The River Runs Through It

 

Thank you all for your comments. You made me laugh and you made me cry. I have gotten this bout out of my system, for the weekend at least.  I am amazed at the deep feelings I am having this time around. I think the only cure for it is for The Princess to hurry up and get married and have a baby. Only kidding! Not really! Yes I am! Not! (But don't worry, she's ready, too!)

The online family of friends is an amazing, amorphous group of email names that post comments as heartfelt as any that you could receive from a trusted family member or real time friend. I can never get over how loving and generous readers are and how much they will share with you while cheering you on or just reminding you that they are there, bearing silent witness to your troubles like the stars above. Take a click over to Babelbabe and read her lovely essay on online friends. I agree with all of it (and really regret that I couldn't go on the very weekend with her and BB that she writes about!)

 

Life does not move in a straight path. I should be so lucky as to have this be the biggest hurdle I have to jump over in this half of life. (That is my Italian family speaking: I should be so lucky! The poorhouse is right around the corner! God willing!) We don't do a lot of hand-holding in my family. There aren't too many hugs and kisses  over matters like this.  It's taken for granted that you will cry and then get over it. Our favorite movie line to quote is from Moonstruck when Cher has slept with Nicholas Cage, her fiancee's brother,  and he tells her he has fallen in love with her, and she slaps him and yells at him, "snap out of it!"

I will muddle through this. I will wallow and cry just enough to have Mr. Pom and my sisters tell me to snap out of it, but I will keep sharing it with you. Because I believe that there is no one universal life experience, but there are universal experiences that we all share. I hope I have realized after 50-something years that no one's reaction to an experience is "right or wrong". There is no one way to react to marriage, birth, divorce, illness, death, job loss, or just plain old empty nest. 

As foreign as a reaction may seem to me in my cultural context, I have come to understand that most stereotypes are grounded in a grain of truth. Just because I don't feel the way that you do, doesn't mean that you or I have feelings that are not valid. There is a river of sand that carries us through this coursing life and every swirl and eddy is an impression of emotion left there by the one who went before. I don't ever want to dismissal the curve of your river and dam it up so it can't encroach on mine. 

I so remember being in college and just dripping with arrogance and condescension when an "older woman" (she probably was 35!) was in one of my classes and we had to share what we felt were our most important achievements in life. When she said, "her children", my eyes practically rolled out of my head! And when mothers of friends of mine bemoaned their graying hair, I thought they were them the most shallow creatures on earth for even noticing or caring about it, let alone spending money on dying it.

And now I don't even remember what my  natural color hair is!

 

And now back to regular programming:  this weekend, we are home, blessedly, happily home! As much as I'd like to be on Nauset Beach today, I would only go if I could blink my eyes and be there and be back the same way like in I Dream of Jeannie.

And thank goodness we were not on the road last night since our neighborhood was invaded by a swat team and swirling helicopters with spotlights for over an hour as the police hunted down two burglars who had robbed a house about a mile from here and then crashed their car and took off on foot after a police chase. The dogs went crazy when the helicopters started sweeping our yards, which was a good thing since we had our dogs unlocked and  our air conditioners on and we didn't hear the suspects run through my yard, knock over a big planter with a rosemary bush, and leave our side gate open!  One suspect is in custody (if the other is in our garage, they will never find him for the junk!) 

This afternoon, after a morning of appointments,  I am working on my class samples for Art Is in October. Soon as I was done with check ups,  I ran to the art store, where I haven't been in months, and bought about 10 sheets of delicious, colorful, luxurious art paper that will be the inspiration for my class models. I have the journals we will use and I am playing with the format. You really must come - the retreat will be  a sensuous journey of alluring delights!

 

Later we will grills some steaks, make a corn salad, and try my hand at even grilling peaches.  I hadn't had a good peach this whole season. I've bought them at the supermarket and at Farmer's Markets and they've been mealy and hard. Then I bought 3 little peaches on River Avenue under the El across from Yankee Stadium, from a little Latina girl and her mom who were running a tiny stand as part of the NYC Greenmarkets program, and they were the sweetest, juiciest peaches I ever had. Only in NY!

Off to do some work and clean up the house. No one is home but me, and the dogs are  laid out on the tile floor due to the heat.  I should be digging out my art room and the spare room that The Artist destroyed when she was doing her art end of the year projects, but instead, I am spread out in the dining room in front of the air conditioner, with the dogs asleep around me. This is not the weekend for "should be" but the weekend of "what is".

May your weekend be filled with moments of paste, paper, and paint, and a latte or two.

Love,

Mrs. Pom