time, and we played house, rather miserably actually, and before the year was out, I was moving our belongings out, by myself.  He just wasn't home.  When Bob finally showed up, I was beginning to get warmer. I might be coming home...  soon.  I began to meet a different kind of people.  I defined what was missing and I looked for it.  I found qualities in people that would help me come home to myself, and I surrounded myself with them.  Bob and I talked about making a home.  We got married.  We created a first home, for practice, and a second home, for some more space, but it wasn't until several years into our marriage that we really found home home. 

It is late in the day, just after dinnertime.  The sun is in its final hour, and everything has a salmon-colored glow to it.  The edges of leaves glow, irridescent.  I turn down the final street and all is quiet; everyone is indoors, finishing their dinners.  Windows are lit from inside.  I slow the car to turn into the trail, stopping to pick up the mail.  Outside the car, I hear crickets singing and I stack mail and newspapers in my arms; the evening air is cool after my hot drive.  I drive down the trail slowly, my tires crackling over the hard-packed dirt and stones.  Bob has turned the outside lights on for me, and I pull in and circle around the driveway.  The dogs strike up an overwhelmingly joyful chorus as I pull into the garage, warm, safe, clean.  Safe.  Home. 

I just finished a fascinating book called "My Own Hike" written by Nancy Shepherd, a 41-year-old woman who hiked the entire Appalachian Trail straight through in the year 2001.  It took her from April 8 to October 10. 

"The Appalachian Trail is a footpath running 2,168 miles along, through, around, and over the Appalachian Mountains, from Georgia to Maine.  One end is on Springer Mountain in Amicalola Falls State Park, Georgia.  The trail passes through North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Vermont and New Hampshire on its way to the other end on Baxter Peak of Katahdin [Mountain] in Baxter State Park, Maine. "

"Thru-hikers" (as opposed to some people who hike maybe a section of it --- say every time they take a vacation or something -- until the entire mileage has been accomplished, choose a trail name.  The author chose "Shepherd of the Hills" because of her last name Shepherd.  One of her closest companions was Tenderheart.  Bob and I talked about why people chose trail names and we thought maybe people might not want just anyone to know that they would be out of their house for six months, leaving their home vulnerable to burglaring!  However, Shepherd did not mention the reasons for the trail names.  I thought that if I were to choose a trail name, it would be either Onion Peeling or Snuggle Addict.  Maximum Discomfort?  "Onion Peeling" would be more about who I feel I am in my heart; but "Snuggle Addict" would describe my greater desire to be at home in my bed.  What would your trail name be? 

Shepherd's book was compellingly fascinating for me, even though it might not be just anyone's cup of tea to read day after day reports of what the night's sleep had held, what the sunrise was like, what the weather looked like, what critters she encountered, and so on.  The book is relatively short (223 pages) and was simplished (what? --- I meant simply published!) from her daily trail log.  But something about reading her entries each day --- objective and simple --- grounded me, something I seemed to crave right now. 

I will never follow in Shepherd's boots.  I enjoy a good 4-hour local hike, especially in the stunningly gorgeous area of California that I live in, but not for me sleeping on the hard ground, or on a wood floor shelter which strangers packed in next to me.  Not for me, hiking in the same clothes without a shower for days on end.  Not for me shouldering a 40-pound pack, and sometimes simultanously navigating boulders, while scooting backwards on my stomach.  No, I am happy to be an armchair traveler, and so I am very grateful to travel writers who are willing to be on the front line and later share their experiences with me in a good written word!

I took evening classes at college for many, many years after graduating from high school.  I had a favorite coffee shop where I like

d to go to have coffee and study.  One evening, my family was getting together after work for a birthday party of one of my nieces.  I changed out of my work clothes and went to my coffee shop, knowing I had about an hour-and-a-half to study before I needed to be at the party. 

When it came time to head to the party, I closed up my books and mosied (is that a word?...the past tense of "to mosy"?) down the stairs between the cafe and the bookstore area.  Halfway down, I passed a guy who had just left the gym.  He had quite a build and was still wearing his cutaway t-shirt, so being the good Catholic girl that I was raised, I averted my eyes and just proceeded right down the stairs. 

 I stopped briefly to look on the science shelf, since I had been studying Astronomy, and then proceeded out the back door and down the street to my car.  "Excuse me!" I heard, a block away; "Excuse me!!"  I turned around to see Mr. Cutaway Shirt come running down the street toward me.  He held up his hands in a gesture of submission and said, "whew!! I don't want to scare you or anything!  I just happened to spot you in the coffee shop and thought you were kind of attractive.  I was wondering if we could have a cup of coffee sometime. " 

I took about a split second, because "time's a-wastin' ".  For the past couple of years, I had experienced a notable decline in available men who would make very much effort.  As women had become more assertive, the young, interesting, good-looking guys seemed to find that they didn't have to make any effort at all to get a woman.  So, thinking about this guy that had just raced down the stairs and down the street after me, had an appeal.  I gave him my phone number.

 Yesterday, we celebrated twenty years together.  We danced around the idea of commitment for the first five years, continuing to date other people and come back to each other, and then in 1995, we got married for good. 

Bob and I are soulmates.  We are exactly meant for each other.  No frills, no gush, no fantasy; this is the real deal.  We celebrated yesterday with a home-made card and sentiment (from me) and a new pair of Muck shoes.  We took the dogs in our new little gas-efficient "teaspoon car" and went out to our favorite restaurant -- the one where everybody knows our name and know how Bob likes his dinner salad.  We pulled up outside at the curb to show our friends the new teaspoon-car, and the two small dogs hung out the window while everyone laughed at the sight.  It was a sweet and perfect day. 

Both of us use one-syllable names so somewhere along the line, we drew them out into two syllables.  He calls me "the soo-ezz" and I call him "the bo-obb".  It's just one of the many ways we find to laugh at life and at each other but in truth, "da bo-ob" is my "da rock". 

I have been on a personal healing process.  I don't hesitate to aknowledge and thank the divine process that allotted to me --- in a crazy, disjointed, unfocused family --- the ability to be positive; to keep getting up and trying again; to dart and zig-zag until I find that way through which will work for me. 

My first step was to talk to my husband and close friends.  I asked them what they do when their inner demons take over.  I found that some of my good friends are courageous and proactive; some simply endure and accept.  Ironically, I am not courageous enough to endure and accept; I want to be proactive about getting through this. 

Secondly, as much as I love an ice cold glass of wine in the evenings, I am shelving that luxury for the time being.  I was told by a mental health professional that in "sensitive" people, the depressive actions of alcohol can actually create a low-grade anxiety the following day, which pretty much guarantees that I will feel I need that glass of wine each evening.  I certainly don't need anything additional right now that fuels anxiety, so I am choosing to give up my ice cold glasses of wine, for the duration.  Although this is only the fourth day without, I always feel good just being proactive and making a choice.  The positive effects of this even compounds and multiplies the effects of the original action I'm taking. 

Thirdly, I re-grounded myself in things I enjoy.  Since I have found that quilting, sewing, and stitching has a very soothing and therapeutic effect on me (I make quilts), I dropped in on a quilting class that is currently in session at the local church.  Dropping in on a roomfull of strangers who are already involved in their own process took courage!  I have inner demons that try to say, awww, they'll already be in session; it's too late to register; what's the point; blah blah blah.   But I went anyway.  I watched people working, and a kind person greeted me and made friendly noises.  I went back home and read the catalog and checked online.  It turns out they are starting a second session in October.  It only costs $15 for six weeks!  I signed up! 

Next, I sought mental health support.  This was tough because I have a health plan that covers some visits to a mental health professional if you call first for authorization, and select someone within their "network".  I floundered for a day with all of this;  in my current state of mind, it felt so tiring to wade through the providers online, and find someone who was taking new patients, as well.  I shared this with my dear friend Sheila, and the next time I opened my email, she had sent me a link to a list of providers.  I almost felt her hand had come through the internet and rested gently at my back, guiding me forward.  It really helps to honestly share with a loving friend; you never know where the help will come from and in what form. 

Even the first mental health professional that I spoke with, was not the perfect match for me.  I had to try twice.  I am grateful that I had the intuition and wherewithal to say, "this doesn't feel like a match; let me try someone else".  The second professional that I met with immediately set me at ease.  I felt "heard".  Here was a guide who held a map that I could read. 

One of the things that has happened for me in the wake of very emotional events this summer, was that I had started to replay certain conversations over and over, evoking the same painful emotional reaction each time.  My brain became compulsive about it because it connected in some synapses way with an old emotional response already seated deep within my memory.  It was like deep tire grooves on a bad road; I just keep falling into them and twisting my foot.  I needed a positive mental image to immediately go to whenever my brain started to veer into the rut again.  I have had some wonderful healing experiences in the water, so I imagined being held in someone arms in a warm swimming pool, going limp while the water moved and shifted and caressed all around me.  I heard the sounds of water lapping the sides of the pool, or imagined the sound of the surf lapping a beach.  Each time my thoughts started to go to the "rut in the road", I immediately activated the healing water image.  I was patient with the process.  On the first day, I must have had to consciously insert the water image about every half hour, including several times during the night when I would wake up anxious.  The person holding me in the water was getting a little weary .  Now, on the third day of the idea, I am having fewer slips into the rut in the road. 

And on an ongoing basis, I keep my hands busy.  I keep my body moving around.  Physical movement interrupts my craziness, and gets endorphins moving, gets oxygen to the blood, facilitates the emotional shift, and soothes.  I ride my bike up and down the road; I simply walk outside; I throw balls to the dogs and focus on their joy; and I focus on the here-and-now of everything I'm involved in --- even doing the dishes.  I put love and caring into everything I'm doing.  Being of service takes me outside of myself .... which I need a break from (just now and then). 

Lastly, but certainly not leastly, I have come on board with Artella.  Oops, after reading this, maybe they are having some second thoughts about how stable an addition I am -----  Just kidding.  I am sure there is no better place to be for healing.  I am thrilled and honored, and I am excited about entering a new area of life and learning some new skills!! 

Hello, new world!!

Lately I've been re-creating my universe, thus the new blog background: this is my new universe, where I rule how I respond to the world. 

Now that I've really started to grow up (the other 20-or-so times have been practice for this time), I am saying not all fantasies are negotiable.  Yes, my friend: the family that I was born into may possibly have lived out its best years.  I have to acknowledge that a lot of my ideas of who my family should be, may not be realistic.  At any rate, the things that it is not have been causing me much anxiety. 

So, this past summer, as my old world peels away, revealing new, tender places in me, I look around me and really begin to count the ways that I am not alone; the people whom I've met and spent time with, who I must admit have stepped in for me, where I've lost other things.  And I've decided to re-create family. And it may not be forever; it may be constantly changing, from here on out.  Who knows?  The point is, I am thinking differently today, and because of it I can feel less anxious. 

So who is in my newly re-created family?  Of course, foremost is my involvement with Artella and the acquaintances I've made within the community.  Where I have lost my mother, there are mother-figures available here, who nurture, acknowledge, compliment, sympathize, inspire, and encourage. 

Secondly, I am acknowledging and appreciating the strong men in my universe:  Bob, John, Charles, Aaron, Cesar...  Where I am gradually losing my father --- such as he ever was --- these men in my everyday or weekly or monthly (or even quarterly) life are models that men can be gentle, yet warriors.  They are good at being men. They have the charmingly different and goofy ways of men, but have male ways that are so mysteriously just right.  Their answers, their intuition, their concise-ness, their ability to cut to the chase, their bottom-line thought process, their values and integrity, their models of the value of taking time out, all guide, assist, and complement my world greatly. 

And I thank all my new "sisters":  Yvonne, Sheila, Donna, Linda, and others ... women who softly step along with me, without ranchor or critisism.  They understand "ownership" of what they feel; they understand personal accountability; they understand "put your own mask on first" (a very appropriate life sentiment, I feel, borrowed from our friends in uniform at the front of the airplane).  They are feminine, but strong.  They know how to invite, work with, be in, and maintain a relationship. 

I note that I don't have any "brothers" in my new family.  Must think about that. 

But welcome to my new universe, where life can be re-created at any time.  It is full of vibrancy, vitality, trust, and growth.  Stay tuned for road maps. 

As I get up in the morning now, and walk out back with the dogs, my book, and my cup of coffee, to sit for a while under the trees, there is a soft fog around me; not a university of birds, as there was just a week ago.  Now that we are past Labor Day Weekend, Bob and I are watching evening arrive a little bit sooner each day as we sit down to our dinner in front of the big windows.  For the last few days, we have not seen our favorite little birds, who usually come while we're dining and perform their bathing ritual in the pond.  Instead we have the fat bluejays out back, fighting for the nuts that have dropped from the oak trees, heavily stocking their bellies as they feel the temperatures cool each day. 

It has been a rocky summer for me as I have experienced the unraveling of my nuclear family.  Mom has been gone two years now; sister Alice left us last summer.  Mom, Alice, and I had been the ones who constantly reached out, pulled everyone in, called the stragglers and asked, "how are you? what have you been doing in your life?"  Now, it's just me, making effort, and I'm growing weary, measuring my results against my effort. There is a lethargy in our family now, and there have been splits, arguments, health crises, financial injuries.  And the incident with my nephew, and my subsequent loss of connection with his mom, my sister.  It all has worn on our family bonds.  I must begin a new transition, focus my efforts elsewhere in life, as surely is quite common in life as one reaches their fifties.  I must re-direct my interests and focus, create "new" family, in friendship and community.  This is the door I am opening now, in my life.  But it is a transition and, like all transitions, is mixed with grieving. 

But there are two welcoming lights in this fog of mine, and their names are Eva, and Emily.  Eva is my 10-year-old God-daughter, and Emily is my 14-year-old neighbor.  This past month, Eva has begun to send me SECRET, "Confidential!", letters in the mail: "Only for Sooz! Do Not Open!"  In these letters, she is asking me very personal, private questions about puberty, and I am honored.  I cherish these letters, addressed in her youthful printing, my last name slightly butchered.  When I see one in our batch of mail, I drop everything I have my arms.  Even the milk does not get into the refrigerator, first.  After I read her letter (and put away the milk), I immediately sit down and respond to her personal, private, only-for-Sooz questions about life and about becoming a young woman.  My responses, sealed with stickers and a kiss, are always in the next mail pick-up. 

And yesterday, Emily joined me in the afternoon to bake a cheesecake for her brother's birthday.  She phone me precisely at the appointed time and said, "I wanted to let you know I'll be there in about ten minutes".  Such courtesy!  She arrived, her t-shirt matching both her eyes and the rubber bands on her braces.  I read the recipe to her while she performed the actions, measuring things and running the mixer.  As we stuck it into the oven and set the timer, she quipped, "so it's time to wash the dishes." And she's just 14 ... so grown-up and responsible ... and so poised, in someone else's kitchen!  She did not ask questions about where soap, towel, was.  She chatted with me while she carefully rinsed and then washed each dish, and matter-of-factly laid out a towel on the counter to dry them on.  I am so struck by her youthful confidence; I most definitely was not so mature when I was 14.  And after the dishes, she sat, crossed her legs, and regaled me with funny pet stories, until the timer went off and our cheesecake, sadly, announced the end of our hour together. 

As I acknowledge these little lights in my life, I also open the ARTitorial in the Daily Muse, and read "Doing Art" by Aunt Bobby: an account of her daughter coming weekly for a visit and doing something creative together.  I am greatly warmed and cheered by the story.  Though I do not have a daughter, I can only be encouraged by the presence of Eva and Emily.  These things guide me, and provide a loving hand at my back as I leave "what used to be" behind, and step into the not-yet-defined of "what will be". 

I have had such fun this past week or so, contemplating the latest Blog Topic of the Week, Serendipity.  Do you know the origin of the word?  Serendip was the Persian name for Sri Lanka.  There was a very old Persian fairy tale, never fully translated into English, and which was just one segment of the famous "One Thousand and One Nights". These were  a collection of fables loosely based on the Persian king, Bahram the Fifth, or Bahram V.  It took me three days to sort this convoluted history out.  At any rate, a later British writer, when writing to a friend, referred to a portion of the tales --- The Three Princes of Serendip -- and in a moment of whimsy, coined the term serendipity. 

When I did some searches on the Internet for examples of serendipity, I was particularly struck by how often serendipity had played a part in significant scientific or medical breakthroughs.  I tend to associate serendipity with more frivolous activities; I think it might be the mere silliness of how it sounds. 

• A man named James Wright was searching for a substitute for rubber during World War II and serendipitously discovered what we now know as silly putty.
• Carl Ludwig Reichenbach was wondering why fenceposts painted with creosote would turn a dark blue when dogs peed on them, and came up with the first synthetic dye. 
• Roy Plunkett, who was trying to develop a new gas for refrigeration, came up with a slick substance, tried to use it to oil machine parts, and it later became Teflon coatings. 
• Alexander Fleming failed to disinfect cultures of bacteria when leaving for his vacations, only to find them contaminated with Penicillium molds, which killed the bacteria. 
• William Herschel was looking for comets and first identified Uranus as a comet, until he noted that it was on an orbit. 

The list goes on for different areas of life and can be found on Wikipedia by searching examples of serendipity. 

Bob is fond of saying, "there's no such thing as a mistake; it's only an outcome we haven't yet realized".  When we set out looking for something specific, it's easy to get discouraged when you don't find it.  But when you think about it, the Internet has greatly decreased the number of times you say to yourself, "Dang!  It's right on the tip of my tongue...!"  These days, anyone, looking for any person, place, or thing, finds themselves drawn into a "serendipitous soujourn" whereupon they will find either exactly what they wanted -- thanks to the concept of keywords and tags --- or something else that is so completely fascinating that they happily disregard what they started out looking for. 

 You know? ... I think they maybe could have easily called it -- not Google -- but Serendipit-le !

I had some watercolor paper that I had tried some techniques on and had tucked it away for a "recycled" use.  This evening, for art therapy on myself, I cut it into little tag sizes, using scrapping scissors for a decorative edge, and then stamped inspirational words over the paint:  inspire, imagine, begin, create, and so on.  I used a squeeze-together-brad-hole-thingee to insert colored-metal-reinforced holes --- you know what I mean --- and then enjoyed finding different combinations of colored ribbons or threads to pull through and make the tag end. 

 When I go to the gym, there is some kind person who brings in a little bouquet of garden flowers and leaves them on the little dressing table shelf, which I very much enjoy in the bland environment of the womens' locker room.  Lately I have taken to leaving some little inspirational card or other there, as well, beside the flowers.  A couple of these each day will do very nicely for some seeker to find, at just the right moment, on just the right day...  They're so tiny that it's hard to get a photo of them. 

I do believe in answered prayers.  I also believe in the Law of Attraction.  But for the Blog Topic Contest #20, I am going to tell you the story of God at the Philadelphia Airport. 

I had been gone a week on a retreat at Cape May, New Jersey, in June.  At the end of the week, I was anxious to get home, and tired.  When I was dropped off at the airport by my carpool, I was told that due to the weather, no planes were either landing or taking off, until the following morning. 

I felt almost desperate at the thought of spending the night trying to sit up in the Philly airport, stay awake enough to guard my bags, not being able to take a shower for 24 hours, and most of all, not being able to go home.  I called home, almost in tears, and was told to simply get a hotel right by the airport, take a hot shower, and get a good nights' rest.  I did so, had a hot meal, and felt immensely better.  The hotel across from the airport had a shuttle back and forth and so, off I went. 

Unfortunately the next morning, my alarm didn't wake me up (I probably neglected to make sure the time was on PM before I set it on what I thought was AM) and I awoke with a start at the exact time that I was supposed to pick the shuttle up at the front of the hotel.  In a panic, I stood amid my scrambled clothing pile and prayed, "what do I do?? what do I do??"  And a calm voice inside of me said, calm down; take a deep breath.  OK, I said, breathing.  Get your clothes.  OK, I said. Take a quick shower.  Really? OK.  Can I wash my hair? Yes, but don't take time to condition. 

Within five minutes, I was reasonably cleaned up and standing in the lobby (even though the things in my suitcase were not exactly folded nicely).  The shuttle was late; everyone else was still standing there waiting.  I said a prayer of thanks and asked how I could show my gratitude.  Watch that the driver makes all the right loops, I heard, he's had a rough morning.  OK, I said.  I can do that.  And if you see anybody at the airport that looks lost and confuse, give them a hand.  OK, I said.  I'll do that too. 

After I was checked in and had found my gate, I found the closest women's room and pulled out my make-up bag (in the hotel room, I'd done the absolute minimum).  Two elderly Black women were greeting each other:

- how you, this mawning, sister?

- well, I just fine, this morning, yes ma'am!  And how you doin'?

- Oh, I just fine, just fine!  Anytime I wake up without pain, law, I be grateful (laughing)

- Oh, yes, mmm-hmmmm.  Anytime we don't have pain, we got to give him praise...!

- Oh, yes, law!!

This has been -- is -- my month of 'spinning in family".  As most of you know by now, Bob and I are childless (but not petless).  My original family was relatively large --- seven of us ---- but we were gypsies and moved away from grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.  Bob was raised mostly by foster families.  I have lost two of my sisters by this point in my life, but there are still five of us.  I have lost my mother but not my father.  Three of my siblings have (something resembling) families of their own. Being the exact middle child of the family --- I originally had three above and three below me -- and by virtue of being the "childless aunt", I seem to always be the one that is throwing family gatherings, or reaching out in some way or other. (In all fairness, those of my siblings who are parents have all they can handle to manage jobs and kid activities, and the months spin by before they realize it's been a while since they talked to anybody.) 

So this has been my third or fourth "family gathering".  We live in different states, or a minimum of four hours away, from each other, so it is a big undertaking.  Earlier this month, of course, I had the big breakdown with my nephew, Franklin.  This would have been the third summer that we invited him down from San Francisco to spend a month out in the "country".  I sent him home after a week because he had overnight become a teenager (early, at 11) and I wasn't equipped to handle it.  His mother (my youngest sister Carmel) was, consequently, not in the mood to join us this year.  C'est la vie with big families.  As Heidi Klum says on Project Runway, "you're either in, or you're out".  We all have had our dramas and, on various years, different of us have "boycotted" the gatherings.  Life happens.  Note, though: life is tenuous as we get older.  Witness my older sister, Rita, who had always meant to make things better between herself and Mom.  One day, though, Mom was no longer there; you don't get any more chances after death...  This year, Rita was very present and accounted for, and distributed lots and lots of hugs and love to any of us who showed up. 

And, Wednesday, ten members of the family posed for a family shot before all folding up into various cars and heading to various airports or cities.  I had a day of shuttling sheets and towels between washer, dryer, and guest rooms, before my 15-year-old niece, Emnma, arrived from Omaha.  Oh, Emma!!  I remember playing a silly game with her on my lap in our jacuzzi-tub and it only seems like last week.  Now she is a pretty young woman, very cool with her shoulder-slung bike bag.  How old I must look to her.  Her grandmother drove her up from Santa Barbara, and they are sleeping now in the two twin beds in Bob's office.  Today we will take a hike together in Montana de Oro, before they head back.  A brief and charming visit --- just right for this week, for me. 

So I am spinning in family this week ... and next week I will feel a huge adjustment as it becomes --- again --- just Bob, me, and the furry pets.  Oh: I forgot...

I should heal things up with Carmel ASAP.  Never put off till tomorrow...

I would set for myself this Summer Reading List to change and re-vamp my life:

The Little Book of Letting Go, by Hugh Prather

A Weekend to Change Your Life, by Joan Anderson

A Complaint Free World:  How to stop Complaining and Start Enjoying the Lilfe You've Always Wanted, by Will Bowen

Secrets of the People Whisperer: A HORSE WHISPERER'S Techniques for Enhancing Communication and Building Relationships, by Perry Wood

Wild Heart Dancing, by Elliot Sobel

Gift from the Sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Invisible Acts of Power: Personal Choices that Create Miracles, by Caroline Myss

The Girl's Guide to Absolutely Everything, by Melissa Kirsch

I'm sure --- quite sure -- that if I just completely this list, I'd be a perfect person. 

Gosh, I was so stimulated by the current Blog Topic of the Week, Summer Reading List!  What fun to think of all the creative ways I might blog about a summer reading list!  First of all, I thought to myself, where is my focus, this summer, and how might I support it with a reading list for myself? 

That led me to spend some considerable time research topics and associated books on Google and Amazon.  I love Amazon.com for its wonderful search engines; you can find anything you want, by any number of means!!  I remembered a recent statement I made that I would enjoy traveling to parts of the U.S. that I haven't seen before.  I made a list of them and then started my search.  I did end up procuring a few new additions to my reading "cellar" (as in wine cellar, where my books age until it is their time to be read ).   To whit (wit??): here is the list I came up with, which in no way, shape, or form could be construed as a summer reading list, but rather a 2008-2010 reading list :

     The USA Country Guide, put out by the Lonely Planet

     Travels with Charley in Search of America, John Steinbeck

     1,000 Places to See in the U.S. Before You Die, Patricia Schultz

     Blue Highways: A Journey into America, William Least-Heat Moon

     My Own Hike (a single woman's journal of her hike on the Appalachian Trail), Nancy Shepherd

     Outermost House: A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Code, Henry Beston

     Frommer's "Montana & Wyoming". 

     Iron Pioneers: Book 1 of The Marquette Trilogy, Tyler R. Tichelaar

     The Third Coast, Ted McClelland

Now perhaps you see why I couldn't possibly hope to call this a Summer Reading List, but still --- how excited I feel, just at the possibilities!  It is really true how books open the world up for a person...