Remembering....

Today's Simple Pleasures are forever etched in memory... to be brought up again and again, not for the event itself, but for the prodding of the soul that the memory invokes.

An Australian cup of Earl Grey... Australian because I've added milk and honey.... and it reminds me of one foggy morning a long time ago, sipping tea, overlooking the Megalong Valley in the heart of the Blue Mountains. And when I take a sip, I remember the simple pleasure of "being" in that cup of Earl Grey.

A downpour of raindrops the size of my thumb... and watching the birds splash in the puddles when the deluge has ended... I am reminded to wait out the storm and see the joys made available only because of the downpour.

A quiet so deafening that I open my eyes just to make sure I am still in the same place.. and then relishing in that quiet, searching, in every widening circles, to hear something, anything that will ground me and remind me of where I am. Finally hearing the crash of the ocean waves on the shore - a sound I could never hear before because it was drowned out by the goings and comings of everyday life.

The feeling of resolve when I've made my choice - damn the consequences - and I know, in my heart of hearts, that it is the choice that voices my values, regardless of what others may think, say, or do in the aftermath of my announcement. That unencumbered feeling of freedom that makes me think I can fly... the excitement of moving the journey forward - anticipating what is around the next bend - eager to see what else life has to offer because I have finally made a choice.

These are some of my simple pleasures of this day... this moment... I shall treasure them, and remember them when I need them most.

In those times when I forget where I've already been and what I accomplished despite the opposition and negativity that surrounded me at the time.

In those times when I get caught up in the drama and forget that waiting it out will produce pleasure that I will not experience unless I go through the storm.

In those times when I am not anchored and I forget that all I have to do is be still and listen.

In those times when my heart tells me not to give in, not to give up, not to let go of my dignity, my honor, my self-respect.

Remembering.......

My How Time Flies

Wow.. has it been over a year since I last blogged? Surely something amazing has happened? Even something not so amazing but worth writing about? Simple Pleasures explored and enjoyed in the last year include:

Having my granddaughter stay with me this summer was a treat. We taught her about "scromlets" which, in turn, confused the heck out of her mom and dad when she asked for them when she got home!

Going to my oldest daughter's graduation for her MA in SoCal was a proud moment. I actually stood up and yelled, 'THAT'S MY KID!' But I don't think anyone heard me over the elephant horns and confetti poppers.

After two years of living in paradise, we finally went out on the Bay. A whale-watching trip..which seemed anticlimatic. I mean, a fluke? That's what I get to see? A fluke? You could tell we were all excited the first time, but jaded by the 10th time... we kind of all figured that was all we were going to get.

But we did get to go out on a 65' sailing yacht... wow, that was amazing! I'd say relaxing, but you kept having to run to the other side of the boat so you wouldn't fall in the water. But still. I'll do it again. Soon.

Volunteering at the Aquarium has been a highlight... only surpassed by the wonderful 4.3 mile bike ride to the Aquarium. And then the 4.3 miles back. After standing on the concrete tiles for 6 hours.

The Aquarium has opened its "Open Sea" exhibit. The Sun Fish is by far the ugliest fish in the world. But he seems to be a favorite of the crowds. I know more about fish than I ever thought I would, that's for sure!

Volunteering is one of the most satisfying and rewarding thing I've done in a long time. I highly recommend it.

My hubby and I discovered a jazz spot where we can enjoy some REALLY GOOD JAZZ every weekend. Love it!

And I spent two whole days visiting the inside of every major hotel in Monterey. I like to say that I've seen the inside of more hotels than a high-price hooker. But I might be wrong. I don't know any high-price hookers.

Or do I?

I think we met one at the jazz spot. Seriously. She avoided the whole "what do you do for a living" question quite well. Who knows. Maybe she just thought we were being nosy.

Now, it is the first day of school and I am ambivalent about the whole deal. Not sure how I feel. Hence the ambivalence. I think that is the definition of the word.

So. I've found my blog again. I remembered the password. If I can remember it, I'll do it again.

Maybe sooner than 14 months from now.

Who knows?

A Love Affair of Epic Proportions

I spent the biggest portion of this week moving furniture.... tables, chairs, computers, boxes - junk. I moved as much as I could, trying to avoid that elephantine desk of mine and the daunting task of getting it moved across the room. With no help whatsoever, I managed to sidestep that move until everything else was tucked into their new locations. I stood, hands on my hips, wondering how in the world I was going to get that monstrosity across the room. Then it came to me... like a wave of the bibbidy bobbidy boo lady's wand, I realized if I only had something to slip under the desk...hmmmm... it might work.

So, a trip to my local Orange Apron Store rendered these lovely little disks called "Sliders." Not to be confused with the lovely little burgers that come on my plate at the local pub, these Sliders actually PREVENT me from having a heart attack... I bought eight of them... just to make sure... and took them back to my office. My access to muscles had increased and my husband was in on the attack. We got those sliders in place and heave-hoed.

Like butter sliding off of hot corn, that desk slipped across the carpet like a sailboat gliding across the bay with the wind at her back. The most beautiful part of this whole experience is the fact that this wonderful invention (obviously created by a woman) is reusable. I am casting my eyes about my office wondering what else I could possible move, now that I have the power. Hey, those filing cabinets over there... I think I'll put them over here... or here... or maybe here!!

The Hawks

The hawks have arrived. We now have three families of the winged beasts living in the trees that tower over the neighborhood. The other feathered fowl are none to happy about it either. The blue jays are the most vocal, as usual. They swoop and screech and scream at the hawks. The hummingbirds just flitter about, flustered and gnat-like in their irritation to the hawks. The crows team up. They are the Oakland Raiders of the skies. One will swoop while the other circles. Then their friends join in and swoop from all sides, attacking, cawing, and making it virtually impossible for the hawk to do anything but sit and wait out the torture.

Yet - none of the birds dare get close to those treacherous claws or flesh-tearing beak of the hawk. They know that he will make them lunch for his little ones if he has to.

And the hawks continue to live in the magnificent trees. They are not deterred from their family life. They are those creatures no one wanted to move into the neighborhood, yet here they are. And the place is better for their residency.

And that got me to thinking. How many times have I been in a place where I was not welcome? Harassed by the "locals," how many times have I moved on, not wanting to make anyone angry or cause any trouble? How many times have I "tolerated" their screeching, their screaming in my ears, their incessant complaints about my very existence? Why do I do that and how do I stop?

I shall watch the hawk, well... like a hawk. His patience is evident in the fact that he does not eat his pestering neighbors. His demeanor is an exhibition of royal dignity. And he will not be moved. Yes, his feathers are ruffled every so often, but he sits there in quiet regality, owning his territory, bringing class to the neighborhood.

I shall be patient. I shall not be moved. I shall be dignified and carry myself with pride, knowing that I am here to stay.

In the moment of Spring

I spent my day chasing a sandpiper across the hard sand of low tide in the bay. The pressure of my presence was evident by the sand crabs he was leaving behind as he scurried out of my way. I stopped every so often just so he could rest and get a bite to eat. The water was warm in spots where it pooled behind the seaweed that had washed up on shore. Crystal clear, it was perfect for wading. The sand between my lily white toes with the ruby red tips polished away the claustrophobia of winter and the sun warmed my back, loosening the hunch developed from too many hours in front of my computer. I strolled along at my own pace, not rushing to catch up with anyone or any task. I basked in the moment and didn't notice time or distance as they passed by so effortlessly in the day. I found myself amidst a grove of fragrant eucalyptus trees, grateful for their healing I could feel in my body and soul. This transformational moment restores my spirit, renews my being. Today, I simply am. Nothing more. No deadlines, no expectations, no hopes, no disappointments. Just me. Just being... simply, beautifully, simply being me.

NO MAKE-UP SUNDAY

I spend about 30 minutes, six mornings a week, putting on make-up. I know, I know. Just how big is my face? But still... I do the lotion, the yellow stuff to take away the dark circles under my eyes from getting up so early just so I can put on make-up, the tinted moisturizer (one cannot have too much moisture at my age), the eye shadow, the liner, the mascara, the lipliner, the gloss... geez. I'm exhausted just talking about it.

So I have declared Sunday to be a No Make-up Sunday.

Which is why I am appalled when someone brings out a camera on a Sunday.

Or when someone schedules a meeting in the middle of the day that I MUST go to.

Or when I have to go to the store and cannot seem to miss running into the firemen that are shopping for the week.

Shoot. I give up.

I tried Pajama Sunday. But that just looks silly with full make-up. No, seriously. I decided that Sundays were going to be Pajama Day. I would go through the routine of make-up, but stay in my jammies all day. That worked. Until someone brought out a camera and forever captured my image in my fuzzy monkey pajamas. And the boss wasn't too excited about them either when I showed up for that exec meeting. But the firemen sure did get a kick out of them.

So, here I am, back to another Sunday - with a meeting scheduled, the camera in plain sight, and a trip to the grocery store is in order.... sigh. Where is my make-up kit?

DAVID & GOLIATH

I watched a hawk today. Fierce, strong, proud. Sitting at the very top of the tallest tree on our campus. Surveying the land, looking for mice, baby birds, small children to devour. He was simply, fearfully beautiful sitting atop his throne, perusing his kingdom for his next victim. The crows screamed their protests and dive bombed in an attempt to distract him from their nests. He simply ruffled his feathers and shook them off with a withering look of disdain. He would not budge. Then, in the distance, my eye caught the blur of a hummingbird. The smallest of winged fury, plain with no adornments or loud calls, she began buzzing the hawk. At first, he never noticed her. She would move to another perch, gather her wits, and take another pass at this magnificent bird easily 100 times her size. Over and over again she passed by his carnivorous beak, risking it all to get close enough to annoy him and make him move. Each time she would pass by, he would glance her way, growing more and more flustered at this pesky annoyance. Again, she took aim and did her best to distract him and send him on his way. Her message was clear. He was not wanted. Even the crows joined me in watching this dance with death that this little bird had committed herself to.

Finally, in what can only be described as hawk exasperation, he yawned, stretched out his feathers, and, as if to say, "You bore me," the king of the skies took off to different pastures. She had won the battle. I watched as she left the battlefield and headed to her nest, far away from the gaze and sharp claws of the great beast. Her babies were safe.

I was so proud of her. She took on a seemingly impossible fight and stuck to it... even when the bigger crows gave up, she kept on going.

I am sure the hawk will be back. Afterall, the field over which the tree sits is his own personal buffet. But I know one little hummingbird that isn't afraid of him.