Be luscious now.

 When my mother died thirty years ago, my family burned her beloved Bayberry candles - which she had rarely used. My mother was a truly kind woman, the kind you are lucky to meet once in your life. But she didn't extend the same kindness to herself.

Now, this isn't an exhortation to, "Use the good china!", because that's pretty self evident. Today's luscious life is about taking care of yourself, no matter where you are in your journey.

I was a wreck even before Mom died - struggling in  school and in my marriage with my now ex-husband. That night, I learned that I didn't have to have my life together to enjoy  beauty and pleasure. Like all of us, I'd been taught about self-denial, about delayed gratification. That I had to live in my poverty and hand-me downs in misery. This mind set sucks and makes an already bad situation even worse.

You get to enjoy life, no matter where you are in your finances. Be luscious now, not later.

Ten Minutes: Activism if you have depression or other limitations.

The reality of injustice has been uncovered in the most horrific ways possible. We have work to do to make the country a place where people can live in peace.

If you suffer from depression, chronic pain, or other conditions that keep you from the front lines, you can still help people. The trick is to start small. If you make your goal too big, you will inevitably fail and slide into despair. So begin with ten minutes, just like if you were starting an exercise program.

You can get a lot done in ten minutes. Write a tiny email to someone you admire, telling them thank you for their hard work. Or write a tiny email to the city council, saying you want the police to learn new ways of interacting with their people of color.

No need to worry about making it perfect. Just start. For example, here's a tiny note I just made up on the fly:

Dear Police Department,

Seriously, guys, I think you need some help. The way you work now kills people, both officers and populace. Please expand to include social workers and mental health professionals. I want everyone to feel safe on the streets.

Or, you could be more assertive, depending on your personality:

Dear Police Department,

What the fucking fuck, dudes??

In ten minutes, you can create a draft about a situation or system that needs to change. If the email triggers your anxiety or your condition, you can wait for tomorrow's (or next week's) ten minutes to edit and send.

Perhaps you are awesome on the phone. Or you design excellent protest signs. Maybe you are in the absolute pits and can barely get out of bed. At that point, play some protest music, for yourself or your neighbors (my favorite protest musician is Mavis Staples).

Start small.

Small actions do add up and do make a difference.

#MyFinal24 for Alexandra Franzen!

---

My friend Alexandra Franzen has written a new book - So This Is The End: a love story. 

The central question of the book is, "If you had just 24 hours to live, what would you do with your time?"

Of course, my brain went into overtime thinking of what I'd do for my final twenty-four.



1. The first thing I'd do is check on my legal documents. I want to make sure my loved ones have all the information they need to have a good life after I am gone.

2. I'd make love to the Charming Man. *hearts*

3. I'd write love notes to my friends and family so they would know how much they have meant to me. Heck, I'd write The One I Had To Say Goodbye To, just to let them know that they had made my life a better place.

4. I'd sneak a few love notes into the Charming Man's drawers and desk. Something to make him smile!

5. I'd make love to the Charming Man. (He better have taken his vitamins)

6. I'd put my money where my mouth is. I take a lump sum of money and just hand it out to people higgley-piggly. We all deserve a windfall. We all deserve some unexpected blessings. And I would want one of my final acts to be one that brought joy to the world.

7. Then I'd invite everyone I could over to my house and I would have a huge party. Lots of dancing, lots of crazy costumes, exquisite food, games, hugs, kisses, cuddles, and soulful talks. Maybe sneak in some lovemaking with the Charming Man. We would play all night long, because play feeds the body, mind, and soul.

Whew! That's a full 24 hours. What would be on your list?

The finished patio project (and a few random photos).

Alma's Ganache In A Cup.

 The deck is finished! After months of mud and building, we finally got some furnishings (thanks to Lowe's discount area and various thrift shops) and it is starting to look like the retreat I always wanted. But first, I tease you with some random pictures of Portland!

(cue evil laugh)

The empty cup is the remains of an Alma Chocolate's Ganache in a Cup. I was not about to stop to take a picture before I ate it.

Cherish Yesterday; Dream Tomorrow, Love Today.

 Outside of Alma's, I saw this wonderful sign sitting on the sidewalk.

I call this The Retreat.

 And now for the main event. :)

Candlesticks from Goodwill.

Perfect for dreaming and reading.

The Garden Gate

The Party Pavilion

Pretty lanterns light the way.

A vase from a friend's mother's estate sale.

Rain chains: elegant and relaxing.

In memoriam

Today, I attended the funeral of my dear friend and fellow author Sloan Addams. She contracted polio when she was a very young girl and survived into her 70s with the harrowing reality of post-polio syndrome and resulting complications.

Despite her gimp status (her words, not mine), she was a world traveler, a mother, a teacher, and a writer of warm, cozy mysteries. She supported my crazy, sexy vampires, and would occasionally complain that I gave her yummy things to read at the times she was not allowed *ahem* intimate conversation. What a compliment!

In memory of Sloan, I am reposting my essay about going to a Turkish bath, dated October 18, 2010.

The hammam is one of the few things in the world that I experienced, but she did not.

Cheers, Sloan.

*** 

Photo from www.istanbul-turismo.com

When I was in Istanbul, the one place I knew I had to visit was a hammam. I went to one of the most famous Hamams in the world - Cagaloglu Hamami.

This is the description I sent my fellow author, Sloan Addams. She calls me Wonder Woman. I call her Power Girl.

***

Power Girl! I have come to the conclusion that the hamam is the cure for all the world's ills.

First, some nice lady pours hot water all over you as you sit on a heated marble floor. Then you get to lay there in wet, fabulous bliss. She comes in with soap and a exfoliating mitt and scrubs you all over, front and back, so that your skin is incredibly smooth and clean. This is not fast, either. It's complete relaxation.

You get rinsed by more hot, clean water splashed over you. This feels like heaven.

Then you realize that heaven is even cooler than you thought, because you get a massage with the soap suds. The soap and water is so thick and bubbly that your massage is slick and relaxes every damn part of yourself.

Finally, she washes your hair.

At the end, you ooze your boneless way back to your little room and try to remember how to put on clothes.

I bought some of the soap and one of the mitts there, so I can give myself a cheater's hamam here at home. No heated marble floors, you know. ;)

***
Her response?



Wonder Woman - I just turned green.

Painful reality

My dear friend, Su Lute, is a gifted writer who is one of the co-authors of the witty and important blog, "See Jane Publish".

Today, she reminds all of us of a frightening reality of a woman's life. She shares the story of a fellow nurse and good friend who was killed this week by domestic violence.

What is there to say when this tragedy occurs?

I'm sure there are 'helpful' people who will scold Su for "not getting her friend out of there" or "not alerting the authorities".  To these people, I gently remind them - stopping domestic abuse is not as simple as riding in like the Lone Ranger and saving the day with a Grand Gesture.

For the rest of us, I say that that romance is important.  Abuse is one reason why. Women must have hope that they can survive an angry man. We must have hope that love will mitigate the violence that is rampant against women.

When we are fatigued and hopeless from the odds stacked against us, romance gives us a chance to restore our souls and refresh our bodies. Then, we can go back into the world and fight the good fight for our rights.

Fear can drag us down, convince us that we are trapped by a world that hates us, wants us to be silent, wants us to disappear, wants us to be available as sexual objects only, and that dismisses our intellect and our talents.

Anything that gives us hope, bandages up our courage, that helps us remember our fallen sisters, cannot be dismissed.

Well, I'm home.

It's been a poignant couple of weeks. There has been a lot of crying, hugging, and sharing but still, I am incredibly fatigued and numb. So yeah, no writing going on.

In addition to the loss of my grandmother, I learned that my family of birth doesn't read my blog. It didn't surprise me - I've always been the oddball of the bunch (and that's pretty darn odd, considering our bunch). But it did sting.

I'm trying to soothe that sting. The best thing I've come up with is that I am free to say whatever the hell I want here. I could write about my intimate secrets - well, ok, not that I *want* to say that much about my private life, but I *could*!

My grandmother believed in me. The Charming Man and my family of choice believes in me. And that goes a long way towards making the world a better place.

Death and other realities

My maternal grandmother passed away early this morning.  She was 94.

This is the second death for The Charming Man and I in one month.

I'm numb with grief. My grandmother gave me my love of history and my love of writing. She was the only one who seemed happy that I chose history as my major and pursued that love to an MA. She was the one who inspired me to study the Ancient World and the Middle East. She also gave me my love of romantic stories.

Everything that swirls around a death - the rituals, the services, the pain, the bizarre family in-jokes, the potential for the eruption of uncomfortable truths - creates a sense of drama and mystery. Life is sharper, fiercer, and more precious than ever.

Someday, I will write a gentle, historical romance story for her.

Thank you, Grandma, for loving me. You never gave up on me.

Death in the Family

The Charming Man's step-father died yesterday from cancer. Things are going to be complicated for a few days.