Chasing Faith...

After attending a fundraiser for Cass Community Social Services, I couldn't wait to settle down with the book written by Faith Fowler, the founder and pastor.  I had met her at another soiree, but this time there was a book and I had to buy it and get it autographed.  The night was an incredible success in all ways-elbows were rubbed, money was raised, flesh was pressed (who, me?), with plenty of good food and libation.

 

I dug into her story immediately upon arriving back home.  The late hour plus a full belly, allowed me to only get about 3 chapters in.  By mid morning I was finished.  The story outlines Faith's 20 year involvement with the Cass Corridor programs, church, and it's people.  She is a visionary that has done everything you can imagine to create and expand a program for the homeless.  She has unselfishly organized food, jobs, clothing, education and spiritual guidance for anyone who needed it.  The chapters are short and to the point and filled with Faith's wry humor.  Wonderfully warm and personal.  I found it very inspiring and renewing reading about someone who has actually made a difference.  Please read about her/and or her book if you get the chance.

 

And I can't wait to see all the new murals and street art going on downtown.  I love the color and creativity happening.  I plan to get down there and check it out while the weather is still warm.  And did you hear that there was a tiger on the loose at the Packard Plant?  Really?  I can't imagine the risk of having that feline there just for a photo shoot.  Ridiculous.  Someone could have been killed, all for the sake of a 'ruin porn' setting.  I remember when there was a cow that escaped the knife at Eastern Market, but that was a whole another situation.  That bovine had every right to be on the run.  At least the tiger thing ended well, and maybe a lesson was learned.  Maybe...

 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Cheryl and I will continue to solve the world problems over large Bloody Mary's.  I'll let you know what we come up with!  xo

 

 

The Best Day...

 

Friends of mine know my love all of all things 'nursery'.  The scents and beauty of the plants and flowers can lift my mood anytime.  I love to plan new looks for my yard and often steal the professional planter ideas.  So when I saw this little quote, I had to giggle.  "A dirty hoe is a happy hoe."  Yes, indeed.  I can totally relate as I spent 4 very hot and sticky hours on Sunday working in my  yard.  For the first time ever, I have a garden for vegetables.  My family is big on vegetable gardening and even have a hydroponic greenhouse.  I love going in there and picking lettuce and tomatoes-in February!  So this year, they hooked me up with some starter tomato plants as well as some green pepper and hot pepper plants.  I have them in colorful pots on my deck.  So far I have harvested enough tomatoes for our salads and some green peppers, too.  My kale and lettuce are doing well and my herb garden is going crazy with all this humidity.  I love cooking with fresh herbs.  Basil and rosemary, parsley and mint.  My strawberry plant, however, has only yielded me 2 strawberries!  But it's fun.  I water the plants daily and enjoy watching them grow.     And speaking of grow....How's that for a segue?  My darling nephew, Julian Oliver is growing like a weed.  And like the flowers, he also has perfect skin coloring and smells delicious.  At one month old when I saw him, he is just perfect.  Mother nature just never fails to totally astound me, and baby Julian is no exception.  Flowers, plants, vegetables and babies-we are all growing.  In these dog days of August, what else can we do?  Hope you all are enjoying your summer, doing whatever makes you wonder.  xoxo                  

Goodnight Sweetheart...

Weeks of stomach pain landed me in the E.R. last week.  It's been ages since I had to spend the night at the hospital for any reason, but I was looking forward to some relief and some much needed sleep.
The hospital is a warm, safe place with lots of people that are so much smarter than myself that will take care of everything...Right?

Upon arriving, I fill out the forms that seem redundant since all my info is on the Beaumont website.  Okay, well, we certainly have all that straight.  They slap on a information bracelet and I'm on my way. Next I get to change into the proverbial, ugly hospital gown.  Thin as a tissue with an open back for all your stuff to hang out of.  With the hospital air conditioning blowing at steady 62 degrees and a wind chill of 46 degrees, I was freezing my exposed ass off.  And I found it rich when the nurse with the polar fleece North Face jacket on asked me, "Are you warm enough, Dear"?  She generously brought me a heated blanket that retained it's warmth for, oh, about 12 seconds.  Then the E.R. doc asked me the same questions that were just on the form I filled out.  I patiently repeat my answers.

 My blood count required me to have two bags of plasma, which made a nurse take my blood EVERY HOUR all night, along with my vitals.  This coupled with my roommate blaring her telly all night, left me exhausted.  And needless to say the bed was not my Beauty Rest mattress!  I endured the plastic pillow and soldiered on.  For some reason they felt it necessary to hydrate the hell out of me with an I.V. pouring liquid into me at a rate of about a gallon an hour.  This was hardly convenient as I unplugged the thing and made my way to the bathroom every 13 minutes.

 My lunch was orange jello and my dinner was orange popsicles.  Orange is the new food trend apparently.  I actually found out I like orange jello-so that was cool.  Not much else was exciting as they scanned my bracelet about 352 more times.  You would have thought that thing was a Tiffany!

And why do you never feel clean at a hospital?  I couldn't wait to get home and shower and sleep in my cushy bed. 

The docs and nurses were nice enough.  The testing was relatively painless-it's controlled chaos as they give me Nascar style attention with their oxygen and needles.  For the thousandth time I repeat my name and birth date.  I still don't know why I have a persistant tummy ache.  We will keep exploring, I guess.  Hopefully, I can do it on an outpatient basis.

Pray for me Darlings.  At least I'm not pregnant!  xo

28 Thousand Days...

On a billboard of a building on Woodward Avenue there is a large chalkboard with 91 lines.  The words, "Before I die..." and a basket of pastel chalk beckons you to consider.

Much harder to do than a bucket 'list' that allows you many choices.  This form of street art would like you to fill in just one line.

So I ponder-what do I want to do before I die? 

Travel?  I've done a little, but want to see Europe in the worst kind of way.  Norway, my ancestral home is of great interest to me.  But I'm a homebody at heart, so I don't think that's my number one aspiration. 

Not being a great cook, I have always wanted to make a decent lasagna.  Recently I came across a stove top one that was easy enough for me to handle.  I've made it three times and I think I've nailed it.  So, no.  No domestic endeavors.  The lasagna was my tasty nirvana!

Writing something meaningful would be very cool; however, as I approach 500 blog essays, I think that the goal is met as best as I can meet it.

Winning a Grammy is completely out of the question due to the fact that I am virtually tone deaf.  For real.  I will never rock it out or lounge on a piano in a hot dress and croon a smoky ballad.  Grrrrrr-never gonna happen.  Be thankful for that one, peeps.  Which leads me in to the instrumental part of the program.  I want to slap that bass just like Dane did!  My buddy Tim taught me a few things about a djembe and I participated in a few drum circles.  That's all I got.

I have no illusions of curing mental illness, world hunger, or animal abuse.  I do what I can but it will never be enough.

My goal of reading the classics is stalled while I dig into biographies and summer beach reads.

I keep falling back on the one thing I can actually do.  Contentment and peace of mind is within my grasp.  I will continue to use all of the above endeavors as well as meditation to get there.  I feel it will be a life long pursuit as I feel that it is a moving target for me.

Before I die I will be utterly content and peaceful.

How about you?  What will you do?  xo

One of These Nights...

Here I am, busted, while enjoying my afternoon lay down.  No shame.  I'm a napper-I love it-and I wake up refreshed and rocked.  After Friday night, I needed it even more than usual.

Friday at 5:00 found us at the Green Dot Stables in Detroit.  This crazy little horse stable themed restaurant is quite the unique venue.  You can choose from approximately 30 types of sliders with various French fry options.  Everything on the menu is $3.00!  We loved it!!

By 7:45 p.m. with beer in hand, we were seated, eleven rows up, thank you very much, in anticipation of the Eagle's concert.  That's right.  The EAGLES!!!  One of my all time favorite bands and I can barely contain myself.

Respectfully, the show started promptly at 8:15-no diva-like behavior here!  At an average age of 67!, these guys still 'have it'.  You would think it was 30 years earlier as Glen, Don, Tim, Joe and the others did their stuff.  They could not have been any cooler.  When Tim sang, "One of These Nights", I almost cried, with memories of my 18th. year flooding back.  I could tell you where I was, who I was with, what we were doing and even the smell in the air when I was listening to that tune for the very first time.  I closed my eyes and was carried away in the moment.  The contact high of all the pot didn't hurt the situation any either!

Like traveling, concerts can be just too much bother for me.  The parking, the crushing crowd, the overpriced beer, etc. get on my last nerve and make me swear off events.  Hell, I recently watched an AC/DC concert on HBO and it was kinda, like, good enough.  But...this was the EAGLES.  And I love 'em.  They are and always be the voice of my adolescence as well as a total class act.

At the 'Hotel California' encore, I cheered my ass off with teary eyes, as more visions hit me.  I was in a white denim jumpsuit with a rainbow necklace, sporting my best Farrah Fawcett doo.  The bar was smokey and hot and so was the guy I was mashin' with on the dance floor.  Ahhh......

  I loved it, it was worth it, and I will never forget it.  Go if you have the inclination. xoxo

Strip it Down...

WARNING!!!  To all my loyal male readers-you just might want to sit this one out.  Avert your eyes.  Skip it.  Take a week off from the jspot.  Or, just be brave and forge on.  This is territory that will probably make you squirm.  Welcome to my world...

I have had it with the inappropriate, unnecessary insulting, and embarrassing commercials about feminine hygiene.  Really, it's just us chicks that need to be concerned about things 'downtown'?  As if!  C'mon.  What man is writing these things?

Okay, all the girls playing sports in white clothes during their 'time' is understandable, but we get it and know how to shop for it.  It's required and we handle it without outside advice.

Now, can we just talk about 'Poise' pads.  Honey, it's got nuthin' to do with poise.  And, again, we got this.  Don't men ever have those issues?  A little 'unpoised' moment?  Do they maybe need a little pad in the boxers?  I don't know and I don't think I want to.

Vagisil-that itch you can't scratch and that embarrassing odor.  Really?  Cuz I've seen more dudes openly takin' a quick paw at their stuff with little or no embarrassment!  I bet that not once have those funky monkey's considered the need for a little freshener!

And how about the three girls that come out and stand behind three topiary plants?  Well-not to worry ladies, Schick has come out with a handy dandy razor that is perfect for trimming up your little 'bushes'.  Really, now.  I can bet there are plenty of guys that could use a little manscaping, but somehow they simply are not called upon to get those hedges in shape.  It's okay boys-you can borrow our Schick or just fire up the weed whacker!

I find the whole subject so totally sexist.  I think that all 'areas' deserve to be ummm...groomed and fresh.  Not just Miss Kitty.

Oh, and don't let me forget my favorite.  I can't think that we need to discuss our vaginal meshes, bladder slings and the possibilities of lawsuits regarding these things.  Until men start meshing, suspending and shoring up their junk-I DON'T WANT TO GO THERE!  Sheesh....

Okay, that's my rant for the week.  Guys, be a sport, and please consider your possible  need for a trim here, a little pad there and spritz everywhere.  Hygiene equality for all, I say! 

Just don't say I didn't warn you.

OX for all you dudes that made it thru!  You are among the few and brave.  And I love ya all.

Happiness is such a Mess...

I have been on the move quite a bit lately.  In April I was in the Keys, in June, I vaycayed in North Carolina and in July, I spent the weekend in Maine.  Whew.  For me, that's a lot of traveling.

Do I enjoy it?  Yes and no.  I love seeing new friends and the people that I meet.  Cool new experiences are, well, cool.   But... I think I have finally figured out what it is that I don't like.  It's the constant awareness that I must have to be somewhere at a specific time.  As a true commitment phobe, as well as airhead-I find this exhausting.

 I must leave the house at x time to be at the airport.  I then locate airlines parking, park and put the little parking identification slip somewhere safe so I can spring Sascha Fierce and split the scene when I get back.   Next up is my airline terminal.  I must check in with proper I.D. and get my boarding pass.  I then have to clear the crazy security, (okay, I got a TSA freebie this time!) and find my gate.  I then must eat and get back to said gate in time to board.  All this must take place with my I.D. and boarding pass at hand while carrying a large purse and dragging a suitcase.  Finding my seat and stowing my carry on is up next.  Upon landing, I retrieve my suitcase and find the ground transportation floor.  In Metro Airport this may involve a tram, and escalator (2x!), and elevator, along with 2-4 of those fast walking things.  I then must find the appropriate pick up area along with the correct bus to ferry me to the rent-a-car kiosk.  After signing more paperwork then I did to buy a house, I am directed to a lot with number of my rental.  I locate the care and then spin around a parking structure for an hour to exit said structure.  Okay, now I have to figure out how to get to the hotel and go thru that check in.  I have my confirmation number, credit cart and I.D. handy for all of that.  Sigh..okay, I'm in...

But.. when I leave the hotel,  I have to remember my key-with no room number on it-and what the hell car I'm now piloting. 

Only now, do I feel relaxed enough to enjoy wherever it is that I am.  And enjoy I did.  In Maine, I visited Laura on our birthday's.  Yes, she is my birthday twin and we vowed we would celebrate her 50th. together.  We had a blast at the party honoring my friend, and partner in Keys crimes.

Happy Birthday to my dollfriend, Laura.  You were totally worth it! xo

P.S. Welcome to my new nephew, Julian Oliver Wightman, who was born on July 09, just 10 minutes short of sharing my birthday with me.  I can't wait to meet you baby boy! xoxo