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You are here: Home / Archives for life

A Blast from the Past

July 1, 2013 at 8:54 am by Claudia

Don’t you love talking books and book recommendations? There were such great comments and suggestions on yesterday’s post. Thanks so much!

I walked down to the mailbox the other day and saw something on the ground. As I looked more closely, I saw this:

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I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. Do you remember these? You fold the paper over and over until you get this, stick your fingers inside and hold it like this:

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Then you move it into this configuration:

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I can’t quite remember how you end up having to pick one number or the other, but after you choose a number, you lift it up and your fortune is told.

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Nice dreams.

Still working on tenses, I see. The teacher in me wants to add a little red e at the end of ‘millionair.’

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Bad luck. Oooh – you’ll kiss a boy! Note the Don’t pick written in pencil on the number eight slot. There’s also a number that has Pick written on it.

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A tad ghoulish, don’t you think?

I was immediately plunged back in time to elementary school, when we young girls made fortune tellers exactly like these. I find it comforting that girls still do this sort of thing. In this computer-driven, high tech world, young girls still pull out a piece of paper and fold it over and over, writing down numbers and fortunes. It’s as if I saw some young kids playing Jacks. Or jumping rope.

Sigh.

Young girl, I’m sorry you lost your fortune teller, but I’m happy you lost it right near my mailbox.

I’ve been trying to get Scout to ‘pounce’ on cue so I could make a little movie of it on my iPhone. That girl! The minute I hold up the phone, she refuses to pounce. I did manage to grab one quick pounce, which you’ll see at the very start of this little video. Don’t blink.

Trying to get Scoutie to pounce from Claudia Hill on Vimeo.
 

Happy Monday.

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Filed Under: life, Scout 44 Comments

On the Struggle

June 27, 2013 at 8:58 am by Claudia

rose

I admit it. I’m more than a bit down right now. I’m tired of existing in what seems to be a perpetual state of worry and tension. I know that my presence here on the blog is usually a cheery one and that’s not a false front. I tend to be cheery and certainly the act of writing this daily journal-blog and taking photographs goes a long way in helping me see the world with grateful eyes.

But sometimes, the struggle gets to be too much. The constant worry about money and bills and will we be able to pay the mortgage and why is the car acting up just plain gets to me. The artistic world in which we work, while lovely, does not bring in a big paycheck. I’ve worked at other jobs and the irony is that those 9-5 jobs that I am qualified for have never paid as well as theater. And theater doesn’t pay very well at all.

We’re not corporate types. I’ve worked in that world, as an underling of course, and the entire time I was there I felt I was playing the biggest acting role of my career; pretending to care even a little bit about all the facts and figures and deadlines and corporate-speak. That’s not the way my brain is wired, unfortunately. We are all artists, of course, but Don and I are performing artists. That’s the world we live in, that’s where our talents are put to the best use, that’s where we can be of service. Because when you come down to it, being of service is the most important thing. At least, for us it is.

I just want some breathing room. I don’t need a lot of money – just enough for a simple life here at the cottage, with bills paid and something in our savings account. For a rainy day. For health insurance. For the new radiator that my mechanic just told me we need. You see, things like that throw us. There’s no wiggle room here at the cottage. We are immediately thrown into a tailspin. And speaking for myself, I panic. I add up figures, I think about how I can shuffle the bills around, what I need to pay exactly on time, and what I can leave just a bit longer. I wake up in the middle of the night and then I can’t get back to sleep because my worrier of a brain starts its endless cycle of ‘what ifs.’

I practice gratefulness. And I am very grateful for so many things in my life. Truly. I affirm that all our needs have been and will be taken care of. That our supply is infinite. I believe in that.

However, on some days that affirming seems to be the hardest thing in the world to do. It certainly has been next to impossible for the last couple of days. But that’s my problem and I know it. I can choose to look at things from one perspective, that of fear and worry and lack, or I can choose to look at it from an entirely different point of view. Some days I am spectacularly good at this. Others….not so good.

Sometimes I get angry; feeling I should be like everyone else I seem to encounter in life and on the web and I’m not, so I’ve failed. Lots of money in my savings account, an endless supply in which to buy a new house, or redecorate or get a new car or just a second car or travel. I see my childhood friends seemingly more financially secure than I, and I envy them that. But then I remember that everyone has problems, that no matter what I perceive to be someone’s state of mind and health and finances, I don’t know the whole story. I have friends who are struggling with illness, who are frightened about their health. I have friends who are struggling with money. I have friends who are worried about their kids or their parents or the stability of their jobs. Though it’s easy to think that no one else struggles like we seem to do here at the cottage, I know that is a lie.

So I come here, to this place that has become a second home to me, this blessing of a blog – and I write. I write to put into some sort of coherent text just what is going on in my head. I write to learn more about myself and to come to terms with something. If I put it down on virtual paper, the fear loses some of its power and the catharsis begins. I tell you, that is something I’m extremely grateful for.

Then I edit and hope you the reader will understand and wonder if I’ve said too much or dumped too much on you. I hope not. This blog is not about a creating a pretty, happy place, although often, thank goodness, it is about pretty and happy things because that’s how my world is at that moment. This blog is about my life here at the cottage and on the road and sometimes it’s messy or angry or sad or scared. I’m a straightforward, honest girl and I have to be that way here.

Hey, I threw in a pretty photo. That should count for something!

Thanks for listening. I know that all of you have your struggles. How do you get through them with grace and faith and hope? I want those three words to define the way I live my life. If you have some thoughts, I’d love hearing them. Thank you, my dear friends.

Happy Thursday.

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Filed Under: life 75 Comments

Riley’s Dish Garden, Revisited

June 20, 2013 at 8:46 am by Claudia

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I’ve finally found the right spot for Riley’s Dish Garden. After trying it on the kitchen island (too far from a source of light) and right by the kitchen window (too close to the window and the baseboard heating), it has landed on the kitchen table. It’s thriving.

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For those of you who are newer readers of this blog, I made this memorial from my beloved Riley’s food dish. You can read about here. That boy loved to eat. When he became weaker in the last few months of his life, I fed him by hand. He remained a foodie up until the end.

I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately. Last year at this time, we were in the midst of what I now call hospice. After returning from my job in Hartford that June, I proceeded to station myself in a chair in the living room where I could get to him quickly, where I could do my best to anticipate his every need.

June. July. Almost all of August.

rileysdishgarden3

It was a bittersweet summer. On the one hand, I was surrounded by my gardens; I was watching my plants grow and bloom and prosper. On the other hand, I was watching my boy decline, knowing that there was not very much time left. We were struggling with the question of ‘When?’ We knew we would know when it was time. For most of that summer, it wasn’t yet time.

This house is filled with Riley’s spirit. In every corner, there is a memory or two. Or three. Or more. When Don plays his guitar and sings, I cannot help but remember how much Riley loved music. The minute he saw that guitar, he was a happy boy. When I sat down at the piano, he immediately wagged his tail and plopped down next to me.

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I miss him so.

Can his spirit live on in this little dish garden?

Why not?

It’s growing, sprouting new tendrils, reaching toward the sun. That makes me happy.

Our family is once again headed into a long period of separation. Don leaves on Monday for a job that will take him away for five weeks. When he returns, I’ll have exactly one day with him before I leave for six weeks. While we are grateful to have the work, the prospect of three months apart is daunting and depressing.

Our little girl no longer copes very well with this sort of thing. She’s older now. She lost Riley and misses him a great deal. She doesn’t like change. (Her mother and father don’t like it, either.)

rileysdishgarden5

Just a wee bit sad today.

Happy Thursday.

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Filed Under: Don, garden, life, Riley, Scout 44 Comments

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Welcome!

Welcome!

I live in a little cottage in the country with my husband. It's a sweet place, sheltered by old trees and surrounded by gardens. The inside is full of the things we love. I love to write, I love my camera, I love creating, I love gardening. My decorating style is eclectic; full of vintage and a bit of whimsy.

I've worked in the theater for more years than I can count. I'm currently a voice, speech, dialect and text coach freelancing on Broadway, off Broadway, and in regional theater.

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