To My Beloved Friends on 9/11

For Mike, Jack, Tony, Larry, Amy, Rick & Nancy who died in Tower 1 & 2 on 9/11:

You've been gone for some time now.
Your hugs and laughter are no more,
the memory of your smiles have faded away
and I miss you all the more.

Yes... I miss you.
More than words can ever say,
more than my letters can convey,
in every single way,
since the day you passed away,
I've missed you.

View of Lower Manhattan

I've not been feeling well since this afternoon. Sitting here, watching such a beautiful sunset unfold before me, I thought I'd try and capture it so I could share it with you.

The picture doesn't do it justice. Maybe it was all in my state of mind, either way I hope you like it.

Russo's

Best homemade pasta EVER! 'nuf said. Oh, as for location... I don't know... some things I just don't want to share, they might run out of my spinach and salmon ravioli that I love so much. Then where would I be?

Alright, alright, I'll share... They're located to the left of Veniero's. For location see this post.

Vintage NY

This lovely boutique, which is called Tokyo Joe's, for one of the owner's, has high-end vintage clothing for sale at reasonable prices.

One thing's for sure, you'll look very good while standing out in these stylish, yet gently worn clothing. It's a fashion must for every trendy eastsider.

The shop is conveniently located on 12 St. between 1st & 2nd Avenues, just a few doors up from Veniero's (see previous 2 posts).

This location is very convenient because after some fun shopping in local vintage boutiques you can unwind and share your finds by meeting a friend at either Veniero's or DeRobertis (just down the street) for a delicious Moccaccino (iced or hot depending on the weather).

Mmmmm Chocolate Cake!

Every woman KNOWS why women eat chocolate cake. Well, I had one of those days which included all of those reasons and while I ordered my son's birthday cake from Veniero's I indulged in a slice of one of these beauties. Did I feel better afterwards? Well, let's just say I was left with a satisfied smile on my face.

Veniero's Pastry Shop

This place is a little slice of heaven in the East Village. When I was single & lived in Manhattan, I'd head here and nurse a tall/Venti Iced Moccachino waiting for my friends to meet up, so we could decide on where to eat dinner and on the rest of the evening's activities.

On hot lazy summer weekends in August I still love going there, this time with my son, with good books to help us relax and an Iced cold Orzata to keep us cool while we sit al fresco. Care 2 join?

St. Marks Bookshop

This post was inspired by this post over at Blog Sis Tammi's place, where she talks about her rocker days.

The Beatles had Strawberry Fields & Penny Lane, I had St. Marks Bookshop and CBGB's.

St. Marks's Bookshop has an incredibly eclectic collection of books, both foreign & domestic. I still love their amazingly brilliant staff because they helped shape my grad studies, while honing my political debating skills, and enriching my literary life by introducing me to Spinoza, Goethe, in addition to Plato & Aristotle.

This week, St. Mark's is doing a retrospective on CBGB's, which is only a few blocks away and is slated to close in a few days. I also love that place because I had a couple of gigs as a back up singer there during my young/punk days. My favorite bands who played there were The Clash and The Ramones.

In spite of what I looked like and the rep of punks, I still think it was a fun, sweet, and innocent time for me. What can I say, I was a walking dichotomy!

A Quiet East Village

This where I go to get a great 'chino or latte and I want to sit in a quiet corner reading a book or essay. It's the corner of 12th and 1st Ave. Also known as the corner of DeRobertis, Black Forest and Veniero's Coffee and Pastry shops. At this hour of the day its quiet, but let the sun go down and there's lines everywhere.

I love DeRobertis because they know me (I practically lived there) and they let me hang out nursing a cup of java and letting me chat with the staff about jazz and/or cooking trends and tips. It's better than watching Martha Stewart.

I've had many a group dates here. All were fun and interesting.

A Room With a View

Most apartments in NYC don't come with a view. If they do they're astronomically overpriced. My mom is really lucky in a way, although I hate the street level view of her East Village apartment, I love the sunsets and moon rises that I can see from her living room window.

What's even more rare is that she has a great view from the 12th floor of her apt from the bedroorm too.

I'm staying at her place for the next few nights and this will be my view for each. Couldn't resist sharing it.

Starting Over with my beloved city

I'm back... sort of. I'm back to both conduct a photo blog essay/journey/experiment and also to find new footing. In looking to move forward into a new direction, I always need to look back to see where I've come from and examine closely my previous incarnations to see what they produced. In the process I make sure I retain the really good (such as my love for reading and writing) and I do away with the really bad. Sometimes the bad is a relationship, other times it can be as simple as a look: like my purple hair and crazy hairstyle and clothes during my singing as a backup for a few bands and punk rock days.

Why am I doing this now? Well, I just had a birthday last month and usually every number of years I make a decision and redirect my thoughts and focus in a different or more purposeful direction. That focus propels me forward onto a new chapter and sometimes in a direction.

Well, I’m on the verge of a new phase. I can taste and feel it. It starts with a dissatisfaction that moves onto unhappiness and then, something happens to create a pervasive sadness that once it longers for too long creates just an enormous weight on my sould that needs to be moved through and lifted. It started with job earlier this year, so I got a new one; a challenging position that uses all my skills in research, analysis, and writing to it’s fullest. Now I’m re-evaluating the rest of my life - from where I live to the people that are in my life.

The wonderful thing about living in this city is that it provides you with lots of diversions and distractions to help ease the sorrow, fear and confusion during this process, and lots of way to transform yourself once you know where you want to go. There's also lots of things you can use in the process if that's your bag, from self-help books and centers, to gurus or consultants and ending up with life coaches and past life regresstions. I wonder what my blogsis Tammi would have to say about that. Anyway, that's not for me.

Part of my process is to hit the reflecting pool of the East River with Lady Liberty waving at me from the water reminding me that many a people have passed this way before me looking for a change similar to mine and succeeded. From them I draw my inspiration and with journal in hand, a cup of joe, some writing, some thinking and some good old fashioned grieving for the things I have to let go I begin to let things gel wihtin me. Afterwards I give myself some good old fashioned pep talk for the things I need to do, so I can begin to prepare for the adventure I've tentatively and somewhat fearfully set out for myself. Then I'll take a much needed walk to let it all sink in, during that walk I commit to walk on that new path no matter how difficult, much like Frodo did, because in the end, the goal is there waiting for me, it's the journey.

You can’t live or be in this city without being touched by it’s intensity and occasional frenetic pace. No matter how you’re feeling, walk long enough along it’s streets and you’ll experience a mind/emotional shift.

So hold onto your seat belts and hats. The journey and adventure begins now!

It Comes In Three's

They say that tragedy or death comes in three’s.

The first call came Sunday night letting me know that a friend I had made while living in Asia, had past-on during the night. I was saddened to hear the news but knowing how much he was suffering from cancer thought heaven was a much better place for him to be than in his body. May he finally rest in peace

This morning I received word that my aunt has slipped into a coma after a year of battling lung cancer and a brain tumor. I was really saddened to hear this news because I had been thinking of and wanting to see her these last 2 months. It’s because of her that there’s music in my soul. She taught me a great deal about music and even introduced me to some great Jazz legends, like Charlie Parker, Billie Holiday and Thelonious Monk. I can almost hear Billie’s Good Morning Heartache and Solitude in the background. They were two of her favorites. So as I pack up my portable player and Billie Holiday’s CD, I hope that I get to see her in time to say, Thank You and Good Bye.

To tell you the truth, I’m really praying for the old saying to be true: no news is good news.

Blogging and life will resume when I return. 

Voices

There are voices which come to me at the oddest moments. Voices from the past and of people I’ve known. I’ve heard reassuring voices of some of my friends who have past on. Mike’s voice has always been the loudest and strongest, and that’s probably because he’s the one I’ve known the longest.

His voice was there, as it had been many times before, affirming, assuring, nagging and promising me things would turn out alright. When I had no hope or faith, it was his faith that always carried me through whatever challenge I was facing. Overtime, I began to develop a faith and a hope of my own. His guarantees, were the reassurance I needed in order for patience to take hold and wait for the miracles to happen in my life.

It was Mike’s voice who hounded me every day for months, to get off my ass, start walking and get back in shape. He was a guy who could not stand flab in his loved ones. He knew that if he said it to me enough times I’d get tired of his nagging voice and I’d do something just to shut him up. It worked.

The first time I went out of the house in my running shoes I asked myself how long should I go for. Mike’s military voice chimed in, “no more than 40 minutes.” It was so authoritative I nearly stood at attention and saluted. As I began doing the conversion in my head of how far that would be, his voice came booming back, “that means every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow, until you start running again. EVERY DAY, No Excuses!” The marine in him was still coming through. So I followed orders. And as I climbed the stairs to my building at the end of that first walk, he was there. The hard slap on my back and the grip on my shoulder, that pushed me forward so hard I nearly fell, told me he was. His words came next, loud and clear: “You had a good start today. Now don’t give up”. He was a man of few but firm words, so I didn’'t give up.

In the last few weeks, Mike’s voice was overlapped with others. The voices of my track and volleyball coaches of years ago came back to help me remember all the things I’d forgotten: how to warm up and for how long, how many weeks to walk then jog before getting back into running; how to set small goals and once achieving them, how to move continuously forward to exceed them. Their voices were always there waiting for me to listen.

Now they are there every time I put on my running shoes, helping me figure out what my routine will be for the day, based on how my legs feel, the weather, and the time I have available. They are there as I gather my gear and subconsciously search the skies for an excuse to shorten my walk, that’s when they tell me they won’t accept any excuses, otherwise I have to drop down and give ‘em 20! I dare not roll my eyes at them or I know I would get slapped in the back of my head.

It’s their voices that tell me to shorten my stride and lean forward when I begin to climb the hill, while doing battle with the ice cold wind that pushes me back. That’s when Mike would chime in, “what’s a little cold wind in your face.” I hear the coaches guidance every time I get into a stretching position and feel the muscle resist my tug, while they tell me to hold and wait just a few more seconds, until the muscles finally give in. As I move from walking to jogging spurts, my legs begin to feel like cement and my shins begin to hurt. It's then that they remind I’ve gone through this worse - like right after my ski accident. As I push past the pain they smile, and I with them, knowing that I'm finally on the path again.

For the last few weeks they have all been telling me everyday not to quit in spite of the weather and slow progress. Whenever I’m dissatisfied with how far I have yet to go, they keep reminding me that I’m still moving forward and meeting my small goals. They reassure me, that as long as I don’t quit, I will not fail. I can tell their voices are here to stay, as they’ve been getting stronger and louder with each new day. All the while, Mike’s voice was growing quieter and slowly fading away..

In the wee hours of Monday morning, Mike came to me in my dreams once again. He had stopped by my apartment to have a heart to heart with me. He told me he was very proud and happy that I was finally coming out of my shell and into my own. Like an excited jubilant child I rushed to tell him all the wonderful things that were going on with me. He just sat there at the edge of the couch and smiled his big warm smile and said, “I know.” I smiled too, knowing that we knew each other’s mind and that he could finally see he didn’t have to nag or worry about me any longer.

As he got up he said: “well, it’s time for us to go.” Puzzled I slowly repeated: “us?” “go?” ”where?” He smiled once more and said: “You’ve done well kid! You’ll do fine. You can now take it from here.” After a very long silence I knew exactly what he meant, then he was gone.

In our 18 years of friendship we never said goodbye. We never needed to, because we knew we would be there for each other forever. When we first met, I was the reluctant fledgling he had taken under his wing. As I grew, it didn’t matter how far I’d gone, for we were always in each other’s heart. We were now able to leave each other and let go because he knew I had finally learned to fly. He had seen how an incredible new family had taken me under their wing and given me enough lessons to soar on my own.

Goodbye Mike....I will love you forever!

Requiem for a Friend

My post yesterday brought me back to a time when I first began to witness the first of many deaths in my life. The first being the relationship of my parents. By the time I was 14 the death of their marriage had turned into a festering cesspool of animosity, resentment and anger that made it a living hell to be exposed to and live with, let alone be caught in the crossfires. In retrospect, I now see that my parents had too much pain and anger from their own relationship, to realize they were hurting those around them.

Their behaviour caused me such unhappiness that I just chose to withdraw from the world. I was only present in body, while my heart and soul were cloistered in the sadness of watching the self-destruction around me. My diary was my only and constant companion, my confidante and friend.

Shortly after the start of a new school year I found my saving grace, it was a new classmate named Myrna, who had the face of an angel, and the most kind and loving heart I have ever known. We first met when she was assigned a seat in front of me during World Lit Class. She was funny, witty, and irreverent, and had such a great spirit that it was very hard not to be immediately drawn to her. We had 5 out of 7 classes together in which I always sat behind her. As she used to say in those days to coax me out of my shell, ‘it was futile to resist her charm, as we were destined to be great friends, so I might as well give into it and start talking to her because otherwise she would spread vicious gossip about me and make my life a living hell for the remainder of the year’.

She said it with such a playful style that I couldn’t help but laugh at least a half hearted laugh. Whenever I did that she’d say, “that’s it? that’s all you've got” and she’d mimic my weak laugh in such a way that it would make me laugh harder. From then on we were inseparable both at school and on the phone.

As time went on, we became so close we intuitively knew each others thoughts without even saying a word. We just as easily finished each other’s sentences as we did each others’ french fries. Whenever she went away to visit family she would write long and outrageously detailed letters with outrageously exaggerated descriptions of everything around her. As she wrote about people she would always give me hysterical personality portraits on their character that made me laugh though she was a million miles away. My writing always paled in comparison to the wild creative fantasies she produced on paper. She was my first writing companion and friend.

She became my safe harbor in an otherwise empty and stormy life. A firm anchor that would not let me drift away into darkness or oblivion. With kind words, a caring spirit and great humor she repaired daily the damage caused from the storms of the night before.

One morning I caught her crying hysterically in the bathroom before school. Though she denied it was serious and made excuses, I still remember the gut feeling I had that something was terribly wrong. She would not tell me of her pain and I loved my friend too much to press her. Things changed drastically in the subsequent days and weeks thereafter.

As time passed she became quieter and more isolated. Eventually she became so withdrawn that she barely spoke a word to anyone. There were times that I could sense so much pain within her that all I could do was put my arm around her as we walked home. We often parted with barely a wave. I understood the sadness she was feeling, but found myself helpless to do anything to change it.

By semester’s end she was as lifeless as I had once been. I reversed our roles in the hope that something I might say or do would bring about the same transformation she had created in me. I did everything in my power to cheer her up, to try and help lift her spirits but nothing worked.

One day she came to me somewhat altered from what had now become her quiet painful usual reserve. It was then that in a barely hopeful but resolved voice she told me she was running away, that she couldn't take the pain she was enduring at home any longer. She then proceeded to reveal the living tale of her hell on earth. She pleaded me to go with her. I hesitated and saw her crushed spirit. I promised to give her an answer in a few days for there was much to consider and plan if I agreed; there was destination, transportation, money, and the question of what we would do to survive once we got there.

She was insistent that she could not live one more day in that hell. I was as persuasive as I could be, giving her an infinite number of alternatives. When those were shot down, and her inner light began to dim, I promised her we could runaway together as long as she waited 3 days for me to get enough money and time to come up with a plan for our escape. She reluctantly For the next 24 hours I prayed that I could come up with a better solution than escaping our mutual hells by running away.

That afternoon I left school early and walked the entire 10 mile stretch home. I needed time to think about what to do. Like her, I felt there was no one I could turn to with this, but decided it would be worse to stand by and do nothing.

The next day, as I sat down in my homeroom, I found an envelope with a letter taped to my desk. As I opened it I knew it was a letter saying goodbye from Myrna. I had failed to convince her to stay and wait for my plan. It didn’t surprise me when the principle walked into the room, just as I was finishing the letter. He wanted me in his office because Myrna had been found behind the girls bathroom at the end of the volleyball field. She had found her own solution to her problem, she had hanged herself.

A few days later I received a letter from her along with the little money she had managed to save for her escape. In her letter she begged me and made it her last wish that I would set myself free and “never look back”. The day after my high school graduation I took that money, packed my bags and left for Europe. Heeding her words I have never looked back, until now.

I have never had another friend or loved anyone as much as I did her. Others have come close but I’ve managed to keep everyone at bay. You see, I realized last night that all my life I’ve been repeating the same pattern since her death, never really letting anyone get as close to me as she was. If anyone did enter my life it was to form a small bond, one loose enough for me to slip out of if necessary and not experience loss, should they not be in my life tomorrow.

I realized that since the loss of my friends on 9/11 I have not made one single new friend. I believe it was an instinctual reaction to such an unnatural and overwhelming loss. The thought of opening up, of caring or loving another human being was at first too burdensome. My heart was just too heavy with grief. As the grief faded, getting to know people was intimidating and terrifying. What was I afraid of? I was afraid of suffering another loss and feeling more pain. I felt as if I had lost my universe when my friends past on, and when the pain began to ease I didn't want to risk opening up old wounds. So I chose to live in an isolated, reclusive world. A world that though lonely, would be safe from risk of any hurt.

That’s how I lived until I was adopted by the most unusual and wonderful family. My blog family and some very amazing bloggers. A most unlikely group of wonderful, funny, quirky and caring people I’ve met in a very, very. long time. Just like my dear departed Mike did so many years ago, my blog dad, Harvey, and Sgt Hook, each put an arm around me and took me under their wing to bring me into this wonderful fold of digital friendship. This was something I could manage, people being as close to my computer screen but not close enough to risk pain or hurt. In time, I grew fond of their playful banter, fell in love with the object of their love, cried over their losses, beamed over their new beginnings and triumphs and almost daily, laughed a laughter not known to me for years.

In the last few weeks there have been a number of bloggers who have reached out to me in sincere friendship. I have to say thank you for doing so, it has truly touched my heart immensely. In essence you have all had a part in healing my soul. I now realize I could have never extended my hand of my own accord.

Writing and acknowledging all this has been part of healing my past. I realized in writing this post that I never would have been able to move forward if I didn't look back to see where my fear had originally come from and what had been stopping me all these years. In these last few weeks you have all done much to coax me out of my shell, by trying to move me from the digital to the real world. It's still a scary proposition but your collective love is so undeniably strong that I would now be hard pressed to live without it.

Besides, I have no choice in moving forward. I realized that if I don't comply Harvey, Tammi and the rest of my blog family and friends would only pick me up and drag me kicking and screaming to the next comment party with or without my consent. And the alternative, tormenting me with endless posts that are full of vicious lies for all the world to see, is now the greatest horror I could ever me.

To those of you who have sent me your phone numbers, shocker of all shocker, I will begin to use them soon. No time like the present to take action on moving forward. Please bare with me while I gather my courage though, some of you are rather daunting in your digital presence, I can only imagine you in real life.

Thank you all for being a part of my life and supporting my transformation. I could not have started this journey without you.

Posted by: Michele at 12:01 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 1869 words, total size 10 kb.

1 *sniff, sniff* {{HUG}} You madame are one hell of a person and I am better for having you as a blogsister.

Posted by: Machelle at April 01, 2005 08:14 AM (ZAyoW)

2 That's quite a post. I know a couple of people that have to read it. It's too bad we don't have any kind of VOIP software, it would be helpful for people to be able to talk with each other.... 

Posted by: _Jon at April 01, 2005 10:54 AM (R6yie)

3 I had to stop reading this halfway through and take a break before I could finish it, because I'm at work and I started misting up really bad and I have no kleenex. {hug} Have I ever told you how much I love happy endings? :-)

Posted by: Harvey at April 01, 2005 11:19 AM (tJfh1)

4 Though I come to visit, I seldom leave comments. I will today. I am a stay at home mom and usually have time to talk. If you ever need to talk, just call me. Send me an email and I'll send you my phone numbers. Or we can talk via _Jon's teamspeak or via Skype (you can also chat via Skype). I wish you the best. Harvey, Tammi, _Jon and all the rest are a wonderful, wonderful family.

Posted by: vw bug at April 01, 2005 12:06 PM (rhlNH)

5 That was a very nice post Michele. I can totally relate to keeping people at bay. I don't have any friends to speak of and I'm to blame for keeping it that way. I have numerous acquaintances but not really any friends. The last friend I had moved about 3 years ago and the one before that was about 10 years ago, so you can see I don't make much of an effort to "find a new buddy". Well, I'll start taking up your comment section if I keep talking about it...anyway thanks for the post, it reflects a lot of feelings I have.

Posted by: neonangel at April 01, 2005 02:29 PM (fJqkl)

6 Oh, that was beautiful. Sad, but beautiful. {HUG}

Posted by: Sally at April 02, 2005 09:14 AM (8Ef3q)

7 Wow. You have a true talent for writing. Please try and make it to the next family reunion. We would love to meet Michelle in the flesh! And I am sure the guys would love to "bare" with you. 

Posted by: TNT at April 03, 2005 10:23 AM (ubhj8)

8 I don't know if I could have survived, emotionally or spiritually, everything that you've gone through. I know that it took an event a lot less traumatic to put me in my own shell for a time. I also have a hard time keeping friends, (everyone always seems to move a way) so I understand how hard it can be to reach out to the next person. Any time you need a virtual hug, just ask. Anything more... well, I'm on the other side of the state, so it might take a little while to get to you. ;-)

Posted by: GEBIV at April 03, 2005 12:34 PM (vI2yr)

9 Doh! I forgot this! {HUG}

Posted by: GEBIV at April 03, 2005 01:05 PM (vI2yr)

10 I'm glad you are feeling like you can start to move forward...that's so tough! Your blog family is here for you....for any reason!! {Hug}

Posted by: Sissy at April 03, 2005 06:33 PM (PjqiK)

11 That was exceptionally moving and touching and a very sweet epitath to your friend, Michele.

Posted by: RP at April 07, 2005 09:40 AM (LlPKh)

The Demise of a Relationship

Frank of IMAO and Sarah of Mountaineer Musings, have officially declared their love for each other by becoming engaged. I must be the only one not surprised by what I thought was a wonderful natural course of events. From reading their websites on an occasional basis I could tell how much love they have for each other.

My dear Blog Father wrote 2 wonderful posts (Free Advice and Helpful Wedding Advice) in an attempt to enlighten and prepare the happy couple. I read some of the comments that were left (some are very funny), and thought about what they need to guard against.

The demise of relationship is something that is not easily noticed, it is a slow and almost imperceptible death. Here's my humble experience on the sign posts and how to avoid them once you spot them.

It begins with the personal shift from the “"we"” to the "me", first in thinking then in language and finally in acting/decision making. It then moves on to taking your loved one for granted and then on to a worse area... that of being not considered in decisions or ignored. As the partner begins to slip in importance and priority, the career, the children and financial goals begin to take a higher precedence. All of this continues while your loved ones waits to regain his/her lost footing. This errodes the respect and regard they had for one another and sows the seeds of contempt and intollerance for their beloved.

The impending death is then helped along by being “apart more often than not making affection and closeness and being “a part of” their loved one's life virtually non-existent. The drifting that occurs over time, when spontaneity, intimacy and closeness has been lost, and you no longer remember the sparks that ignited your passion, is a sure sign of the moribund state of love. That slow insidious death is what they have to make sure never begins to take hold in their relationship.

If they can remember to start dating after they marry, if they can still hold each other with affection and look into each other’s eyes and tell each other how special they are and what they mean to each other often; if they can find compromises that will work for the greater good in their marriage, rather than for the benefit of any one partner and still be able to let go without regret or ego, then they are well on their way to a good start.

The rest is simply caring enough, being always present, honoring each other and being each other’s best friend.

Heliocentricity

I lay awake last night in my darkened bedroom staring at the stars I glued to my ceiling some time ago. I really miss laying on the soft grass of my front lawn, surrounded by the smells of a dewy earth. I remembered many a nights staring up into the heavens searching for a number of planets and stars and feeling a sort of cosmic connection to the universe once I found them.

They were my anchor during times when I felt adrift in places and times I now wish I could forget. It was at those times that I thought of Copernicus turning to the heavens for answers in solitary introspective moments during times of great personal challenge.

Last night, as I tried not to stare directly into a star's light, I discovered it was already being reflected back to me through a most unlikely mirror. As I lay there, lost in thought, I saw that my celestial oracle had revealed more about myself than I anticipated seeing.

As the stillness of the night turned to daylight, I finally realized that in spite of all my losses, I don't regret the path my life has taken, because it has brought me to where I am today: a place where I can finally heal myself, and allow others to help heal me.

Thank you for being here and commenting, and for your friendship and support. The greatest lesson last evening was learning I could never grow or heal in an isolated vacuum. 

Scattered Thoughts

As I sit in my cozy warm livingroom watching the inauguration I'm glad that I decided to stAs I sit in my cozy warm living room watching the inauguration I'm glad that I decided to stay home. My old DC connections extended an invitation to all the day's events, but I'm really not a hang out in the cold type of person. That is, unless I'm hiking, skiing. skating or sledding.

I'm off of work for the 2 weeks, both to rest my hands and to get some important things done have lots of things planned and lots of things in the air. I hope all the things I want to accomplish get done.

Part of me wishes I could do more for the Tsunami victims, but my present lifestyle no longer permits me to take a short leave and go to work for the relief agencies I used to work for. My responsibilities as a single mom of an adorable and demanding 5 year old require me to remain home. One of the things that I'll be doing is running a workshop here for new relief workers that will be going overseas and helping them understand what to expect there both culturally and emotionally. Unfortunately, I am uniquely qualified to share on what it feels like to lose everyone you love in an instant and how Post Traumatic Stress disorder has manifested itself in my life these past 3 in a half years.

Life is easier now. My grief, like an old friend, remains close bye. It especially hangs close during special days when the absence of my friends is felt most. There's always a brief respite from January through April, and for that I'm grateful.

I'm finally back to writing in my journals, which has helped enormously to restore my inner peace over the past few months. Since, I've had to remain offline for awhile, writing in my journals helps release some of those thoughts that I would have posted on this blog.

So I've taken up photography again as another form of expression. My old 35 mm Nikon is a constant but heavy companion. An old familiar friend that’s been with me for over 15 years. I've parked my digital camera because it involves the PC and I promised my doctor that I would limit my use to once every 3 weeks. I love to take pictures in Central Park on snowy days. Part of me wishes I could post them online but I have to be good for now. Sigh!

I’ve been missing my online friends and family. Today I was able to visit everyone and say high to a few. It was nice to see that my blog dad is still up to his old antics. I smiled at the eye candy he linked to (thanks!). I’m still annoyed with Vigo since I saw him sporting his No Blood for Oil t-shirt over a year ago.

Well, I miss you all too! Thanks to all who have stopped by to wish me well. Your wishes and notes are greatly appreciated. Hope to read you all soon!