Murses And Purses

I like being female.  But I don't know if I like carrying a purse.  Both have their complications, their compartments.  One is being.  The other is baggage.

Men don't carry purses.  Unless you consider those who tag along their 'murse.'  For those not up to date on the latest consumer must, a murse is a male purse.  We have a genderized name for it so we can sell it. Remember, we did sell you the hot ticket item of the 'pet rock.' And the Chia Pet.

P.T. Barnum was the ultimate salesperson.  He knew how to package it and could spot a sucker a mile away.  I don't think he would have carried a murse.

And he wasn't female. To be female is to have wholeness. You see things as inter-connected.  While I am sure all of this varies with the person, some being more connected and insightful than others, some having attributes more male than others.  It is all okay within the range of being human.  I imagine the same is true of males.

But I don't know if having a purse is a good idea.  It smacks back to the age of the dowry.  I didn't have a dowry and I bet you didn't, either. Purses weigh you down.  It is tantamount to toting your house with you wherever you go.  And, it hurts my shoulders.

Now if we didn't have a purse, where would we put our wallet?  Cell phone?  Pockets you say?  We don't like pockets because we have an image to uphold.  Pockets protrude out of pants and make hips and waist look unlike the touch up magazine models.

So this is my solution.  A tiny purse.  Carry only your essentials.  If you must reapply lipstick, leave it in the car.  Do your prep work.  Don't carry the janitorial keys.  Keep one or two on your key holder.  Think about pockets, too.  After all, who are you pleasing?

If I were male, I wouldn't be spending the time to share all of this with you, dear readers, would I?  I like circular endings.  I like being female.

Launch Pad

I am on the launch pad!

Tomorrow I buy my new home.  We'll sit at the table ~ all five of us and sign papers.  There will be the usual requisite chit chat making it a congenial passing of the torch.  I'll be the third single person in that house.  Yes, all of us have been single. First, a female, then a male and now another female.  I'll be in that house much longer than the rest.

It isn't a stepping stone.  Or a career move.  It's just home.  Mine.

Today, I meet with my realtor to do a final walk through.  The house is to be cleaned today and I hope it will be a really thorough cleaning, cabinets, garage, etc.  If that is the case, I will cancel my cleaning service scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.  There is nothing like moving into a home that is immaculate and freshly cleaned.  The former is the current state and the latter will put a smile on my face.

I'm a Mainer now.

On Writing

Writing is an intimate form of communication.  It's like that slow dance that says it all without a sound.  You just know.  

When someone takes the time to read your words and understands where you are going with them (sans the grammar) or better yet, risks going on the adventure with you, it takes you to a deeper level.  I've often felt sad when people don't see the beauty in words.  It is a kind of music.  A Stradivarius (violin) reaching a sound so eloquent that only a few have an ear trained to embrace it.  

I have shared a lot of my work with you my readers.  Some pieces are better than others, some may touch a soft spot within you.  Some may go completely over your head because there isn't a place in your present bodymind to absorb it. Or maybe it just doesn't resonate with you at all.  

Writing exposes a lot about the writer.  I like sharing this with you.  Some take the time and write me back and you know, I always answer your notes. 

But if you can't come from your heart, or risk getting close to another, than you are leading a solitary life. That works for a lot of folks.  But I somehow believe the words, the pages find a place in your bodymind. Maybe stored for a time when it isn't so painful to remember.  

Maine!

I'm a Mainer.  Now.

This week, I move into my new home.  Beyond excited on many levels.  First, there is less maintenance.  Second, I love the openness of the house - new everything!  Third, it is smaller, well designed.  Fourth, I am among people again!  Okay, the latter does have its pluses and minuses.  But, there are lots of organizations in the area that have roused my interest for a while.

Thursday is the walk through. I'll do a look through,and take some measurements .  Friday is the closing and then I drive to the new house.  There is a lot to unload and place throughout.   I always enjoy a few days before the furniture arrives.

That way, I walk through the house, introduce myself and get to know it.

It is going to be so nice.  A new home, family in the area, the ocean.  Does it get any better than that?

Lecram

Night came early on the mountain.  I'd been working outside all day.  Between the dirt in my toes and fingernails and on my face, I was glad to be finished.  I'd been moving plants in the garden most of the afternoon.  The sun baked everything.  I was happy to go inside and shower.

Sitting down at my desk and watching the sun drop behind the mountain, I opened the Mac laptop and decided to surf.  Somehow I came upon a senior chat room and thought I would give it a try.  It was instantly friendly and welcoming.  A few nights later I went back into the chat room.  

Since I had been traveling it would be another two weeks before I went back in.  I was taken aback at how the room changed.  Sexual innuendos were tossed about like paperwork.  Nearly everyone seemed to be drinking to excess and couldn't seem to wait to talk about it.  I left the room quickly.

I didn't return for a few months.  When I did I met a couple of nice people.  The scenario repeated itself.  This time the room had moderators.  They were ill fitting people with control issues.  Chat was n't moderated well and it certainly wasn't balanced.  

Once again, I left until two months ago.  I thought I might pop back in to see if things had changed.  With the exception of one set in her ways woman, there were new moderators.  In this senior room, age 40 and up, the chatmaster allowed a thirty-one year old man from Turkey to moderate.  He was instantly friendly, PMing most of the room from what I heard.  He seemed to PM women.  I didn't mind hearing from him because he intially sounded interesting.  But that changed quickly.  

He said that no one liked him.  That they treated him with disrespect.  I was taken aback that he mentioned these folks by name.

But let's make it clear:

You are a pompous dictator who is socially inappropriate. Evil prospers when good people allow someone like you to be in charge.  All that is missing is your military uniform.  

Thursday Thinkings

This is my last Thursday in my house,  I am still struggling with the thought I won't be here any more.  What is a house anyway?

It's different when you get older.  It rings of familiarity.  Yourself.  When you are younger, you are so busy taking care of everyone that you don't really make friends with your house.  Sure you clean it, you maintain it.  You like it to look nice.  When you move away from it,you take your busyness with you,  there is no sadness.  There is your family who go into the car with you to travel to the new place.  They enter the new home with you.  In that new place, everyone is loved and cared for. There is no looking back. More busyness.

It is different now.  I am older.  Single. That makes all the difference.  And a house is a home.  My home.  Where I belong.

My new home will be one where family visits more.  I will make more family meals, watch my grandchild. I will take much better care of myself.  Whole Foods is close. My kids will be here more. It will feel like family.  The memories created here will last a lifetime.  It will feel inclusive.  It will be inclusive.  It won't be just me anymore.

Soon.

We Will Get The Kids Out

The first thing I did this morning when I awakened was to check on the Thai soccer team.  These past few weeks have found me with so much emotion.  The minute I was the kids were safe it happened.  I wailed.  And wailed.

I'm always the dreamer.  Wanting people to work together for a common goal.  To make things better for all of us.  No hierarchy.  Just people finding their way.  The Thai people did just that.  Of course they have the usual cultural idiosyncrasies.  If they don't know something they will respond that they do.  And they sure responded this week.

They responded along with hundreds of others throughout the world.  People were in trouble.  Children.  The creme de la creme assembled, putting together their skills and expertise.  There were no egos, no nationalities.  Just loving people gathered to save thirteen people.

Loving kindness is a Buddhist tradition. It was surely practiced this week.  Even the military fed the news folks, a rarity these days, along with the myriad of divers, emergency crews, people from all over the world.  There was no thought to money or ancestry.  They came to help.  They had a mission.

There was also another man who made a promise.  He died during a flash flood putting out supply tanks.  He was a highly skilled diver, athlete and all around loving young man.

In loving memory. 💕

"We will get the kids out."

- Saman Kunan, former navy Seal diver, who died while saving others