OCTOBER 2015 Y'ALL
Where has the time gone kids? I look up and no longer have to wear my cotton bike shorts under my dresses to keep my hot sweaty legs from rubbing together as I walk to the metro and.. oops, too much information, I know. Fall is officially upon us and I am still working at DOL until December - waiting to see if my term gets extended or if the Army job I interviewed for comes through. God's got this - ain't nobody got time for worrying about stuff like that! What has been going on you ask? Well, let's see - Donald Trump is the fore runner for the Republican candidate (yes, the Donald.. folks, have you lost your marbles? Has he not figured out that he cannot fire someone if he does not like what they do? Sorry Putin, your troops over in Syria dropping bombs and doing fly overs, you are all fired. I am the king of business..) Maybe he will figure out that there is more to running a country than doing a great comb over that does not move with the wind ( he really should propose a business deal on Shark Tank for hair products). IF he does win the candidacy, I shall become a non-partisan, non-tree hugging, non-sandal and sock wearing  meat eating American ands go live in Bolivia, taking only a few changes of underwear and my painting supplies. You never know when you might be in a crash and need clean drawers on! . My art work has progressed! I have taken lots of classes, figured out water color painting to some degree but find that acrylics are more my thing. It took some adjusting to life here in the big city and working in DC but I am finding that I almost like it - other than the tiny apartment and pot smoking downstairs neighbors who make sitting on balcony to drink coffee at 6:30 a.m. before work un-enjoyable. Seriously folks?? Wait until at least 8 so that I will be at work and not have to endure the stench. Think it is legal in the District but not in the commonwealth of Virginia where I live. Maybe they will get the drift as I heavily sigh and say loudly - REALLY?? POT BEFORE 7 A.M.?? SERIOUSLY?? Le sigh..... Enjoy your pot less day.

Mrs. Said goes to Washington

Well, here I am - how many years later??  So much has changed. Let's see - moved to DC, sold the house in Florida, put half my stuff in storage, quit a great job and moved into a tiny apartment. The hubs job puts him at headquarters. After the Air Force sent him over seas for a year in a really dangerous place (yes dear friends, quit calling me every time you see something bad happen "over there" on TV and ask if he is ok.. giving me a heart attack, God love you all! ). I am now a Federal employee.. working for the DOL next to the Capital - your tax dollars at work. Kind of keeps a fire lit under me at work as I think that all of you hard working folks, including myself are funding my ability to work.   Two stars are shining in our home now - thank you United States Air Force! Waiting on the senate to confirm was getting old. I was about to go out and make macaroni epaulets with stars! I now have to behave even more. Drats...One thing that has been fabulous is being where I can take art classes. I did one at the Smithsonian called "Everyone can Paint"  and yes, they can but... I will not say anymore. I then went to the Torpedo Factory in Old Town and took a beginning acrylics class. Frustrating, maddening, hard and yet some of the best stuff I have done. Never learned so much in my life. The class was mostly still life but by the end we tried portraits. I did this one from a picture on the cover of a National Geographic. Was pretty happy with it too! I need to take a drawing class but that will come. As my art teacher says, one day your hands will catch up with your mind. Well, just wanted to touch base. Carry on all and make sure to take time to do something you have always wanted to do (so long as it is legal!) Now, I know there is pizza around here some where with my name on it!

Thoughts on Valentine's Day 2009

So here it is- Valentine's Day 2009. It is rainy, it is Saturday and it is a day of reflection. As my husband could not get a flight home from his job in Washington, I am home alone with the dog. It is rainy, in the 60's and a perfect day for reflection. I started thinking about what today really means. We send cards, flowers, candy and wish each other "Happy Valentine's Day". Who really was St. Valentine? I vaguely remember some story about a man who loved others more than himself and was sacrificial in his acts and service for others. That is it. I am sure there is much more to the story than that but I just can not remember. I was going to google his name but then realized this day is what ever I want it to be. I know it is about sentiment - about expressing your love for others. I look down at my sweet old sleeping dog at my feet, her toes running in slumber as she chases some elusive rabbit in her dreams and it makes me smile. My husband calls - has the mail man come yet? This is the third time he has called to ask. He must have sent me something to commemorate the day. That too makes me smile. I have my whole day ahead of me. I certainly do not want to go out in this rain and love listening to the pitter patter on the roof and against the glass on the window. It's slow, steady rhythm sounds like tiny heartbeats. That too makes me smile. Maybe I will do what I love most today - be thankful for all of the wonderful people in my life and paint. I am so blessed. My mother called me first thing this morning and I thought as I hung up, one day I will not have that luxury of picking up the phone and hearing her sweet voice on the other end. I can not imagine that but for now, I am so thankful for it. That makes me cry with joy. So, what does this day mean to me? Family, a loving husband, a sweet snoring dog at my feet, a hot pot of coffee and a blank canvas. I can paint whatever brings me joy and I realize this life does. I am blessed. This truly is a Happy Valentine's Day.

Death by Kayak

So my friend calls me - we chat and she suggests that we need to get over talking about doing things and just get out and DO IT! I should have known - that sounded too much like a Nike commercial - pain would be involved but silly me, I had a whim of carpe diem ( should stick to the carpe latte) and agreed - LET'S GO KAYAKING!!! Sounds fun - how hard can paddling down the St. Mary's River in Georgia be? We were going with some of her friends who work at the Zoo with her - surely they would know what to do should an alligator decide to join the flotilla!!! I dress carefully at dawn - swimsuit, Columbia shorts and t-shirt, hiking sandals, hat, sunscreen, snacks, bottled water, towel, I am good to go! How hard can this be? Sure, I am the only one who has tried to canoe once before and never have even sat in a kayak but.. carpe diem I remind myself. We pull up off the country road to meet our "crew" - some very professional kayaking folks in their head to toe gear, kayaks on roofs of jeeps, army hats pulled low, mutterings of kayaking in Belize and how the Amazon was the best... I am getting worried now. Every time I open my mouth to talk a nervous laugh comes out. Finally we get to the location and put the boats in. NOW... how do I get into it? It is so narrow and the water is rushing a bit.. I am told not to worry, an experienced kayaker will always be behind me and only the first five miles are fast water, the last 11 are slow. THE LAST ELEVEN.. YES, YOU HEARD ME RIGHT.. For some reason I was thinking this was a total of 5 miles which surely I could do. And we were off. Let me tell you, within 15 minutes, I was the queen of using my paddle to do a 360 degree turn right into trees and giant spiders webs, dangling from the lovely underbrush. Logs keep floating by and I carefully scan them for eyeballs - an alligator in disguise. I finally start to get the hang of it. My shoulders are burning, I am using muscles the good lord intended me to use but never have before in my lifetime. We finally pull up at a sandy beach and I am thrilled.. I MADE IT!!! As my arms shake, legs aching and back aching from bracing myself so I would not tip over, I hear one of the girls say " according to my GPS we have about 10 more miles to go.. we are making great time".. Her GPS must be broken. I figure by this point we have snaked through the river all around Florida and are now entering Cuban waters... Pain, pain, everywhere pain... It is fun but I have had enough. A little evil voice in the back of my head says hee hee, you are only 1/3rd of the way there. Get thee behind me oh Satan of kayaking!!!! Long story short, we set out in Georgia on the river about 10:00 a.m. and pulled out at the pick up spot in Florida at 6:00 p.m. I could not move for two days. Moral of the story? next time, just carpe the latte or ask how long the trip is first. Leave the seizing of the day to the crazy seizers. Kind of like those runners you see on Saturday mornings as you drive to Starbucks.. sure I run, if someone is chasing me....

About a Dog

OK - so some of you military wives out there have children and a dog or cat to come home to. Me, I have had two precious brown dogs. Not the yappy, in bred pedigree we are too good for you kind of dogs but true big brown pound dogs. My 16 year old Colonel I am convinced was part pig - that dog could root out food anywhere and loved a good carrot! She died in her sleep and I am convinced that she is laying on Jesus' feet in heaven, grinning from ear to ear with a HUGE plate of carrots in front of her. That left Maggie with me - she is 14. She has those big, brown expressive eyes, so full of love and trust and.. yeah, she has me wrapped around her puppy paws. She talks to me you know - really does. Here is how our conversations go- 5:30 a.m... now remember she is 14.. GET UP. GET UP. GET UP.. TIME TO GO WALKING AND PEE ON EVERY INCH OF NEIGHBORHOOD. And she does. We walk and I try to hope no one sees me in my night shirt, sweat pants pulled on, scary glasses and horrific bed hair. After she pees on everything in sight, we return home. Now it is time to contemplate breakfast - shall it be the lamb stew, chicken and veggies or beef and cheddar? She picks, I feed her and she washes it down with some milk laced with coffee. Now, for her aperitif - an after breakfast cookie bone.. and this has exhausted her. Time for bed - my closet. She likes to sleep under the edge of the dresses - turned in such a way that she can just get a little hair on the hem of each garment. She snickers and drops off to sleep to the sound of the Jones College Big Band radio playing for her comfort and sleep. Off to work I go. Upon returning home, I change quietly, hoping not to wake my 14 year old baby girl as she emerges from the closet - YOU'RE HOME, YOU'RE HOME she snorts - her whole body wiggles, she grins from ear to ear. TIME TO WALK, TIME TO WALK.. and off we go again. You would think I did not have a large fenced yard - I guess the neighborhood has better smells. We return as she pants in the Florida heat - she has trained me well. I cut on the sprinklers in the back yard for her to roll in and cool off. This has made her hungry. A little beef stew for dinner a la Purina, an after dinner bone and she is now content to sit at my feet, where ever I am. As we finally get ready for bed, she stands by my bedside, resting her head on the edge of the bed, cookie bone hanging out of her mouth, her brown eyes smiling at me as I lift her arthritic hips into the bed. She settles on my feet and within minutes of finishing crunching her bone, she drifts off to sleep. Her gentle snoring and movement as her body rises and falls with her breathing lulls me to sleep. I turn off the light and roll over so that I can place a hand on her furry back. As I fall asleep, I realize there is a reason GOD spelled backwards spells DOG. He knew what he was doing.

When I Think about America

While in D.C., my second mission was to visit the memorials. They were all so moving. This one photo though captured my eye. We were silently walking along the Vietnam Memorial and there was a rose and this photo in front of the wall of names - was she a nurse? Someones sister, mother, friend? What a beautiful smile. The longer I looked, the more familiar she appeared to me. She could pass for a family member on my father's side. Maybe she was from the South as well - did she have a little Indian blood in her too? I think of her as we approach the 4th of July. Where would she be today - would she be fixing food for her family to take on a picnic or heat up the grill? No. But I can, because of her. So, beautiful lady with the dark hair, sunny smile and graceful curves, thank you. I don't ignore your sacrifice. I choose to remember what you died for - for me and my family to live the lives we have. Thank you. No greater love has a man than one who is willing to lay down his or her life for another. Thank you.

I Wish I Had Known You Vincent

So, I just got back from visiting D.C. I had two missions - to go to the National Gallery and see in person the self portrait of Vincent Van Gogh and to see the war memorials. I was not sure Vincent was there. He was a very tragic, misunderstood guy. I can imagine that someone once told him he had it wrong, life, love, God, and he decided they were right and he became introspective. Maybe he started talking back to those voices in his head. Who knows. He was so talented though. That red hair, bright blue eyes. I guess I feel a connection to him - misunderstood and always seeing life through colorful, beautiful misconceptions. Don't get me wrong - my ears are staying right where God put them thank you very much! I was walking through the gallery, looking and hoping to see Matisse, some Renoir's, Monet's and as we walked down the hall into the French impressionists, I saw him through a doorway. It was a little hard to breathe. His eyes followed me - so blue, so very troubled and so lonely. I felt sad and ran to stand in front of him, trying to let him know it was going to be OK, I was there. He just kept staring. The museum security guard must have thought I was a nut - standing there in front of a painting with tears running down my face and muttering to him and to myself that it is going to be OK. "Moving, isn't he?" the guard asked. "Yes". That was all I could say as I choked back tears. I hated to leave him there. I wanted to take him with me but I don't think the National Gallery would appreciate that. I asked if I could take his photo and was assured that was fine so long as I did not touch the painting. I tried to focus on him and snap the picture as others came forward to gawk at the pictures - the water lilies, the young girl painting, other well recognized paintings. They laughed and pointed and ran from frame to frame, quickly becoming bored. I wanted to shush them. I did not feel like laughing. Vincent did not either. I left him there, looking forlorn, promising every time I come back to D.C., I will come and see him and let him know that even though his life did not go the way he planned and wanted it to, that I am trying to get mine right. For both of us.