A New Decade

Here it is 2010 and I haven't written since April of last year. But it's a new decade. Woke up a little blue. What do I have planned for the new year? Nothing. But then I watched a youtube tutorial on art journaling and got my spirit back. Yesterday was filled with food (delicious: artichoke dip, horseradishy dip, tamale pie, Cowgirl Creamery cheese from Pt. Reyes, chocolate haystacks, lemon bars, potato chips, pita chips, triscuits, banana bread pudding...) and football: Rose Bowl & some of the Sugar Bowl, when I remembered that I left the sugar out of the banana bread pudding. Probably a good thing. Now I sit with a bowl of oatmeal and raisins and vow to eat nothing bad for me this day. I also vow to want what I have, do what I can and be who I am. Wise words of Forrest Church who died last year. He was a UU minister at All Souls Church in NYC. I first heard of him when Bill Moyers interviewed him 20 years ago, before I learned I was a UU. (Took a quiz on belief.net and scored 100% on UU and 97% liberal Quaker.) Luckily, when we moved to Roseville I stumbled upon the Sierra Foothills UU church in Auburn and have been driving up the hill ever since. Today I will do two pages in my journal, take a 45 minute walk and ponder all the ways I have been given just what I need.

Taking Off

Taking off again. We found a short sale condo, made an offer and it was accepted. So after a year in our new apartment, we're taking off again. This time, we'll only be moving 15 minutes away and our furniture will fit, because the new place is very much like the old place, only now we'll own it. Because we've been renters for several years, we'll be getting a tax credit and our monthly payment will be less than our present rent. Still, it's scary to be buying in this current economic environment.

The thing I'll miss about this place is how close it is to a wonderful walking trail. The trail is public so we can come back, but it will mean getting into the car instead of just walking out the door. We'll try to find the closest trails to our new home. I'm using the opportunity to get rid of even more clutter. We dropped four bags of clothes and books at the Goodwill yesterday and I don't miss them a bit.

Something I've noticed about living in Roseville is how many birds hang out here. It sounds like a Walt Disney movie. We have a pair of mourning doves outside our window and they flutter up from the ground and perch on the stone wall every time we walk by. I'm sure they must have a nest nearby. On our drive to the Placer Nature Center last week for a meeting, I spotted a beautiful peacock in a field. We're used to seeing flocks of wild turkeys but this was the first peacock spotting. I also saw a white seagull flying low over a field in Lincoln, a long way from the sea.

At the Farmers Market in Auburn Saturday, I saw an emu named Winston. Its owner raised it from a baby and he said the bird doesn't know she's a bird. He walks her on a leash. Her ears are towards the back of her head and they look like eyes, which protects it from predators.

So it's time for me to feather a new nest. Taking off again.

Catching Up With My Writing

It's been too long since I blogged and so much has happened. I've been coaxing my creativity in other ways and have made some big steps. I decided to volunteer at the High Hand Gallery in Loomis because it would help a friend whose husband exhibits there and because it would put me in contact with the work of 25 artists who belong to the co-op. I'm on a quest to get to know my new home, which is also an old home. We lived in Roseville 25 years ago when John was editor of the Press Tribune and I was lifestyles editor. We've been back about six months but it's a brand new city, having grown from 25,000 to 100,000 while we were away. So I have the surreal experience of sitting in a little cafe I used to go to but not knowing a single person.

The High Hand Gallery is located at the nursery of the same name in an old fruit-packing warehouse. It's high tin roof is open and on cold wintry days, it's warmer outside than in. The gallery has a space heater that we huddle around and I dress in many layers of clothing, including long underwear, when I volunteer. It will be warmer next winter because the owner is adding a new roof. One day I volunteered with an artist named Charlotte Cooper who works in copper and does encaustic painting. This involves painting with tinted beeswax that has been melted. Charlotte was offering a one-day workshop at the local learning exchange and I signed up.

The experience turned out to be a good way to meet some people and learn a new art. And we each walked away with a completed 12 x 12-inch painting, mine in shades of blue and red and looking like a cyclone swirling up from an ocean to a science fiction sky. I was thrilled with it.

On the way home, I had to stop by the blueline gallery in Roseville, which we had joined recently. I saw people carrying in paintings and sculptures. I discovered that they were bringing their works for the Member's Show called The Long and the Short of It. I asked about the deadline and learned I had one hour to get my piece in. I rushed home and filled out the form, named my painting "Life is Short" and wrote a pithy artist's statement.

I raced back with my entry fee and dropped off my painting with a mixture of fear and excitement. The next week we attended the opening reception and there was my offering on the wall with other members' interpretations on the theme. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be exhibiting at the High Hand Gallery.

Thoughts on Poverty

I was inspired to write this morning when I learned from a friend that people have been asked to blog today about poverty. What a great idea. With the current economic situation, many of us are looking at our finances with some concern, but most of us are probably not in danger of living in poverty. We most likely will have to make some changes, some sacrifices, some choices. Postponing or canceling vacations, putting off big purchases, eating out less. But in some countries, poverty means the people don't take vacations, buy a new washing machine or eat out at all. On the news last night, I saw a shocking picture of a store in Africa with empty shelves; there was no food to be bought.

On our walk yesterday, John and I were talking about one of the sweetest moments of our lives. It happened when we were visiting our daughter in the Peace Corps in Namibia (formerly Southwest Africa). She was a teacher and lived in a cement block home on a family compound located in an area called Ovamboland, just south of Angola. In fact, she and her friends went to an outdoor cafe on the border. She didn't tell me before we got there how close she was to Angola, where a civil war was going on and Unita rebels often crossed the border. There was also the threat of leftover land mines and diseases like elephantiasis, but we slept under mosquito netting and felt safe with her African family.

One night, after eating the goat prepared in our honor (the goat was slaughtered and butchered hanging from a tree outside Kara's house; I couldn't look) we sat around the fire that had been built under the incredible starry sky. This was a custom and took the place of watching television. During the daytime, the family sat under the spreading marula tree to try to catch a breeze. On this particular night, we chatted and often sat in silence, overwhelmed by the size and depth of the night sky, stars burning more brightly in the absence of electricity. We were all looking up when I noticed a star that seemed to be blinking and then I could see it was moving slowly across the vastness. The father said in a solemn voice, "The plane to Luanda." That was our moment. The one we took home from Africa. Such a simple statement and one we would never hear anywhere else.

That family might be considered to be living in poverty. But they had a well on their property which they shared with the neighborhood (a far-reaching neighborhood) and they had family around the fire on dark nights. They had the marula tree for their living room and the children played joyfully with old tires, sticks and toys made from coke cans. Being welcomed by them, because my daughter was their daughter, taught me a valuable lesson about money that I will never forget. Being rich is having children, grandchildren, good friends. Making a difference. Happiness is the plane to Luanda.

A Dozen Ideas to Unclutter Your Life

Here are some ideas I shared at another presentation I did for a friend's party in her back yard. She had hosted a wedding for 150 the day before and wanted to take advantage of the tiny lights in the trees to have another gathering. She is one very organized woman. After dinner, I shared these tips and got lots of good ideas from the guests about how they deal creatively with clutter.

1 Find a place for your keys (a hook, a bowl) and stick to using it.

2 Set a timer for 10 minutes, put on some music and start clearing clutter in one drawer or from one horizontal surface that collects things.

3 Do the "Two Bag Tango," (thanks, Peter Walsh). Walk around your home with two trash bags: one for trash, the other for anything that needs a new home -- to go to your favorite charity, to its rightful owner or to freecycle.org.

4 Get off junk mail lists (reduce your mail by up to 70%) and unsubscribe from newsletters you are not loving.

5 Follow the 2 minute rule: Do anything right away that will take less than 2 minutes.

6 Keep a box for items to discard and when it's full, put it in your car. Drop it off at a local thrift store.

7 Practice making quick decisions. Most clutter is delayed decisions.

8 Pause for a moment before you store something. Storing something means you don't intend to use it much.

9 Have a clear vision for what you want your life to look like and only keep things that fit that vision.

10 Get over your F.O.M.S. (Fear of Missing Something). There will always be more opportunities.

11 Question your 'shoulds.' You don't have to read every interesting thing that crosses your path.

12 Honor the stuff you love, need & want. If the stuff you accumulate isn't actively helping get you closer to a life you truly want, then it's getting in the way.

At The Beach

Bowman family reunions are always full of surprises and rituals. This one was no different. But it did have the added feature of bringing together John's half sisters and family and some of his children who had never met them. It's a long story, but John discovered when he was in his 60s that his mother (from whom he had been separated as a young boy and didn't find until six years ago just after her death) had remarried, moved to Florida and had three more daughters. One was living in his mother's home and another nearby. We have visited them several times since finding them and from them, we have learned everything we know about her life. We visited them again before heading for the reunion site in Destin, FL, and we watched home videos of some of her Christmases.

There were 13 Griffis family members who caravaned with us from MacClenny in Northern Florida to the resort town of Destin on the Gulf of Mexico. We had all rented cottages and son, J.J., and his family were located right by the pool. He said it was a shock to meet family that had thick Southern accents but everyone quickly bonded as we noticed the physical similarities between cousins from both sides of the family.

Then J.J. proposed we play Killer, a family traditon at reunions. The Griffis family jumped right in and pretty soon we were laughing with no accents as Abby, 6, killed someone with a wink and her brother, Colby, guessed she was the killer because she blushed. It was a great icebreaker.

We got to spend time with our grandson, Matthew, who is 2 and has cystic fibrosis. He's doing great and loved the attention and all the people crowded into the beach cottage. He also loved the beach and was fearless in the waves. The second day at the beach the red flag went up keeping us out of the water, and we started feeling the preview of the later storms. John got to play tennis with his sons and grandsons.

From Florida, I flew to Chicago for a college sorority reunion and I quickly was transported back to the days in the sorority house where 21 girls shared one bathroom and lived to tell about it. Everyone has arrived at a place in their lives where they are happy with what they have accomplished and still planning new adventures. We shared stories of the good old days and current family news. I led a round of songs which we remembered most of the words to.

It was a wonderful way to end the summer and now I'm back in Roseville getting ready for a party my friend is having for me to introduce Space for Grace to her friends. And it's time to hang the last pictures and assemble the dining room chairs we ordered from Pottery Barn. Feathering a new nest in a new life.

Gratitude for Grandchildren and Old Friends

I have much to be grateful for. The poison ivy is finally gone after three weeks and a steroid shot. I felt some camaraderie with my grandson, who also had to take prednisone, although for a much more serious reason, lymphoma. He just spent a week in the hospital with a very high fever for no explainable reason. All the bad things were ruled out and it was determined to be a virus that took a while to get out of his body due to a compromised immune system. The great news (and my number one gratitude) is that he's home from the hospital and has completed the nastiest of the chemo medicines and will now be entering maintenance mode. He's not out of the woods yet, but everyone is very hopeful.

On Friday, John & I drove from our new home in Roseville (taking a welcome break from the newsletter we're working on) to watch his younger brother so their dad could go back to work. We spent the first half hour with this active and very bright three-year-old sitting on my lap, emptying out my purse and finding a great deal of change, which we put into an envelope, as well as my frog key ring, tiny Buddha statue, lip gloss (which he applied to both my lips and his), earrings (which he put in my ears after taking off the ones I came with), and several pens, with which we wrote his name and Grandma. Some time was spent with my cell phone, I got quite a nice manicure with my emery board and we finished off with the small measuring tape I bring along on organizing jobs.

After that we listened to Star Wars music and mimed several battles. Watched a Netflix movie about a little boy named Diego who rescues his friends. Worn out, he fell asleep in Grandpa's lap while I checked e-mail to take care of a few newsletter details. Once he woke up and had a cup of hot chocolate, he invited me into his tent (a blanket) and we sat huddled together whispering secrets until his dad came home. It was exhausting but one of my favorite ways to spend an afternoon.

On Wednesday we'll be flying to a resort in Florida for a Bowman family reunion. About 22 members of the family will be arriving from Texas, Illinois, Tennessee, Florida, Indiana and California. We'll be swimming, playing tennis, listening to favorite songs compiled by son, JJ, and just enjoying each other's company.

From there, I will fly to Chicago for a reunion of my sorority sisters from Eastern Illinois University. Some I haven't seen in 40 years but I know we'll pick up right where we left off.