It's in the mail

Photo Challenge Day 4 - Letterbox

When I moved into my house in 2010, I had very few changes on my list: new curtains in the living room, painting the powder room, and putting seagrass on the stairs so that Cheyenne wouldn't slip and hurt herself. On the outside, I wanted to do a few things such as plant a couple trees and replace a couple of unruly bushes with Gardenias.

And then there was the mailbox. I like mailboxes. I enjoy looking at the different ones when I walk through the neighborhood. Whether they are on a post or column or wall mounted, I think they should be sturdy and clean with clear numbers. The mailbox on my new house was none of those things. It was rusty and unevenly affixed to the fence with zip ties. It had to go.

When friends asked what I wanted for a housewarming gift, there was only one thing. We looked high and low, in stores and on line, before finding the perfect mailbox for me. I wanted it to be fence-mountable and vertical, made of sturdy material, not too plain or ornate, and be black in color. Finally I found the one I had in my mind at a local hardware and gift store. Mounting it prooved to be quite a challenge as it required drilling into the iron fence rails. Thank goodness for determined friends with special drill bits.

Today's photo prompt was Letterbox. Do people write letters anymore? I don't. I write thank-you notes and mail birthday cards but I don't know the last time I penned an actual letter. I've saved many letters that I have received in my life and I keep them in an old hat box. Perhaps I should have taken a photo of that. But it's my mailbox that came to mind when I read the prompt. My lovely mailbox that receives bills, magazines and catalogs, and the occasional hand written card or thank you note. My lovely mailbox that is partially blocked by the rapidly growing Blue Plumbago. I think I'll be trimming that this afternoon.

Adoration

Something you adore. Something? Some things. The internal discussion: But you can't adore things. Humans do not feel emotions for things. This dialog sends me to the dictionary for an exact definition. Adore: Verb 1) To love and respect someone deeply; 2) Worship; venerate. And then 3) To be very fond of <adores pecan pie>.  Really? The difference between fond and adore is a level of degree?

I don't remember my exact age at the time but when I was a young girl, I think seven or eight, I stated to my Grandmother that I loved my boots. She countered that I did not love my boots, that I liked them very much. I did love my Grandmother. She taught me how to read and she encouraged the spark of many ideas in my young head. Of course I argued that I did too love my boots. She, in turn, asked me if I loved my pony. Of course I did! She asked if it was the same feeling I had for my boots. No, not at all. She then said to me that humans do not feel love for inanimate objects.

What, I asked, does inanimate mean?

Look it up.

I did, and I understood.

So today's photo-a-day prompt, something you adore, had me furrow-browed because, yes, I am quite capable of making a little bit of nothing into a big deal. Such is life in my mind.

I found a compromise though.

Day 2

Breakfast. That's my photo-a-day challenge topic for today. I suppose I could have snapped the dogs inhaling their food this morning or my warming up their soft food in the microwave because it's cold and I thought it would be a nice treat for them to have a warm meal. But the prompts are interpretive and I opted for my breakfast.

I'm a creature of habit so I will go through long stretches of the same thing before I get bored. For months, breakfast was yogurt and coffee. For months after that, breakfast was a hard of soft boiled egg and coffee. These days, breakfast is a toasted multi-grain english muffin with a bit of reduced fat peanut butter. And, of course, coffee.

That coffee mug is intentionally blurred since I was playing around with depth-of-field, but it says New York all over it in different fonts and sizes. I bought it when I took my mother to New York for her birthday in 2006. It's a simple thing, just a mass produced inexpensive tourist item, but it makes me smile to have it, to remember where and when I bought it.

The most important meal of the day. 

New

Ah, here we are in the first day of the new year.  It's a dreary one here, chilly and wet from the rains last night and this morning. I like it like this, it's quiet outside, a gentle beginning. Inside, I have a fire burning in the fireplace, Cheyenne is snoring beside me on the couch and Dixie is curled up asleep on Cheyenne's bed that she has taken over for herself. The Tournament of Roses Parade is on the tv. I'm in my comfy pajamas and I intend to stay in them all day, even when I go to my friend's house later on for cabbage, black-eyed peas and some champagne. For now though, the front door open to the cool and quiet outside, the snoring dogs and the parade add up to a perfect New Year's Day morning, by design.

Also by design is a photo-a-day challenge I've opted to participate in this month. Day One's challenge: Me. I offer you a snapshot of myself taken in the living room mirror shortly after waking up. This one not so much to stretch any photography skills but to launch myself into the challenge, which I am doing because I want a daily prompt to launch myself back into this blog.

So, with that, here's me this morning, New Year's Day 2013. Happy New Year to you and yours. I hope it is one that sees you closer to your dreams. See you tomorrow!

 

Love

I love a freshly made bed. I love the cool underside of the pillow. I love the look in people's eyes when they are in love. I love the quiet of winter nights and I love the burst of bright green when the trees awake in the spring. I love when a song makes me close my eyes and drift into a memory made long ago. I love the way Cheyenne thumps her tail against the floor when she wakes up and sees me. I love greeting the sunrise. I love the buzz of Cicadas on a warm summer evening. I love the smell of Gain. I love laughing so hard that tears fall from my eyes.

I love familiarity and I love new beginnings.

Honesty is just too beautiful to put into words.

 ~ The best to you in 2013. I hope you get more of what you love.

On keeping promises

I'm dusting of this neglected site to tell you a little story.  On January 2nd of this year, I resolved that the year would be one of doing for others.  Each day, I decided, I would do something for someone. That simple. Large or small gesture, small or large effort. A favor, an exercise, a hand, a connection.

I did not meet my goal.

But I did try. And that made a big difference, to me. When I set out with the resolution in mind, the first few weeks were a bit electric for me because I was focused, looking out for an opportunity, charged with my mission. But January gives way to February and time moves deeper into the new year and resolutions and fresh starts can fade as the ever-present demands of the mundane creep into the day.  Still, I found that after my intense focus, I had developed a habit of sorts of seeing the opportunity, recognizing it, rather than searching for it. I've read that it takes 30 days to break or create a habit, and I think that, give or take a few days, this is true.

What I found is that holding a door open or retrieving something from a high shelf for an elderly grocery shopper, or waving someone ahead of me in traffic, are all tiny things, almost effortless really, but the feeling inside is not tiny. The feeling inside is one of warmth from being connected. I didn't expect that. I found that in giving of myself, I was opening up to the world around me, involving myself in its rhythm and feeling less alone and move alive through these tiny connections. I found that I smile more, have healthier thoughts and a bit of wonder back in me. What will it be that I can do today? What will I discover in my path?

I'd like to think that these little gestures add a bit of sparkle to the world, just the tiniest bit. They definitely add that to my world. So much so that I'm keeping the goal through the new year.  I like where it takes me. I like the smiles.

Anne

Across the street from me lives a somewhat elderly woman named Anne. She lives alone in an apartment above a two-car garage. The garage is behind the back yard of the main house, which faces the street that crosses mine.

Anne loves dogs and she makes a living house-sitting and caring for them. She does not have a dog of her own so she visits my girls daily.  With a pocketful of biscuits for them. When Cheyenne or Dixie see her, they are all tail wags and barks of excitement. Anne and I visit at the gate while the Chey and  Dix feast on their treats. Our conversations are not deep or overly personal, the weather, our plans for the day, goings on in the neighborhood.

Sometimes, Dixie is too energetic, loud and, I assume, annoying for Cheyenne, so Anne will wait for Dixie to get down the stairs to the gate, hand her a treat, and then toss a bone on the porch for Cheyenne.

Nice lady, Anne.

Two weeks ago, the house and its garage went up for sale. There's a lot of work that needs to be done to that house, there's roof and foundation damage. It's unlikely someone will buy it and pour the necessary money into the repairs; more likely, a builder will snatch it up and raze it. It's an uncomfortable waiting game for Anne. I look across at her apartment every day, hoping to see her and wondering what the future holds.

Happy is this moment

Sunday at the park

Cozumel

Look at this, first full week in August and I'm still on my birthday.

About Cozumel.  I'm going to let these photos be the thousand words of my trip but I will say one thing.  On my birthday, sometime in the full sun of the afternoon, I was sitting on the sandy cliff of a bar/restaurant on the less developed side of the island, beneath a green Dos XX umbrella, squeezing myself beneath the shade it provided, an ice cold Dos XX and a giant glass of ice water before me.  Today is my birthday, I thought.  And then... and then... from the place's sound system, Bob's Seger's Travelin' Man entered my ears.  Up with the sun, gone with the wind...  That moment?  That singular moment?  The best part of my special day.