Day 362. No Biggie

3When I went to bed on Thursday night nothing felt different.  Same thing when I woke up yesterday morning.  I was meeting a former caribanacolleague for coffee, and my cleaning lady was coming, so I quickly packed up my computer and left for Starbucks.

Nothing unusual.

What was unusual, though, was how quiet it was in there.  At Starbucks.

It’s always crazy busy.  There was no line up of people waiting to order their coffee.  No crowd waiting for their lattes and cappuccinos and breakfast sandwiches and bagels to be made.  You could have your pick of seats.  In fact, there were only a couple of people in there.

Surprised, I checked my watch.  It was 9:15.  I’ve been in there much earlier and it’s been a struggle to find Continue reading

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Day 60. A Milestone

It’s been two months, since I first had the crazy idea of attempting to write something new, every day, for a year.  Sixty days.  Sixty stories.  Sixty different topics.  Six hundred and twenty-one tags.  Forty-four thousand, seven hundred nineteen words.

And sixty grande Pike’s to keep me going.

Damn!  That’s half a novel’s worth of work.  That’s one mother load of a blog.  And I’m not even close to being done.  Done in, occasionally.  But not done.  I’ve written on more subjects I could ever have imagined, from aging to atoning.  From beauty to books.  The Caribbean to cycles.  Distractions.  Entertainment.  And fantasies.

On googling.  Health and history.  From ignorance to intentions.  Joy and love.  From mischief to  music and naturopathy.  Politics and prejudice.  Refining to rituals.   Continue reading

Day 56. Lazy Bones

There was so much I’d planned to do yesterday.   

I was going to attack the paperwork.  Clean out all my files.  Get rid of all the newspaper and magazine clippings I was saving, for one reason or another.  Shred the piles of paid bills, invoices, old receipts, etc. that shouldn’t just be thrown out.  Didn’t get done.  I was going to go through my closets and drawers.  Make piles of what would stay and what would go.  Re-organize, so fall and winter clothes and shoes were more easily accessible.  Didn’t get done.

Then there was the soup I was going to make.  My mother’s chicken soup.  I already have the noodles, celery, carrots, green pepper, onion and parsnips.  All I had to do was pick up some fresh dill and the chicken.  Didn’t get done.  When I first made the list of Sunday chores, I also thought I’d reward myself, by going to a movie at the end of the day.  Even Continue reading

Day 20. Love Sundays

When you freelance, like I do, weekends don’t seem to take on the same importance as they do when you have a full time job.

As long as I make my deadlines, I can do all the chores usually reserved for Saturdays and Sundays, any day of the week I please.  As long as I make all my deadlines, I can go for a walk, do pilates, visit with a friend, have a manicure or read a book at any time during the day.  Unless I have a client meeting, I never have to ‘dress for success’.  I can work in jeans, sweats and, for that matter, my jammies.  But despite all the freedom I have, I do look forward to Sundays; and my delivery of the Sunday New York Times.

My parents had it delivered, so it’s a ‘ritual’ I grew up with.

In winter, when I become a recluse, there’s nothing I like better than collecting it from the mat outside my door and getting back into bed — where I stay for hours — with a huge mug of tea (don’t make coffee at home) and the entire newspaper, spread out all around me.  Not the easiest thing to do when you have cats, mind you.  They don’t like being ignored — even when they’re ignoring Continue reading