blah,blah,blah...

there are times when I look around me and think all the women begin to look the same.the same trendy shoulder-length hair. same caramel-colored highlights..even mannerisms adopted while watching favorite celebrities. and it seems..bland.
the women, the men, the towns..i strain my eyes to see past the bleak film that coats them. and threatens to coat me as well.
right now, pretty much everything i own fits into a few rubbermaid containers,and i like it that way. i don't want a house in a subdivision or a kate spade handbag or a creative memories life. nothing wrong with any of those things..but surely they're not for everyone?
i think what bothers me is this: those women that begin to look alike aren't. each of them is a world all on her own..full of history and future potential. she brings something that noone else can. but it's hard to see the precious things through the caramel-colored highlights.
the film of sameness.

the thing i wonder is, do i try to clean the film off everything around me?
or just my eyes?

A Long-Awaited Dose of Acting..maybe.

Whoever designed the Greyhound website should have to pay me for the time I wasted there this morning..
Sparing the details, we'll just say it is not user friendly.

I've been trying to arrange travel plans for a class I'm hoping to take in Chicago next month. I've been typing in arrival times and station codes for an hour..seeing fares anywhere from 17 dollars to 96 dollars..travel times from 2 hrs to 13 hrs..

Amtrak wins for ease of use, better prices, and not being trapped onboard for an entire day.
But you have to pay online with a credit card, and I'm a cash purchaser..
I'd drive but I'm fairly sure the little blue car wouldn't make it.
Anyone up for a roadtrip?(translation: Anyone want to drive a girl to Chicago Thursday night October 5th? )
hmm..I'm off to figure stuff out..
Have a beautiful day!

I think the reason I've been posting so sparsely this year is that it's very difficult to post pictures. I don't have a way to do it at home, and getting to a library or friend's house seems to pose a challenge with my schedule...so many stories I haven't told you as a result.

This weekend I'm going up north with my aunt Jen and cousin Kelly. I am so looking forward to their company, and seeing Mackinac Island again.
The smells: leather, lake breeze, chocolate, fuel, lilacs, horses, cedar, pine trees...
The sounds: buckles jingling, hooves clomping, bicycles ringing their bells, boat horns, music, lapping waves, seagulls..
I can't wait. I'm bring two books; one that I've been trying to get through for months and hope to finish, and another (a novel) that I may start if I get through the first one.
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When Willow was three years old and you asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would say without hesitation,
" A pilot. I'll fly planes."

Today I asked Ginger, now three, the same question. She answered without hesitation,
" A Seagull Monkey."

Two girls, two temperaments, both dead serious about their answers.
I love it. ;)

Today was Willow's first day of Kindergarten. A *highly* anticipated event in our household. Every day for weeks she's been asking for a countdown, culminating in an early-morning wakeup time today.
This is the kid who normally(like me, like Grandma) needs a lot of ..personal space.. in the morning. Time to acclimate to the universe at large. Time to come to terms with the prospect of wakefulness.
When it comes to my Mom and me, we're kind of antisocial until we've stared at a wall with coffee in our hands for a while.
When it comes to Willow, who is still too young for caffeine..the only remedy is time.
So I was surprised when I barely touched her shoulder this morning and she shot bolt upright in bed, exclaiming groggily," THANK- YOU- FOR -WAKING -ME- UP- MOM- I -NORMALLY- DO -NOT- WAKE -UP -EARLY- VERY -OFTEN -BUT- I'M -GLAD- I'M- UP!"

Just about gave me a heart attack.

She knew it was The Big Day.

My Willow chose her outfit, ate her breakfast, and headed off to grow up way too fast with a big grin on her face.
She did great, by the way. She was relaxed and cheerful, happy to tell me about her classroom and teacher.
I took pictures, smiled, waved madly, and waited till I drove away to cry.

So today I find myself celebrating Willow, her beautiful courageous heart and who she is becoming.

But cursing Time for slipping by with so little consideration for the hearts of mothers

Today in the car Ginger and I were listening to a glorious piece of violin/harpsichord music on the radio..one that I have never heard before, whose name I didn't catch.
Somewhere in the second movement, this dreamy voice from the back seat asked," Are the ballerinas dancing, Mama?"
I turned around to look at her and smiled when I saw her face. Her gaze was turned toward me but those pure blue eyes were seeing something else.
"Do you mean - the ones in your imagination?", I ventured.
She nodded in time to the prancing harpsichord, and I understood.

"Yes, honey, they're dancing. This beautiful music makes them want to dance, doesn't it?", I answered, my heart suddenly stricken with love for her(you know those moments, parents?).

"You see them too?", she breathed.
I realized that she was now actually looking at me, wondering how I could possibly..
"Yes, I can see them - they are dancing more slowly now,aren't they? There's one whose face I can see..and she looks just exactly like..Ginger! And she's my favorite dancer of them all."
Her eyes twinkled with pride and amusement for an instant. The next moment, her expression had resumed a faraway softness with the addition of a slight smile, and stayed that way till the end of the song.