so

so darlings... how was it? how was your holiday time? how was your weekend? i hope it was delicious and sweet. here with music and working. mentioned to a friend that there are a number of things that i love that i want to be intentional about giving them the attention and care they need and deserve. if i do as i can i'll be sweeter for it, i promise you...

i miss you. i look forward to meeting with you again. i'll see you especially soon at your blog home... cause i'm comin' over...

hugs!!

bon appétit

when i was a little girl i liked to sit on the counter in the kitchen while folks were around cooking and chatting. my mom used to say to me "i don't understand why you have to put your butt on my counter." another thing i liked doing was eating the food out of the pot as soon as my mom finished cooking. i didn't want to wait for it to be served. my mom would just look at me and laugh. for some reason food tastes better to me out of the pot, chinese food tastes better out of the carton, beer tastes better out of the bottle, and ice cream tasted better spooned right out of it's container... this thanksgiving, have a wonderful day no matter how you choose to spend it or how you choose to eat your goodies... bon appétit!

a girl walks into a cafe

as is the norm in edinburgh, the night was cool, without a second thought she ducked into a cafe for a sip of something that would bring warmth. just so happened at this cafe royal the architecture, decor, soft jazz piped in created an atmosphere of warmth most needed.

she'd think about him later and what had just happened. just tired of obsessing over the matter, best to forget it for now. at least that's what feels better. and should the obsession persist, she could take up pining over him again, when exiting this luscious cafe. all on hold now, and breathing a bit deeper already.

"hi there, what can i get you?" the bartender asks, a pretty girl in a black cotton fitted just above the knee dress, her hair done up in a messy bun, red lipstick, pearl earrings... the only thing missing to complete this sixties fashion ensemble would be a nice pair of kitten heel pumps, which she hoped to goodness that she was not wearing. it would be hell on the feet for this kind of work. she had an eye for these kinds of things, fashion, classic style, perhaps because she loved it so, it always caught her eye and captured her heart.

"i'll have a scotch neat." does that even exist as a drink? she thought she'd heard it somewhere, perhaps in an old film, in a scene very much like this one, an old cafe, gorgeous decor, the lost and troubled girl walks up to a bar in edinburgh. thing is, she knew nothing about whisky or scotch, so what was she going to say? let's see what it looks like and tastes like when the pretty bartender returns. a strong drink should help her forget, at least for the moment...

image from kampoll Litkanjanakul @kampoll.com

eye candy

joseph fiennes

jesse williams

last night i found myself with tea in hand in me pjs watching joseph fiennes in the television series fast forward, and then watching jesse williams in grey's anatomy. while there, it came over me, these are some gorgeous men... eye candy. the gift of beauty...

the weekend is just about here, sweet You! i'm going to do one of my favorite things, that is to go to the metropolitan museum tonight, friday night. the point is, no one goes to the museum on friday night, and i like it that way. it's as if myself and a few others have the whole museum to ourselves. it's quiet there, and i walk around luxuriating in the fine art pieces.

a friend is having a birthday celebration as well... what a wonderful way to have a festive evening filled with delicious food and intoxicating drink just after having my cultural fill at the museum.

I hope you will have a sweet weekend, i appreciate the way you've made this week, many weeks really, quite special with your presence...

bises mon amies!

as best we can...

for some reason i am thinking of a few moments... the first one comes to mind, it was the september of the world trade center bombings, i was sitting on the grass on the sheep's meadow in central park. a young man came up to me and began talking to me. he said that he and a group of young people had come to new york to pray with new yorkers in light of the tragic happenings of september eleventh. you know me... i thought how sweet. i asked him how it was going...

he was curious about my background. he asked if i went to church. i explained to him how i had always been attracted to church. really. i remember as a little girl, maybe i was three or four years old, asking my mother if i could go to church. on the city block where we lived there were two churches. one directly across the street from our house, and the other, down at the corner at the end of the block.

i remember my mom dressing me for church that morning in my pretty little dress, white socks turned down at the ankle and patent leather mary janes. she held me by the hand, walked me across the street (it was a small street) and told me before going into the church alone to have someone cross me back across the street and come on home afterwards. and i did. the first time, that i remember, going to church was alone when i was about four years old.

the trappist monk thomas merton, who was also an artist and poet, writes about how churches in new york are a kind of oasis, a cool quiet place to sneak into to escape the chaos of the busy city. i always remember this when ducking into a quiet sanctuary.

when i shared this story with the young guy who had come to new york to pray, he looked at me and said... so you are called. i'd never thought of my love for a contemplative life of prayer which includes the wisdom of eastern philosphy, and my love of writing that inspires, as a calling, but there you have it.

i just think of these little instances when i was seemingly too little to know... when i think and wonder what this guy could seemingly see that i had not. i get to wondering if i've had a kind of angel with me always, not only leading me into seemingly unfamiliar places and spaces, but looking after me in difficult moments as well.

i remember as a little girl too, i/we must have been about four years old. this was when parents could let their children go out to play seemingly without a care. we were a group of girls. i remember, there were about five of us. and i can see his apartment door now in my mind. he lived on the first floor of a six story building. the buildings on our block had big lobbys and we would play inside them, and too go outside to play on the sidewalks. lots of room for play! this man on the first floor used to invite the little girls inside his apartment and give them a quarter to touch them. i know, horrible.

i have no idea why, but i never went in. i would wait for the girls outside the apartment. i remember them coming out to show me their quarters. we would all wait there until we were all together again and then go on with our playing down the street. to this day i have no idea why i never went inside that man's apartment. i never was even tempted. i also don't know why we didn't tell our parents.

just thinking that sad things happen in life...and we do our best to keep on keeping on.
not sure why this story came to mind today. maybe it has a bit to do with feeling light blue, and remembering how even when we don't have that perfect slant of light, perfect upbringing, or when freaking planes fly into buildings, we still find a way to keep on as best we can...

light blue

rainy today
i'm kinda looking forward to the rain
not really blue, kinda light blue
good music on
the day before me with the stuff that needs to be done
looking forward to doing the stuff that needs to be done
work
writing
laundry? (tomorrow i think)
deep thoughts about the meaning of life
hope a nice story emerges
want to look in a pretty picture magazine
should write at least 2 sentences in french, get back to studying again...

who cares really, just mapping the day out for myself.

are you well?

sending love...

work it out

hello dear You, just checking in... I wonder what you are up to today? I'm wondering what you've got on your plate. This past Sunday while out in the early morning warmness I stopped in a cafe for a nice steamy cup of tea and a nice read. the weather was very warm, warm enough to sit outside. I found a little table in a corner on the outdoor terrace and watched gleefully as folks were beginning their day the morning after saturday night. It was wonderful. Some folks sat with the Sunday morning paper, some sat with their babies in their lap, lost in baby sweetness, there were a few soft punkers. I say soft because their way of dressing in all black, including black hair and black sunglasses was quite stylish, not rock and roll hard. friends met for brunch. a bunch of girls stood in a circle in the middle of the side walk talking for a long time. about what, i don't know, but you can be sure I wanted to. there were some student journalists (they appeared to be) on assignment in front of a camera on another corner, practicing their presentations. perhaps one day i shall see them on television. some students sat with their books and lessons for studying. and some folks just popped in for a quick moment to grab a cup of coffee and were on their way walking off into the sunset.

busy with Sunday morning, slow and easy, or on the go in the midst of the warm sunshine for a sweet walk...

i'm just here putting 2 and 2 together in efforts to do what needs to be done, as i am sure you are too as well.

good luck with working it out, and i hope you have a wonderful day...

p.s. i have no idea where i found this picture. i just think it is such a gorgeous workspace... i can see myself there...

love

for some reason i thought if i were to become a mother i would be very much like the mother in gilmore girls. not sure why i think that, but there it is. maybe it has something to do with trying to figure out where to draw the line between mom and friend, because i'd want both. i'd love to be both a loving mother and friend to my daughter.

i used to love love love watching gilmore girls on television. i suppose it has something to do with a loving and fun mother who is a friend. another big part of it is that they live in a small town where everyone knows one another, it's pretty there with pretty homes and a town diner where you can pop in and have your favorite pancakes and a nice cup of hot tea with milk. and too when you walk in they're glad to see you and they say so.

i'd sit and watch gilmore girls and think, yup, that's a place i would like to live.

but i guess it really depends on your story right? i know folks who grew up in small towns and they let me know bluntly that it's not all pretty and cosy as it seems. no? i ask, bewildered...

that's the thing though i am discovering these days. i can imagine all sorts of lovely and cutsy things about places and beings, and then when you step out into the real world, you run smack dab into folks who lend out ugliness and pain in a heartbeat... it's part of our reality.

i mentioned in a comment once that when given the opportunity to look at evil, i'd rather go in the other direction, and i still would rather do so.

still there comes a time when we must be grownups and open our eyes to the hurts and injustices, small and not so small, that there is.

that's all i want to say really. i can go on and on in a story or on a subject and come to a point, i'd like to think. but here right now, that's all i want to say really.

i've had my share of heartbreak, and that does not only mean matters of the heart. there's been stuff with family and enviornment, situations that break the heart and stunt one's growth. when people know my full story they say... how did you make it out? i tell them i fell through the cracks. there have been the right people in the right places at the right time who stretched forth a hand and helped me out. and that still happens. you, dear reader do that for me as well.

i think that is why i go on and on here about writing and wanting to lend a hand. i know how important it is, how it can touch a person's life in the most beautiful ways. and i love returning a favor.

i think in a way this space, lair du temps, is so dreamy cause it's a place for me to indulge the butterflies of my imaginings, and too, to lend some sweetness to our complicated existence...

say you're one of them

i had the privilege of meeting the author of the book say you're one of them. it was a sweet and simple encounter. as an alumni i received an invitation to a talk and signing by the author at my university. i had no interest in reading the book simply because i imagined the stories to be heartbreaking even if they are brilliantly written. and i wanted to spare meself the pain as i can be sensitive. but a talk and discussion with the author i can handle, so i went. it was quite sweet.

uwem akpan is a catholic priest of the Jesuit order, born and living in Nigeria. he spoke of imagined stories that he has written from the perspective of african children. apparently the stories are beautiful and heartbreaking, all at the same time. i may let myself read them.

the writer is quite warm and engaging as a bunch of us spent some time talking together. i appreciated what he shared as well as his presence. i also appreciated his discussion of balancing his call to the priesthood as well as his call to writing. he says he can imagine and invent characters on a page, but the characters in real life want and need care and attention too, and this cannot wait. so he endeavors to care and love as best he can in both worlds.

i mentioned that there is some stuff in the air and indeed there continues to be. dear reader, you cannot imagine how many opportunities i have run from and therefore missed in my life. to give you an idea, when i was in my twenties i was hired to model a bridal gown for the the cover of bride magazine. in my fear i did not call back right away to accept the assignment and this gig was given to someone else. because of my fear and issues with self esteem i have shied away from many opportunities. i know now that much of this could not be helped. there was much that needed to be healed... and better and stronger now, i truly feel like i am on my way. sometime i slip and want to run and hide, and sometimes i do, but i don't let myself do so for long before i must come back.

there at the discussion with uwem akpan, i listened closely and shared my thoughts and ideas as best i could. at the end of the discussion the author walked right up to me, introduced himself and we shared some words. i did not run and i did not hide. forgive me if i am proud of myself.

via email i have been sufficiently told off by a friend who tells me that he cannot get in touch with me and how unfair it all is. true. but i've meant no harm, these last days have been full in the most blessed way. i have been meeting an abundance of folks that are so in line with my heart's dream of being a writer that inspires. what started me on my journey for inspirational writing are the teachings of thomas merton. a catholic monk who's heart was not closed to the wisdom and teachings of eastern thought. in fact, he was friends with the dalai lama. though i am not catholic, nor of eastern persuasion (is that a term?), my heart and mind (in the east they are one) is always open to wisdom... well the other day i received another invitation to attend a talk which was given by a priest who is the priest of the catholic church of the monk that helped to set me on my writing journey. in this talk i learned a mountain of stuff about the writer who inspires me; his beatnik wanderings around manhattan as an academic, poet, writer, and artist. his time lived abroad in france and england, as well as his commitment to the trappist monastery. i was reminded of my love of sharing stories and ideas that touch the heart and lend comfort. i spoke with the teacher afterwards and he handed me his card with email so that we can make a date to sit down and talk about my call to writing.

yesterday my heart broke in the best way. i tell you the truth, the other writer who i admired, marianne williamson, was teaching at a beautiful chapel on 5th avenue. the very 5th avenue that houses tiffany's and armani... my kind of place! i was looking up a few things on the internet and ran into the information that she would be teaching a 1 day workshop here in the city. sweet! and yes, they tell me there is still space available to attend. so i go. i've read her books over the years, and though they are dreamy in a let's talk about miracles kind of way, i dig that kind of stuff. and i get to meet her. told you some stuff was in the air... the workshop was for 5 hours in a beautiful chapel on 5th avenue. she shared some good and helpful stuff in general, but in particular, when i paused during a break and talked myself into introducing myself, she was quite unkind and dismissive to me. i was heartbroken. maybe she's had enough of folk who admire her work and want to meet her. with that said i'm coming back around.

i was able to dip into my ownself and come up with some words of inspiration and encouragement in order to continue this journey. i am able to re-member something important, and i hope to remind you blog buddies, that if we do the stuff we love, we are on the right track. and if we do it and live it, things will begin to connect and unfold in ways that we have dreamed of or even better. and it won't look like anybody else's life or stuff, it will be tailor made especially for ourselves...

so, although she was unkind i was forced to remember that she is not the boss of me. and i remembered the stuff i love; writing, telling stories, yoga, learning languages, traveling and sweet kisses... if we do the stuff we love, it comes together in a way that sweetens our dreams and our lives... tell me, what do you love?

i learned too that sometimes stuff takes time, we may not get all our goodies when we ask for them or when we want them, sometimes it takes time, time for us to grow into them, or even time to realise that it's simply not what we need... time let's us know...

i shared a quote some time ago... and i still mean it... one who waits for something good, never waits too long. ~swedish proverb

when i last shared this quote i remember N. sharing about waiting, her waiting those nine months for her sweet baby to be born.

should i use a metaphor, that which we love takes time, and when we meet it, whether it is husband or wife, career or another dream... we hope and know with all our heart that timing says... now, you are ready...

the poet and writer rilke shares that we are to live the questions. and perhaps someday we will live ourselves into the very answers. when we are ready... that which we love... will fit like a kid glove; soft and lovely.

this post has been long. are you still with me? forgive me for going on, but i hope with sweet steamy cafe or tea in hand, it has been a meaningful read and worth your time. i'll be connecting with my friend who is mad at me for being away for too long. nice to have friends who miss us. and i shall be connecting again with you...

quelle heure est il?

been catching up on some stuff that needs to get done. and too i have been walking around thinking about how i need to be telling me little stories. how to get back into it? i thought this morning lets start slow and little... poco a poco...

there has always been a little encounter that i think of from time to time that still tickles me. was it in the eighties? there were advertisements for the movado watch, the museum watch. it's a sleek, stylish, sweet little thing. the thing that always caught my eye, as well, is it does not have any numbers on it... it's a part of what makes it so... cool.

well one day i was walking in manhattan and i asked a gentleman passing by for the time. this was when folks wore watches, now we just glance at our cell/mobile telephones. so i asked him for the time, and in midstep he glanced at his watch. i noticed right away it was a movado. i've always thought they were beautiful (and expensive) watches. so he tells me the time, it's 4pm. then he looks at me and i can see he is not sure, and then he says or is it 5pm? i look at him in wonder, and then he smiles and says shyly and sweetly it's a movado.

thing is i understood completely, the watch is lovely, but it's got no numbers on it, it's simply hard to tell. i also thought, all that money for a watch and you can't tell the time...

i must admit, if one were gifted to me, i would not give it back, it's so pretty, who cares what time it is...

...

aha, the weekend has snuck up on us again. do have a sweet weekend. what are you up to? and i see too i have some new visitors who have popped by because Angie may have mentioned that over here, i'm a dreamer... daydreaming is a sport for me and i try to string some words together to tell you about it. thanks so much for stopping by, and i shall drop in on you and see what you're all up to.

have a wonderful weekend and stay cosy... bises!!

alegria

ok. i'm on my way back. the guests have gone and i hope they had as nice a time as i did. can you imagine seeing nyc for the very first time? i love showing folks around too because it allows me to see the city through virgin eyes... and new perspectives...

walking across the brooklyn bridge
views at sunset atop the empire state building
ice skating at rockefeller center
strolls through central park on into the metropolitan museum of art...
dining and wine...

i'm sweetly tired. you know that feeling when you're exhausted after an exquisite time? i'm slowly recovering, the soothing comforts of tea, lisa ekdahl on the music box, sting concert tickets arrived yesterday, and missing you and wanting so much to get back to writing. when i am writing i feel at home.



dear blog friends, may i please say to you that something is in the air. after some years of deep introspection, quiet and aloneness, my spirit speaks to me and tells me, that was a season and that season is ending. dare i embrace my gifts, all of them, and step out on life? in the past fear has kept me stuck, but now, though still fearful at times, i know as the writer Audre Lorde says, fear will not keep me safe. i am urged now to step out on life... work, home, joy, love, living!!

i feel like the little cracks in my heart are mending nicely, and we are ready to try again. i smile, i look and see, i listen and hear, i pray, breathe, and go slowly...

sending kisses to you...
can you believe there is already christmas stuff happening? i don't mind, i love it, the music, all the pretty sparkly colours and decor, cosy thoughts of festive gatherings and cheer... we've still got some time before the actual day, don't let yourself get overwhelmed with what you're 'supposed' to do, instead be taken over by all the stuff you love, and let the rest go...

until soon

i've got to finish the laundry, and showering will be beneficial before guests arrive for a long weekend... all the practical things that make life go...

i'll be away from here for a few days and i know now already that i will miss it. when i am writing i need to be alone, guess that's just how i roll... but if the house will be full, with merriment i hope, it will be difficult to steal away and write a bit.

i'm strategizing, thinking still if i don't have privacy to write these next coming days, that maybe i can steal a few moments in the morning, before the house is stirring and write some lines in my journal...

we'll see how it goes...

i wonder why i felt like posting the above picture, i think some how it captures how i'm feeling, quite pretty these days (unusual for me) and quiet and thought~full, and pensive. i think my excitment doesn't show, but in my quietness i am thinking of lots of pretty things that need my care and attention, and trying to give myself the permission to enjoy deeply, that is to let go... and let inside a kind of loveliness knocking on the door...

speaking of lovely, ...i'm thinking of you and i hope you will have a wonderful weekend!


bisou

the art of defense

the subconscious is a funny thing. the truth is, i walked into a karate studio and asked about beginning karate lessons. i was pretty strong in my conviction for needing to learn and know how to defend myself at that moment. this was some months ago. what surprises me now that the time has passed, is that i can see something more clearly now. that is, i was hanging around with someone that i found hurt me a lot by many of the things she said and did. i'd tell myself not to be so sensitive...

she moved away and the moment she left town i felt more at peace. that strong desire to take karate lessons dissapated, though i did not make the connection between wanting and needing to learn to defend myself and the time i spent with her.

she's an incredibly interesting and intelligent lady, i was always enthralled by what she had to say or the activities we'd plan for playing around the city. but she had a way of saying hurtful things, and i'd try and brush it off. still i found it strange when i walked into that karate studio that day.

it seems our hearts tell us what we wish to not believe with our minds...

who is Gordon Sumner?

i wrote a few lines in my journal this morning... they were these lines...

i'm no good this morning. i'm waiting for Sting tickets to go on sale at noon. i won't be any good to anyone until i have a chance to get tickets, and i hope i do...

....

this morning i could almost do nothing. i knew i would be no good, my mind would not be able to concentrate until i knew one way or the other if i could get tickets to see Sting. now a days with the price of concert tickets, i'm happy that i don't have a deep desire to see many musicians. there are only 2 persons i would pay to see at the prices that are asked of fans these days, that is Sade and the other is Sting.

i can still remember my introduction to Sting. it was quite vivid and quite sweet. there was a boy i liked. to this day i can't get over how cute he was. i guess i was about 19 or 20 years old, and we were in his apartment listening to music. he asked me if i liked Sting. I had no idea who or what that was, and i told him so. i didn't even know who The Police were. well, he put on the music of Sting and began to sing it to me. they were some of the most delicious and melodic sounds. while the music played on, this young man kissed me. i was a girl in heaven.

you know how we girls were, and still can be. i was telling all dreamily my best friend about this boy, how much i liked him, and how cute he was. it just so happened that while i was with her we kind of ran into him. she and i were on an up escalator and he was on the down escalator when he called out my name. i was in shock and said to my friend 'that's him, that's him!' she took one look at him and stumbled he was so cute. we too girls walked off dreamily after that encounter... there was something about him that was incredibly charming...

anywho, i have been a fan of the music of Sting for the richness of his lyrics, jazzlike tunes, and sincere performance for years now.

i did get tickets!!

getting tickets to a concert in nyc is a real workout. just to give you an idea, i have been sweating this deal for about a week now. tickets went on sale today at noon. i had my lap top primed and telephone on speed dial as i'd already entered the telephone number to dial up for tickets.

as soon as!! the clock struck noon i hit redial and began finding tickets on the website at the same time. upon getting through on the telephone and pressing enter on the computer, the show was sold out. really that is how it works, shows sell out in minutes. i begged the lady on the telephone to look again to see if there was anything. looking, she's telling me 'no, there is such a high demand for these shows, they sell out immediately.' then a hesitation, 'oh wait, i have these two tickets...' and whatever she said after that no longer registered for me... i said please book those... and she did and they are on the way.

why should you care about all of this? there is absolutely no reason why... only that you are kind enough to indulge me as i am a happy girl at the moment as i get to see Sting in december... in the height of all the christmas beauty and festiveness...

i just wanted to share this moment with you, maybe much like the moment i shared with my friend when i was mesmerized by that sweet boy's kiss...

dear you, have a sweet kissable day! i mean that!

p.s. Gordon Sumner is Sting's given name...

dear You

photo from 'woodleywonderworks

I was writing in response to your comments on my previous post titled girl daydreaming. my words kept flowing and i thought this is incredibly long yet i mean every word so i am posting it here...


Dear Angie, Susu, and La Belette Rouge, Red Lipstick Style, Nuria, and Hans... you may remember from some of my writings that I mentioned that I like to save (and savor) the too good things, things that seem too good to be true, like music i adore, sun dried tomatoes, the cutest boys... i like to run and hide.

well you have done it, you pop in on my blog and you read my stories and you share more than words of encouragement, you share care, loveliness, and attention! and i am feeling incredibly full and lifted up. so now that i have this wonderful feeling i'm ready to run and hide (from all the goodies), and i'm talking to myself, 'stay.' and i will, i will not self destruct, i will stay and write my way through (and further into!) this joy.

thank you for the care and attention you share. i have been sure to write in my journal these days, but i am working through returning here and writing. and i will, because it's too good not to. I really have been enjoying myself when i sit down to write here and share little stories with you. and you write back and tell me that they are good. and i believe you and i am getting more and more confidence.

so there are two things, okay three things i must know and do, that is to write when if feels blissfully wonderful like now, and the 2nd is to write, still when i am down and blue, and the 3rd is simply to write, no matter...

thank you with so much of my heart!