The Smell Of August

The month of August has a definite smell to it… late summer mixed with a hint of fall and a dash of sweltering humidity,. It’s the kind of heat that when combined with a massive dew point is basically Mother Nature giving you a free steam bath and facial.

My childhood identified August by the fresh green scent of mowed grass, hints of honeysuckle and something yummy spattering and spitting on the outdoor grill. On extremely hot and sticky days there was a subtle undertone of grandma’s basement no matter where one was. In my late teens these smells were augmented by vinegar and heavenly french fries fresh from the fryer, a waft of funnel cakes dripping powdered sugar and, depending on the way the wind was blowing, a salty shot of ocean breeze or the heavy musky scent of bay waters. Even after all these year, no matter where I may be, these are the smells of August.

Odors and memory are tightly linked and can bring on strong emotions. Most years I sniff the August air, identify real or barely there imagined smells, and memories dance around the fringes of my mind. The strongest ones loom large but remain passive and content to hang about in the background, peeking around the corner but leaving me be. Most years…

August also has a soundtrack, a musical collage from that particular year in my late teens. Sometimes, usually in August, one of these songs will randomly begin playing in my head, as loud and as real as if a radio had suddenly been turned on. It’s been almost forever but that radio came to life again earlier this month. These artists and songs were the background to that one defining moment that changed my life forever. Every turn I made before that, every decision, every step taken, from my birth to that very moment, led me to that single second in time.

Every step taken since then has been defined by that split second. Before And After. Who I was then is not who I am now and yet, she lives on still, dancing in the shadows. So young, so innocent and hopeful, believing anything was possible, she embraced the best of that moment, that summer, which in the rear view mirror of time was simply perfect until it wasn’t anymore.

Everything happens for a reason and who am I to know if God planned everything to make me who I am now. Perhaps unbearable pain and longing that has never quite gone away was the only thing that would mold me into the person now typing this random missive to send out to the electronic ether. If that’s the case, I am grateful because I like me. I’m pretty awesome. I just wish there had been an easier way.

And so, as August comes to an end, I can smell a hint of the cloying sweetness of honeysuckle with a whisper of dank salty wetlands. As a sweat ball rolls off my nose, I can hear that old summer soundtrack far off in the distance, haunting and bittersweet… and like the radio in my head that clicks itself on every now and again, I will just leave this here, a little Prince And The Revolution “I Would Die 4 U” from Purple Rain, randomly.

Dreams Can Exhaust You

…but that’s okay!

I have been working on a new super secret project since January 3rd and I cannot believe today is the last day of the month already. I am so engrossed in the art that some mornings I wake as early as 2 a.m. because I want to get back at it and simply cannot sleep when so much is at stake.

A few days ago it was suddenly 1:00 in the afternoon – I stretched and rubbed my eyes. Why in the world am I so tired for Pete’s sake? I counted on my fingers… well, yeah, I had just worked for eleven hours straight, totally forgetting about breakfast or lunch [it happens a lot] so no wonder I was tuckered out. I gave myself a break to watch a movie while munching on some peanuts before getting back to it.

And the callous on my middle finger is bigger than it’s ever been! If I could wrap it somehow and still hold a pencil and pen with a firm grip, I would. But trying to pad the area doesn’t work so I ignore the pain and power through. I will rest it when I am done.

So yes, following your dreams can exhaust you, but how damn happy are you while you are doing it? Full of joy and purpose and hope, right? Wouldn’t trade it for the world?

Me either. Keep dreaming, keep believing and don’t give up.

Into The Night

The world is a weird and wonderful place. And thanks to the internet, we are no longer restricted to writing bad poetry while sipping wine and listening to vinyl records. Instead, we can blog something and post it Into The Night…

My Friend, I think about you often. I miss you. Things went awkward but there was no fault on either side. Sometimes people just shift and sway, move away, become someone else. We grow, we change. It happens.

I wonder how you are, I hear things that may or may not be true. I don’t pay too much attention since it might not even pertain to you. I hope you are well, but if you are not, I wish only good things for you and a change to the plot.

So if you ever read this My Friend, tomorrow or next year, I hope you know that despite the ending, I wish you nothing but good cheer.

The world is a weird and wonderful place… and I thank it for letting me know you for a short while. Be well My Friend. Be well and try to smile.

and so, I send this… Into The Night

 

Easter Themed Birthday Party

Easter Themed Birthday Party

Hippity Hoppity! If your Birthday is in the Spring, an Easter Themed Birthday Party can be fun for young and old. Have an Easter Egg Hunt, an egg decorating contest, Easter Basket cupcakes with jelly bean decorations and a rolled fruit leather handle, and Easter themed party favor gifts and games like… pin the tail on the bunny!

Easter is just around the corner. These colorful custom creations available from Zazzle will help you get started planning an Easter Themed Birthday Party for someone special. All Easter Birthday products are available in all three Bunny colors of blue, pink and green.

844-1212 Time Is Dead

Apparently it’s an old news story. But I didn’t know!

Today my friend commented that her computer time does not match the time on her phone and she never really knows what time it was. I commented about back in the dark ages of my first computer [1997] when someone gave me a freeware program that let me update my bio clock, down to the nano second, via some serious atomic clocks around the world. Because the computers were not calibrated to keep up back then. Maybe it was still a problem, I don’t know.

Then she said “Wait, can we call Time?” Well gosh, yes, I remember calling Time. Let’s try it! And as we often do, we said it at the same time: 844-1212 … she put the phone on speaker and pressed the numbers in the proper order…

Instead of Time, a pre-recorded error message issued forth from the telephone speaker. Please Check The Number And Dial Again. WUT? We can’t Dial Time anymore?

Time Is Broken. Maybe the Mayans were right after all. =:0