The Harvest

 End of October.  This used to be my favorite time of year...or maybe it still is, buried under the many layers of memories, tasks, changing seasons and elusive time.  It's almost Halloween, and there is costume work to be finished.  This year, Nate chose to be a tree, so Mommy must coordinate with an owl costume. The season is changing, but so is the season of this life.  We are in the Harvest.  Gathering resources.  Finishing projects that have waited too long to be seen through, and are impatient to be brought into existence, completed.  Beginning new dreams as the leaves change color, drift downward and encapsulate us in a time out of time.  As all of nature prepares for the eventual arrival of the winter months, we are taking note from their book and gathering our energies to make the transition into a new season of life.  As the crow takes wing, so we must also travel from the comfort zone forged from the past, into a new place and time that will allow us to grow even more.  The blackbird has flown, and Father Time has also. I am embracing the call of Harvest.  

Earth Day 2022

 Earth Day 2022.  Traditionally, our little family participates in the "Painting of the Paws", a time-honored tradition when we paint feet and dog paws to celebrate the day.  We spend extra time in the backyard, enjoying the sunshine and listening to the wind in the trees and the birdsong.  Feeling like we needed a li'l "extra" magic, I plugged in the Tangerine Dream soundtrack to the old 80s movie "Legend" to add to the atmosphere.  This year is our first Earth Day with Blu, the foster pup turned family member.  He was a little anxious about the paint on his paws, but was a good sport and allowed us to dabble our paints and decorate him with flowers and smilie faces.  Note to self: anything involving a return to childhood, nature, or both, is a good way to start and finish a day.  

The Return

  Well. It's been quite some time since I last posted on this blog.  The years have passed so swiftly, and I find myself wondering about the tunnel of time that has infiltrated our world.    So, in light of that, its long overdue for a check-in and to re-establish this blog.  The years we have succumbed to have brought so many enormous changes.  A long distance move.  A pandemic.  Death in the family, including my beloved cousin Erin, and my best friend and furry son Beau.  Life has taken its toll on us all. The rebuilding process is in effect, now more than ever before, and it will take a very long time to accomplish. In the meantime, while we strengthen our resolve and put forth the work, energy and time...we think to the Big Picture.  What does life look like, a month, six months, a year from now? Balance is the byword for what I am striving for in this strange new life.  A return to security, yet with the addition of new family, new friends, and a new life.  This is the time and place for holding our family close while reaching into a new, unclaimed-yet future. The time to grieve is ongoing. the rebuild is ongoing. and the past is being rewritten. 

"Tradeoff"

Small flight of fancy- a poem sketch inspired by the goddess in the above photo...

Ladies, don't give up your power...
Don't hand it over for fleeting joys and temporary hours
You were born with the gift, don't lay it in sacrifice on the alter
In the name of love,
Don't offer to trade what is beyond price for a false happy-ever-after,
don't ensnare it's song like a caged dove,
Stop feeding into the porcelain promises of those who would capture your heart for selfish reasons...
Transparent lovers that steal your prize, then transit and depart in the changing seasons
Remain strong and steadfast, guard diligently your dreams and always to that loving heart stay true,
Remember, the power always and forever resides within YOU!

by: Jamie Patterson 6/16/16

A Walk in the (City) Park

Anytime I get homesick for the old time days and feel the need to reconnect with my city, I know its time to hop in the car and head out to City Park.  Anticipating the God-awful humidity that awaits us this time of year, we are armed with cutie oranges, wet wipes, hats and containers of cold water.  Duran Duran is playing on the radio and we snake along Metairie Road, where a train has a line of cars stopped and waiting impatiently to proceed onward.  The sun beats down, painting the dashboard and the back of Nate's curly head, and my hand on the steering wheel. Finally we are moving again, watching the scenery flashing by.  We head past the cemetery on the left, before the arrival of the interstate.  I find myself imagining a conversation that never happened with my Nana, before she passed, as the headstones gently blurred on the edges of my peripheral.  "Are you scared (of the afterlife)?" she asks me.  I look at her and nod with trepidation, saying "Oh yeah."  She looks at me and a smile lights her face, part smirk and part mischief, sexy on a young woman and endearing on an old one.  She tells me, "I don't blame you, I was too.  But don't be. You'll see."  Then a well-remembered hug from this short and beautiful lady who I miss and remember every day.  Conversations like this pop up in my head all the time.  Its exactly the way Jim Morrison was quoted as saying, "Its like I was sitting back and taking notes to an amazing rock concert in my head."  When I write my poetry, or snippets of thought, or take note of imaginary conversations, its like tuning in to a radio frequency that nobody else is aware of or can hear. Its a privilege. The next imaginary journey, after parting ways with my Nana, was to my Paw Paw.  I remember his curly silver-threaded hair, his pleasure at seeing us all sitting at the table having coffeetime (hot tea for me and coffee for the adults), the way he would walk around the table and lay a hand on each of our heads, bestowing kisses and chuckling at the way Nana would bat his hand away and Mom would fuss at him saying, "Daddy, my hair! You're messing it up." Then giving in and leaning up for a hug from him.  Family at the table made Paw Paw happy. He could be a tough old man, bossy and domineering (very much as his namesake Dominick), but the love was always and forever there.

 

Almost to City Park, we stop at the intersection where the infamous Beauregard statue stands guard, high on his horse, proud and maligned.  Then the turn into the long drive where NOMA resides.  Parking is at a premium on this free admission Wednesday, so we drive in circles before finding a spot.  This mom is smart enough to know that her toddler is a scamp who needs constant supervision, so the stroller comes with us on our museum adventure.  It also doubles as storage for those cold drinks and fruit snacks we've brought along. Nate seems mellowed out and cool with being seated and pushed along for the ride, so off we go.  One of the featured exhibits this time around was...of all people....Bob Dylan.  Its amazing when people can "cross over" into different fields of art. His music and lyrics always appealed, and it was fun to go in and see the paintings he created, all of them located here in Nola. 

 

Nate and I strolled around in the cool, calming atmosphere of the museum, taking in all the different styles and techniques of art, and reading the plaques next to each one.  The one thing I always take from our NOMA experiences is the way that people have always felt a need to express an emotion and to be creative.  Its the one constant in a world that has been, and always will be, changing. Looking at the brushstrokes and the stories behind the works depicting everyday life, long ago and today, connects everyone.  We are all filled to the brim with ideas, knowledge, emotions and needs.  When we unleash them and create something out of the chaos of feelings and ideas, it is art and it lasts forever. It inspires and it attaches us as a people, not just separate beings wandering lost and alone in this crazy world.

 

The museum is good about allowing its patrons to take pictures, at least most of the time.  To mark the adventures Nate and I have, I borrow his little gray and blue striped fedora and work it into whatever photos we take.  This time, I placed it on the bust of one of the great thinkers...I can't recall the name because foot traffic was extremely busy and I was attempting to be quick.  On went the hat on the scowling and serious face, and I parked Nate's stroller next to it and snapped a rapid couple of shots of them together.  I also try to work Mr. Monkey, Nate's best friend ever, into the art.  This is a shot of what I came up with:

 

 



 

Once Nate is older, I'm going to make copies of all the photos of Mr. Monkey and the hat, and make a photo album for my little man.  He'll enjoy looking back on all the adventures we had.  And I'll make a copy for myself because I'm sentimental and will enjoy the trip down memory lane.

 

Nate tolerates Mommy's playful stunts, and we roam around a bit more before stopping to say hello to Miss Sandra, one of the ladies who volunteers at NOMA, and then leave.  Our next stop is the Sculpture Garden.  The moment we leave the building and head outside, wowza! the humidity hits.  Its definitely unofficially summer in Nola, despite the fact that summer solstice is still a couple of weeks away.  We were lucky to escape the humidity noose in May, when temps were down and things were milder than normal.  But now its back.  I try to concentrate on enjoying the fact its a sunny day with not a cloud in the sky.  When we get to the garden, I unleash Nate from his stroller, and he rapidly vacates the area, running ahead and giggling.  I attempt to rein him in but after a few moments of real fear as he raced towards the lagoon, I had to pop him back into his captivity in order to gain some semblance of control.  We wandered past the giant safety pin; past the group of sculpture men "el nudo" watching from the central lawn; past towering oaks laden with moss as threadbare as old lace; and along a path that was speckled with shadows and streams of bright sunlight.  Our stopping point was the set of benches facing the water, with the statues of men and women sitting down and gazing out at the lake.  By this time, we are both soaked to the skin.  Nate's hat is damp, and mine is completely gone- I lost it between the museum and the garden.  So now without the beribboned straw hat, my hair is wet and clinging to the back of my neck.  I've lost all fashion in our journey, and it is still early in the day.  Nate's collar is damp, his curls are plastered to his skull and the color is high on his little cheeks.  Thankfully shade is awaiting us, and I let him out again to hang out and visit with the statue guys.  It isn't long before my little elf is running away once again, and hiding into the bushes.  Panicked thoughts of snakes and spiders run rampant in my feverish brain and I dive in to pull him out and...once again... back into the stroller.  We go back to the statues.  After snapping a few pictures, it is time to go.  Nate has dumped the contents of his sippy cup all over the stroller and himself and decides to splash it with tired giddiness.  Thankfully its only water so it will hopefully help cool him.  I'm finishing my water too, and seeing people circle nearby, clearly waiting for their turn to take pictures with the ever-popular bench statues.  We head back to the car to pack it up and head out.  While in the process, we hear a familiar toot- the kids' train is on the way! I ask Nate if he wants to wait and watch for the train and he agrees readily.  After a few moments, the train is in sight.  I grab my cell because it has a good zoom feature, and zero in on the colorful blue and red and yellow train snaking down the track.  I get a few shots, then stop to wave at the kids and their folks on the trolley.  Many of them are smiling and waving back.  I keep waving till they are out of sight, then get back to packing the car and getting Nate out of his stroller.  I give him one more brief shot at freedom and tell him firmly to stand by the car.  He's out of fuel for the usual feistiness, but still has enough in him to defy the Mommy ordinance and stubbornly sit down on the ground, refusing to get up so we can get him in his car seat.  Time to be Mean Mommy and make it happen.  Once we are all finished, its time to make the brief drive back home, sweaty and tired but the better for our adventures.  Back on the fast track to reality after a jaunt with the past. 

 

 

Goodbye Prince

"Sometimes it Snows in April"- Prince

 

 

 

Tracy died soon after a long fought civil war,
Just after I'd wiped away his last tear
I guess he's better off than he was before,
A whole lot better off than the fools he left here
I used to cry for Tracy because he was my only friend
Those kind of cars don't pass you every day
I used to cry for Tracy because I wanted to see him again,
But sometimes sometimes life ain't always the way

Sometimes it snows in April
Sometimes I feel so bad, so bad
Sometimes I wish life was never ending,
And all good things, they say, never last

Springtime was always my favorite time of year,
A time for lovers holding hands in the rain
Now springtime only reminds me of Tracy's tears
Always cry for love, never cry for pain
He used to say so strong unafraid to die
Unafraid of the death that left me hypnotized
No, staring at his picture I realized
No one could cry the way my Tracy cried

Sometimes it snows in April
Sometimes I feel so bad
Sometimes, sometimes I wish that life was never ending,
And all good things, they say, never last

I often dream of heaven and I know that Tracy's there
I know that he has found another friend
Maybe he's found the answer to all the April snow
Maybe one day I'll see my Tracy again

Sometimes it snows in April
Sometimes I feel so bad, so bad
Sometimes I wish that life was never ending,
But all good things, they say, never last

All good things that say, never last
And love, it isn't love until it's past

Read more: Prince - Sometimes It Snows In April Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Earth Day 2016

My 2016 List of Ways to Celebrate Earth Day:

(1) Go plant shopping with Nate- pick out seedlings and plant them together.
(2) Make an Earth Day craft.
(3) Leave bread out for the birds.
(4) Spend an evening in the backyard and breathe in the fresh air, take off shoes & socks and rest under the shade of a tree.
(5) Buy fresh local produce at the farmer's market Saturday morning.  Take a moment to appreciate the fact that we live in a place that has abundant, fresh and healthy food to enjoy.
(6) Go to the park and look for our friends the swans.
(7) Enjoy the sunset.

Seeking Happiness

As I look back on the recent posts of this blog, I quickly realize that my gratitude journal is becoming dimmed by a lot of sad events that have happened recently. There have been so many deaths in the music world this year, in rapid-fire succession, it has become a challenge to recover from one tragedy before we find the next staring in our faces. I posted each one on my page because I wanted to "pay my respects" online and remember the lost. Unfortunately, I am in danger of losing the original plan to share stories of joy and gratitude on here, so I am trying to refocus and get back to the good during these dark days.

 

Some say happiness is a choice. I think its definitely a lifestyle and a mindset, both which require work. Its hard to always "choose" to wear a smile and to be optimistic in the face of disappointment, sadness and the rest- but I am finding out that if I keep track of a few things a day to be grateful for- even the basics, I become aware of exactly how much good exists in my life and my world. And when you start looking for the good, you "exercise" the gratitude muscle and it becomes second nature.  Maybe optimism can be an acquired taste. Another important thing in the "pursuit of happiness" is to avoid like the plague the impulse to compare.  "Comparison is the thief of joy"- Shakespeare summed it up beautifully and perfectly.  Everyone has a measuring stick when it comes to the world around us, and its destined to make us miserable because as long as someone else has more (and someone always will!), our life is going to come up short.  As long as we are looking at the person next to us that seems to lead a charmed life, we are missing our perspective on our own identities and burying what makes us unique in a doomed quest for perfection, by someone else's standards. Besides, if the person next to us has an overwhelming amount of blessings in their life, what does it matter to them if they are fixated on all the bad? They might as well have nothing because for some, its never "enough". When you live with a grateful heart, you never have that issue to deal with.

 

I'm going to sign off this post with a few things I am grateful for today.  Hoping to return to a positive state of mind, along with my blog. 

 

Gratitude List 4/22/16:

 

(1) I am grateful that the sun is shining on this Earth Day.

(2) I am happy that the week is over and we survived the work and drama!

(3) The irises are in full bloom, and seeing them thriving really lifts my spirits.

(4) I am grateful for our kind next door neighbors that I wish I could adopt as family.

(5) I'm grateful my son is still young enough to give me giant bear hugs and kisses in public, without shame.

 

Wishing everyone a joyful weekend- let's make it shine!

 

007

A Saint's Goodbye

"A Saint's Goodbye"- by Jamie Patterson

You are New Orleans
You are not just a number on a black and gold jersey
You are the smell of magnolias blooming in spring
And the sound of a child shrieking with joy
You are the hot breeze trailing the streetcar barreling down Canal
And the pigeons warbling to one another as they hunt for bread crumbs from forgotten beignets

You are not just a skin color or race, nor a religion or faith
Because in truth we are all golden in God's eyes, we are all connected here and beyond
You are the footsteps checking on a child caught in the web of a nightmare
You are the muscular arms holding your wife with tenderness
You are the hand holding your child's hand with care, teaching that a strong man is also gentle
You are the fine mist spraying from a fountain freckled with pennies and filled with wishes

You are New Orleans and family,
And we do not put you to rest with anything less than hearts leaden with grief
We dance at a second line funeral, but our steps do not mask our tears
We ask, as always, "Why?" and "How many more?", and are answered by silence
You are going home, and leaving New Orleans
Without you we are less of a people, and the gold fades with the sunset

Starman

David Bowie passed away early in this New Year.  When I first read the news, as I was zipping through FB headings and tidbits, at first I was in complete denial (Bullshit! A unbelievable mistake!). But as I continued to read about his ongoing battle with cancer, one that he and his family kept under tight wraps until the inevitable end, it struck like a punch in the gut.  Tears overwhelmed me. I fast-tracked through all the memories of this incredible man's music, and the years that it ran through my life like the best of soundtracks.  As a child, developing a huge crush as I watched him own the Goblin King role in Labyrinth; being completely hooked on the movie soundtrack for years afterwards; listening to the classics like "Golden Years" and "Fame" that were the bedrock of my musical upbringing; getting into the Ziggy Stardust phase in my early 20, fueled by a rocker boyfriend and the group of people I was hanging with at the time.  After my breakup, with the boy and the group, I spent hours at dive bars feeding coins in the juke, and listening to my "old friends".  I even got Mom into my phase, and she loved "Ziggy" as much as I did.   It was fun to think that I was teaching Mom about music from her generation.  It definitely had the power of crossing the lines and reaching everyone.  David Bowie's music was a living entity; I found consolation and hope in its companionship.  These songs reminded me that some things do last forever.

 

In more recent years, David Bowie has been my standby, his music on so many playlists.  He became a friend, family, more than just entertainment or background noise.  When he passed on from this life, it hurt so deeply that it felt as though all the memories in my life involving his music- childhood, the 20's, today- somehow departed right along with him. I grieved then, and am grieving now, for this enormous loss, not only in the music world but for everyone who played his songs and connected through his lyrics and the memories that walked hand in hand with his music.   It seems impossible to think he is really gone- he was one of those rare souls who aged with such grace, bigger than life, his music evolving, changing and always growing.  He was more than just a rock n roll icon; he was a builder of dreams. He brought us all together.  He had the confidence and guts to remain true to his individuality, regardless of how strange that looked at times.  He put his heart and soul into his songs, and was unafraid to express himself at the highest level. He will never be replaced and will never be forgotten. 

 

 

 

"There's a Starman waiting in the sky,

He'd like to come and meet us,

but he thinks he'd blow our minds..."

 

 

 

 

2016

Another year in, and another one out.  Yes, its that time again, and unlike my usual "Year in Review" segment I'm going to just reflect on how peaceful the celebrations were this time around, and focus on moving forward.  Suffice it to say that this year was yet another roller coaster filled with drama, joy, illness, growth, disappointment, enlightenment and change.  Funny how that works. To paraphrase Joan Rivers, "I wish I could tell you it gets better but it doesn't.  You get better." Amen to that.  

 

New Year's Eve ended up being rung in very quietly and close to home. Plans fell through and my little man needed to be close to home and with his mommy while he recovered from post-op. In years past I would've felt keenly disappointed at the lack of excitement.  This year I ended up being happy to be removed from the drama, the overindulgence and loudness and cacophony (unless you count a toddler shrieking with joy, the shrill blast of fireworks and overindulging in appetizers and chocolate goodness). The celebration kicked off  at church- Munholland held its annual NYE labyrinth/meditation as a way of reflecting on hopes and dreams and putting the year to rest before symbolically walking into the new one.  It was a new experience for me and one I plan on repeating in years ahead. The rest of the evening was spent taking a drive through the park, enjoying a spread of food and helping ring in the New Year with family and neighbors. 

 

 

So now its a new year and a new beginning.  Or is it? The question that so many people struggle with is, "Why does the new year matter?" There are so many arguments and debates about whether or not it "really" makes any difference.  Well, I believe its like anything else- you can see the glass as half empty or half full.  Many of us need the symbolism of a fresh start to encourage us to make important changes and live life differently.  There has to be a starting point, a beginning. The "clean slate" is only in our heads, but you have to start somewhere.  In fact, the best change starts in your mind. If it makes folks happy to imagine a new chapter in this busy, complicated, confusing world, then let them believe in it.  I find that I believe in it and want to make things different this time around.

Wishing you many blessings in the New Year.  May 2016 be good to all of us!

Pet Fest 2015

Pet Fest 2015 at Lafrieniere Park was one for the books.  One of those rare, autumn-feeling, gorgeous days of sunshine and fat fluffy clouds and cool breezes. Beau was thrilled for the ride, even though he didn't realize the destination, and once we got there he was all wagging tail and happy stance.  We arrived at the "tail end" of the event, around 3:00, had a devil of a time finding a parking spot, and ended up walking quite a bit to get to the main event. But it was worth the exercise.  Along the way we saw dogs and their folks walking to and from the Fest, and the variety of faces was entertaining and heart warming.  We love our furry kids.  They make us happy just by being there, and in turn they are happy just to have our company and our attention and affection. Its the best win-win I've ever heard of.

 

The Fest was chock-full of vendors, animal rescue groups, food & drinks and music.  Our first stop was to visit our friends at the Louisiana Boxer Rescue, headed up by Connie Back, Beau's former obedience instructor and our good friend. One of the focal points of any pet event is the ever-popular Boxer Kissing Booth.  The main attraction- a sweet boxer- gave this blogger a very enthusiastic kiss and swiped his tongue in my mouth! A big ewww-awww moment ;)

 

 

The turnout for this event was one of the biggest I've seen in years.  A lot of people and their pets showed up, including the unexpected ones- parrots were on the list.  The birds, including the ones living at the park, were completely unafraid of the influx of people and pets. Good behavior all around!

We saw lots of old friends, including Alyson and her girls and their dogs.  It was great catching up and made the Pet Fest even more of an event.  In a too-busy life when we are all entrenched in our own little worlds made up of jobs, family life, school events, limited free time and endless to-do lists, it is great to encounter our friends in the real world and spend time together in person.  Here's a shot of Beau photo bombing the girls :)

Pet Fest 2015 was a rousing success.  Beau was treated like royalty, everyone stopped to pet him and love on him and comment on his beautiful coat and gorgeous face.  It was heartwarming to see him get so much affection from so many. And on the way out, we caught up with two ladies who had a miniature version of Beau- a teeny tiny puppy, the same age as Beau when I adopted him (2 months).  Seeing the two together was like seeing before and after.  Little Major and Beau hit it off and were fast friends. 

We are definitely looking forward to next year's event.  If you are an animal lover this is the place for you! Or if you're just looking to pass a good time, check this one out- it benefits the rescue groups and is one great way to spend a weekend!

"Next Stop, Wonderland"

Earlier today, I was reading the latest issue of Oprah magazine, and glancing at an article posing a question to contributing writers of the magazine: What would be the title of your life story, and why? The answers ranged in response from the amusingly self-explanatory ("Put on your big girl panties and get moving") to the introspective ("Time to go home").  My own answer popped into my head: "Next stop, Wonderland".  Amusing AND introspective.  These days, my life is getting "curiouser and curiouser" the farther I go along.  The house of cards is constantly on the move.  Borrowing a quote from the White Rabbit, I find myself digging into my purse for my cell phone and muttering, "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!"  During down time, I try to plan menus for myself and my family, and remain (mostly) healthy, but get tempted by the baddies- the fast fix of junk food and snacks that tempt, "Eat me" and "Drink me".  The battle between a wholesome lifestyle, and giving in to the easily available, comfort foods (and drinks).  Some days I feel as though I have shrunk into a person whose stature is as small as a toddler, staring up at the world around me and feeling overwhelmed and not in control of anything.  Other days, I feel that I have rocketed into a giant, disrupting my own trajectory, looking down and all around and towering over my environment, thinking thoughts too big for their world.  Not fitting in anywhere.   And there is the Mad Hatter- my sweet, nonstop son, leading the way to the next adventure, giggling and shrieking his way through life, teaching me to be fleet of foot and not to plan too far in advance. 

 

More lessons learned from Life in Wonderland: The importance of tea time; idle conversation yields interesting truths; there is never enough time in the day, so time management is of the utmost importance; and never stop asking questions. 

 

What is the title of your life story? Why? These are questions that make us pause to reflect on where we are, and hopefully where we are going.  

 

Wishing all of you some introspection, a little light-heartedness through your busy days, extra time to savor the moments, and good luck along the way :)  

 

 

Locks of Love

Last month ended up becoming the time for a hair makeover.  I decided to bump up my projected date to get my hair chopped to donate to charity.  Pantene has a special project called "Great Lengths" that accepts donations 8 inches and longer to help make wigs for people who are dealing with cancer and other medical situations.  Originally I planned on waiting till October to get this done in order to grow it out a little longer, but due to unforeseen circumstances ended up going to Regis Salon at the Mall to "make the break".  I walked in without an appointment, and walked out with 8 inches of hair gone, with bangs and long layers.  It ended up being a good visit because the stylist did exactly what I asked and it was done in a very short amount of time. Part of me felt overwhelmed- you don't grow hair for 3 years and not miss its absence.  The other part of me felt the humidity smack the back of my (now bare) neck and breathed a sigh of relief at the (literal) weight lifted off my head.  It was also freeing to feel that I battled my fear and allowed some change into my life.  A win-win. 

 

For anyone interested in donating your hair to benefit others less fortunate, here is the link:

 

www.locksoflove.org

 

www.wigsforkids.org

 

www.pantene.com/en-us/brandexperience/make-the-cut

 

It's a great cause and a true gift from the heart (and head).  And since its hair, it DOES grow back :)  

 

 

 

 

 

"Grace is Gone"

This is not going to be a Zen moment but it is significant to me, for being the first time since I've begun volunteering in animal rescue that I failed.  I lost an adoptable, through ignorance and misinformation.  This blogger is experiencing guilt, self-anger, and a complete disenchantment of the world of animal rescue.  Maybe it was naïve of me, but I honestly believed that involving the SPCA meant that this dog would have a fighting chance at a new beginning with a loving family if nothing else.  What happened instead was the exact opposite, the worst case scenario.  This is what happened:

 

A couple of weeks ago, as my family and I were leaving home to go to the park for a leisurely Sunday afternoon, a young dog without collar or tags walked up to us, tail wagging hopefully.  She appeared docile and gentle, and we placed her behind our patio fence until we could decide what to do.  Another neighbor was out, and we talked to him and he said that he saw her just "roaming the street", and nobody appeared to be looking for her.  She didn't look hungry, just lost and a little scared.  The only concern was a "hot spot" on her back.  I called her Gracie so that she would be a little less of an orphan.  I posted her picture on Facebook, and the response was overwhelming- 133 people shared her status in the hopes of finding her owner.  Unfortunately nobody came forward, so we decided to bring her to the SPCA.  The idea was that this pup might have a microchip, or the owner might check the shelters to see if someone found her. 

 

I contacted the SPCA, and they informed me that they were unable to pick her up unless we had a crate or kennel (which we don't).  We had to drive to the Westbank facility to hand deliver Gracie.  An animal intake individual reassured us that the vet would check out the bad spot on her back, and it would get treated.  Gracie was left there under the assumption that if the owner didn't come forward to claim her, they would try to find her another home.   

 

Three days later I called the SPCA to check on the status of Gracie.  Nobody had claimed her yet, but they gave me a "reference number" so that the next time I called they would be able to find her easily and give me her status.  Fast forward to today, when I called again to check and see how Gracie was doing.  The person I spoke with said that "the owner never claimed her unfortunately."  I asked her if they had any luck finding her a new home, and was casually informed that she was put to sleep "a few days ago" since nobody picked her up.  I was absolutely stricken.  The thought that she might be put to sleep never even crossed my mind- after all this was the SPCA, not a privately owned shelter.    The SPCA promotes itself as a haven for homeless animals, and its primary focus is on holding events and raising money for adopting cats and dogs and getting them off the street and into their forever homes.  Gracie was a small (about 30 lbs), healthy and gentle sweetheart.  Her disposition was stellar, and for the brief time we spent with her, she was grateful and loving.  For the SPCA to euthanize a healthy, happy animal is unprecedented.  I was never informed, from the time of drop-off until the last phone call, that the dog would be given a unrealistically short time frame to find a home or get picked up by her original owner before she was put to sleep.  In a week's time, this dog was euthanized without any thought or consideration.  And the attitude of the person I spoke with on the phone was blunt, casual and completely unconcerned.  Clearly this wasn't their problem and they weren't going to waste any time worrying about it.  Empathy was completely missing here, and in the animal rescue field, if you lose empathy you don't belong working in rescue anymore.  What's striking is that the SPCA is renowned for the staggering amount of human and financial resources that they possess on any given day.  Other organizations are run on little to no manpower and monetary assistance, yet they don't ever euthanize their adoptables.  They work tirelessly, around the clock, and they do it on a fraction of the resources that the SPCA maintains.  So many of the smaller groups are run by a handful of devoted individuals that don't receive any financial backing from the government and/or the public, yet they steadfastly remain "no kill".  Its staggering how much SPCA has at their disposal.  Even now, it is gearing up for the ground breaking of  a brand new 40,000 square foot facility.  Clearly they are not lacking funds OR finances.  So why couldn't they try harder to find one small dog a home?  And how many other dogs were just "thrown away" because they didn't meet whatever criteria the SPCA holds for their adoptables?  When I involved them in Gracie's future, I wasn't looking for a miracle but I believed they would give her a fighting chance to find a home.  I found out the hard way that they are not the humane and devoted organization that they would have the public believe them to be. 

 

I have devoted upwards of two years to the SPCA.  I worked as a volunteer and helped exercise the animals at their Westbank facility, attended their functions, participated in handling animals at adoption events, taken photos of the adoptables for their website and for Facebook, promoted their organization online, etc. I believed in them.  I met some amazing people through their system, who were completely devoted to the animals.  In light of all that, to find out that this is their policy for homeless dogs is unbelievable.  I am suffering severe guilt and grief right now over Gracie.  I feel that I let her down.  I still remember her curled up on the car seat as we took the journey to the SPCA, where we mistakenly believed that she would be taken care of and treated well.  It pains me to think that her last good memories were the ones of her laying on our porch, meandering in the backyard, and being hugged and patted and given some basic affection.  It was nowhere near enough.  Her time was too short. Whoever had her before we found her clearly didn't treat her well- she had a spot on her back that first appeared to be mange, but on closer inspection looked like some kind of burn.  A few people on FB mentioned that it looked like someone poured oil on her back, and recalled a recent dog situation where a dog was looking for a home, and found one, only to be back looking for another home because the prior one was abusive.  To think that she didn't get the opportunity to have her shot at a loving family situation, is painful to say the least.  It grieves me to think that her chances would've been better had we not gotten involved and had left her to roam the streets.  To think that the place that was supposed to save her instead took her life, is beyond reason.

I hesitated to write this blog because the SPCA is renowned for its good and charitable works.  They indeed have done a lot over the years to help the homeless animals and raise money for the cats and dogs under their care.  I didn't want to be a troublemaker over one bad case.  But the fact is, this one case is personal and hits close to home.  She wasn't "just a dog".  She wasn't vicious, or violent, or diseased, or even old.  She was thrown out like garbage, and I can't overlook that and pretend it didn't happen because it might ruffle some feathers or antagonize people who have never had this experience.  I owe Gracie better than that. Somebody has to speak for her, despite the fact that she is no longer here.  Because if this happened once, I am positive it has happened many other times, and nobody took notice or cared enough to say anything.      

 

Gracie deserved better than to be put to sleep and forgotten.  She was healthy, young and loving.  She had a full life ahead of her.  The SPCA, who purports to be all about the animals, severely dropped the ball this time around.  I will be pulling the plug on my association with them, and devoting future volunteer work and donations to no-kill shelters and groups such as the LA Boxer Rescue, Villalobos and Sula Foundation.  Gracie, you may not have found your forever home, but I pray that you found peace and crossed the Rainbow Bridge to rejoin all the other wonderful dogs that didn't make it.  I will be thinking about you and grieving for you.  I only knew you a short time, but you made an impression. I won't forget you. 

Book Review- "Madame Picasso" by Anne Girard

"Madame Picasso" is a beautifully rendered story about the private life of Picasso, and his tragic relationship with Eva, the heroine of this poignant novel.  Eva is a young, aspiring soul who leaves home and struggles to make her way in the world.  She strives to make a name for herself without help, which sets her apart from the other young women in her circle.   She managed to bring out the protective instincts of this reader, and watching her journey was like watching a friend or a younger sister, hoping that they will thrive and hurting for them when they go through heartbreak and disappointments on the journey. 

Reminiscent of "Phantom of the Opera" and "Moulin Rouge", the story is set in France, and takes us back to the turn of the century when the world was a different place, but people lived and struggled with many of the same issues we face today.  Anne Girard's language and writing skills evoke the past and make it live as though it were yesterday.  Her words provide snapshots of another time, and her characters jump off the page.  They make you worry about what will happen to these people.  She makes them as real as you and I, which is the mark of a great writer.  She digs beneath the surface of the Picasso the modern world knows, and brings to life a complex, tormented soul whose love for Eva inspired his art and made him a better man.  When I was finished reading this wonderful book, I was motivated to read up on Picasso, and discover the man behind the famous abstract art.  I was surprised to find that he didn't simply pioneer abstract art, he started off in the traditional style, got bored, and wanted to find a way to translate his vision into a way that would impact the art world.  I find myself fascinated by his mother and child series that predated the abstract movement:

 

 

I highly recommend "Madame Picasso" to anyone who enjoys art, the turn of the century, and losing oneself in a great read.  This one is going on my "keeper" shelf!

Shadow Box- a Lenten poem

I call this poem "Shadow Box".  The title was inspired in part for the things we cherish and display for all to see; and also for the way that we struggle with ourselves, "shadow boxing" with our hearts for different reasons.  Some of us struggle with identity crisis, or personal issues, or to fit in or to find our place.  Maybe Lent should be less about sacrificing something that provides comfort or a daily pleasure.  Maybe we should seek to give up something negative, like guilt or stress or self-loathing.  This one is for anyone who understands and feels the same way. 

"Shadow Box"- by Jamie Patterson- copyright 2015

The trace of a cross darkening a lined forehead
Reminder that the dance is over
Sifting my fingers through the ashes of a dead day, seeking ablution, feeding my hungry soul
Rejecting distractions and borrowed time, shedding the night's regrets
This is the end of a season, and the beginning of a sacrifice
Time to put Carnival to rest, turning the gilt-lined page one more year
The revels played out, the fools and kings mingled with the titled rich and the poverty stricken,
Elected royalty and the nameless
The crowds roared for their treasure, their glasses raised as they entreated the heavens
Ghosts and mortals shaking hands, sealing the pact
Trading a doubloon for a king's ransom
The lines were crossed with yellow ribbons
Streamers that mark the crime scene, bloody footprints leading into an electric night
All boundaries blurred as we gaze through stained glass, fingers smudged with ashes, hoping for a glimpse of a childhood memory
Old traditions that lived then, and continue into a today not so different from yesterday
Set aside your masked intentions, hang up the finery for another year, light a candle for your dead
This house weeps, and we trade our golden finery for cloaks of ash
Shelve your idols, frame them as tribute
I promise to trade this earthly delight for a little less fear in the night

Brother Dege and the Brethren

 

 It is rare that this full time mommy gets a chance to go to the local music shows that I used to attend with regularity before my days as a parent.  In the past, I frequented local shows almost every weekend, and the big names at least once a month.  Times change and I've had to drastically cut down on my outings.  Thankfully, November is the one time that changes, due to it being my Big Birthday Month. 

 

November 2014: My old friend/acquaintance from "back in the day" (read: early 20s), Dege Legg, was scheduled to play at The Circle Bar in the city.  Brother Dege is his current handle- formerly he was the front man of Santeria, a group based out of Lafayette in the 90s, powered by gritty guitars, a bongo drum set, lots of rock n roll riffs and awesome lyrics accessible to all.  The group lasted a long time- until a few years ago in fact.  Despite rumors of bad luck in the extreme, the guys had a good run and a strong following.  Now Dege is frontlining a new group, which includes badass drums, a bass player that puts on an electric performance, and a young violinist who is a progeny of a renowned violin player.  Dege himself sings and plays guitar- a particularly vibrant one full of steel shrieks and howls- a unique style called "dobro".  Its roots and history are deeply dug in blues and swamp.  Dege's vocals have always been striking, and now, years after his stint as Santeria's lead singer, they have only become more refined, more bluesy, more riveting. 

 

My friend Shannon (another music aficionado) and I made it to The Circle Bar around 9:45 that night.  Minutes from Metairie, situated on Lee Circle, this cozy place feels like the perfect house for local musicians to congregate.  My mom clued me in on some local history- it used to be K&B, way back in the day, and you could buy what she deems "the city's best coffee" there, "for cheap".  For true.  Now its The Circle Bar, apparently named for Lee Circle.  The two story Victorian-style building is a mecca for music.  It has a welcoming bar with exposed-brick walls and a gorgeous mirror reflecting back the burgundy and red shades of colors abounding.  The small music area- not necessarily a stage, but a setup for the musicians- backs up to a dormer window overlooking the street.  A side door opens up to a small outdoor patio where people huddle up to smoke before, during and after the show.  Everything is geared towards inviting you to pull up a chair, relax, enjoy the ambience.  And the ambience is definitely in attendance. 

 

Shannon and I were very surprised to find that the cover charge for the night's show, including an opening act that had its roots in rockabilly, was a scant $5.00.  Prices from the 90's- an extremely welcome change from other bars and clubs, especially for such a cozy venue.  Especially for those of us who are on a shoestring budget and can't afford the big venues.  And cutting on cost didn't affect the experience whatsoever, except to make it better.  The drinks were reasonable and most of the clientele were young, hip, lighthearted and cautiously friendly. 

 

Dege was one of the first people we encountered on the way in. He welcomed us and expressed gratitude that we made it to see the show.  My old friend is a quiet and mellow soul, with eyes that are as full of stories and secrets as his song lyrics.  He's the type of person who hides behind his beard and takes a dark corner of the room to watch and observe the world, as opposed to situating himself in the spotlight, on and off stage, the way so many singers are apt to do.  There is definitely substance to his style.  His music is rooted to real life experiences, and you feel that this is an old soul living with the knowledge that this life is short and he has lots of work to do before the roller coaster ride is over.  His music is easily accessible across the board, inviting all walks of life to listen and relate, his live shows are incredibly inexpensive, yet his songs are admired by Hollywood Royalty- none other than Quentin Tarantino selected a Dege song for the 2013 hit "Dgango Unchained"- a power anthem titled "Too Old to Die Young"- a song that could stand in as autobiographical for this talented songwriter.  What is also strikingly noteworthy is that Dege is one of those mythical creatures- the musician who is humble and grateful for what he has, and who wants to hear what his audience is thinking as opposed to promoting himself to one and all.    It speaks volumes that Dege can have a song put in a mainstream movie, yet continue to play local shows and write music and sell it online at a price that is- again, the word accessible- to everyone, not just the few folks that have money to burn.  

 

The opening act was finished, and Brother Dege and the Brethren began setting up for their show.  The crowd began gathering on the threshold and circling, waiting as instruments were tuned, and as looks were exchanged between the musicians- the silent language of "are we ready?" in a few gestures.  Shannon and I were at the very front of the throng, practically toe to toe with the band.  Dege stared out at the audience and raised a glass of red wine, toasting us and commencing the beginning.  Then, as the bass guitar started like an engine in the background, and the violin player danced her bow across the violin, her eyes dancing over at the rest of the group, and the drums crashed into the first song, it was like a silent explosion.  The four individuals performing for our entertainment were, quite literally, afire with energy, music pouring out of them like wine flowing from a vessel.  And that was just the beginning.  The performance of this amazing group was, quite simply, kinetic.  Frenzied, powerful, rollicking and sorrowful- and at times all of these simultaneously- it was as though we were taken on a musical journey punctuated by deep lyrics and a brilliant flow of melody played by the violin, bass, drums and dobro.  There was something magical in the band's deliverance of their music.  It was reminiscent to this blogger's mind of a book written by Charles de Lint, where the imaginary world and the real world sometimes cross paths and blend their citizens into a middle ground.  If the roof had blown off the Circle Bar that night, it would have come as absolutely no surprise to this eyewitness.  If fairies pulled up stools at the bar and put in their drink orders, no shocker.  The music was transcendent, and it connected to everyone and involved the audience 100%.  Brother Dege was the shaman, leading his tribe through the darkness and into imaginary realms. 

 

 

The crowd absolutely went wild, and for good reason.  The band interplayed with the audience, walking around, letting people touch the guitars, making eye contact and involving everyone. Music reverberated off the walls and slow danced with the ghosts of times past.  There were times Dege was flat on the ground, and times that the bass player was crawling and writhing and jumping in the mix.  The violinist and the bass player appeared to be dueling, vying for dominance, laughter written on their faces.  The drummer pounded out the rhythm as steady and powerful as a heartbeat, and as wild as an Indian tribe calling down the moon.  The four blended their music and played off of each other brilliantly. It was a form of storytelling and a creation of magic.  It sang in the blood.  The only question left at the end of the night for this writer was- "Why aren't these musical amazons playing auditoriums?"   

 

 

Want a great local music show that will transcend your every expectation?  Check out the next Brother Dege and the Brethren show.  It will rock your face off.  It will inspire you.  It will be the best money you can spend on entertainment.  It will stay with you when you leave the bar.  Stay tuned to find out what this magical act does next.  I predict only the most amazing future for these incredibly talented musicians. 

 

November baby

 Well, its that time again- my little superhero had a big birthday.  Nate turned two!! Woo-hoo! Our celebrations centered around outdoor events, namely the park and the zoo.  The weather was amazing, considering it was the end of November- cool and sunny, pretty much perfect. The party included Nate's first carousel ride, lots of birthday cupcakes and presents, and getting to meet everyone at the Audubon Zoo.  We even fed the giraffes carrots! It was a fun-filled and happy day for our little man.  

 

During this birthday milestone, I think about how far we have come, and what I have learned as a mommy this time around.  Here's the short list:

 

(1) Little people flourish on a routine;

(2) So do big people;

(3) When playing with kids, its good to get down to eye level and not worry about getting yourself messy or dirty.  Play time is supposed to be that way.  Channel your inner child and be happy in the moment.

(4) Everyone learns at their own pace.  Be patient.

(5) Things that used to be amazing in childhood, still are today.  Like the giraffes at the zoo. 

(6) If life knocks you down, get up, dust yourself off, put on your superhero cape and jump back in!

 

Gearing up for the New Year

This is a shot from part of my celebrations last night, New Year's 2014.  It was celebratory, silly, contemplative, and spent with friends, family & hot donuts.  The perfect way to say goodbye to 365 days of adventures, dog events, moments with family and friends, small victories, crushing defeats, and a long roller coaster wherein the highs were extremely high (finding Titan a home- such a long and difficult undertaking that ended in a happily ever after) and the lows were absolute flat-liners (dealing with betrayal where I never dreamed I would find it).  2014 forced us to say goodbye to Robin Williams, which was another shocking devastation.  So many moments in time to look back on and remember. 

 

Now it is a brand new year, and many of us are working on our resolutions.  For the doubters out there who say its "just another day", I say that it is what we decide to make of it.  Some of us need that fresh, unwritten page to begin anew and mark the decision to make a difference in our own lives.  Others appreciate the symbolism.  And even more just want to say goodbye to a difficult time in our lives as we turn towards the future with hope, resolve and plans we wish to see through to fruition.  Regardless of how we view the New Year, it is definitely a cycle of life that can't be denied or ignored. I choose to celebrate it and renew my resources to try again in the next 365 moments in time. 

 

To 2015, I say, "Bring it on."  I'm ready for the unwritten page, the symbolism, the goodbye.  More importantly, I am ready to begin the work of building a new future, and embracing each and every moment with mindfulness, gratitude, grace and humor.  Let the journey begin. 

 

 

Wishing all of you a year that's chockfull of adventures and discovery...

 

Love & blessings,

007