Bye Bye Blog

I was all geared up tonight for the rain that never came. Even at this late hour the TV is telling tales of threatening storms. Liars. All is clear here. The occasional cloud is but a tease.

There is good TV on tonight. However, post Benedryl I will have to rely on TIVO reruns to watch it. My new favorite show is "Tell Me You Love Me" on HBO. They are pushing the envelope, much to my delight. I'm looking forward to the fall season of

TV. Just looking forward is a big step for me.

My accelerated work schedule is not going to allow much blog time. Or anything else for that matter. I finally dragged myself to a grocery store today for the first time in a week. I was motivated by lack. My imagination for the wonderful things that I will cook was sparked. I have a whole menu in my head and now the ingredients to accomplish it are in my refrigerator. I fear they will go by the way of the ricotta cheese, unused and passing expiration date. However, just in case, I am ready.

I'm engulfed in the dark, with cigar... exhaustion leading the way. Paws is in the sandbox, where he spends most nights. His private beach retreat. Emma's flotation device with it's exaggerated eyes are floating merrily around the pool spurred on by a slight wind and the pool pump. Every now and then it looks directly at me. My backyard mascot

Let us add one more night to our lives

Baby Steps

Born at 5:32 PM, 7lbs. 10 oz.
Jacob Zane Moseley

Being witness to a person's first moment of life is an awe inspiring task. My recollection of the event will be his history.

Enter Jack, on September 11th in the year of 2007. Just for the fact that his birthday is 9/11 adds a certain grandeur to his birth. Not only is it a historical date, it's also Nichole's father's birthday. And as Emma was born on my birthday, it seems we are all significantly tied together in some mysterious way. These facts demand respect for fate's irony and a lot of pondering the hmmmmmmm??????
After a pleading phone call from Nichole to come to the hospital even though the event was hours away, I find myself with apprehensive attitude on my way to Thunderbird hospital. It's a big responsibility to witness birth. I get in my truck and drive to the destination that offers no parking. I circled that lot for a full 11 minutes before attempting the parking garage that sported a sign announcing it was "FULL". I took my chances. Alas, they were right. A little luck and a lot of faith allotted me a spot less than a mile's walk. I could have taken the courtesy shuttle, but I was to proud.
Once I was properly badged, bar coded and identified, I was a member of the "birthing team".
Nathan was beyond giddy. Nichole relived that the end was near. We three went through an experience that bonds human beings to the very core of our souls. Raw emotion superceeded daily mundualities. Wonder and awe dominated thoughts and conversation. Suspended faith became our path.
It was simply a celebration of life itself.

Thank you Jack!

.....or whoever you are to become. Happy Birthday Baby!

Reality Bites

Tutti Santi - ristorante italino, Scottsdale, AZ

With my second visit this past weekend, I have come to realize the unique flavor of this place. Even though I am not a fan of Italian cuisine per say, I am a huge fan of this restaurant for the ambiance which reeks of Mafioso and is always inhabited by colorful characters. Boisterous bar patrons comingle with the flashy dressed women wearing to much jewelry showing ample decolletage. Talk is loud and there is the occasional witness of an argument breaking out amongst the animated Italian employees in the far corner. Accents are sometimes fake and forced adding to my delight.

Tucked into a corner strip mall at 62nd Street and Greenway, this unassuming eatery is big on atmosphere which explodes with unexpected charm the minute you walk through the door. It brags of "old world" appeal. Entering the narrow hallway, a prospective diner will witness the split dining areas. I have yet been seated only in the bar dining room and have no idea what goes on in the room to the right. The dining room is cozy and the tables replete with crisp white linens, gleaming silverware and sparkling crystal stemware. It offers elegant comfort, somewhat formal without being stuffy.

Louisa greets us like an Italian mom ushering her kids to the dinner table. Even though we have no reservations, we are welcomed in to wait for the next seat. Tucked away in the corner of the short bar, we sit. There seems to be no system for seating arrangements other than Louisa's memory of who is where and still needs to be fed. We feel forgotten for a short while, drinking wine and club sodas when suddenly we are beckoned to an open table and eagerly scramble over before someone takes it.

We are given menus and advised to read it and eat. Said menu boasts the usual Italian fare; Veal Marsala with Fettuccine Alfredo, Spaghetti Bolognese & Linguine with Fresh Clams are the dished I have so far sampled.

Salad is a boring plate of lettuce with a tomato slice. I have learned to order the soup which is a delicate blend of flavors, mild but distinct, leaving me wanting the next taste.

The staff is accommodating without being overbearing. It's always necessary to ask about the days specials as they never remember to offer the information.

After the entrees, our waiter brought complimentary shots of sambucca. It was a wonderfully European way to finish a meal.

I have no reservations about returning.

A Difficult Oyster

Doing a little kitchen blogging tonight. Dinner was an impromptu affair nicely pulled together if I do say so myself. Good food and even better company quelled my brain that never lets up. I have a lot on my plate. Tonight included oysters, shrimp cocktail and rib eye steaks. Satisfying.

I've never before shucked an oyster. It used to be P's job. But since he left his tool behind, I took it on with a confidant attitude. If he could do it, how hard could it be? The things were treacherous and loaded with barnacles. I tackled the task looking for my pearl. It became a fight to the finish and a 30 minute struggle to open 6 oysters. They put up a good fight!

Clouds have blanketed my backyard view. It's really nice out tonight and has me thinking towards fall. Prematurely optimistic, yes, but something to look forward to. Finally. The long hard summer of 2007 is about to conclude.

I conquered the oyster.

Waiting for Jack

The New Garth Brooks Song (click for the link)

The clock and the fan are competing for my attention in the hushed living room. The click, click sound of the Hunter ceiling fan and the rhythmic tick of the oversized clock above my TV are the only sounds tonight indicating there is life in this house. Pawpaws stretches and sighs loudly, breaking the silence.

Nichole is ready to deliver any second, so I'm in the waiting game now. My bag for the hospital is packed and includes camera, kleenex and of course pad and pen should this thing run long. I'm ready!
Emma is ecstatic at the knowledge of a new brother, but she doesn't know what she's in for. I'll have to lavish her with extra attention during this transition. I think there are going to be many weekends with grandma!

I guess I'll call it a night with my phone expectantly by my side.

Dinner for Two

Maureen caught me cooking again. She generally wanders in around the dinner hour, looking for a meal. Tonight was no exception. The pretense for her visit was to drop off screws. I acted nonchalant but she could tell by the smell coming from my oven that something was up.

"Have you had dinner yet"? she asked.

"I'm just about to" I answer pregnant pause follows. "Want to join me"? What else could I do?

She scrambled to the cupboard to gather plates, knives and forks. She is not shy.

"What are we having"?

"Asparagus salad, Prime rib with Au jus' and french fried sweet potatoes"

She salivated her gratitude as we sat down to dinner at the new table. She expressed her appreciation of cloth napkins in rings, but choose the paper kind instead. We lit a candle between us and dined heartily. Finally, I was grateful for the company. I guess an exquisite meal is better shared. Talk was sparse and wine free flowing during our meal. Paw paws waited expectantly by my side for cherished scraps, generously delivered.

With satisfied palates and bellies, we settled in for a smoke and a late night chat.

The character that is Maureen oozed out with ramblings of men and work. She suddenly burst forth with her idea for my next book. She has apparently been thinking about this. She had the plot, the characters, the beginning, the twist and the end. It was actually a good idea, except for the plot, and the characters. A workable idea all in all. One I might just put in the works to see if anything is born. We argued about the proposed ending, exchanging ideas and scenarios. With wisdom I have not seen from her before, she looked into my eyes and said, "you know Hulia, in your real life it's up to you when it comes to the ending".

Quotable Maureen! Who knew.

The right pistaschio

(Photo credit - stole it from the internet)

With humor. Quick witted Mel pointed out to me while I was indulging in a big ole' bowl of pistaschios one night, that I dig around to find the "right one". I never considered that before. I guess most people grab for the next. I am searching for bigger than expected, and intend to find it.

Drive Time

My drive to work is some 45 minutes long one way encompassing four different freeways if you don't count the 143 which is practically unused.

It has become personal.

When I start out I merge on to the 101 and at rush hour, it requires attitude. Offering 5 lanes to choose from, all with their own personalities. There is something about this road that makes everyone fly free. Maybe because it it the newest freeway of all and commands respect. No one adheres to it. There is attitude from other drivers as I even intend to merge onto their asphalt territory. Once engulfed in the chaos of cars, I adopt my own attitude and drive with arrogance.

That is until I take the loop to the right some 5 miles later to enter I-17. This road is my nemesis.The oldest of them all in this city. Past Dunlap the entire feeling of my drive experience changes. It's the middle of Phoenix thoroughfare complete with wall to wall semi's, decrepit cars from the inner city and just has ghetto attitude. I get a bit antsy around about Indian School as driving is not a skill in this part of town but a matter of survival. From here to the stack I find myself gripping a bit harder playing a vehicular chess game. There comes a point in the road where you can see who drives it every day and those that just wander on occasionally. Past McDowell, you have to make a decision as to which way. This is brake light territory as the unaware just became so at 70 miles an hour and have to cross over 2 lanes to make the right decision. This is my Zen spot in the road, each and every day. There is a big green road sign that points to local destinations and then the one pointing right that says "Los Angeles"? And I wonder "what if"? What if I just fell out of life and kept going?

Get in my truck and drive. Go where I wanna go without explaination.

I make the decision to go left..... doing the right thing.

Writing Backwards

Funny how writing transpires. Every writer will tell you that they cannot tell you where inspiration comes from. It's often asked of me, "where do you get your ideas". I have no idea. But I do know that I see the conclusion first and then go forward with my thought, however backward that is.

Wish I had had this perception during this last decade. Had I seen the conclusion, I wouldn't have changed a thing. But I would have been prepared for the outcome.

There was a lunar eclipse last night. It was heavy on my brain to see it because when there is a monumental event that is a fleeting moment in time, I want to be witness. I planned my late night, set the alarm and wondered how tired I was going to be at work tomorrow. I fell asleep with a "fuck it" attitude around 10 PM because who needs that? I woke up anyhow and sleepiness argued with me when I crawled out of my bed @ 2 AM to see the hoopla and circumstance. It was more spectacular than I could have hoped for. The moon was bright and full with a hint from the shadow of the earth when I sat down. The night sky beckoned me to stay. I did. In chairs with laptop I wrote for 2 hours, glancing at intervals at the darkening moon. I knew I should get my camera and take time lapse shots of the thing. I was just to lazy to put any effort into it.

I was heavy into reflection.

For all my bravado, there are occassional tears. Every smile is hiding an ounce of despair that I am still trying to conquer. I exclaim my plans for the future while holding on to a bit of my past. I damn this limbo and swear I am climbing out, while falling two steps back, looking straight ahead. It's more than a beginning, this is the answer.

Life is defined by seconds

It is abnormally pleasant out tonight. I am in my usual parking spot, poolside. The moon is reflected in the water. If I was ambitious at all I would get the Nikon to capture it, but I am just weary and unenthused. So it will have to be memorialized by my words.

I had a wine bar night last night with all of the usual suspects. Maureen and I have become as comfortable there as if it were our own living room. Matt and Al took care of delivering dinner. We don't even have to order anymore, they just know. James dominated my time lamenting his woes. I gave him my best advice.

It made me wonder, who am I to preach words of supposed wisdom. If I had any advice to give, I'd take it myself.

Ode to the Cherry on Top

It's dinner time at my cookie cutter home in Glendale. Paw Paws is showing enthusiasm for the smells that are coming from our kitchen. An uncommon occurrence as of late and one he has missed. The best part of dinner is the anticipation. It's the best part of everything, I surmise with a smile as I chop green peppers to add to the Le'creuset. The earthy aroma of the peppers makes my stomach long for nourishment. A job the onions started when they began their slow sweat and released a heavenly aroma minutes earlier. The sound of sizzle feels like home again as I pour my glass of wine. And so I settle in to the night.

Thoughts of the day start their playback in my recently disquieted brain and I am beginning to feel equanimity now. Because of one righteous act, I am able to wrangle a new source of composure and I can now move forward. Our divorce was agreed upon and it was done with dignity and accord. That was something........................

After 8PM I am considering a cigar with the stars. Phil Collins is singing "Easy Lover" to me and I can't help but laugh out loud. I saunter to the kitchen for an ice cream moment. It's a celebration after all so I search for the jar of years old maraschinos. Success finds me swirling my vanilla concoction into a soft mishmash. With pride, I drop a cherry on top. And to the pool I amble with Paw Paws in tow. He's opted for a fresh chewies as his own indulgence tonight.

Starting a new chapter always makes me apprehensive. Previous is over and I have to write the next. New ideas, bigger and better as it goes.

It's going splendidly.

The New Normal

Late evening, I am afforded a few minutes to write and hope I can pay the price tomorrow.

Phil was here tonight invoking mass confusion. I look at this stranger that used to be my best friend and can't grasp who he is now. Completely irrelevant to my world, but disturbing since they still collide.

I indulged in Ben and Jerry's upon his departure, calling it dinner. There was comfort in the cold.

Getting over a nasty breakup, one pint at a time.

Dewey Decimal Bound

If one more person asks how my book is coming along I am going to vociferate in utter protest of their ignorance. Let me tell you how it's going. It's long, it's hard and offers only occasional glimmers of hope and excitment when a few words gel into a thought that someone might think about. It's basically turning into years of self doubt and deep angst. If you can picture the process it is my brain in my pajamas every night churning out words and hoping for the feeble attemp at order.

But it keeps coming... night after anguishing night.

"Come on Irene"

Irene called tonight. We've only spoken sporadically since my return from Wyoming. Tonight was a long catching up conversation. Irene is the most cheerful person I have ever know, despite her difficult life. She always laughs and draws people into her wealth of optimism. When Charlie died, it was Irene that consoled me, though her heart was breaking. When Irene had to go back to work at the age of 76 she was delighted to have found a job. She is always asking for more hours. She loves people and loves to be at work amongst them.

She wanted my latest news and sympathized for both me and Phil for our current plight, as she loves us both.

I talked endlessly, regaled her with my legal battles, my heartbreak and my constant fear of the unknown.

I asked Irene if she was OK. To that she replied, "oh yes, I have $40 for the week, so I will be alright".

For the first time in my life, I was completely ashamed of myself. I spend my thoughts absorbed in my misery when I actually have no problems, simply details. It was a harsh moment of clarity. I am humbled.

It is my truth that people that come through out lives are there for a specific reason. They are all teachers in one way or another. Human connections are not to be taken lightly. I am guilty of not recognizing that lately in lieu of my own self absorbed grief. This was a big moment to stop and think.

My apologies to those I have hurt.

Court Ordered to clean my house

Lest you wonder, the previous post about resplendent cleanliness was a 'to do" list.

My house is anything but. It mirrors my current messy life.

My vision is a kitchen that commands chopping, with inspiration from a freshly sanded down bamboo cutting board sitting on the counter in between the sink and the stove placed there because according to feng shui principals, there should be wood between fire and water. The idea is that fire and water are destructive, in that water quenches fire however, balanced by placing wood between the two. But the unsuspecting cook does not know that. They just feel the chi and long to take knife in hand.

Smell of freshly made banana bread, spotless floors, a well stocked pantry and recently rotated refrigerator media are unrecognized rewards to most, but amongst my greatest pleasures.

When I watch movies or shows of family situations and family life, I do not focus on the characters, instead look at the backgrounds into the kitchens and notice every thing in them. Often I see cutting boards with foods on them ready to be prepared. Tonight I was watching American Beauty and there was a cutting board on the white counter with carrots on it. The carrots had their green leafy tops which is not their usual state in my modern supermarket. I am awestruck by the fact that someone took the time to go buy those carrots to place on that movie set that no one will ever notice. What lonely work!!

Sitting in the dark tonight in the "slow" corner of my yard I light a chocolate flavored cigar. I know it's a deal breaker, but a sweet indulgence I refuse to give up because it feels like a luxurious rebellion. My yards, once a source of pride and are now a source of contention due to neglect and mishandling. When it was all left up to me, I dug in with enthusiasm. My incompetence reared glaringly before long when I mowed over all the sprinkler heads, leaving my yards in shambles. I burned up the weed eater and forget to empty the baskets that pool debris empties into. I have to set a reminder to add chlorine and turning on the water to fill the pool up is akin to leaving my curling iron on. I forget to turn it off, providing another disaster. Everything is dying, including me.

I have until October to pull this thing together, when the "for sale" sign is to be planted. A day I dread. Selling my home will be like offering my soul to the highest bidder.

I feel like this ole' world has left me behind.

I am getting my house in order.

Star Struck

I don't have talent behind the lens but am grateful for this photo. I took 657 tonight throughtout the night with extreme exposure that kept stressing my battery. The outcome was one photo worthy of the memory of this year's Perseids shower. It was short of spectacular. I spent the night alone in the desert, just north of the lake in some dark spot off the road.

My shutter speed was the most complex of factors to be considered. You want a long enough exposure so that you capture a good number of meteor streaks, yet not so long that the stars themselves start to streak. But, now you see the quandary. Even with a 25 second exposure using a 24mm lens, how many meteor trails do you think you can capture? Not many, unless we really have a "storm". So, is the solution to simply take longer exposures and live with the star streaks? Yes, I did it.

Morning

Just another day

I am happiest when my home isn't just clean – it's resplendent. Glowing white bathrooms full of sterile tile. Neat cupboards full of canned vegetables and that ubiquitous round of canned tuna that was on sale. Dishwashers that are empty and ready for another load. Beds made with taunt and crisp sheets, and the expensive down pillows that I indulged in few weeks ago are plump and inviting upon them. The smell of lemon furniture polish and the aroma of fresh paint fills every room.

I am watching "Big Love" for the second time. I missed the plot the first time in lieu of my own "big love".

Vickie has faded into her life again after our carefree summer. She is back to work now. I will miss our travels and hours on the phone. So will Cingular.

Michel is home from Europe.

Heading toward alone

At 10:34 I am on the 101 at some 80 MPH on my way back. From what and to what becomes a question as I drive carefree with windows down because I need to feel it. It feels good, even though I am headed to alone. I know I am walking into severe melancholy, but give in.

Was it to hard to try?

Doesn't really matter much, now it's gone. Where was your soul when your heart let me go? What am I supposed to do with what we had?

Does it even matter, now I'm down this road.........

We all end up walking alone. Tonight, it was on the 101, alone with my fears and this asphalt diversion. What a shame. I think my broken heart is on the mend....

I can't be sure.

Park your cart!

My truck was hit by a shopping cart in the grocery store parking lot the other day. Some stranger was kind enough to point it out, otherwise, the latest ding would have been a mystery. Supermarkets are like mythical holy places here in my Arizona neighborhood. Each one more magnificent than the next, vying for our grocery dollars. But still, going to the supermarket is deeply time consuming and repetitive. Therefore, I have decided to rethink the whole boring job and turn this chore into a place of zen. I do it by returning my own shopping cart to it's rightful place when I am done with it. It sounds minor, but it has become a ritual of righteousness. Now that I have begun my career of cart returning I find myself mentally tsk-tsking when I see carts others have left behind.

My cart is my responsibility and I like to do what's right. It makes me feel as if I am not just a consumer, but a useful, productive volunteer.

If everyone just returned his or her metaphorical cart, the world would be a better place, I think. It becomes a matter of one such small gesture, thought or kind act that saves you from creating a "ding" in another. How many small opportunities in life present themselves without ever being noticed?

Let it Rain!!

It's been a wonderful monsoon season so far. I would like to request a little more thunder however. Thank you.

Sitting here on my patio on the rare occasion that is is nice enough to be outside. The thermometer reads 80 degrees with humidity that is less than comfortable, but it's a far cry from the 118 we usually have. The gentle breeze rocking my wind chimes makes it all tolerable. I look around my meager existence and feel content that I have this. The plants are tattered derelicts of their recent beauty. They are coming back though, with daily love and tending to. I notice the honeysuckle that struggles near the pool is holding it's own. It has reached the top of the wall and is intermingled with Roxanne's own honeysuckle planted in the exact same spot on the other side of our common brick wall. I lean back and light a mocha vanilla flavored cigar that I bought at the wine bar several nights ago and survey the bedraggled scene of my backyard. We are both tattered remnants of ourselves, but showing promise for a strong comeback.

Sometimes the best deals are the ones you don't make.