Life is a Circus Sometimes

Life can be a real circus sometimes.

I took the above photo in France last summer. We didn't have time to go to the cirque because it arrived the day we left, but I'm glad I took this photo of the sign we saw near our house. Le cirque. It sounds prettier and less crazy somehow. If I say "Life is a Circus" you understand that I mean life is a bit crazy right now. If I think, "La vie est un cirque" maybe I won't feel so rattled. It just sounds prettier and less frantic in French. Maybe because it takes me back to that lovely three week vacation in the south of France. I think I need to think in French more often. I think I need a nice European vacation.

Lucky Alice Sebold, Author, Victim, Survivor

I'd read the book, The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, told in first person about the little girl who was kidnapped, held in an underground room by a neighbor, raped and murdered. I'd seen the movie. The point of view was unique - that of the murdered girl. Riveting book, good movie. It's scary knowing how much evil may lurk in otherwise ordinary appearing people.

The other night I picked up a book from a box full of books my sister in law had shared with me and noticed it was by the same author. I settled in for what I thought would be another good read. I wasn't prepared for this heart-wrenching story which pretty much defined the author's own life.

Alice Sebold is author, victim and survivor. She tells her story in her memoir, Lucky, a seemingly contradictory name for such a sad tale. It begins with the attack as she crossed a park on her way to her dorm one night during her first year of college, and quickly begins to illustrate the attitudes of the people surrounding her, and her own redefined image of herself. The police told her she was 'lucky' because another girl had been killed in the same tunnel. It tells of the attack and her innate survival skills coming into play, the perpetrator's remorse and his sick delusion that she had enjoyed it and him.

Her attention to the details of what she thought would be her last hour on earth ultimately led to the criminal conviction of this young man, but that didn't end the pain. Her story chronicles the aftermath of that night, the effects of which marked her and those around her forever. The life-changing event and her struggles through a new version of her life obviously contribute to her skills as an author. I understand now how she was able to so accurately tell the story of young Susie Salmon of The Lovely Bones from the victim's point of view.

There is hope in the story too. Despite years of following wrong paths in her efforts to evade the pain, Sebold eventually put her life back together. I'm glad she's told both stories.

Good Marketing or Poor Marketing?

Here's a little marketing story for you. It was entirely unintentional on the part of the cafe, but it caught my eye. What do you think about it - good marketing or poor marketing?

In Hollywood the prevailing attitude is that any press is good press. If you can't make headlines with your work, make headlines doing something goofy or worse. (Hmmm - maybe it's the same in politics.) As part of my college degree I took a few marketing courses, and when going for my Master's I took another. I have used the knowledge in more than one job, and currently for my own art. (For more on that, please check these blogs: www.picturetrail.com/letterlady & www.weddingletterlady.blogspot.com)

In the Midwest and other less rarified air, however, is bad press really so good? I had to stop when I saw what I thought were three wild turkeys on top of a former ice cream stand turned coffee cafe the other day. We had just been talking about the prevalence of wild turkeys in the area a few nights before, so I thought I'd take a photo of this phenomenon to show my husband.

When I got a closer look I thought these turkeys looked a little strange. As it turns out (husband told me) these are not wild turkeys, but turkey buzzards. I'm glad I didn't get out of the car for a closer look. I thought the buzzards and their juxtaposition with the signage made for some bad marketing. Drink our coffee and the vultures will get you?

My consensus (me, myself & I): Turkey vultures seen as turkeys = good marketing. Turkey vultures on roof of cafe = poor marketing.

His Heart was in the Right Place

My husband is like most people, multi-faceted. Some see only the irritating things, and others see his sweet, softer side. Kids and animals love him, and vice-versa. He loves our family more than anything in the world, and Jace goes to the top of that list. Jace is Poppy's boy, and Poppy has a dandy little side-kick.

Our niece Celeste has been a big fan of his all of her life. She is a young lady now, but this pre-teen photo is one of many taken of the two of them together. Our other nieces love him too.

Steve has always been a giver. When we were dating he lost his job. What did the fool do with his last paycheck? He bought me a silver charm for my bracelet. Engraved with my initials, so I couldn't make him return it.

Not only do I still have the charm (and the guy), but he bought me another bracelet when we began our family and filled it with charms through the years. (My silver needs polishing!)

The other morning I came downstairs and saw roses in a vase on the dining room table.

This was not unusual. He frequently surprises me with little bouquets of flowers. But these were five dead roses! They had not been there the night before. I wondered if he were sending me some kind of perverse message.

So, later in the morning I asked him the significance of my gift. "I bought you some roses," he replied. But I forgot them in the car." (It's been in the 100s here lately, now cooled down to the 90s.) Who else would have put those sad overheated roses in a vase for me instead of the wastebasket? I left them there until he replaced them this morning with a new little bouquet. His heart was in the right place.

Watch Out for That Banana Peel!

Wow! Things can change very quickly. A fall can turn a mere backache into something much worse, and turn the level of pain - on a scale of one to ten - from a three or four to an eleven. This is what happened at our house last weekend while I was away for a workshop in Nashville. No, it wasn't a banana peel. A leg 'just gave way.' I left an ailing but okay husband and came home to an invalid. The enhanced second round of doctor visits began today, and I also filled out paperwork and came home with a little item which may make life easier before the healing is complete.

We lived in a one floor ranch house with a basement for many years. A few years ago I bought a tri-level. Oh rats! Why did I not foresee that future health problems could make steps a difficult proposition? Oh well, life is good anyway. The next doctor visit (to a pain clinic) should ease the pain a bit, and successive visits and treatments should continue the pain relief. Here's hoping, and praying, and wishing, and expecting the best outcome. I've always been a Pollyanna, much more optimist than pessimist. (And did you notice the four leafed clover I found on my way out to the garage to get the permit?) Things will be fine. Some would say that's easy for me to say since I'm not the one in pain. Not really. Anyone who has ever cared for an ailing man would likely agree that if he had no pain it would be much better.

A Matter of Perspective

Everything in life is a matter of perspective. Something that seems like one thing to one person may seem totally opposite to another. Some people consider my delight in four leaf clovers to be superstitious. Au contraire, I say. I don't consider them to mean 'good luck' per se, but as rather an affirmation from above that I am on the right track.

These are the first four leaf clovers I've found this year. Generally I find several each day in the spring and early summer and then very few in mid to late summer and none in the fall. I was delighted to find these three yesterday in the backyard. They symbolize to me that all is well, and affirm that my life is unfolding as it should.

Same orange still life, different views, different patterns of light and shadow.

Another still life:

Peace, tranquility, a happy day in the park.

Just a Happy Day in the park? Look a little closer.

Sandy and I went to Cave Hill Cemetery today to enjoy the foliage and scenery and to take photos. Pappy and Jace tagged along. It was a beautiful day, and Cave Hill is lovely this time of year.

Magic Broom -> Non-Magic Broom

A few days ago many people on Facebook were posting photos of brooms standing on end.

The story was that the phenomenon either had something to do with gravitational pull or the vernal equinox, or the alignment of planets, or all three. I tried it with two brooms. The small one managed to stand up (see above photo.) The larger one never did. I thought it was all hokum pokum. Didn't believe all the equinox, gravity, aligned planets stuff. Set about to prove it the next day.

But couldn't. My broom would not stand on end again, no matter how much this non-believer tried. I pressed and squished and attempted every thing I could to make it balance again. Results below:

I took a photo of the bottom edge of the straw broom. It's not flat. I was unable to squish it flat.

Oh well, Jace prefers the vacuum anyway.

Digital Camera and a Little Ingenuity

Last month I called my gas company about my bill. I had to go outside to read the meter that the meter reader had been estimating. I knew he'd been estimating because there was no way he could have read it from outside the tall locked fence. Standing next to it I could barely see the meter that was almost at ground level underneath a very bushy bush. Even bending to read it, the cover was so badly etched it was difficult to read. I was going to have to crawl under the bush and get face to face with the dials on that meter. The ground was cold and rocky. Heck, I'm a calligrapher, not a contortionist, which is what I'd need to be to read each of the tiny dials. The guy on the other end of the phone line insisted I had to be accurate in my reporting. This was hard!

Hmmmmm. What to do, what to do?

Aha! I got out my trusty digital camera, reached it under the bush and snapped this photo. It still wasn't easy, but so much easier than before. I love it when things work out like that!

And the estimating meter reader is very good at his job. Right on the money. Gas just isn't cheap.

Moms Are Blessings Too

Yesterday was my mother's birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom!!!

One of my early blogposts here was about hanging laundry out to dry with my mother.
I always thought Mom was so pretty, and I loved that she smiled a lot. This is her high school graduation photo, way before she was my Mom.

Here she is in 1973 for the baptism of my first son, wearing the baptismal gown hand sewn and embroidered by my dressmaker grandmother for my aunt, and worn by Mom and three of her older siblings and by all seven of Mom's kids and both of mine. With Mom and Steve are my two youngest sisters.

Here is Mom with her two sisters and a sister-in-law. This was on Easter in the late 1990s. Her sisters, 10 and 13 years older, insisted she had to let her hair go white; she doesn't like it.

And here is Mom with my oldest son's firstborn son (and so far only.) These two photos were taken on Easter and Christmas, 2010.

Love you Mom! I know you won't see this, but I'm happy to be celebrating your birthday!

Aunts Are a Blessing

The above photo was taken on an Easter Sunday many years ago. Aunt Chris is on the left front in pink. Aunt Georgia is standing in pink and white. Aunt Mick is standing in black. Mom is seated, front right, in black.


Last night A young friend sent a Facebook post about her becoming an aunt for the first time, which was scheduled to happen today. She'd already been out buying Auntie-related onesies, and will no doubt spoil little Kylie to pieces. Hurray for Aunts! New ones and old ones too.

Today I lost my last aunt on my mother's side. I'd last seen Aunt Millie at the funeral home when my Aunt Chris died recently at age 100. Aunt Millie was closer to my Mom's age. As my mother told everyone who would listen, she was the baby of her family, and Aunt Chris was the oldest. Aunt Millie was Mom's youngest brother's widow.

Aunts (and uncles too) have played very important roles in my life. I hope that my nieces and nephews will feel the same about me. My aunts reached out to me throughout my life. Aunt Georgie and Aunt Mick and Aunt Bonnie, by example and by deed, showed me how to be a lady. Aunt Marie and Aunt Millie showed me how to cope with adversity. All of them helped me feel a deep sense of Family, and all of them helped me want to be a better person. Aunt Georgie, Aunt Bonnie, Aunt Lilla, Aunt Marie, Aunt Mick, Aunt Millie, Aunt Chris - I was blessed with wonderful aunts. All of my aunts had outlived their spouses, my uncles, who were treasures to me too.

Today's post is in honor of family, of parents, uncles, grandparents, nieces, nephews, children, grandchildren and siblings -- but especially of Aunts. Special ladies, special people. I love you all!