Results tagged "Water"

While I was parked at the beach yesterday — staring out at the water from my car, Josephine sleeping in the back seat and only minutes before I had to leave to pick Will up from school, I took a deep breath and thanked the universe for making us all healthy again. I then glanced at the time, took a sip of my coffee and sighed that it was time to pull away from the solitary bliss when I took one last look at the ocean. I was alone, and that’s when it happened. A whale rose from the water and then crashed back down right in front of me.

And it was huge. It was just in from the horizon line, a few miles out — so not exactly right in front of me… but not far. My eyelids peeled back — I felt a little faint… I looked all around. I got out of the car and squinted at the water — yes – there were waves from a  crash landing — and bumps in the general area where the whale disappeared into the water. My heart pounding. I couldn’t believe what I saw — AND, unless there was someone else out on the beach seeing the same thing, I was completely alone to witness this performance. There wasn’t time to even think about taking a picture, locking the event in time. There wasn’t even time to think about anything.

People might see whales everyday, but I certainly don’t… Especially when one isn’t looking for them, and for me this was the first time.

I once knew a man that, upon my saying that I liked sunflowers, replied with “That’s it. I’m gonna build you a field of em’… riteovahdare….For you, my dear — anyting.”

And, although I was completely aware of the fact that the field of sunflowers really wasn’t for me… That he had planned it way before my acquaintance AND had done so simply in order to appease the neighbors that were complaining about the million dollar homes he was building next door. But the idea that the field was ‘for me’ sat so sweet in my mind that I let it stay… even though the field was entirely ‘for him’… until letting it go a long time ago… And when I see sunflowers, I think about him saying that to me for a brief millionth of a second… laughing to myself about how I knew, but didn’t care about the fact that he was lying to me.

Because who has time to deal with people that are lying to you about sunflowers?

(I know, I hear you… DEEP, right? Just where do I come up with these nuggets of eloquence and enlightenment? Well — despite being completely confused all week for really no reason at all, yesterday was in fact Thursday — even though I thought it was Monday…. Like what did I think was going on with Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday? I feel like a weeble wabble. A few projects landed on my desk, which I’ve been diligent on — along with the other assorted things… brooches, spatulas… Will starts school this coming Monday, so I spent a great deal of my days this week dealing with Montessori Parental Intimidation, which I believe is the new high school musical… Add on top of that getting the proper gear lined up for munchkin soccer starting tomorrow… while thinking about what defines the soccer mom and how to avoid any and all recognition there-of… And, of course, even deeper than that is my concern over my hair and how to handle THAT situation… at least I have my priorities in check.)

I was going to write this post about how a good friend commented on how ‘great I am at cooking for kids’, to which I very strangely became self-conscious and immediately organized two consecutive nights of grown-up dinner parties… And house guests arriving tomorrow to stay until Thursday… Because I can’t help but think that I MUST be good at other stuff too, and OBVIOUSLY her comment was insinuating that I was BAD at everything else. But then I threw that idea out with the bath water (sans enormous toddler-baby) because, whatever — just who am I trying to prove anything to, hmmm? Martha?

But then I went ahead and made kid friendly allergen free wheat bread anyway… Because not only am I slowly defining narcissism — but the only reason those allergens were ever in the store bought bread to begin with was all about shelf life…

She’s still following me.

And this has officially become nothing short of an obsession.

Martha Stewart is still following me on Twitter, and I’ve had a few days to let this sink in… And when I say sink in, I mean SHAMWOW–Trust me, you’ll say WOW Every Time! And I’m still tracing through the wires of the Internet to try and find out why. I mean, yes. There is Will’s Kitchen, which is a stand alone obvious — THAT’S WHY, but I can’t wrap my head around the layers of circumstances that may have led Martha (because we are on a first name basis, obviously) to my Twitter account. So, what happens when she stops following me? What happens when Twitter ends? Do we all go running over to Facebook, banging on the doors… screaming for answers? Do we clamor over the, nicely manicured (mind you) garden fence to peek inside the windows into someone else’s life and existence, just like the old days? What is she DOING NOW? But then I digress and gaze over the new paint colors that Martha just released at Home Depot and sip my hot water with lemon, thinking about what Will wants to cook next — and just why is Martha Stewart following me?    

I was at the library the other day multitasking.
Because that’s what libraries are for, right?

Writing recipes, looking for design inspiration while simultaneously reading TITANIC TRUCKS to the boy running through the stacked aisles. I was beginning to think that a vacation might be something to consider when all of the sudden books started screaming and jumping off the shelves — dangerously missing my head… I grabbed Will and dove under the nearest table. The piles of books surrounded us as one manuscript fell open at my knees… it was Poe, “I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.” It was then that I realized that something needed to be done immediately… Because I have reached the final point, and this is it. I am dangerously approaching the end of my blogging quota.

Visualize this to be like filling a water balloon to capacity or eating copious amounts of McDonald’s like this guy did a few years ago… only to result in weight gain, heart disease, ulcers and bad skin…. because what did he think was going to happen? I wonder if he wishes that he could go back and undo — kind of like going back and picking through – deleting the bad blog posts while copying and saving the good ones for republishing possibilities… revitalizing the QUOTA. But oh the HUMANITY.

I started For the Birds on August 22, 2008. It was a slow start… and, although I never intended for this blog to turn into what it is now… it has been a journey like no other… similar to swimming across the Atlantic or leaving the space shuttle mid-universe to test out that gravity theory… floating aimlessly into DEEP SPACE. And if you know what this blog is about, then you’re a hair-slight more genius than I, because I lost track a LOOOONG time ago. But I am missing the point.

What I am trying to inch out there is that I am now starting the tedious task of going back, judging myself and then deciding who gets to stay and who gets to go hang out at the pearly gates of archival heaven. But what do you think? If you are here, reading this right now — If you wouldn’t mind turning time off for a few minutes and letting me know if there are any posts that must stay live… Because beyond self-inflicted torture, I am my own souvenir. And I’m sure that isn’t the first time I’ve said that.   

I freaked a few people out yesterday — check out Dufmanno’s comment:

“Okay, that looks like the Native American Dorian Grey. Did this trip
involve a visit from the guys from Paranormal State, a cleansing ritual
and a mess of people apologizing for the colonization of the Americas?
I am worried for you and the family.”

The answer is no, she’s just a Native American that someone painted on the wall… you know, that urge to paint women randomly on bedroom walls… right? Although I did ask out loud about how many ghosts we were waking up… I was immediately told to stop acting weird.

A few years ago my husband and I came upon the rare opportunity to purchase a house that has been in his family since 1913. And when I say “been in his family” that’s what I mean because no one outside of the family has ever lived in it. Built by the Great Grandfather himself, and cared for by family and neighbors just STEEPED in tradition and history. So much so that I almost needed a spiritual reckoning before stepping foot over the town lines. These were and are amazing people filled with such goodness that you wonder just what is in the water… then they compliment you and do something else nice and you realize that it must be the soil… Then the snow melts and the flowers pop and smile… Even the rain is happy. It took me a long time to realize that these were really genuinely nice people — they didn’t want anything from me… They weren’t out to get me. In fact, if you can believe this, it was actually ME that was the weirdo with that sarcasm and pocket full of kryptonite… who knew?

So anyway. A few years ago my husband and I came upon this opportunity and we took it. We bought Pop’s house after he passed away. We bought it with the intentions of fixing it up and renting it out and then of course using it over holidays–AND we did this despite the fact that we live 4 hours away from it… And then it sat. We thought about it a few times over the years… paid it a few visits… even rented it out to those that didn’t mind it’s condition. It sat there waiting for us… settling into being the house that SOMETHING was eventually going to happen to. Life took over… until last Monday (one week ago) we decided to do something about it…This is just the beginning… we have tons of work to do.
  

Guest Bird #7  – Sylvia

If you’re not familiar with Palm Springs weather, check out last month’s warm temperatures!
 
Water has always been an important theme in the Palm Springs area, for the beauty as well as the cooling effect.  At last count, there were said to be over 30,000 swimming pools in the Coachella Valley.  I have chosen the most interesting residential pools to share with you…

Bob Hope’s pool and 17,531 sq. ft. house!  (1)

Elrod House pool  (2)

When viewing the photos below, please hover your mouse over the word “Notes” on the lower right side, so that you’ll be able to see the descriptions!

(1)  1979 Bob Hope House (John Lautner) photograph by Julius Shulman & Jurgen Nogai, 2007
 
(2)  1968 Elrod House (John Lautner) photograph by Julius Shulman & Jurgen Nogai, 2007
 
(3)  Palm Springs Modern p. 40

I get a lot of email. Tons.

I get so much email that I sometimes miss out on really good stuff. Then I have to turn around and apologize to the sender when the over looked email is discovered. For example, The Main Street Mile is this Monday (October 11, 8:30am Main Street, Southampton) and the son of a great friend is running in it – Dylan. The Main Street Mile is a one-mile competitive run and non competitive friendship walk from Jobs and Main to The Southampton Bathing Corporation. Open to all ages and fitness levels, this family friendly event will benefit Best Buddies, an organization dedicated to fostering friendships between developmentally disabled individuals and their typically developing peers. Founded in 1989 by Anthony Kennedy Shriver, Best Buddies positively impacts more than 350,000 people every year, both within the Unites States and Internationally. Please click here to support Dylan and Best Buddies International.

I almost missed this notification and it is important to me. I almost missed this because I only have a few hours a day to do actual work and in the midst of this I try to check email. Yes, I can check email on my iphone too, but the iphone in all of it’s glory is not a keyboard and makes me feel like I have HUGE FINGERTIPS so I hate writing back on the it unless its just a few words… Like… “How Much?” or “NO”. I wish there was a way to control email above and beyond the spam and junk filters.. Wouldn’t it be great, for instance, if emails had associated scents — that way we could utilize another one of our senses before opening… case in point – an email from my Mom would smell like Chanel °5 while an email such as this would smell like bong water:

Thanks for trusting me Mr. Peter Lee.

This blog generates a great deal of email… There are the SEO Promisers; the Get Rich Quickers; the Suggesters, and the Commentors. I quite enjoy the comments, excluding the haters of course (why so angry, this is only a bloggedy blog!) and only recently was made aware of the importance of publishing them–I used to keep them secret…I’d respond, but I would hold onto them, rereading and then eventually deleting. Like a mouse collecting crumbs–weird, right? Those days are over, I’ve stopped acting like a rodent and I apologize if I deleted you. Publishing the comments, however, does not solve the issue of the amount of emails that I receive, and to avoid publishing hate mail, I prefer to approve comments before making them live. If you are here – and you’ve commented, and now you are sitting in my inbox somewhere feeling ignored–I will find you… it just might take a little while — especially with the arrival of Mr. Peter Lee’s new offer…of which I need to give SERIOUS AND POSITIVE CONSIDERATION.

Throwback Post: Would You Please Stop the God-damned Hammering!?

This is a follow up to a post made almost exactly one year ago… NOTHING HAS CHANGED.

We live very close to the Peconic Bay and there are ponds near our property that feed off of this Bay. In the ponds we are neighbors to lovely swan families that we follow and watch with love and fear combined… they tend to have anger-management issues. Also along these ponds runs a public road which people treat almost as a park–bike riders, fishing families, walkers… birders all enjoy the road as it winds away from Shinnecock Hills and into the Bay. It is quite lovely which is why it makes me so angry to state the obvious.. PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE SWANS.

Almost every fair weathered morning for the past few years a car (black station wagon Volvo) has pulled up along side of the pond behind our house. The woman driving the vehicle honks her horn upon arrival. When she does this, swans kick their webbed feet into high gear and float to her as fast as possible. With this, she throws her leg over the divider, walks to the edge of the water and DUMPS A BUCKET OF CORN. 

I have fought myself on this situation for a very long time. The corn is not only bad for the Swans, but it has caused a major upset in the natural Audubon order of things… The Swans have become die-hard territorial about her feedings and have actually KILLED OTHER SWANS (4 to be exact) in an effort to remain somewhat DOMESTICATED. I know I said anger-management issues, but this is actually quite a normal reaction for any kind of animal being treated like a pet. 

Now – this is my problem. I can either throw all “respect your elders” caution to the wind and go “speak” to this woman… Or I can continue to spy from the other side of the pond saying DON’T FEED THE SWANS under my breathe while my blood boils.. Or – I can leave a note on her car while she continues on her walk to probably feed other wild creatures… OR I can grab a can of spray paint and … A year has passed and I still can’t deal… Please please please -  DO NOT FEED THE SWANS. 

The economy.
Need I say more?
Perhaps not, but I will anyway… Our financial system is falling apart and beyoooond depressing. On the one hand – yes, keep the factories open… on the other hand… isn’t it all thier fault anyway? Personally, I have a great deal to be happy about… our son is the happiest one year old possible, we are all healthy… still sustaining amid daily woes and headlines. We laugh a lot. We are still planning to buy a tree… still going to celebrate. It is hard though.. to keep one’s chin up.. think positively… wake up saying “This is going to be a GREAAT DAY!”… but we try.

Yesterday the Blood Oranges were spotted at Schmidt’s. This is something that I wait for every year (admittedly weird, I know). I saw them through the corner of my eye… wandered around the store thinking about them… shopped in stalker mode… then approached. I reached my hand into the basket, mouth beginning to water… then I saw it. $3.00 an orange.

There are some things that I just can’t do.