Word Perch

Over a very ordinary dinner at a local restaurant my blog was given its new name: Word Perch.  I can’t take credit for it.  I was toying with way too much material and coming up with a mixture of names, all too lengthy, spiritual and weird.  Word Perch was said, and it has stuck.  That happened about 2 weeks ago.  I’ve since been waiting for a spark of inspiration, a clever story, or a miraculous occurance from which to compose poetic words to then share with you, but no such luck.  No poetry.  No big stories.

Work and school are going well, though I’m sad to say that so much of my every day life is more confidential than before.  I’d love to share about a recent time I had to assist with an OBGYN check-up, but, well, that might be all you care to know about that.   Another client and I recently talked about a spirit who visits her, particularly during difficult times.  This is especially meaningful to her since she has no relationship with her family, from no fault of her own.  There’s some  adultery going on too but that’s all I can say ’bout that.  There’s no shortage of fodder, sadly placated by my enormous respect for the inspiring women I work with, and a code of ethics. 

With all of this winter weather I’ve had a lot of time spent (stuck) at home.  My cameras are working overtime, but that’s it.  See?  Carlie and I enjoyed a hike on the parkway yesterday, and another on Sunday with some guys followed by beer and pizza.  I got in a little skiing too.  It’s been like that here lately, a quiet, reflective appreciation induced by the winter weather (and my lack of 4wd).  It’s nice, you know?  Everyone and everything is moving a little slower.  Those guys don’t hike in the summertime. 

 So there’s not much to share, but I wanted to get my premiere Word Perch post out.  Done.  Check back!  I’ll be perching more words soon.

Here’s the link: http://wordperch.wordpress.com/

Practicum

The practicum piece of my counseling program started this week at a local elementary school.  While I’d love to share the details, it’s probably best that I not.  Instead, here’s a quick list of some of the key words from the day: bloody head, fainting girl, penis, naked women drawings, and animal spirits.  I’m going to love this!

Bluebirds

Just before Christmas I made suet from a recipe called “Bluebird Miracle Meal.”  It was intended to keep the bluebirds around but it was the woodpeckers and my regular slew of birds who have found and munched on it, until yesterday evening and this morning.  What was to be a highly productive morning –cleaning, paperwork, errunds, phone calls– has turned into a photoshoot.  The bluebirds have landed.  Lots of them too.  Unfortunatley, I have lost my photographic abilities, specifically, how to the manage the depth of field and low light, so the above picture is not nearly as earth shattering as the actual view from the chair on my deck (and me in my pink bathrobe and pj’s). 

This is my last free Friday before full-time classes, internship and practicum resume next week.  I’m taking the bulk of the day off as a treat to myself.  That the bluebirds have landed on my deck is an even sweeter treat.  Such a bird-nerd am I.  I love the symbolism too.  Beyond happiness, Wikipedia says that “virtually any positive aspect may be attached to the bluebird.”  This must be a sign that it’s going to be a good weekend and a blessed semester ahead.

*For the record, it was a perfect weekend.  I was the only one to respond to a bulk email saying “YES!” to a ride.  So one other and I enjoyed a 3-hr ride, talking the entire time and soaking up the spring-like sun and warmth.  Saturday I rode with the guys and one girl, 70 or so miles.  Not bad for the middle of January!

Sometimes I Feel Like Oprah

 To explain what I mean I have to share a personal tidbit:  I make collages.  Not artful ones to share with others, but personal ones for my eyes only.  I collect images of things I love, from dream cars, to horses, homes, good looking men, fine jewelry to fancy bikes.  These are images of things I have or want in my life.  I clip and paste away, filling my “vibrational escrow” and need for visual inspiration. 

Back in 2001 or so, Oprah was featured in a magazine and interviewed about her palatial new estate in California.  She said that on the property was a mountain that she could walk to the top of with her dogs and enjoy the solitude, quiet and views (or something along those lines).  I didn’t clip the interview but I did make a mental sticky note which read, “I want that.”  Now, several years later, I have a very modest estate, okay, more like a guest cottage or in Oprah terms a dog house.  But I also have my mountain. 

Mason’s Knob is behind my house and just before it a smaller hill, flat at the top and nicknamed “Rattlesnake Hill.”  It’s unfortunate that I’ve forgotten the real name; I’m not a fan of rattlesnakes but have yet to see one in all of my countless hours on the hill.  I own a modest -2 acres, but surrounding me are over 100 undeveloped acres save for some old horse roads and 4-wheeler trails which wind up the hill and then further up the mountain.  I walk in my woods daily, usually with Carlie, and in 2 years, we have never seen another person.  Because of this blissful privacy, I have come to think of this land as my own. 

To honor the passing of a decade and welcome 2010, I took a solo walk to the top of the snow-covered hill.  There is a long rocky creek that runs along the main trail, and one day I want to follow it to the top of the Knob.  But yesterday I took a side trail that circles around to the top of the flat hill where there are numerous rocky outcrops.  I perched on one and took some time to reflect.  I released, honored, and gave thanks.  I soaked in the beauty of the woods, the foggy cool air, the trees, and sounds.  I relished in the knowledge that when you ask, it is given:  I have my own small mountain.

I’m ready for 2010 now, a new decade, more time for relishing, asking, giving, and receiving, and another 365 days in which to enjoy my mountain, just like Oprah.

* The day after writing this, a short walk in the woods turned into a hike up the mountain.  It was in the teens and windy, but we all felt compelled to huff it up the rocky, icy creekside and around the steep slope until finding the top and the hang gliding ramp.  Total time: 3.5-4 hours.  It’s an incredible hike with gorgeous views along the way and at the top.  Pictures don’t do it justice but here’s one anyway:

The Mimis

Those of you who know me know that I don’t have kids.  Any fleeting desire I’ve had to give birth to my own flew off 4 or 5 years ago and isn’t coming back.  Another birthday has passed; I’m still “Single,” (see “Single, In a Relationship,” an earlier post) and I’ve seen dear friends with their own young ones.  It’s not for me.  I’m in awe of all of you good and faithful parents. 

My former sister-in-law has 4 kids.  I didn’t bond with any of them and interacted only as required to be polite.  I wasn’t drawn to her kids and there are numerous reasons for this that don’t need sharing, but there was also that I felt under a microscope.  The in-laws were all watching to see how I did with children.  Things were forced at times, like when the father of one snot-covered kid shoved him into my face for a lip to lip kiss.  I inserted my hand defensivly and said, “No, I’m not a kisser.”   He knew this already, of course. 

So it is with great surprise that when my nephew, the first and only baby of my family, was born a bit over 2 years ago, I fell in love.  It’s a very different experience altoghter –the parents wanted him and worked and prepared for him, they are a solid, loving couple, and I feel free to love and play and experience William without any need for self-preservation. 

He is an incredibly adorable curlie-headed boy.  He loves Carlie, my dog, bikes, trees, boats, and birds.  He gives slobery wet kisses and big hugs.  He laughs and dances and plays hide and seek.  He is the light of my family. 

His parents have been trying to get him to say Emily.  Auntie Em or Emily is what they are shooting for.  But he’s decided on Mimi.  Collectively, my sister and I are “The Mimis.”  Sitting next to my sister I will say to William, “What’s my name?”  ”Mimi,”  he says giggling.  Pointing to my sister I ask, “What’s her name?”  “Mimi,” he replies. 

I deny my competitive nature but it is alive and strong.  I made a hard push to be Mimi 1, reasoning that at some point he’ll want to organize us.  But I’ve let it go; Amy is the oldest Mimi, so #1 is more fitting for her.  I’m still determined to be his favorite Aunt, however.  Auntie Em or Mimi 2, I’ll cherish either. 

*My sister and I plan to have Mimi t-shirts made, think Dr. Seuss’s Thing 1 and Thing 2.  I’ll post a picture when they’re ready.

* The family spent Christmas at our lake house.  The photo of the lake was taken WITH MY NEW CAMERA, a gift from someone who knows how much I wanted a tiny camera to carry with me.

Snowed In

I didn’t know it was supposed to snow so much until I went to the library Thursday evening right around 6 p.m.  It was the talk of the check-out line.  So I grabbed some movies and 20 cent magazines, then decided to hit Kroger.  If the librarian was right with her 18 inch forecast then I would indeed need to stock up.  Further, if good friend B gets snowed in with me I need enough food for say 8 people, not 2.  So I joined up with the other crazys and shopped.  My yankee facebook friends make fun of snow preparedness over-the-top southerners, and I do too, but truth be told, I’m not so far removed.  I did buy bread.  But I’m also snowed in.  So far, everyone in the ‘hood is.  My neighbor tried 4 times to get up our hill in his F250, but finally gave in and walked, bad knees and all.  Even the tough little 4×4’s struggle up the adjacent road.  It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere anytime soon except by ski (if someone makes a good track for me first) or by foot.  That’s fine by me, for another day.

My camera is working overtime.  And I was fortunate to see 2 deer hunkered down during the early hours of snowfall.  I was walking Carlie at the time, so I returned home, deposited her, grabbed my camera and ran back.  I was able to snap one before they both ran off.  It’s a bittersweet shot –a reminder of just how harsh it can be for the critters.  If I could coax them into my basement I would, even though they ate my garden and my sweet honeysuckle.  I love them still.  Kind of how I feel about this snow.

My First and Best Christmas Gift

I was going to gift small oil paintings and photographs to my family this year but decided against it.  They all complain of too much stuff, and they all have expensive taste for high-quality art.  I only produce the low quality kind but I figure if I’m painting or photographing animals there will be more inherent value.  Oh well.  Time passed, inspiration never showed itself, and I talked myself out of it.  I made suet instead.  They can put it outside, enjoy the birds enjoying the suet, and be done with it.  No worries about where to store it or how to add it to all of their other stuff.  This seemed a little lame, even for my bird-loving family, and even though I purchased numerous material things as well, but I have some of my suet out now.  I set a little on either side of my deck which I face as I write.  The woodpeckers are swooping by, the big yellow bellied stops for a spell, along with the titmice, chickadees, and nuthatch.  Two downies are there now with their little tufts of red.

I’m  pretty certain that I got what will be my favorite gift of the holiday yesterday, not the boots I bought myself or the suet either.  I met a friend at the park to walk and let our dogs play, and after, we exchanged gifts.  I gave her something so small and slight that I’m now embarrassed.  She’s waiting to open it on Christmas.  Of course, I opened mine a few minutes after getting home.  She had said that her gift to me was very small, worth “less than $10 dollars,” but I see now that she undervalues her talents.  She knitted me a scarf.  My first ever hand-knit scarf.  It’s a soft lavendar color which matches my favorite winter vest, and I love it already more than I can express.

Our friendship is a slow unfolding.  We are both artichokes, patiently pealing away the layers.  So it surprised me to get such a lovely gift from her.  I’m more apt to visit the dollar store for friends in the making.  I’m flattered and humbled, and reminded of the power of a handmade gift.  There’s no appropriate monetary value.  There are still 8 days until Christmas and so I suppose it’s not too late to try my hand at a few watercolors or print a few of my beloved birds to frame and wrap along with the suet.  I’ve got some inspiration now.  A big reminder that the holidays are fun.  Gifts are meant to be expressions, not strains to our wallets or material things to be tallied and balanced.  I found it!  My love for Christmas and my inspiration, thanks to a little purple scarf and friend behind it.

Holiday Cheer

My mom’s Christmas Wish List came tonight via email.  Here is wish #1:  “be in church, on time, same pew, Christmas Eve 5:30 pm service!!!”  I copy/pasted from her email so you know that I’m not making this up.  Direct quote.  Exclamation marks included.

We all go to my parent’s church on Christmas Eve.  Last year, damn them to hell, my brother, sister-in-law, and 1 year old nephew were late.  You see the wrath is long lived.  The previous year my sister and I were not late but we did stop off at a backroads bar for shoddy martinis pre-service.  Backroads and backwoods, intentionally to avoid seeing anyone who is anyone who might tell my mom and dad that we were seen boozin’ it up on Christmas Eve.  It’s a small town.  We have distinct hair.

Once, not long ago, when I lived far away but returned to the hometown for a holiday, I ventured out to a local bar, with no details shared, for a drink (drinking is not the theme here).  I stayed out late with the then husband and when we returned, all were asleep.  Upon waking the next morning my mom asked, “How was your martini at Bull Branch?”  Again, not kidding. 

You can imagine what it was like for me growing up as a sweetly innocent but curiously rebellious minor.  And you can now be assured that I value my privacy, my independence, and my adulthood.  I do not cherish the withholding and monitoring of my words to my mother, but I know that what is shared cannot be retracted and so I go forth very cautiously.  I don’t talk about my relationships.  I don’t mention names, and I try to keep google-able information to a minimum. 

All of this has compounded my desire and need to change my blog name.  I don’t have any reason to think she has found me out, but it could be just a matter of time.  And I like this blogging thing.  This private/public sharing, and I hope to never have to shut down for being found out.  Blog name suggestions are welcomed and appreciated. 

For now I can only pray that my 2 year old nephew doesn’t cry during the church service, and that my sister and I aren’t busted drinking beforehand, and that I can figure out which pew is ours (never knew we had our own pew!).  And of course, I hope a little holiday cheer finds my mom. 

Single, In a Relationship

There’s a little space to the left side of each facebook profile that’s titled Information.  The first line is Relationship Status for which there are seven choices: Single, In a relationship, Engaged, Married, It’s complicated, In an open relationship, Widowed.  I like that Divorced is not an option, though I’m not sure why (why it’s not an option and why I like it).   A few weeks ago a friend sent me a private message via facebook asking why I have selected Single when I’m In a relationship, and to the best of his knowledge, one that’s going on a year or so.  I replied by saying that if he really wanted the big answer to that big question then we’d have to go for a bike ride together.  I can’t tap out a sufficient reply on this keyboard.  Sometime soon I’m sure we’ll take that ride, and maybe I will discuss the feelings I have about relationship statuses and my desire to select Single when In a relationship is probably more appropriate.  In short, for now, I’m Single because that just sounds better to me.  The whole In a relationship thing freaks me out.  I feel my chest constricting.  I need a drink.

Do I now, in my mid-thirties, have not a fear of growing old with cats, dogs and a book to cozy up to at night, but a fear of the other?  A fear of…of committment?  A distaste for waking up and having someone there every single morning instead of sleeping and waking alone?  I’ve grown selfish.  I want the things I want.  And I really don’t want the rest.   

When I got married it was, painful truth be told, a matter of me dragging him by the ear.  We’d been together for 7 or 8 years, and by my 30th birthday I was bound and determined to select a ring, or map my escape.  You know how that went.  Ring, followed by delayed escape.  We were both begrudgingly married.  Me because I wanted the safety and comfort (and I was just too old to be Single) and him because he’d known me long enough to be unable to imagine passing his time without me.  I knew it wouldn’t last.  It was a subtle twinge, but more (I think) than marital fear or doubt.  It was what I now know as my characteristic one foot on the ground, the other up, up, and out.  

I tell myself there is freedom in the label Single.  But not if I’m not really Single, but In a relationship…then I’m just lying.  Maybe I’m wrong here?  A recent listen to Allison Armstrong’s In Sync with the Opposite Sex audio suggested strongly that I might be.   Could she be right, is there more freedom for women in a relationship?  Even in marriage? Sure, I get financial freedom, but she suggests more –emotional, mental, physical freedoms.  Weird.  I just can’t wrap my brain around that right now.  I like the idea…just can’t go there quiet yet. 

I’m hoping the curious, newly single-but-dating friend will be up for that ride soon…this is fun bikin’ material, I think.

Head over Heals

I fell in love over Thanksgiving break.  My sister and I, out for a walk, came ’round a corner and down a hill; I spotted him right away and gasped.  He was the last horse in a pasture of 5.  The others galloped off but he made his way to the fence to see me.  We could not be separated.  When we finally did say goodbye, he followed us along the fence line until we crossed the creek and headed into the woods.  My sister had watched the unfolding and later said, “That was something to witness.”

It sometimes happens that way with me and animals.  Like my first horse, Huey.  I turned the corner of the barn with halter in hand, heading for another horse to gather for my riding lesson, when I spotted him.  He was a handsome chestnut gelding with a star on his forehead, and when our eyes locked my belly flipped.  I had proven my love for riding and that I had some modest ability to do it well enough to justify the investment.  And so for $850 or so, my parents bought him for me.

There have been other loves at first sight too –an elderly border terrier at the pound, a tortioseshell kitty at a local dumpster, a certain dead grass Chesapeake Bay Retriever, a mutt named Reuben and an Irish wolfhound too.  But when I fall for the beautiful horses it’s a more powerful rush of emotions.  Maybe it’s their magnificence, their size, and beauty.  Maybe it’s that I’m a little afraid at the same time, or maybe it’s that I know, right now at least, that I’m not equipped to follow my heart.  It’s a shame because for the first time I live on a small farm with a beautiful empty barn,  8 acres or more of pasture, and a ring and trails for riding.  I could look out any of my windows and see a horse(s).

It is not by chance that I met the horse pictured above, and fell for him and he for me.  He is a sign post, a reminder, a suggestion at the possibility that some day again I will have a horse(s).  To love and to smell and to cherish from someday forward.  And maybe, one never knows, it will be this handsome, gentle boy.