Ten Years After…

As i procrastinate forge my way into the new year, it occurred to me that it was ten years ago that i wandered into the blogosphere. As a recently divorced woman with an emptying nest, and inspired by a real life friend who was a blogger from the early days, i put a toe into the blogwaters.

Far more disciplined (and less distracted) back then, i generally posted daily – a concept that boggles my mind. That was before Facebook, Twitter, Instagram were available to serve as host platforms for oversharing of the mundane aspects of daily life.  Short blasts, mostly reflecting on my days, i would dig in deep and hoark up something difficult about once a week.

People showed up. i followed a few people, commented regularly, and was honored and astonished when they would stop by my virtual trailer park and leave a comment or two. And they stayed – some of you crazy folks have been hanging around from nearly the start. Others have wandered in for a bit, and wandered off. Even though i’ve been far more sporadic of late, i still see the occasional first timer.

Initially, i expected this to be a somewhat masturbatory activity – spanking my keyboard in solitude. By the end of the first year, i’d made some virtual friends in the blogosphere. In my first year of blogging in 2008, i decided that flying to Europe to meet up with a couple of them was a grand idea – and i did so. Learning much from that trip, i did it again in 2010, meeting up with my two besties from Australia and South Africa and having quite an adventure in Greece for two weeks.

Despite wondering if i would end up abducted, robbed, or skinned, it has all worked out fabulously. The people i’ve found through this blog – and those who have stepped from the realm of the virtual to the real – have been good people, people i am glad to have as part of my world. Those i’ve never managed to meet in person, remain just as real to me.

Somewhere along that path, i stopped considering my blogmates as virtual friends. They are just as real to me as those i see on a regular basis.

From the outset i planned to write for myself, and kept this blog disconnected from my ‘real life’. i do not hump this blog to my friends to drive stats, and it continues to humble me that those who wander in and read are doing so based solely on the words that i spew into the ether…

On this 10th Birthday for The Trailer Park Refugee, i thank you for showing up, commiserating, and taking the time from your day to reach out and connect with a strange woman stranger that may only seem to exist inside of your computer, or tablet, or phone. i assure you, i am real.

The path i’ve wandered for the past decade, documented on this ol’ blog, brought me here… And i’m good – damn good – with where i’ve landed. What will the next 10 bring?

Beats the fuck outta me… but let’s go!

Here’s to a grand year ahead for all of us!

Moment of Inertia

Sensory deprivation of sorts.  Maximizing pleasurable sensations to deny less pleasant sensations. Floating, floating, floating…

A long weekend visiting my sister, T, in Florida. I brought The Boy along for a little rest and relaxation – he’d been working hard at his job for over a year without time off. He was out on the boat chasing big fishies with T’s partner, The Captain.  T was in her office, posting grades for her graduate class.

i was in the pool, sprawled on a raft. My face covered with a hat to prevent further sun damage.  i let the sunscreen do the work on my appendages. Warm to the bone.  It would have been downright hot if i didn’t have my hands, feet and arse dunked in the cool salt water beneath me.

Floating, floating, floating… Warm in the sun, cooler when a cloud happened to get between us. Bouncing like a slow-motion pinball when i’d hit the edge. Spinning a little, with assistance from the gentle breeze.  Somewhat Brownian motion.

In that moment, i could account for the well-being of the people who occupy a substantial portion of my brain space.  Mom?  Glimmer of hope regarding the home renovation, now in the fourth year.  Her health? Shitty, but stable.  The Girl?  Doing well with her new job, and surrounded by good people.  The Boy?  On a boat, chasing fish on the ocean.  Studley?  On the same boat, sharing the adventure and chasing fish.  My sister, T?  Settled comfortably in life with her partner, The Captain, after a fairly difficult run last summer.

In that moment.

Eyes covered.  i let the sun warm me, and the water cool me, and the wind spin me slowly around the pool.  My frame of reference was skewed – “am i facing the house, or the waterway?”  Absolutely certain that i’d echo-located the sound of the central air compressor, i knew the house was to my left.  Peeking from under the hat that covered my face, i was surprised to be pointed squarely toward the waterway.

i played this game over and over.  The sound of the yard man’s leaf blower from across the canal.  Confident that i’d kept track of the source of the sound as i slowly careened across the surface of the pool.  Another peek.  Another failure.  Floating, floating, floating…

The game kept me squarely in that moment.  No need to drive away dark thoughts and worry about what lies ahead.  The sun was warm.  The water was cool.  The breeze was gentle.  Letting the pleasurable sensations take charge.  All was well in that moment.

Floating, floating, floating… Lightly toasted, completely refreshed.  i heard the boat approaching the dock and went to greet The Captain and her crew.  i had been in the pool, in that moment, for three solid hours.

None of us are big enough to stop the world from turning.  Sometimes we can make it feel as though we’ve at least slowed it down…

Plus or Minus Five

Five years ago, i first hit the “publish” button on the shiny new blank slate of a WordPress blog.  My stated purpose:

“In a classic sense, i’ve done remarkably well – especially considering i was voted “most likely to be found dead in a gutter” in the ol’ high school popularity poll.

There is, however, a tiny, perhaps moving, boundary i crossed somewhere along the way – averting a likely path into the world of “one bad damn decision after another”.  Part of what i am doing with this forum is to try to understand how that happened…

Parenting two rather extraordinary young adults who share some of my genetics (The Girl, 21, and The Boy, 19), i want to understand how i got out of The Park.  So that i can help keep them out of The Park.”

Those young adults are now 26 and 24, and it is five damn years later.  And still rather extraordinary young adults who probably still share some of my genetics.  And are not in The Park.

Strangely enough, i found myself spending New Year’s Eve doing exactly the same thing i did five years prior.  House dance party, hosted by a friend that i have now known for over 30 years.  Wrote it up in my third damn blog post.

The words i wrote five years ago:  “And my body feels it today… there are certain muscles one only uses for dancing.  Or maybe for…well…horseback riding?  In any case, i was a bit out of shape to survive 4 hours on the floor unwounded.”  Could have been written this morning.  Or afternoon, seeing as i didn’t wake up until after the sun was riding high in the winter sky.

Once again, i danced for fourfuckinghours.  In a smallish costume (due to thermal management interests more than showing of my rack).  And once again, i am feeling it today – in a very good way.

This year, i rang it in with Studley.  Reflecting by the fire pit, it occurred to me that i could pin myself to the exact same place five years prior.  Seven years prior?  i’d met him at a New Year’s Eve party – and it was a casual “drive by” hug that he delivered at midnight that brought us together as friends, and later, as lovers.

Studley:  You know, in five years from now?  You will be retired!  You are planning your last day of work for December 31st, 2017.

daisyfae:  Holy shit!  You’re right!  And i know EXACTLY where i’m gonna be!

Studley:  I’ll plan to be your designated driver.  Pretty sure you’re gonna need a babysitter that night…

And it was off to dance for another couple of hours… Seeing faces i’ve seen for 30 years, and faces i first saw at the November dance party.

i seem to collect good humans in my life – from those amazing childhood friends, to the good people who continue to wander in on a remarkably regular basis, i don’t like to let such people get away from me.  Looking back through the comments?  Some of my regular blog readers have been with me for almost all of that five years – and i am astonished by that fact!

Here’s to old friends – in real life and in the ether of the internet…  And to adventures ahead!  Happy New Year!  Thank you for stopping by – i’m not nearly as sure of what i’m doing out here as i was the day i started, but it feels right.  And so…

Time Traveling

daisyfae at 7:  [bouncing up and down beside my sister’s bed] “C’mon!  Get up!  GET UP!  He’s been here!  It’s CHRISTMAS!”  i remember when i still believed in Santa Claus.  My friends were skeptics, but i wanted him to be real, so i resisted.  i didn’t give it up until my older brother spilled the beans a year later – leading my two older sisters to bark at him for being such an asshole. 

At seven, i remember getting a “Chatty Cathy” talking doll from Santa.  It scared the living shit out of me.  “i don’t want it!  There’s a SCARECROW inside it!”  Mom orchestrated the ritual overindulgence – only stockings could be opened on Christmas morning, and we could investigate the “Santa Gifts”, unwrapped presents for each of us under the tree. 

She wanted Christmas to last, so we had to have nutritious breakfast first – often a treat of Strawberry PopTarts.  One of us would be an elf, and presents were distributed in piles to each of us in the cramped living room.  As Maestro, she then instructed us on which gifts to open – one at a time, waiting so that we could see others open their gifts.  Directed chaos.  i was happy.
 
daisyfae at 16:  [slogging down the hallway, looking for coffee] My older sister and brother were already married with babies.  These marriages were already showing signs of implosion, but it was cool to have little kids around for the holidays.  Mom’s orchestrated ritual continued, but didn’t start before sunrise – my older siblings showed up later in the day, sugar-buzzed and over-stimulated children in tow.  Stockings?  Treats and plastic toys were replaced by deodorant and lip balm, but they were still overflowing. 

It was during the teen years that i finally let my sister, T,  know i’d figured out that “lesbian” thing, and that my best friend, JW, was gay too.  The gift i left for her under the tree was a pile of 35mm film*.  But the day before, i’d given her a couple of books – “Rubyfruit Jungle” by Rita Mae Brown and “The Front Runner” by Patricia Nell Warren. Good teen gay-lit, given to me by my friend JW.  It was a turning point for us as sisters.
 
daisyfae at 21:[waking up in a strange bed, alone] It was my first Christmas away from home.  i’d been living with EJ for a couple years, and agreed to make the “parent trek” to Florida.  My first dinner with his family was memorable.  It was so quiet i could hear myself chewing!  A sound i’d never heard before at a family dinners because my clan yelled, threw dinner rolls and argued everything from music to philosophy over meals.  His parents were very sweet. 

Their house was perfect, uncluttered and understated.  i found myself missing the chaotic Christmas mornings of my childhood.  Just a little bit… Returning to the homestead for a Christmas visit the next week, i was comforted when i dumped out my Christmas stocking to find travel-sized toothpaste, shampoos and deodorant, along with candy and a smattering of cheap plastic crap.
 
daisyfae at 30:  [dragging ass outta bed as my young children tumble excitedly down the stairs, after i’d been up until 2am assembling kid toys]  We kept some of the same rules – no presents opened until we were all there, but stockings and “Santa Gifts” were fair game.  Breakfast of cookies and milk was perfectly acceptable.   i was in my “Super Working Mom” phase, and generally exhausted myself the weeks before Christmas with shopping, baking, decorating and wrapping – but i truly enjoyed it! 

The downside was always the travel.  My husband and i agreed – “As long as we have parents to visit, we will travel on Christmas.”  And so we did.  Never mind the fact that we never went ANYWHERE when we were young, our parents expected to see us for the holidays. 

Every other year we went wherever his folks were – usually Florida.  Palm trees with twinkie lights, Santa wearing shorts.  Waking up in strange beds on Christmas morning – for us and our children.  Typically driving 16 hours, we’d always have to anticipate weather challenges – dodging ice storms in the mountains of Tennessee. 

Alternate years?  Home for Christmas morning, but on the road to The Trailer Park by noon for the family visit.  Mom had taken the “directed chaos” to an entirely new level – attempting to pull off the same “one-at-a-time” gift opening ritual with a crowd now numbering close to 20, and in a living room more cluttered (and far less organized) than the interior of the International Space Station.  We returned home reeking of cigarette smoke, hauling trash bags of mostly “off target” gifts and generally very crabby.
 
daisyfae at 47: [bouncing up and down beside my children’s beds] “C’mon!  Get up!  GET UP!  He’s been here!  It’s CHRISTMAS!” Not an over-abundance of gifts, but they are thoughtful.  Sometimes disgusting, but thoughtful.  Santa still shows up, reliably delivering ‘scratch off’ lottery tickets in the stockings.  We just hang out.  We eat junk food, watch movies, drink and nap.  Friends drop in to eat junk food, watch movies, drink and nap.  “Dog Wrasslin’” is the sport du jour.  i am happy.
 
It’s just another day, but it’s an annual pinning point.  Tripping us backwards through the joyful, the broken and empty.  The sweet and the bittersweet. 

The New Year has us looking forward…. but Christmas makes us time travelers.

~~~~~~~~~~
 
* i worked at Photo Bug and used my employee discount to buy gifts for all of my friends with cameras.  Like a FotoMat, it was a drive-up photo-processing facility.  We shipped film out and promised “next-day” service.  It causes me great pain, but i have been COMPLETELY unable to find photographic evidence of a Photo Buggery.  A 15’ x 15’ box with windows in a parking lot, and a 5’ tall smiling bee on the roof, spinning merrily while holding a camera.  Surely someone, somewhere, has a picture?!?

Taming the waters…

Rome. August 2004.  En route to an international conference in Bologna i managed to work in a day in Rome on my own.  Snagging a cheap hotel near the rail station, i dropped my luggage and ventured out for a day of sight seeing.  It was lovely… Walking, walking, walking.  Breathing in the sweaty, humidity-soaked air as i dodged scooters.  And tourists.  The overfed, newly-wed, nearly dead…

After seeing as much as i could during the day, i still wanted to wander a bit, but had been counseled by the hotel clerk that it was ill-advised for me to go out at night on my own.  i hooked up with an evening tour.  St. Peter’s, The Vatican… and the Trevi fountain.  The legendary fountain of wishes…

Off on my own to think a little, i took the fable to heart.  Modern legend is that it is lucky to throw three coins with one’s right hand over one’s left shoulder into the Trevi Fountain.  But what to wish for?  The theme of the sculpture is “taming of the waters”.  My waters definitely needed some taming…

At the time, i was still married.  My husband had mostly relocated to our vacation home three hours to the north, and i was in effect a single parent of two teenaged children.  Feeling trapped.  Knowing my children would leave home soon.  Aching for a fresh start.  Sitting at the edge of the fountain, three coins in hand, i tried my damndest to conjure a meaningful wish.  Asking myself the deceptively simple question “What do i want?”

The only thing that came to mind was a single word.  “Out”.  And so i wished…  “Out” [Plunk].  “Out” [Plunk].  “Out” [Plunk].

Fast forward five years.  i’m out.  Generally very happy, enjoying life.  Looking forward to the future.  But it’s time to ask that question again… “What do i want?”  A fuzzy vision has started to form… it involves a collision of my professional and personal life.  Some financial planning.  My retirement in the works – eight years and nine days from this moment.  

Changing jobs was a step in the right direction.  Helping Mom get settled in a stable care-giving situation is also part of it… A few days wandering the streets of Washington, DC this week – where i lived for a year – added more substance to the vision.  It’s starting to jellify.

But it was the long conversation with an old friend*, while we killed a bottle of delicious French Pinot Noir by an outdoor fountain that helped thicken the vision for “what’s next”.  Almost actionable.  i’m thinking a trip back to Rome may be in my future…

plunk. plunk. plunk....

* Thank you, MS.  And so very sorry for the “inconsequential” misfire….

Pinning Points

Every November, i have the same argument: “Put up the damn Christmas tree!”  This is followed immediately by “What’s the point?”  Sometimes, i have this argument out loud.  By myself.  For several minutes… Because it amuses me.

Never one to go overboard with decorating, i’ve always kept the holiday stuff at a reasonable level. Never put out more than i could take down on a cold, January afternoon. As the kids grew, there were a few standards they wanted to see – the “mouse countdown” calendar, Santa’s Marching Band, and of course, the random collection of weird shit on our tree. 

The other family tradition?  Once the tree is assembled and decorated, we must stand beside it and say “It’s the most beautiful Christmas tree ever.  Just like last year…”  The kids often delivered this line in monotone, with corresponding eye-roll. 

The tree itself? For the past 15 years, it’s usually been the same artificial tree – assembled branch by branch. It looks good, but never as nice as the real ones we’ve murdered purchased from time to time.  And it seems that i am always near tears when i’m putting it up, or taking it down. 

So why the fuck do i do this?

Holidays provide easy “pinning points” in our lives.  i mean, you don’t sit there on some random May 15th and say “damn, i remember May 15th from four years ago…”.  It just doesn’t work that way.  So when that damn tree is put up, or comes down, i am overcome by memories of over two decades of tree assembly or deconstruction.  And all of the emotions that were present at the time.

Every year i tell myself “Fuck it.  Don’t do it.”  But i give in… and it usually feels right after it’s up.  Sometimes i tell myself it’s for the kids.  Although they say it doesn’t matter whether there’s a tree or not, i suspect it represents a pinning point for them as well.  Sometimes it’s just because i’m not ready to become one of those people who drags out a small, fiber optic tree and says “Voila!”  That’s so my Mother…

This morning.  Removing the ornaments.  Smiling at the goofy shit* we’ve had on the tree for years.  Groaning at the hideously ugly** ornaments Mom has given me – which i dutifully place on the back of the tree.  Branch by branch.  Moment by moment.  Year after year.  Stuffing the scratchy synthetic wires into the large cardboard box that will sit unnoticed on a shelf in my garage for the next 11 months.  Carefully taped shut to keep out spiders.

Remembering the tree assembly from 2006.  Knowing at the time it would be the last holiday we would be spending together as a foursome – a pseudo-family***.  Having a ridiculous fever of unknown origin**** but plugging through it anyway…  The Girl was sailing through Europe during her Semester at Sea.  The Boy and his girlfriend lending me a hand as i wheeled around the tree in a rolling desk chair to conserve energy…

Flashing forward to an unknown future.  Knowing that choices i’ve made in my personal life are far-reaching.  And will bring moments of darkness, along with the freedom i crave.  Letting this knowledge wash over me like a scalding shower.  Branch by branch.  Moment by moment.  Blasting through year after year.  Tossing aside the idea of getting a gigantic 12′ pre-lit artificial tree for next year.  It wouldn’t be the same…

Pinning points.  Our lives woven around them.  Sometimes a beautiful tapestry.  Sometimes ragged, uneven web…

image sourced from:  http://www.zastavki.com

* the traditional first ornament is a miniature 6-pack of beer.  we’ve got an alien spaceship, painted pine cones, holographic glasses… silliness abounds…

** she gives each of us two gold-plated “collector” ornaments each year.  Some of them are hideous – including the gold-plated mini-van.  Seriously.  A mini-van?  it’s like the people who have to come up with new ornaments for the series are sitting around saying “Holy Fuck.  We’re out of Christmas shit.  Let’s start doing cars…”.

*** Our divorce was final in August of 2006, but it was quite amicable.  We agreed to spend that holiday together to soften the transition.  The Girl was 20, and The Boy was 17…

**** At the time, the doc thought it might be malaria (after a meet-up with The Girl in Vietnam and Cambodia).  It was only mono that i contracted in the Cambodian jungle, but i didn’t get that diagnosis until early December.  Around the time i was diagnosed with breast cancer…  Sucky month, eh?