Coincidence?

It amazes me how seemingly random events can later be tied together to almost look like they weren’t random at all.  Almost like sometimes fate, or whatever is directing this symphony we call life, intervenes to give you a kind of push in the direction it wants you to go.

When Elizabeth called to chat this morning she brought up the ‘red door’.  I told her it still nagged at me and she suggested that it would be interesting to know what store it was attached to.  I thought that was a great idea.  If it were something like a card shop or toy store maybe the door wouldn’t seem so formidable.  Maybe I could even see it from the inside.  Get another perspective – something lighter that would counter my initial dark impression.

When the lunch hour rolled around, Aunt Samantha took over the register and I headed out to check out the store with ‘the red door’.  I avoided the alley this time, but had no trouble calculating which store the door belonged to – and of course with my luck, it turned out to be vacant.  Blinds covered the window so I couldn’t get a good look inside.

The realty business next door was open so I popped in to inquire about the vacant shop.  The Realtor told me it used to be an antique shop but that it had been vacant for several months.  An antique shop.  Nothing scary there.  Now, if she’d have said a butcher shop my mind would have taken off with that.  But an antique shop seemed pretty benign.

When I turned to leave the realty shop I saw it.

Posted on the wall was a picture of the house I’ve been obsessed with for as long as I can remember.  It’s an old Victorian house that sits at the top of a hill that overlooks the town.  I don’t know what it is about the house but as a child I was absolutely drawn to it.  It became my dream house.  The place where quite a few of my childhood imaginings took place.

I hadn’t given it a lot of thought since going away to college but the picture on the wall pulled me back into my child hood reverie.  The house still held its magick over me.

The Realtor said that it had been put on the market just this morning and asked me if I was in the market to buy a house.  I assured her that I had my own home but later I started thinking how fun it would be to walk through the place just once.  Get a look at the inside of my obsession while I had the chance.

I’d love to take a little peek.
Maybe there will be an Open House.

‘The House’
coach house is to the right of the main house
how cool is that?

Jewels

Jewels’ Scones

I like cooking and I’m told I’m good at it.  But, baking is like a balm to my soul.  I love to bake!

To me, the kitchen is the heart of a home.  I love a big kitchen and much prefer it to a dining room for a place to eat.  Maybe it’s the warmth or the idea that a kitchen is where the food is prepared that nourishes and keeps the family healthy.  Maybe it’s because in my childhood so many happy conversations took place at the kitchen table with the comforting sounds and smells of food being prepared in the background.  I don’t know, but I do know that baking relaxes and grounds me.

So, it came as no surprise to me that when I woke up this morning, after my little scare yesterday, that the first thing I did was head to the kitchen to whip up a batch of scones.

They did the trick.  I spent the first part of my morning sitting on the back deck with Jynx, nibbling on scones and sipping coffee.  By the time I was finished, I felt like a new woman. 

You want scones to die for?  Well, here they are…

Ingredients:

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons unsalted butter, frozen
1/2 cup raisins or dried currents
1/2 cup sour cream
1 large egg

Directions:

Adjust upper rack to lower-middle position and preheat oven to 400 degrees.

In a medium bowl mix flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt.  Grate butter into the flour mixture on the large holes of a box grater; use your fingers to work in the butter (mixture should resemble coarse meal), then stir in raisins.

In a small bowl whisk sour cream and egg until smooth.

Using a fork stir sour cream mixture into flour mixture until large dough clumps form.  Use your hands to press the dough against the bowl into a ball.  (The dough will be sticky in places and there may not seem to be enough liquid at first.  But as you press, the dough will come together).

Place on a lightly floured surface and pat into a 7-8 inch circle about 3/4 inch thick.  Sprinkle with remaining 1 teaspoon of sugar.  Use a sharp knife to cut into 8 triangles; place on a cookie sheet, (preferably lined with parchment paper), about 1 inch apart.  Bake until golden – about 15 to 17 minutes.  Cool for 5 minutes and serve warm or at room temperature.

Variations:

Cranberry -Orange Scones

Add a generous teaspoon of finely grated orange rind (zest) to the dry ingredients and substitute dried cranberries for the raisins.

Lemon-Blueberry Scones

Add a generous teaspoon of finely grated lemon rind (zest) to the dry ingredients and substitute dried blueberries for the raisins.

Cherry-Almond Scones

Add 1/2 teaspoon almond extract to the sour cream mixture and substitute dried cherries for the raisins.

Jewels

The Red Door

The strangest thing happened to me today.

My best cousin Elizabeth invited me to lunch.  The Mexican restaurant we were going to meet up at is in the heart of our little town – a mere two miles from home so I decided to ride my bike instead of drive.

When I think back on it, if I hadn’t stopped at the Park to shoot a few shots of some kids throwing Frisbees, I wouldn’t have been running late.  I wouldn’t have taken the short cut down the alley, and I would be writing this entry about Frisbee throwers in the park - not about the Red Door.

Here’s what happened…

My town is small but not so small that I know every side street and alley. 

I had lost track of time and was running a good 15 minutes late for lunch.  In an attempt to cut my travel time, I took a short cut down an alley that I’d never traveled down which I figured would drop me on the next street over.

Brick walls lined both sides of the alley – the back sides of small shops.  A trash dumpster was half down the alley against the wall to my right.  The alley itself was clear and easy to navigate so I was peddling pretty fast when a door on the left wall caught my eye.

Things were still fine until I got close enough to see the details of the door and that’s when everything started happening.

First, I was so intent on that door that I almost crashed into the dumpster.  I swerved to avoid it and almost lost control of the bike.  I stopped short and stared at the door.

Suddenly, I felt dizzy – like I was going to pass out.  My heart started racing and my mouth went dry.  I felt like something really bad was getting ready to happen and I just wanted to run.  But I stood there rooted like a deer in headlights.

Someone blowing their horn on the main road snapped me out of the trance and with very shaky legs I rode the bike out of the alley.

After two Margarettas and lunch, I was pretty much back to normal.  By then, Elizabeth had almost convinced me that I had been over heated and probably had a low blood sugar from not eating breakfast so I had gotten shaky.  She’s a  ‘get back on the horse that threw you’  kind of girl.  She said that I needed to face my fears or they’d get the best of me.  So, she talked me into going back after lunch to take a picture of the door.

I agreed, but with the stipulation that we go back in her car.  I wasn’t ready to ride down that alley again.  Not yet anyway.  So we put my bike on her bike rack, climbed into her car and headed back to ‘the door’.

As soon as she turned down the alley I started feeling nervous and by the time she stopped in front of the door it started happening all over again – the dizziness, the racing heart, everything.

I wanted to just get away from there but she snatched up my camera, climbed out of the car and took some shots of the door first. 

On the way home she said she thought that I was having a panic attack.  But for the life of me I can’t figure out why. 

Later in the evening when I finally got up the nerve to look at the pictures on my computer I once again started feeling apprehensive, but not nearly with the same intensity as when I was standing in front of the door.

Analyzing the pictures, the biggest thing that creeps me out about the door is the fact that there is no handle to open it with.  And there is a light switch outside the door but no light.  Why have the switch outside for a light that is inside if you can’t open the door to go in after you turn it on?

I have a big phobia about being inside a locked room that has no windows in it.  And I can’t ride in elevators.  

Maybe it’s because even though it is an outside door, it looks like an inside door – one that has no handle to get out.  Maybe that’s what creeps me out.

It’s just a door.
Nothing to be afraid of.  Right?

The Red Door

Jewels

Rain Dance

It’s a lovely day for a bike ride, so I rode mine to the bookstore this morning.  By ‘lovely’ I don’t mean all sunshiny and bright as that would mean temperatures in the mid to upper 90’s – not good riding weather at all.  What I mean is that the sky is gray and overcast keeping the sun hidden and the temperature 10 degrees cooler than normal.  It was perfect weather for riding, and I arrived at work feeling alive and ready to face the world.

Isn’t it strange how most people prefer bright sunshiny, cloudless days.  I enjoy them too, but right before a thunderstorm when the sky darkens and the wind starts whipping through my hair, is by far my favorite kind of weather.  I don’t know why but thunderstorms excite and energize me.  If it wasn’t for the threat of death by lightening, (and of course the excellent chance of being arrested as a pervert), I would dance naked in the pounding rain to the beat of the rolling thunder while the lightening strikes the ground all around me. 

Now wouldn’t that make an interesting picture? 

Jewels

Self Portrait

In an artistic mood this morning, I broke out my camera and started snapping pictures of things around the house.  When I went to shoot the flowers in my bathroom I saw my reflection behind them in the mirror and thought the effect made an interesting self portrait.

Self Portrait

Jewels

Haiku

I discovered a poetry style called Haiku today and fell in love with it.  The poems are short, sweet, and to the point.  Following is the poem I came up with.  I call it:

‘Fate or Folly?’
cocoon cracks open
the butterfly’s dance cut short
by a silken web

I’m a visual girl, so after writing my poem I went in search of a picture to illustrate the surface meaning of ‘Fate or Folly’ and came up with the picture below.  Of course the poem’s underlying meaning would construe quite a different picture – one which can’t be captured on film.

Photo used with permission by:
http://www.larvalbug.com

Jewels

The Bookstore

Aunt Samantha is my mother’s sister and as different from her as night is to day.

My mother was a practicing Catholic, a very traditional woman, a rule follower - a staunch Republican.  Aunt Samantha on the other hand is a Pagan – an Earthy, animal loving, tree-hugging woman who practices yoga and is a vegetarian.  Get the picture?

My mother married young and started right off raising me.  Aunt Samantha has never been married.  She doesn’t even believe in the concept of legal marriage.  Her idea of marrying someone includes common vows and some kind of ’stepping over a broom’ ritual.  I’ve not been privy to that so I can’t give many details.  But she has lived with the same man – Peter, for twenty years so I guess something is working for her.

Anyway, up until three years ago Aunt Samantha and Peter lived in New England and ran a thriving metaphysical bookstore business.  Not long after my parents died, my aunt and uncle purchased a small store downtown and moved their entire business here.

Aunt Samantha says she was tired of the fast pace and the cold weather, but I think it was more because she was worried about me being alone and wanted to be closer to me.  She’s has always been more like an older sister to me than like an aunt.  Either way, I was happy she moved.

Our town is fairly small - picture the town on the show ‘Ghost Whisperer’ and you’ll have the idea.  The ‘Big City’ is a good twenty-five minute drive from here.  I didn’t think the concept of a metaphysical bookstore would go over well but I was wrong.  It turns out that the ‘Big City’ has nothing close to what her store offers and quite of our customers make the drive regularly.  Word of mouth brings new customers all of the time too.

The bookstore is two levels.  To accommodate the non-pagan types, my aunt has turned the bottom level of the bookstore into a used book store.  People can trade books and buy them.  And there’s a monthly book reading group.  I’m still considering trying that out.

The upper part of the store has two sections.  The front section which has tons of books on all kinds of ‘New Age’ subjects and items like candles, incense, jewelry, and music etc.  The back part of the top level has a warm, cozy cafe that serves freshly made sandwiches, salads, soups, pastries, and drinks – lots of coffee! 

The bookstore has soft ‘New Age’ music playing all the time and smells faintly of incense downstairs.  It’s a good bit stronger upstairs. 

I don’t know if it’s because of my love for books, or the effect of the whole environment, but within five minutes of walking in the front door and hearing the little bells tinkling, that announce a customer’s arrival, I feel totally relaxed.  I don’t care how wound up I am when I walk in, the bookstore always washes away my tension.  I absolutely love it there.

Anyway, I’m taking a well-deserved year off from school before I go back to work on my Doctorate in 2009.  In the interim, I have offered to help Aunt Samantha run the store.  That way she can take some personal time off is she likes, or putter around chatting and directing the customers, or just sit down and read someone’s Tarot cards without having to worry about running to the register every five minutes.

My job is to just sit at the register and direct people to books and ring up their purchases.  In between customers I either surf the Net on the bookstore’s WiFy or read a bit from whatever novel I currently have my nose burried in.  The coffee shop is free for me and the clientele are interesting to watch.

What else could a girl ask for? 
A hot date maybe…

The Bookstore

Jewels

The Hair Comb

Yesterday was one of the worst days ever in my life!

The day started off fine except for the fact that I was expected to attend Aunt Samantha’s family get-together/picnic.  I don’t mind small family functions, but I knew she’d invited several of the ’New Age’ customers that frequent her bookstore, and frankly I feel a little uncomfortable around a bunch of strangers.  Especially strangers who have a totally different view of life.  But, I agreed to go because I knew Aunt Samantha would start lecturing me about how I needed to get out more and socialize with people my age. 

I was dressed and ready to go when at the last minute I decided to wear the little gargoyle earrings she’d given to me last Halloween – (Her ‘All Hallows Eve’).  I’ve never worn them because they really aren’t something I’d choose for myself, but a picnic with a group of ‘New Age’ people would be the perfect place to wear them and Aunt Samantha would be pleased.  

I found them where I left them, still in the little gift box on top of the dresser in my parent’s room.  Except for the furniture and the jewelry box, the room is totally empty of all personal effects.  Aunt Samantha cleared everything out six months after my parents died.  My mother’s jewelry box was the only thing left and that’s because I couldn’t part with that part of her.  I still can’t bring myself to go through its contents, but I take a bit of comfort knowing it’s there.  It’s strange how we attach emotion to personal effects.

Everything would have been just fine if I hadn’t dropped one of the gargoyle earrings while trying to put it on.  When I moved to look for it, my foot kicked it underneath the dresser.  Reaching blindly under the dresser to find it, I didn’t come up with anything, so I had to get a flashlight.

Thinking back on it later, it was almost like my mother wanted me to look under the dresser.  It gives me chills just thinking like that. 

Anyway, the flashlight caught a glint of white way to the back of the dresser by the wall.  Since the dresser is a massive oak piece with triple mirrors it was way too heavy to push so I had to use a yardstick to fish the item out. 

It was my mother’s favorite hair comb.  Antique gold embedded with pearls, it was a gift from my father on their wedding day.  He had purchased it for her during one of his business trips to Japan and she wore it only once every year – on their wedding anniversary.  She’d put her long black hair up into a chignon, slip the comb into it and say the same thing each time, “I feel like a bride again!”

I don’t know how it got underneath the dresser.  Maybe she’d accidentally knocked it off and kicked it just like I had kicked my gargoyle but she hadn’t noticed.  However it had happened, finding it totally unexpected like that tore out my heart and I just crumpled on the floor in a sobbing mess. 

That was the first time I really let loose and cried from the heart since my parents died.  I guess I’ve always been afraid that if I started crying I’d never stop. 

I spent most of the day curled up on the sofa in my pajamas, wrapped up in a quilt watching old black and white ‘tear jerker’ movies, crying and feeling sorry for myself.  Jynx laid at my feet the entire time and kept casting wary glances at me.  I’m sure I looked a scarey mess to him with my puffy eyes and stuffy, red nose.  But he stayed anyway.  That’s true love for you. 

By the time Aunt Samantha called to find out what was keeping me, I sounded totally stopped up so I think she believed me when I said I had a sinus headache from my allergies because she didn’t push me to come.

The good part is that I woke up this morning feeling lighter in heart than I have since my parents died.  In fact, I woke up feeling great!  Maybe it is true that crying is good for the soul. 

For now, the comb will stay safely tucked away in the jewelry box but I still need to find that pesky gargoyle for the next picnic event.  I’ll look for that another time. 

My Mother
‘Katherine’
1/12/82

Jewels