The girls are all still sleeping and I am putting the final touches on my first post of 2013 as well launching my newest site…Victoria’s Tajemnica!
The girls and I are hunkering down, waiting for “Frankenstorm” to shake things up a bit around here. Mostly
they we are eyeballing all the junk food and arts and crafts supplies I bought to make things a little fun, since there most likely won’t be any trick-or-treating here in upstate New York this Halloween.
The wind has been gusting lightly for about the last hour or so – shaking the gorgeous leaves off the trees as if we were in a giant snowglobe and gently stirring some forgotten seashells we found at the Cape last month in the backyard.
I love to bang.
The rhythmic pounding on rock with rock hammers and chisels, in hopes of having water-clear, double terminated Herkimer Diamonds come spilling out onto the grey dust gives me just an incredible rush. Actually, they more like come flying out – looking perfectly faceted. Seeing the glittery rainbow sparkle peek out from the mazes of stone crevices makes every blow worthwhile. After a few hours, dust covers one from head to foot, and muscles scream for mercy, but clear zip-lock bags filled with gemstones keep us going until the very second the mine closes for the day.
Last weekend, after a long day of mining, I dragged my weary body – dusty and sore – to the Bellinger Rose Bed and Breakfast in Herkimer, NY. I did not have a particularly successful day finding diamonds, and there was nothing more I wanted than to settle into my room.
Holy. Moley. Canoli.
Another fantastic summer has slipped through my fingers – no matter how hard I tried to hold onto it. Delicious memories sprinkled heavily with fabulous foods and drinks and most of all, laughter. LOTS of laughter.
Now, as the hot sunshine begins it’s sexy romance with the harbingers of winter, my house is filled with the heady scent of pumpkin spice potpourri, and Chapter 3 (titled – Fall), of 2012 is comfortably settling in. Spritzes of autumnal colors are appearing in patches against the lush green background, and crispness has certainly settled into these September nights. Our featherbeds and comforters are piled high on our beds, which the girls can’t stop bouncing on.
In the shadowy corners of our rooms, ghosts are sneaking in more frequent visits – eerily beckoning visitors to visit “Mommy’s Bloody Mary”.
Putting aside the slight drought, it’s been gorgeous just about every single day. Closing your eyes and sipping a cool drink is a lot easier than poring over thousands of houses. Dreaming of running in slow motion on the beach and falling, giggling, in the sand, in the arms of that really good looking guy who jogs around the Myrtle Beach boardwalk in the mornings dressed in blue and white, is a lot more relaxing than thinking about packing and moving trucks and unpacking.
And, I’m not quite done saying my good-byes yet. I haven’t even started. The more I close my eyes as I float in my pool…
My father’s darkroom.
Back when he was alive, I would spend countless hours sitting down there with him. The soft red couch he had is still there and feels familiar to my skin as I tuck my legs under myself and close my eyes. This room is where I go to do serious thinking – it’s quiet and calming and all mindblocks vanish as soon as I close the heavy, carved mahogany door behind me.
The air is cool in an unusual way for late June in upstate New York, and a soft breeze moves around the smell of the developing chemicals – stored in neat rows behind a dark curtain to keep them safe from light – and it heightens my memories even more.
I started doing it again.
I started doing it on vacation. I really didn’t think I would start doing it so soon, but apparently, I am weak… and it felt so good. That surge of satisfaction knowing I was going to make someone very, very happy ribboned itself around my body and hugged me with the sensation one gets when one has a juicy secret.
Just like most girls, I have toys.
And my favorite toy is, admittedly, on the smallish side – but boy, when it gets going – it’s insanely hot and I could play with it all night if I could.
This morning was a “double scoop of vanilla ice cream in my bowl of coffee” type of morning.
It’s Memorial Day weekend, it’s gorgeous out, and all five of my daughters are sleeping in late. The pool, which I originally did not plan on opening, is indeed being opened this weekend despite our upcoming move – much to the girls’ delight.
And, to mix things up a bit out there, I decided to buy the girls an “icicle tent” to set up as a “clubhouse”.
The entire idea came around from a lump of clay.
What I am NOT a lover of, is coming home and discovering a white floor covering in my 6 and 8 year old daughters bedroom. Especially when this white floor covering is actually an eight foot by five foot, white alpaca fur rug. Did I mention it’s white?
“Daddy got it for us,” my six year reported excitedly as she sprawled out on it, petting it, nuzzling the long fur. “He said he saw it and just knew we had to have it!”
Cranberry juice. Orange juice. Grape juice. Chocolate. Gum. Paint. Clay. Glue. Throw-up…