Happy New Year

I got the video from the Christmas Party with the skit "12 Days of Christmas" and when I figure out how to download it to here, I will. Might need help. My kids gave me a digital camera for Christmas. I played with it the last few days. Being that today is the last day of 2008, I find it fitting to post these images. These are a few shots at my office and some of the people whom I work with.

Photos beginning at the top: Me (7 swans a swimming); Jen (2 turtle doves); her supervisor Tammy; Scherie (9 ladies dancing and yes I still "owe" a publishing of "The Gold Rush" and so yes, Scherie that is yet to come!) and Gwen (a partridge in a pear tree); Frank leaving; Jackie (3 french hens); Kay, one of our case managers when I asked her to pose "gofey"; and last but absolutely not least, Jamie (11 pipers piping). The "princess" asked not to be displayed. (Although "I got her back").

Yes, this is "my work life". It is spectacular to say the least. I have been with this company for over 10 years and it is the most amazing, caring place I could find myself today! Here's to a fabulous 2009!!!

Postmark: Picture of supervisor removed for she is no longer working here!

Sliver of the Moon

When first saw the sliver of the moon
what astonished me was the star shining
to the left high and above
the sliver of the moon
only a fraction

yet
the star shoned bright
was it venus
or was it jupiter

do the stars rule
of do the stars follow me

a young girl
yearning for her father's love
what can a mother do
other than
be the mother herself

shining the way
to another way

accept me for who I am
mother of the earth
goodness to surface

life
to expand

mother of the earth
do we truly cherish
the freshness
of renewness

mother earth
to you
shall I honor
soil to the depth
of creation
made
with no regret

mother of the earth
bound to me
your legacy

so many tales
so many tokens
token of promise unbroken

life moves on
in the direction of the sun
planting todays of tomorrows

rejoicing
worshiping
life of today
without dismay

mother of the earth
bountiness endlessness
wake up to breathe
the air
of non
disease
mother of the earth
soiled
with all its tenderness
yes
with the newborn calves
hiding in the fields
oh yes
life in all its mysteries
discovering
uniqueness
to the alberquerities

another word
made up

yes the majistic ways
of the mother of the earth
what are words
powerful
yet from the heart
only divine

Seed

9"x12" Acrylic on Canvas

Seed upon seed
tossed amongst thee
yes
let the seeds be tossed
to make us be

History being told
upon the makings of the old
history upon religion
being tossed upon the old

Ohh,,, only the seed
blended upon thee
makes any sense to me

the physicality of a seed
tossed upon the soil
water dampening
to make thee

ok
paint upon paint
yet no mistake
it was you who made me
paint upon paint
your YOUR inspiration
inspired upon me
yes
see
my paintings
upon imaginations

so no it wasn't me inspiring you
it was YOU inspiring me
take it my friend
to a love so deep within
a love where no words exist
only the magical mist
of knowing
we exist
beyond words
beyond reason
yes
we
exist
inspiring all
upon the beauty
of a snow covered mountain

Temptation

It is almost like a temptation to resist
to resist all which is real
resist the resistance to exist
to most
it makes no sense
yet
to resist the temptation
to fall
into
a place of
non existence
the place where everything
exists
the place where everything is real
devilishing
the harsh
sounds
of existence
the sound of
rain pouring down
expounding the sounds
of love
forbidding fruit
take the bite
of rain nutrietrating
words unspelled
sorry sir
if i do not know the
meaning of every word
i only know
what exists
around
as the rain pellets down
this poetry
is quiet amazing
even to me
the common folk
of only existing
in a place of the unknown
yet i know
for i know me
it is only a place of love
growing to seek
to the unbeknowst
to experience
a better place
for you and me
not quite so selfish
as it seems
for I as one
think of all of ye
so let it rain
let it shine
to better to the rhyme
for I do not pretend to be
the artist of mystery
for I share
all which I know
which is not a place of
mystery
only the real
the real raindrops
moisturing the soil
so other things
my emerge
the flowers of tomorrow
oh what a a story
the flower holds
for I am only
the seeker
of
love
and all it entails
my words are not so
elogoquently
spoken
yet
they are of the heart
what a very good start
let the artist speak
of inspirations to spare
for I was not there
yet
I was
only
for inspiration
and yes my adoration roams
for the artist to tell
his tales

Sucker

Such a sucker for love. Yes, that is me. The romantic. Living in a fantasy dream. Yet, no fantasy at all. For love is real. It exists, if only in my mind. I just watched "the notebook". Such a beautiful novel. I thought the man wrote it, only to discover, it was she, the woman who wrote the book, signing it, saying, "as long as you read me, I'll always come back". Puts a different spin on the story. "You'll always come back". I cried. If Love is so beautiful, why cry? I know why. I lived it. "Why cry now?" It is about being human. Crying cleanses. Ok. Enough. This old heart of mine truly exists for love. Not blindsided love as before. Just love. The "perfect love" of being who you are, no "pretenses"...just being. Yea, it is truly beautiful.

Nostalgia

16" x 20" Acrylic with ink on Canvas

One can be living in the present
totally alive with all which surrounds
when suddenly
a memory
of days gone past
hits you like a freight train
ready to pound
you lived that life
the life no more
heartbreaks no
life
only to explore
the memories of yesterday
focusing upon
the life of today
meshing in with hay
it is all good
no matter what
it is all good
it is life to be lived
with all the memories of
yesterday
suddenly
being jarred
look upon these seasons
of memories unhinged
the good, the bad, the ugly
it is all good
knowing the difference
in yesterday
and today
yes
I choose to live my life
today
a life full of remarkable memories
shaping
my
today

Handbags & Sisters

While visiting my family over the holidays, my sister Kathie commented on my handbag. Later on she showed me the handbag she had designed and made for herself. It was similar to the one I was carrying. I was impressed. While we were walking downtown - our hometown - we visited a small coffee shop. My son suggested to me and my sister that we should open up our own shop. Her selling handbags, her daughter selling coffee, and me selling my paintings. My sister just kinda laughed like "yea, right".

This morning when my daughter and I opened our gifts from my sister, we found beautiful handbags! I called Kathie and exclaimed how lovely they were. Much better than the store bought handbag I carried. I suggested she sell hers. They are much more "sturdier", much better made. I told her I was going to post the image on my blog. She asked me to also post her email so if anyone wanted to purchase one, they could email her. Keeping to my sister's request, here is her email: kathierobinson@bellsouth.com.

While casually talking to her, she told me her son and his wife and their baby were on their way to her house. What? Did I miss something here? My nephew has no baby. Indeed, they do now! His name is Jace and he is 4 days old. His mother is a drug addict. Department of social services stepped in. The baby is suffering from withdrawal. My heart melted. Danny and Stephanie had been wanting to have a baby but have not been able to. Jace, my sister's first grandchild, is the miracle baby. Kathie told me yesterday he's lost weight and his color wasn't too good. Today, his color has improved. Hope. After my nephew and his wife spent the entire night up with the tiny baby crying, Danny found himself restraining from tears. Hope.

Added my painting which I recently sold. I had it framed today. What a difference a frame makes!

December 23, 2008

Acrylic on Canvas 20" x 24"

December 23, 2008 marked the "remembrance of my brother's death", and also, the celebration of his son's 35th birthday.

My company sells cookbooks. This year, our "hospice" department contributed to the cookbooks. Each and every recipe is in memory of someone they cared for and passed away.

This morning I made a sausage casserole, a recipe from one of the past cookbooks. It is very easy and very delicious.

Sausage Casserole:

1 lb. sausage

1 lb. cream cheese

1 package of crescent rolls

Cook the sausage in a frying pan. Place cooked sausage in a pot and add cream cheese. Blend. Line a casserole dish with half of the crescent roll dough. Add sausage/cream cheese mix. Top with the other half of the crescent roll dough. Bake at 325 degrees for 11-13 minutes. Serve cut in squares. Drinking coffee and Bailey's adds much pleasure in the preparation of this dish!

Yeah to Holidays!!! "Tis the Season to be Mary"!!!

The Carpenter

Friday night, as I was preparing to go out with a friend, my oldest son Craig surprized me with a visit from North Carolina. He brought his girlfriend Tammy and her daughter Madison and of course Luke, his boxer (which I mistakenly called a pit bull once before). Craig had called Anthony that morning to tell him they were coming and to make sure I would be there. Oh yea, I was there with a house full. Anthony, Beth, Daniel, Nikki and Kelsey were also here. Yes, I did still go out with my friend (to the Gold Rush which is another story itself which I will blog soon). We had a blast and the other blast was knowing my home was full of love waiting for me when I returned.

It was a very beautiful, romantic week for me this week. Romance in the way of life. Falling in love with all which surrounds you.

Craig worked his magic at my home this weekend. My refrigerator was delivered Saturday morning. Craig hooked up the water line to it. My first ice maker! Funny though, I picked it out myself, to find out that my children's father and his wife have the exact same one. Both of my children let me know that separately.

While Craig was at Lowe's to pick up the water line, he also picked up 2 new ceiling fans for me. He said it was my Christmas from him. He installed the 2 fans in my kitchen where one of the lighting was totally out. Wow. I can see now in my kitchen!

He also fixed the drain in my daughter's shower. He fixed the toilet in Beth's bathroom also. He fixed the "running" toilet in my bathroom. He fixed the light/vent in my bathroom. He fixed the duct work in my attic. He fixed the trap door to my attic. He fixed the door which leads to a small room outside of my bathroom. He fixed the electricity out in my shed. He fixed the leak in my kitchen sink. He fixed the leg on my kitchen table. Craig is so much like my father. My father could build, could fix anything. Craig moved back to North Carolina after my father died to help my mother. I've got a feeling my mother had "something" to do with this visit.

Mattie, who is 8, did not want to settle for just watching t.v. Her mother said Mattie's brother and sister would always just watch t.v. for hours on end. Me, being me, said that I did not think that was good for kids to sit glued in front of the t.v., so I gave Mattie watercolors and sketch paper. Seems to me, she has the potential to be a fine artist one day!

It brings me so much joy having all my children around me. I am alone tonight for the first time in awhile, and that also brings me joy! My "quiet" time, just for me.

Wow

When I was little, my sister told me that I was adopted. She said my parents found me floating down the sewer on a piece of cabbage. I am sure her adoptive daughter Linsi will truly enjoy this story. My sister, Kathie, also told me when I was little that if I did #1 & #2 at the same time, I would die. I remember the first time I did, I cried and yelled for my mom. When I told my mom what had happened and what my sister had told me, she thought that was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. (She just got pissed off - did not "console" me.) Growing up and not being able to pronounce my "r's" or "s's", my big sister, was always there to interpret what I was trying to say. Today, when we're together, she is still trying to interpret for me. We are soooo different, yet, these childhood memories keep us sharing stories to tell to our own children. My sister and I bonded when our father died. He died at home. In the bedroom where his hospital bed was set up, there was also a day bed, and a recliner. The night before the morning of our father's death, my sister and I slept together on that day bed. First time in years we've slept together. 4 years later when our brother died, me and Kathie found ourselves crying in each others' arms, condoling one another. We also dealt with his death with laughter. At the funeral home, where he laid in his coffin, for whatever reason, his face was all puggy. We tried to fix it for we told our mother he looked like a chipmunk. Our mother said, "what would he think of you two now"? Our reply, he's probably laughing his head off at us. I miss Mike, and my dad, but the funny thing is, the "things" I remember are pretty much all the good things, all the good times, all the remarkably beautiful funny things which our dad and our brother did to make us laugh, to make us smile, to make us part of who we are.

Christmas Card

I had to laugh when I opened up this christmas card. One would think that one's employer would know if you're divorced or not. Obviously, my ex's exployer doesn't. When my friend Frank saw this, where it says, "enjoy each other", he replied, "you've not enjoyed each other in how many years"? And then added, "it's not every day one receives a christmas card from Crystal Gayle".

Funny, life amongst the stars use to be just "my way of life". No big deal. Now, today, still life amongst the stars, but, in a much happier medium.

Hookah

Celebrating still my birthday. I think I was born at 10:34 p.m. Not really sure. I called my mom this morning and thanked her for having me. She replied, "my pleasure". Oh yea, Mom, that pain, that labor was certainly your pleasure. Yet, having 3 children of my own, it certainly is a mother's pleasure.

After a marvelous, what a word for my vocabulary, anyway, it was a magical day for me, receiving many gifts, all unexpected. When I finally arrived home, there was the annual birthday call from my sister on my answering machine. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, you look like a monkey and you act like one too!". My sister. We fought like cats and dogs as kids. Today, it is much more in a mature way which we fight. All love. I called her back to tell her, "I still don't look like a monkey". Her reply, simply, "yes, you do". Ok. Her daughter got on the phone. She told he she has been reading my blog. Oh my! Let's see. What have I written??? Yet, Linsi, 21 years old, said to me, "I didn't know who you were, now I do, and I love you even more". So, yes, stories of a grim past are good. They show why a person is the way they are. With no condemnation.

Back to the "hookah". I told my sister I bought a house gift, the "hookah". No reply. After a little bit of conversation, I explained to her daughter and to my sister, "we don't smoke pot nor tobacco out of the hooka". "We smoke molasses tobacco. It is an herbal fruit. Tonight, the very first time we smoked out of it, it was "watermelon"." No tobacco, no tar, no nicotine. So why do we smoke at all? Don't know. I read about the "hookah" from India. Yes, I have a very dear friend from India. It is about how they smoke out of the hookah as an act of peace. So much violence, hatred in the world, yet, to smoke out of the hookah, you can only go there out of a symbol of peace. Peace pipe. Cherokee tusti bowl? A place of love. A place of acceptance in a world of ???? Not sure what this world is of...but my world, yes, a world of love, a world of peace, a world of acceptance...hard to come by, yet, have a celebration and yes it definitely does come!!!

Two Wolves

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside all people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two 'wolves' inside us all.

One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.'

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

Imaginative Writing (Rain Forest Cafe)

After dining at the Rain Forest Cafe, with my daughter and her boyfriend, when returning home, my daughter pulls out her portfolio and shares with me. I asked her if it was ok if I posted it and she said, "ok". So, here it is:

"Grasp" by Beth Ceragioli

She dances with such beauty, such grace. Her clark blue dress acts as if it has a mind of its own as it follows the dancer's porcelain body as she twists and turns. As she reaches the climax of her piece, her hands begin to shake, her limbs fall limply, her body collapses. The bright lights gleam at the body on the dust covered stage. The audience gapes.

The dancer's father sitting in the front row immediately summons help. He glares at his beautiful daughter, then shifts his attention backwards to the thousands of people behind him, staring motionless. He wants to scream, how could they be so cruel? So coldhearted? There is not enough time; his daughter is slowly slipping into a neverending sleep, he can't lose grip, she's the only thing he has left in this world. red and white flashing lights appear through the windows; sirens are buzzing into the arena. The father cradles his lifeless daughter in his arms, and the men rush in with a white and blue stretcher. The father weeps in the back of the ambulance as he clutches his daughter's soft hand.

As the dancer slips into unconsciousness, she envisions herself in a garden piled high with red and white flowers. The sky is blue; the air is pure. She shuts her eyes, and breathes in the sweet scent. Her dream begins to become shaky, as if an earthquake had just struck her meek, little garden. She is being slapped between this sweet dream and a harsh reality. She opens her eyes to reality. The strange men in green and white clothing were placing paddles to her breasts, sending an electrocshock wave to her heart. She feels everything going on, but her mind is unable to control her body. It's as if her spirit was there, but her physical being was dead.

A young girl's eyes open; she's much younger than the dancer on stage. Her father is holding her hand. The girl sits up in her blue bed, wearing a nightgown with a dark blue collar. She glances at her red and white walls, then down to her dusty floor. Her pointe shoes lie on the dresser beside the bedroom door. She grips her father's hand tightly and says, "I'll never let go, just never give up".


"Dear Dad" by Beth Ceragioli (revised from 2006":

After every year you were never here
Every tear that dripped and shed
Every thought that flew through my head
I craved your love
Like a vampire craves blood
I morphed into who you wanted me to be
My acting was never pleasing enough, obviously.
I quit this game, forfeit, I'm through.
You call yourself a father? Oh this can't be true.
Mixed emotions had never been solved,
Until my newfound hate evolved.
I'm letting my emotions finally be set free
give me my life back, give back the key
You twisted me up, down to the core
Let's just say I'm not your little girl anymore
From here on out, I'm daddy's little defect
Having you as a father has been my best kept secret.
A daughter you do now lack.
Dad, I'm never coming back.

Land of the Darkening

Even tho it is a place of non existence it is a place
a place where time meet existence
a time where you say it does not exist
a place where time meets existence

the place of the dark
the dark of the unbeknown
the place of art
unbeknownst
yet a place of existence

I was there
so were you
betweetsn the existence
of you and me
the place of virtural
the place of return
the place of love
unbeknownst of our kind

i will not go
unbellingly
not a word
except the one i just made of
yet
it is a place where we both knew of

you said
there is no space without space
therefore meaning
time with space
ok
my mind is open
my mind is free
take me to the place of
free will
free will to express
free will to be
take me to the place
of yea
the place to be me
loving you
accepting me
oh damn
love is the vocabulary
of being me

it is good to be me

Sage

20" x 24" Acrylic, Ink on Canvas (Sold)

Back in my elementary days transiting to junior high school days, I met my friend Cathy. She lived in an apartment with her father. She was my first friend who lived in an apartment, instead of a house. Being there was only one adult, one parent in her home, she "got away" with alot. Her mother had died of cancer when Cathy was young.

On one of Cathy's birthdays, I went with her father to purchase her a tent. That night, we celebrated her birthday outside on her patio underneath that tent. Our friend, Doris, also camped with us. Cathy smoked cigarettes. That night, we all smoked cigarettes and shared Boone's Farm. I was sick and throwing up the next morning.

I met my 1st husband through Cathy and Doris. They introduced us. Right before we graduated from high school, Cathy and myself, (Doris was a year younger than us), Cathy's father put a bullet to his head. He died immediately. He left a letter for his daughter. Cathy told me that he did it because he never got over losing her mom, was the main reason; yet, he was working as director over the urban renewal project. Cathy told me that the government ran out of money and could no longer support this program. This was back in 1973. I remember that day so vividly. I was a senior (a very pregnant senior) and working half days with the school system in the department of education. That day my father showed up at my office. He told me about Cathy's father. We immediately went to my husband's place of work, at the time, he was working for a boxing company Dixie Container where my brother had worked as a manager. My father went back to his workplace while my husband and I went to Cathy's. It was a very sad, sad time for her, for all of us. We were very young facing death.

I haven't seen Cathy for many years. After her father's death, she went to live with her godparents. He was a judge. They lived in a mansion in our downtown city. It wasn't the same anymore. We lost touch.

The last I saw my friend Doris was right after I had left my 2nd husband, back in the late 70's. I had moved into a rented house and the house was broken into to. I called 911 and they sent the fire department. Doris was one of the firemen.

What prompted these memories this morning? I guess the state of the economy. Reading about housing development. Wondering if I will keep my own house? I went to try to purchase a refrigerator yesterday. My fridge is filling with water - it is very old. Even though I have perfect credit, my loan was refused. I was told that the majority of people, even people who have perfect credit, that their being denied loans.

I spoke with my oldest son yesterday. Because of his divorce, because of all the fighting in court between him and his wife, one of their vehicles was repossessed because neither of them would make the payment. Now the two of them will pay separately the entire loan back. My son says he may have to file bankruptcy. I also spoke with my granddaughter, she and her brother visit their dad every weekend. He loves his children.

I took my daughter and of course her boyfriend who goes everywhere we go to the mall to purchase a dress for a christmas dance they were having at Daniel's church last night. An argument arose between my daughter and myself. Daniel decided to put his 2 cents in. The argument elated in the parking lot. Suddenly, stopped in my tracks, and turned around and went back to my car. No, I did not buy her the dress. Sarcasism, insults does not fly anymore with me. We went home.

Daniel's father, who is the music engineer at their big Christ church, came and picked up Daniel and Beth and took them to their house. I went to visit friends, to voice my pains and frustrations of raising a teenager alone. To voice how it feels as though I am constantly fighting a whole church. Later, another friend came in carrying homemade wine. It was the most delicious wine I've ever tasted. When I got home, there were 2 text messages on my phone. I had left my phone at home. The first message was a picture of Beth in her new outfit. They had told me earlier that Daniel's mother would buy her a dress. I said no. It wasn't about buying a dress. It was about respect. Yes, there was also an apology left on my phone. It came after the dress.

Dinosaurs & Rainbows

I latch hooked the "dinosaurs" when my son was around 4 years old. He was totally into dinosaurs. Perhaps around the time "Jurassic Park" came out. He got the "Jurassic Park" set for christmas. Anthony knew every dinosaur, all their habits, all their names, with the "Jurassic Park" remaining in my shed.

The only sad thing about the dinosaurs is the fact that it is hanging over a door to cover the holes. I removed 3 doors in my home which were covered in holes. The "holes" represented anger. 2 doors remain covered. Creativity covers pain, covers anger, covers violence, yet reveals it all.

The rainbow latchhook I made for my daughter. She was a very tiny dove, and all I could see was a beautiful creature emerging out of the sea, over the rainbow, to shine for all of eternity. Hmm, a dove emerging out of the sea? What the heck? It is all just a fantasy!

***I re-read this blog and saw where I had typed "macramade" and thought "what the hell"? Where'd that come from"? Not sure, but at least I corrected myself (hehe).

Rooster, Lula Belle, & Collie

I think I was in the 4th grade when I created this rooster. It was in the summer and I was made to attend bible school. I remember my friend Wanda also attended with me.
The rooster is made of indian corn, beans, and peas glued to the board.

Now Lula Belle, her real name was "Buffy". She was the doll made from the television series "Family Affair". I did not associate her with "Buffy"; therefore, I renamed her Lula Belle. She has a ring in her neck which you can pull and she will talk. This Lula Belle is not the original. The original was brought to me by Santa when I think I was around 4 or 5 years old. I kinda remember getting her, but I think the memory is more from my dad's home made movies. I do recalll playing with her because I took her head apart because I wanted to see what made her talk. That was the end of my Lula Belle. A few years ago, my sister began collecting dolls. Our mother gave all our dolls away when we grew up. Anyway, Kathie found this "Buffy" at a doll show and gave to me. In the meantime, my daughter, for whatever reason, I guess just being a child, decided to pluck her hair out, so therefore, she is a bald Lula Belle.

The painting of the "Collie" was also a Christmas gift. Not sure which Christmas. It was a "paint by number" kit wrapped under our tree one year.

The shelf above is full of new "memories" and some old. Hmm. I guess today, they are all just memories. The "power ranger" guy, not sure how or why he got "pulled out of a box" recently. Didn't mean to have that "view" in on this picture, but, using a cell phone camera, this is what turned out.

Santa Baby

I did not know the words to this song, so, instead, I sang "jingle bells", forgetting the verse "oh what fun it is to ride"....I could not remember what it was fun to ride. Yea, life, embracing. So, what did we do? We made up our new vehicle. We had our Christmas party today. It was totally awesome, as always. My 10 year anniversary. Yeah!!! We did our "Twelve Days of Christmas" skit on stage, in front of what, 200 other employees? Yes, we made a fool of ourselves. Yet, not at all. What we actually did, was, made others laugh at the expense of ourselves. We gave up our own ego. It was wonderful. Bringing in more closeness of a relationship amongst co-workers in a space reserved for only that. Yeah, it was good. We were all egotistically scared. Remove the egos, and what remains, laughter. And yes, love. The love amongst co-workers sharing that same ego.

They made a video of our skit. I will post that video when it is made available to me. Yea, again, whatever life has to dish out, it is still good. Yes, I am still, most definitely still smiling - my regards to you my dear friend!!! :) Holly

Snowy Streetlight

The sky was as blue as it could be this morning, yet, when nighttime was resting, a romantic blend of wintry absorption fell. A perfect day!

We had our annual Christmas party today held again at the Ramada Inn. Lucky me, I received my 10 year award! $100 for every year. And as always, the turkey, the ham, the mashed potatoes, the sweet potatoes, the pasta, the salad, the rolls, the gravy, the dressing - yes, a typical Christmas buffet with many waiters to serve our every need!

The 12 Days of Christmas performed on stage by nervous first time performers! We had a blast. Gwen - a partridge in a pear tree; Jen - 2 turtle doves; Jackie - 3 french hens; Jimmy - 4 calling birds; Anita - 5 golden rings; Fran - 6 geese a laying; me - 7 swans a swimming; Sandra - 8 maids a milking; Schere - 9 ladies dancing; Casper - 10 lords a leaping; Jamie - 11 pipers piping; and last but not least Joann - 12 drummers drumming. Our wonderful director of the production Gail - sang as we performed "The 12 Days of Christmas". The closeness each of us shared in the making of this skit was charismatic. Changing in our one large dressing room exposing all was ice melting (only one lady preferred changing in the closet); and of course, Jimmy, the only male, afterwards just turned his head. We had the whole audience roaring in laughter. Afterwards, when the many praises arrived, we were told "how good it felt to laugh again - that we all needed that laughter".

Christmas Cactus

The spelling itself "cactus" looks funny to me, yet is spelled correctly. I looked it up in the Webster's Dictionary which read, "spiney showful plant". When I moved from NC to TN, my mother gave me this plant. The "Christmas Cactus". It was in full bloom when she gave it to me. It did not bloom again until a few years ago, and has bloomed every year since.

I took this picture at 5:45 a.m. What seems strikingly beautiful to me is the "blueness" of the outdoors through the windows. Yesterday was dark and cold and rainy. Now look at today!

"Doug"

Anthony & Craig at Craig's house

Oak Tree in Craig's Yard

Anthony, Megan, & Craig at Mama's House


Beth, Megan, & Luke (white spotted pit bull)




Trailer Park



Craig's House

Side View of Craig's House (Acorns Galore!)

Caleb at Craig's House

While I was in NC, one visit took me totally by surprize. As I drove my mother to the nursing home to see her friend, Clyde, the drive from her house to the home, took me through my "old neighborhood". We passed over the railroad tracks which I crossed over as a very young child, hearing the train blowing the whistle nightly as it was at the end of street where we lived as a family, yet, this time crossing over was the other end. We then drove by the first house I moved into with my new husband, Doug, when I was 16. It was a little white, one bedroom house which his parents gave us. We then drove on through to Maple Lane, where on the corner, was the gigantic maple tree which I use to climb as a child. Then, Hilltop Street, the street I lived for 15 years of my life. The next street over was Southview Street. This is where the nursing home is located. This is also where my childhood friends lived. Debbie S., Debbie L., Rosemary, and Nelson G. Memories of playing softball, kick ball, & roller bat, on that street lit up. My friend Wanda, who lived up the street from me, and myself, found a path through the woods to get to that street to play with our friends. As I was driving slowly down the street, looking at all the houses, my mom told me, "this is the house where Doug and Carol live". I said, "oh, let's stop and say hello". We did. We were both welcomed with open arms.

This is the man who terribly abused me when we were married. People change. He married Carol shortly after our divorce. They had a son together, Jonathon. Jonathon and his new wife live right down the street from Craig. Jonathon has been very good to my grandchildren. My son, Craig, and his two children attended Jonathon's wedding. Doug got out the wedding album and Carol sat down at the table and showed me the pictures. Carol works at the cemetery where my father is buried. Her and Doug both attended my father's funeral. Shortly after, they gave us a tour of their home. Inside and out. As we were leaving, Doug walked us out and I said to him, "didn't Nelson G. live in that house up there (pointing)"? Doug said, "yea, as a matter of fact, he has moved back into that house recently, oh, wait, there he is, Nelson, come here, I want you to see somebody". Sure enough, it was Nelson. We haven't seen one another in at least 36 years. Amazing. He told me his mother just moved out of the house and gave him her house. What I found amusing was how Doug introduced me to Nelson, "remember Holly, my ex-wife". We hugged our goodbyes. Maturity really does set in and it feels damn good!

Later on during my visit, I drove to my son's, Craig, new home. Being that him and his wife are separated, he is renting a house now. The story of me and Doug. We separated 4 months after being married. I moved back into my parent's home. 6 weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. Doug moved in with me and my parents. A few months later, we moved into a trailer. The house which my son moved into, is situated upon that same trailer park.

We moved from that rented trailer before Craig was born and bought our own trailer. I left that trailer in 1974 when Craig was 8 months old. He didn't see his father again until he was 9 years old. I had made contact with Doug's sister, whom I helped get a job where I was working at Western Carolina Center, a facility for the retarded. I inquired as to if she and her parents wanted to meet their grandson. Shortly thereafter, Carol showed up at my house wanting to know if I wanted Doug back. I could only laugh! It was like, "Nooooooooooooo". We connected, but only at a safe distance. It was shortly after that I met my 3rd husband and we moved here to Nashville. It has only been since Craig got married that he got to know his biological father.

What's really interesting is that my 3rd husband could not understand why Craig's father didn't have anything to do with him. He was constantly putting him down. Interesting because, now, today, my 3rd ex-husband is doing exactly the same thing. My daughter still has only seen her father twice this year. My son will go visit, the stepmom leaves. Yes, life can be interesting.

I couldn't stay inside Craig's new home for very long. It reminded me of days of darkness, a place of transition, a place to visit, not to live. Funny, Doug told me he wanted to sell his home and move into a shack into the woods. Carol whispered to me, "no, I want to stay where I am." Me, myself, personally, much prefer the outdoors, the breath of fresh air, nature itself breathing. Do not care for dark, closed up secrets. Life is to be lived in the light. Shining that light onto the darkness so one can begin to see again. Yea, life is good!

Dressing Up The Tree

This weekend has been quite wild. Celebrating my son's 22 birthday in a very unique way. Partying is what I believe it is called. Love. Yes, love is celebrating. As I was contemplating all the ornaments on my tree, that is exactly what I perceived. Love. 36 years of love. I married the first time at the age of 16. My grandmother gave me some ornaments from her tree. Recalling, growing up, remembering the years of travelling to visit my grandmother at Christmas, and remembering her "tree", yes, her tree was very large with lots of decorations. Today, these "ornaments" dance for me. Each and every decoration has a story to tell on its own. Being a child of love, that is all that I see. I know there is cruelty in this world. I know there is ugliness in this world. Yet, I choose to see beauty.

I know there was a day in my grandmother's life when all she saw was "beauty". My grandfather died the year I was born. She was left with 8 children to raise on her own. Then, the government made her move out of her home. They built, this is in Wilmington, NC, where they built the "New Hanover Bridge" where her house once stood. That house bordered many soldiers. Not to mention my father's family. The downstairs was a store. An old country store. I can still see my grandmother with her white apron on chopping the meat. The "upstairs" was her home. That "home" to where all the many christmas trees stood.

Anyway, back to my "ornaments". Yes, every ornament tells a story. No matter how sad, how mad, how elated, they each with their own uniqueness tells a story. It is almost as if the tree is alive and dancing with the many, many different stories.

Yes, this weekend was about family. It was about celebrating. Oh man! The discovery of crab legs which absolutely melt in my mouth! It was also about friends. Trusting. Loving. Celebrating. Celebrating life for what it is. Trusting the universe. Is that what we do? Trust the universe or...heaven forbid, we trust ourselves? Seems to me, only "we" know what we need. This thing called "love"???? Love hurts. Love can suck. Because, we are, afterall, only human.

Another Birthday

Tomorrow December 6 is my youngest son's 22 birthday. So, of course, the memories of his birth are strong in hand. I was 30 years old living here in my home now. We had just moved here to Nashville the year before. His father was on the road with Gary Morris. They were playing in California. Ironic as it was, his mother, who lived in Walnut Creek, was here with me for my son's due date was December 16. That morning, my mother-in-law decided it was a good time to clean. She began cleaning out my bedroom closet as I told her, "yes, I want to keep", "no, give it away". Then it moved to our attic. I sat on my den floor as my mother-in-law was above me cleaning out my attic. She was tossing things down. I had to decide if I wanted to keep it or toss it. This was driving me absolutely crazy. I called my husband crying, saying, "I can't do this anymore". I truly don't remember what he said. Probably because I wasn't listening. I remember I went to look for my remote control to my television, only to find it in the "give away box". Anyway, shortly after, I went to the bathroom and I peed. At least I thought I was peeing. I wasn't. My water had broke. My mother-in-law drove me to the hospital.

When we got there, I told Dr. Arnold, "I can't have this baby yet, this is my husband's first child, you have to wait until he gets here from California". Instead, because my water had broken, he gave me a shot to speed up the delivery so infection would not set in. My son was born. I did not see him for several hours. He was having problems breathing so they put him "under the light". Finally, after my husband arrived that night, my son was brought in to me. He immediately took to my breast! My husband left, once again, back to California on tour, while my mother-in-law stayed behind to help with my newborn. She had brought my firstborn, Craig, who was 13 at the time , to the hospital to see his brother. On the way, she is trying to pull out into the traffic and says to Craig, "is anything coming", and he responds, "no". She pulls out and is hit by another car. (Yes, it was my car she was driving.) She tells Craig not to tell me because I had just had a baby and she doesn't want to upset me. But, as children will be children that was the first thing he told me! As I've mentioned earlier, I was closer to my mother-in-law than my own husband. We shared so many memories! As I am older now, I realize the majority of those memories are connected to her grandchildren as much as to me. She certainly took a place in the "shaping" of my children.

Anthony Remo Ceragioli. Named after his paternal grandfather. He is my very delight! This child, who had colic, who was spoiled rotten, still, to this very day, brings such a smile to my face. He is utterly beautiful in all his many ways. Probably because of his father being gone the majority of his life, we bonded so well. He is like a piece of me, yet, distinctly different with his own personality. Proud mother? Definitely!

As Anthony gets older, it appears the memories get stronger. Being able to see who he was, and who he is now, combining the two, making him whole...what a pleasure for a mom! I have been able to witness this with all 3 of my children. They are worlds apart, yet, existing in the same world. 35, 22, 15 - yes spaced out a bit. More time to enjoy each space of them!

Yes, today was a unique day for me. To narrow it down, let's say, being human. Being human feels, experiments, remembers, delights, touches, feels, expresses, lives. Yea, it was a very good day. My special thanks to a very special friend...thank you, my friend! I enjoyed every moment of it! And yes, I am still smiling :) (And yes, if you look closely at the pic of me and my newborn, that is a nipple exposed, but, afterall, it is only a pic!)

Fraser Fir

I absolutely adore the spirit of Christmas. The livelihood of children awakens. Honestly, 'tis the season I prefer all year long! Wallowing in the glow of the wonder of miracles. This "tree" is 9 feet tall - the largest tree we've ever had and the aroma it entails is a miracle itself - not to mention the mistletoe - the parasite with all the many myths - the myth of the kiss, the myth of protection from evil spirits, the myth of healing, the myth of good luck! Christmas - yes, very much a season of giving and receiving.

Back to the mistletoe, a myth may it be, yet, I do have it hanging in my home and over my door which leads into my office at work. Myth? Perhaps it's whatever you believe! Thus far, the reactions to the mistletoe have been: "Let me get out of here before you hang it" said by a married therapist; my supervisor stopping dead in her tracks and not entering my office; kisses blown to me by a nurse; and the many, many tales of the myths of the mistletoe being told repeatedly!

Ok, this post is wishing to continue with the myths of the mistletoe. A co-worker brought me a gift, "Rodale's Illustrated Encyclopedia of Herbs" written by Claire Kowalchik & William H. Hylton. Lo and below there it was - "Mistletoe". "The phase of the moon has signaled the beginning of a new year. White-robed figures trude through a winter oak woods in ancient England, ever peering upward. A cry rings out, and all turn to see a clump of green dangling from a gnarled branch. An older figure - the priest - is called forth, and to him passes a golden sickle. The others meanwhile ring the tree, joyously but ceremoniously singing, "Hey, derry down, down, down, derry". A mantle is spread below, and the priest, bearing his golden sickle, ascends the tree."

"What plant could possibly occasion such solemn and mysterious ceremony and such song? The mistletoe, of course. And those white-robed ones who pursued it were none other than ancient Celtic Druids. They claimed that visions had been sent to instruct them to find the pretty parasite, and that if they failed to heed the visions and mistletoe fell to the ground, all manner of misfortune would occur. Once they had gathered it, the Druids used mistletoe in medicine and in fertility rites, and they hung it in their homes to ward off evil."

"Many of the legends of mistletoe involve mystery, intrigue, and awe. One legend, for example, explains the French name of the plant, herbe de la croix, by saying that when once a tree, mistletoe had been used to make Christ's cross and that afterward it was cursed and denied a place on the earth and so became a parasite. It was an herb of the underworld in Greek and Roman mythology."

"The Scandinavians tell that Balder, the god of Peace, was slain with an arrow made of mistletoe. The other gods and goddesses became quite saddened by this and asked that Balder's life be restored. When he returned to life, mistletoe was given to the goddess of love, who decreed that anyone who passed under the plant receive a kiss to show that mistletoe was a symbol of love. How this tradition became associated with the Christmas season goes back to the Druids, who it is said welcomed the new year with branches of mistletoe."

By 1682, mistletoe had moved out of legend and into practical use as a medicinal herb. In France herbalists prescribed mistletoe remedies for epilepsy, nervous disorders, and St. Vitus' dance. Elsewhere it was used for apoplexy and giddiness, to stimulate glandular activity, to serve as a heart tonic, and to aid digestion. Meanwhile in North America, the American Indians were using Phoradendron serotinum (known as American mistletoe; Viscum album is known as European mistletoe) to stimulate contractions during childbirth. They also used American mistletoe as an abortifacient."

Ok, there you have it! The many myths of mistletoe!