Ever have one of those days where you're convinced you must have done something wrong, although for the life of you, you can't figure out exactly what it is you're being punished for?

Or maybe I really am just paranoid.

circular logic

Trying not to ask the question....but then someone asks me the question...and then another person also asks... and so now, more than ever, I want the answer because apparently it puzzled more than just me... but I won't ask again.

sigh

Today is my mother's birthday (mine was two days ago). This is one of the few times of year when I feel that extreme ache to be back out East. I wish I could be there to take her out to dinner, go shopping, bake a cake, watch a movie.... It's not that we ever really made a big deal out of our birthdays. It's just that we always do something... you know?

And sometimes, a phone call just doesn't cut it.

I used to wonder...

...what it would be like if people just spontaneously burst into song, like in a musical.

Now, thanks to the cast of the latest play at my theatre, I no longer have to wonder.

It's crazy around here.

while scrolling through the old stuff...

The 24 words, and random punctuation, that changed the course of history. Well, MY history anyway.

"Hey guys...can't wait to receive the new CD! Love the first two, love the live show. Can't wait for an EAST COAST TOUR!!!"

Who knew?!

The never-ending snow has me craving some sort of adventure. I long for the warmth of the sun, a salty breeze blowing, the smell of woodsmoke from the bonfire that still crackles from the night before. I wish for that sleepy but smiling feeling that happens after a particularly good night on the beach. I wish for splashing in the waves, the cold water washing the last bits of sleep from my brain. I wish for acoustic guitars playing softly over the splatter of our panfried breakfast. I am missing those slightly off-key harmonies that were inevitable after a night out in the salty mist.

Maybe it’s not adventure at all that I am craving, rather another time and place. My old comfort zone. The place I was once most happy, most at home, most comfortable in my own skin… I still often wonder if I need that salty sheen on my skin to truly recognize myself, if the smell of the sea is somehow connected with my feeling of identity.

My communication skills (by way of explanation)

I prefer face to face communication. I am best when I can see a person's face, decipher the nuance behind their words, when I can lay my hand on their arm or give spontaneous hugs. When I can try to "read" what they're saying, feel it as much as hear it. I enjoy it as much for the comfortable silences as for the words that are exchanged. I sometimes have trouble staying close without at least a little of this thrown in... I've lost people who are far away and I regret it.

I am good at email. I'm a bit of a cyber junkie and for the most part I can keep up this type of communication with reasonable consistency. But typed words are often cold, with no context, no nuance, no room for sarcasm or winking asides... sometimes they work, if I know the person well, if we intersperse our e-talk with real speech and frequent face time.

But online communication can feel strange and strained and I often feel like I am repeating myself: "what's new?" "not much" .... what more to say? It feels inadequate. Can I really say the important words in a quick email? Sometimes, it would seem, I can not. There is too much to say and somehow, not enough keys on the keyboard.

I need to linger with you over a cup of tea, curled on the livingroom floor in our pjs. Or over a pint in that pub we frequented, back in the day. Or sitting on the rocks, watching the waves wash in and out. Or atop the ferry, wind in our hair. Or driving along on our way...somewhere or another...sometimes the best talks take place in a moving vehicle.

I prefer the phone to cyberspace. I enjoy the warmth of a voice on the other end, the response of a laugh or a sigh. It is difficult now, in this world of cell phones to keep in touch with the far away ones this way... I can't afford it, the money, the time.... that's a statement I regret and that I don't enjoy but it's true enough. And I hate it.

I am terrible at letters, cards, packages, presents on time. I have the best of intentions. But these are often the most neglected form of all. Often, with this new life, it is a budgetary consideration although I know extravagance is not necessary. And I appreciate those I receive more than I can say.

I wish I was better at all of these things. I wish I could magically see all of the people who I truly do miss. I wish there was not a continent and an ocean between us. I wish for a private plane, or a pirate ship to take me to them... or to kidnap them and bring them here. (Or I wish simply for the ability to go visit more often) Because I hate to lose people.

No matter how much distance lies between us, how much time since last we spoke... please know that I think of you often and with a smile. And that I miss you.

I knew this would happen

Echinacea, zinc and stress-eaze Vitamin C tablets = friends to the road weary.

Let's hope they work.

There's nothing wrong with this...

A big warm bear hug with a kiss *on*both*cheeks* and sweet nothings whispered in French into your ear.

damn.

Nobody told me there’d be days like these…

Ah, so that’s what it feels like to go back in time.

Part of me felt as though I’d gone back there. So intense was that feeling of déjà vu, it was almost as though I’d blink and open my eyes to those days and that time. I remember it well. I remember the craziness and the giddy feeling and the sound. Mostly I remember it feeling new and fun and somehow this time, years later, it suddenly felt new and fun again. So many reasons for that.

My heart was caught in a time warp of sorts. Like going back … but with all the earned intimacies and comfort levels in tact. It was wonderful. But my heart remembered it all very clearly (too clearly) and I wish I had time to decompress a bit more… to remember and then to forget. Because I didn’t really go back in time and the amount of water under that particular bridge could fill an ocean. I’m glad to have the smile back though. To remember with fond wistfulness instead of wariness. That was what I’d hoped for.

Thanks to all who have made the journey with me... both those who have been there since way back when and those who have recently joined the caravan.

FKN GVR