Breath of My Soul

Having been pretty much "blog-less" for the several days that I've been away, I'm seriously missing time with my blog.  Private time with myself.


My blog has been quite an effective means of self-expression in all its forms.  It serves also as a vehicle with which to purge when necessary.  Expunge.

EXHALE.

It is in essence the breath of my soul.

Self-expression of life’s more memorable moments, profound, or not so profound.

A purging ... mostly as a deflection of  raw emotion that is kept safely and deliberately behind glass walls.  When reality is too painful to endure.

My blog is my repository for the overflow from my soul.

I didn't realize how much it meant to me.  Until it wasn't there anymore.

As it is with all things cherished.

A Birthday to Remember

Each year when my birthday comes around I'm usually on vacation on Marco Island, and I'm blessed to be surrounded not only by family, but by wonderful friends that I've grown to know over the years since vacationing there.  Having them with me on my birthday is an indescribable high, a lasting joy too big for words.

It was a beautiful day -- and on a Monday of all days.  (Best Monday I've had in a while!)  The sun was bright in the sky, ocean breezes all day.  I began the day with a 40 minute power walk down the beach, followed by the ascent to my tower unit at our resort-----128 steps.  (Incidentally, I made it my goal to walk this flight four times each day, over 500 steps; a mitigating gesture for anything I chose to eat or drink while on vacation.)  We spent most of the day in fabulous no-worries mode, lounging on the beach, the white sands and clear waters on our beautiful Gulf of Mexico seducing us with its intoxicating beauty.  Early afternoon, I decided to DRIFT ... floating on a raft for an hour or so in the ocean, listening to the sound of the water all about me, my head back, eyes closed, face kissed by the warmth of the incredibly bright sun, laughter all about me as my friends gathered near me in the ocean water, mingling, celebrating life and good times together, drinking our favorite beverages, telling stories, reliving the past, planning our futures.

Word spead quickly that it was my birthday, and soon everyone was warming me with happy wishes for an awesome day.  Working on my second legal beverage of the afternoon while floating in the pristine water, the sounds of ocean waves and splashing water against my skin, friends all around me, I remember looking back at the shoreline of all the happy faces of people, friends, lovers, and thinking -- wow, WHAT A PARTY!  All these people have been invited to MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!  

We decided to go to Pelican Bend for dinner that night.   There were eleven of us, and although we had a reservation, we had to wait for a short while upon first arriving, the perfect opportunity to enjoy the sights, sounds and music of the marina and have a refreshing cocktail by the outdoor bar.

Yummy Hush Puppies!  Carbs Be Damned!

My Son Calls to Wish Me a Happy Birthday

My dear friend Kim from NC

How 'bout a round of corn hole while we wait?

The birthday girl in paradise!

Look at all those fish!

My girls!

And my guys!

The sun bids farewell on the marina.

My Favorite Sunset Shot

We finished the day with ice cream from Cold Stone Creamery by Marco Bay -- Coffee Lovers for me!

A birthday to remember.  

I am blessed.

Turning Heads

Today I turn 52.  My friends and family are joining me at Pelican Bend for my birthday dinner celebration tonight on the Isle of Capri.  Looking forward to great seafood, atmosphere, music, friends and lasting memories.  A great way to celebrate another year in the life of T.  I don't lament this milestone.  I embrace each one with a tenacity that comes from spirit.  From soul.

    My soul.  

The spirit and soul

that defines 

who I am

   and what I'm made of.  

Fearlessness.  

Gratefulness.

Joy.

Peace.

Power.

Strength.

Courage.

Passion.

Another year older?  So.  Go ahead.  I'm ready...Bring it on.

Turning Heads

“Look at my face.  See the lines, especially the ones around the corners of the eyes? 

They speak of laughter,

including that best of all laughs—the ones you have at yourself. 

The wrinkles?  Honestly earned.  Every damn one of them.

Look at my eyes.  They’ve seen birth, death, failure, loss, success, dreams denied and dreams come true, sunrises and sunsets.  My eyes are different now, and yet still the same.  

Like me  I am more myself and more at home in myself today than I was at 20 or 30.  

You can see this in my eyes.  In fact, you can see all the ages I’ve been in my eyes. 

And if you look really hard, you can even see my secret, 

which is the knowledge that vitality, wisdom, humor

—the intangible we call “soul” – 

will survive when superficial beauty fades. 

That’s a powerful secret, and if it turns heads, 
it’s because young people who may not understand themselves 
might be hypnotized by people who do.”      

 ~ Linda Ellerbee­­­

Happy Birthday, T...!

Are We Keeping You Awake?

I've been burning the candle at both ends for several days now, trying to get caught up on things before leaving on vacation.  I'm still getting up at Dark O'clock for my workouts (it takes 30 mins for my brain and my body to communicate, with the help of mega doses of caffeine), but I'm not getting in bed at my usual time -- 10:00 p.m.  It's always something, and it's later and later each night.

Yesterday we had a rather important court hearing, high profile type thing, and there were TV cameras in the courtroom, all the hoopla for an interesting day in the courts of justice.  Of all times for me to get sleepy -- like the kind of sleepy that gets rather embarrassing, no hiding it, ready-to-fall-out-of-my-seat-and-crash sleepy?  Yeah, that.

At the onset, I panicked a little and gave myself a quick self-talk:

"T!  Psssst, T!  Wake up.  Look alive.  You'll draw attention to yourself.  You'll have people staring!"


Yeah.  Right.  Yes.  Awake.  Hello?  Inhale deeply, look focused and in control.  Got it.


Minutes later...

"T!  Snap out of it!  You're in court.  There are TV cameras!  People are starting to stare at you.  Wake the hell up!  Disconnect from what you're writing and hearing (--yes, I can do that, write it down word for word and be thinking of something totally unrelated--) and think of something that will shock you into consciousness -- like good sex or something?  Anything!  Just open your eyes and keep them open.  Look alive.  Look in control!


"I know!  I know!  I've got this.  I'm all right.  Got it.  I'm awake.  Inhale.  Ahhhh.  Yes.  Good sex.  Eye candy.  Yep.  I can see it.  Yeah, lookin' good.  Talk to me.  Yep.  I'm on top of this..."


It is the most unnerving thing for a court reporter to become overwhelmed with the sleepies.  OMG. It's horrifying.  Hanging on is so elusive at times!  You want so badly to snap out of it, be in control, at least LOOK like you're paying attention.  It's a desperation that affects all of us from time to time, unfortunately.

I remember a court reporter friend of mine telling me once that she was at a deposition, and this happened to her, and suddenly everyone got quiet and one of the lawyers turned to her and said,
"J----, are we keeping you awake?"

This little cutey knows the feeling all too well!  Hopefully I'll never end up the way he did the next time I get the sleepies.  That would REALLY give the media something to televise...

"COURT REPORTER LAPSES INTO COMA IN COURTROOM"

Six More Days

Wine?

Hell, yes.  

After this week of one headache after another, I'm due a week away with no worries.

I'm on the homestretch ...

Only six more days...

... till a little refreshment, relaxation, friendships,

and MARLEY!  (I've already got my portable tunes packed!)

I wonder what live band will be on the beach this year...
Make Mine Marley.

All gone...Another round, please?

Beach Bums at Work.

Do Not Disturb.

Sea grasses framing a Marco Island sunset...

These birds?  The "in-crowd."
They KNOW how to throw a party!

What a ride!

Memories to get me through

the days ahead

.
As I wait.
And work.
Worrying about this file...or that deadline...
Calls to be made.
Reports to complete and record.
Errands to run, projects to finish.
Gifts to wrap.
Birthday cake to order.
Appointments to make.

Five,
four,
three,
two,
one...

Losing My Mind

Yesterday was a pain in the ass.

My brain is on overload and I'm suffering from severe forgetfulness as a result.

This is
Annoying
Disturbing
Maddening
and it frankly has me concerned!

Getting to sleep last night was a challenge.  All I could think about was what I'd forgotten, misplaced, and neglected to do or remember to do.  Important stuff.  Inexcusable.  Brain overload.

My list of TO-DO's is a mile long, and growing by the hour, and that serves only to exacerbate my loss of brain cells.

In search of my head....

It's gotta be around here somewhere...

Please let today be a better day!!!

Traffic Light Diversion

Traffic lights are part of life.  Part of the rules that we have no choice but to obey.  Some rules you can break and get away with, some you can't.  Traffic lights are mandatory.  You obey or you pay.

So when I find myself stopped at a traffic light, there are a list of diversions that I often find myself doing, ranging anywhere from...

• Applying lipstick
• Checking emails or text msgs
• Tidying the console and surrounding area of trash, gum wrappers, etc.
• Reviewing grocery coupons
• Digging in my console for snacks (when I'm hungry) -- usually almonds
• Channel surfing my CD player and/or radio
• Singing and/or jamming along to tunes
• Organizing my CD's 
• Checking out men's forearms in cars/trucks opposite me

Okay.  I know that last one was odd.  But seriously, I do that.  Why?  I don't know why.  But a man's forearm tells a story about the man.  You can "size up" a guy just from the forearm.

Is it lily white?

Tanned?

Bare or hairy?

Tattos?

Skinny or full?  (A sign of many character traits!)

Lean and hard?

Soft and willowy?

Striated?

Watch?  Classy or cheap?

Clean or scummy?

Old or young?

Is the sleeve rolled up or buttoned tidily?

Is there a sleeve at all?

Is there a yummy bicep attached to that well-built forearm?

I can't help myself.  If I see a man's forearm, I check it out.  Always.  Without fail.

This morning I was sitting at the light, organizing deposit slips, coupons and notes that had fallen in disarray out of my unorganized purse, and instinctively I look across at the vehicle beside me.  Male forearm.  Radar goes off.  I pay attention.  

Nice.  

Tanned.  Soft, dark hair.  Thick and muscular.  

I approve.

Innocent diversion while I wait.  It's okay to look after all.  Nothing more.  Just some eye candy.

FOREARMS?  Really?

I'm weird that way, I guess.