He is NOT Satan’s Kitty

I do have a lot of New Orleans photos to post, but the one below is my favorite of all those I took. When I got to the Lost Apartment, Greg gave me a strand of beads he’d picked out from his massive Mardi Gras bead collection. He also gave me a throw from the Krewe of Muses. And Nicky, who I’ve heard called Satan’s Kitty and The Vicious Beast, took my beads away from me and then went after my throw of Muses shoes.

Bead thief notwithstanding, Nicky’s really more the sweet little Skittle Greg and Paul sometimes call him–you can tell by that adorable face.

Photo Friday, No. 71

Current Photo Friday theme: Travel.

Today’s post is not so much about an interesting photo as about a significant change in the way I travel.


My traveling case of essential oils.

There was a time I wouldn’t have gone anywhere without this. When returning to Houston from San Diego in 2000, I barely had time to make my flight when I was stopped by a security attendant. She didn’t understand the contents of this case and kept opening the bottles and sniffing while I glared toward my watch. She finally said I couldn’t take them on board. I pointed out that I’d flown INTO San Diego with them. Furthermore, these tiny, very breakable bottles represent hundreds of dollars. I wouldn’t have checked them even if I hadn’t been running late, and I certainly couldn’t leave them behind.

I was attempting to explain aromatherapy to her when another guard came over and yelled, “Let her through! Those things STINK!” I laughed. Although they smell wonderful to me, it can be overwhelming to get a whiff of all of them together.

Post-September 11, I’m sure I couldn’t fly with the case, so I don’t even try. I just pack two or three bottles of blended essential oils into my checked bag and take a bottle of Bach’s Rescue Remedy on the plane to help with my fear of flying. If they ever take that from me, I’ll probably end up as an article on AOL’s home page with hundreds of rude comments being made about me by anonymous strangers.

I suppose that could sell a few books…

Dreams unwind, love’s a state of mind

I figure a quote from Stevie Nicks’s “Rhiannon” is as good a title as any for a post about mysterious things. You’re going to hear more from Stevie in this post, which is a response to questions from David and Mark.

In fact, an exchange with Mark yesterday made me think of the Brancacci Chapel in Florence. I told him that it’s one of my favorite places to study and think about. That’s because some of the faces that the various artists (mostly Filippino Lippi) painted in the frescoes are familiar to me.
you can read if you want to

Bingo!

Have you ever gone to one of those bingo halls located in some unfamiliar suburban location? A big utilitarian building with fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look ten years older? Where the non-smokers are put into a separate, smaller room because the majority of the bingo players are smokers?

My sister loves bingo and she wins. A lot. She’s been able to take vacations with her bingo winnings. She buys those little pull tabs at the bingo hall and wins with them, too. When she comes to Houston, I generally find one of those bingo halls and go with her. I do not win. But that’s okay. I’m not there for the bingo. I like to watch the people.

For one thing, this is the ONLY place in Houston where people gather quietly. We truly have the noisiest restaurants and stores of any city I’ve ever been in. But the bingo hall is hushed. Players are concentrating on their bingo sheets and the caller’s voice.

I enjoy checking out the good luck totems people bring and set up around their bingo sheets. It reminds me of when I travel. I like to carry favorite stones and crystals with me and set them up in my hotel room or condo. I usually have nag champa incense with me, too, and if I get a chance to buy cut flowers, I’ll add those. I don’t know why I started doing this, but it always makes me feel safer and happier in an unfamiliar place. When I did it on my first visit to New York, it made the hotel housekeepers smile at me and ask me questions. In countries like Bali, my friend Tandy tells me, hoteliers and innkeepers actually do this for their guests–leave little iconic gifts with fresh flowers in their rooms.

So I totally get why bingo players like to arrange their little space with their lucky charms, their dabbers, their ashtray–everything just so. I was sitting at my computer today when I suddenly realized that in my busy-ness, I’ve kind of let things collect on my desk. Though these things have no particular significance to me, I told Tom I feel like a bingo player.

I hope I win.


Stress ball from Tom, Happy Meal doll, champagne cork from New Year’s Eve, bookmark from our niece.

Musing

We are so close to finishing TJB5 that it’s making me crazy. I want to be finished, and I’m sure when I say goodbye to it, I’ll be relieved. The past has taught me, however, that some of the most difficult writing experiences are the ones that linger in my heart, that I don’t want to let go of. Maybe it’s because in the final analysis, all their difficulty means there was more of me invested in them.

Although I can’t honestly say that any of the novels I’ve written or helped write are less meaningful to me than any of the others. I think one of the easiest books–for ME, not necessarily for all of my writing partners–was HE’S THE ONE. It was written after 9/11, but it covered a time in NYC before 9/11. As much as I fell for Adam, its narrator, my real love affair in that novel (and this, I think, is also true of my writing partners and of Adam) was with New York City. Which is why we dedicated our book to the city.

HE’S THE ONE was a fairly uncomplicated love story and remains a novel we get a lot of reader mail about, even though it’s four years old. Almost all of that mail is positive. However, some people say it contains too many coincidences, and others say Adam just has things too easy. I say that coincidences are the magic of life and don’t have to be ignored in fiction, and Adam works hard for everything he has. If it seems effortless, it may be because Adam’s not a whiner and doesn’t focus on the negative.

I needed Adam when he came to us. In fact, there are times even now when I need a boost that I’ll daydream about Adam and what’s going on in his life. I know he’s happy, because Adam seeks and savors happiness. I adore him.

HE’S THE ONE will also always make me remember a reader who came to our signing for the novel and quietly shared the story of his lover, who had died, with Tim and me while our writing partners were signing for some other readers. I still cry when I think of that gentleman, and the memory that our novel touched him has gotten me through some moments when harsher critics made me second-guess my writing ability.

Last night I was looking at the web site of another author who was talking about one of her muses, a poet. Although I would not necessarily be inspired by that particular poet, I loved that she is. I loved the way she spoke of him and his work and what it meant to her. I felt for her when she said she was a little insecure about saying he was her muse because other people might not find her muse worthy. Bah, I say to that. Inspiration is always a gift, whether that inspiration is a wonderful or horrible experience, a great or mediocre artist, an enemy or friend, a lover or someone unobtainable.

What or who is your muse? What fires your creativity? Treasure it.

Riley and me

Riley and I started being friends when I was 14. Several shared interests brought us together, among them The Hobbit, that we both thought of ourselves as writers, and our love of music. In Riley’s case, he actually was a musician who could play any instrument he picked up. He didn’t have the greatest singing voice in the world, but that was okay, because after all, didn’t we love Bob Dylan?
Continue reading “Riley and me”

Spring and Change

It’s the first day of spring and I just saw a yellow butterfly. It’s not the first butterfly I’ve seen this year, but still, I’ll take it as a good omen. I’ll take all the good omens I can get.

One time (at band camp) at Baba Yega’s, one of my favorite Montrose eateries, I shared my lunch with a butterfly. It landed on a piece of melon and stayed with me, drinking, for nearly half an hour. Better than watching the Discovery channel!

I recently went to Baba Yega’s for the first time in quite a while. I remember when it was a dumpy little place with great food. Then there was a kitchen fire and they renovated, and it was nicer and still had great food.

One of its best features was the garden. A rock fountain, pond, exotic birds, tons of beautiful water flowers surrounded by other flowering plants always in bloom… It was great to eat a relaxed lunch, wander through the garden and talk to the birds, then exit through Wild Earth, their metaphysical shop, which was a source for the essential oils, herbs, and stones and crystals I use in my bodywork and energy work practice.

It’s changed again. Wild Earth is gone. I guess they’re expanding an express feature of the restaurant into that space. The birds are gone. When I was there, the doors to the garden were closed. I don’t know if that was because of the cool weather or if lingering in the garden is no longer encouraged.

The food is still fine, but it’s not as much fun–nor does the brisker pace encourage you–to watch the clientele. The patrons could be picked up and set down in any suburban Bennigan’s or TGI Friday’s and blend into the unauthentic decor. Yet another Montrose establishment adapting to the changes of the last ten years. I miss the grittier, edgier Baba Yega’s…and Montrose.