The Outcasts' Song

We'll wander, my band of gypsies and I.

not because we are lost

but because we have found our roving spirits

to be happiest in motion.

We'll sleep wherever our heavy heads

find themselves a place,

and bathe in the mountain streams,

and adorn ourselves with dirt, and dandelions, and dreams.

And we'll wander, my gang of rogues and I

in search of nothing

and with the hope of everything.

We'll worship in the cathedrals of the forest,

our scriptures hidden in the stained and bent pages

of cherished old books

read by the light of the fireflies.

And we'll wander, my crew of pirates and I

wearing silly hats

over wind-tangled hair

living in cars or caves

or circus tents, whatever comes our way.

We'll laugh at the jokes

no one else understands

and dance around the fire

all night to the rhythm of the

songs only we can play.

And we'll wander, my family of miscreants and I

not looking for home, but bringing home with us

to the fields and trees

to the stars and seas

our homes will be upon the lonely beaches

and the spare rooms of friends and lovers.

We'll love and share

and carry on

we'll all have each other

and the breeze

and the photos and stories

the remember when's 

and the yet to be's

and, always, we'll wander.

desert bloom

In the middle of the desert, life struggles on. It pushes and fights to survive against all the odds. It fights the heat, the scorching touch of the sun, the lack of water and protection from the elements. In a place where nothing should be able to make it, some things thrive in spite of it all. In the middle of a wasteland, surrounded by nothing but dry cracked earth and rocks, under the ceaseless rays of light, a plant grows. It may not be as visually pleasing as a lush rainforest. It may not be as impressive as the great redwood forests. But it is stronger than they are, more determined. It shouldn't grow, shouldn't bloom, shouldn't exist. But it doesn't care, and struggles on. Like a flower growing through a crack in the pavement, it says "i know i shouldn't be here, but here i am, and here i shall stay." It may be out of place, and it may have the world against it, but it sets aside fear and simply is. It wants to live, so it does. What greater inspiration can there be?

Giving Back

This time of year, everyone starts to give a little more thought to giving of themselves. Giving back to their community, donating to those in need, etc. While I wish this generosity lasted past December a little more frequently, any help you can give to those around you is worth the effort. Everyone knows about donating to Toys for Tots, volunteering your time at a soup kitchen or shelter, etc. There are a few lesser known causes that I think are worth your attention.


While media coverage of what is going on "over there" may be dying down, and much of the general population believes the war is "over" and all the men and women of the military are home safe now, that's just not the case. And because there is still a war, and people are still being sent over to fight it, that brings about some of them coming home hurt. When an injured Soldier, Sailor, Airman, or Marine come back to states, they don't generally go home. Many if not most of them go to Walter Reed Army Medical Center. Much of the time, their families simply cannot be there with them, due to lack of living arrangements, not wanting to uproot children, etc. So, if you're the Christmas card sending type, this year consider writing out one extra...not necessarily a "thanks for your service" type card, just a happy holidays...and send it to this address:

A Recovering American Soldier

c/o Walter Reed Army Medical Center

6900 Georgia Avenue

NW Washington, DC 20307-5001

Another cause that often gets overlooked is animals. There are far too many animals living in shelters these days. Consider going to your local humane society or similar facility and donating time, money, or even things the animals would need, such as toys, food, treats, blankets, etc. I realize not everyone puts as much value on animals as I do, but they have needs as well, and all too often shelters aren't able to provide everything for them. Even if you just go buy a box of milkbones or a squeaky ball, it'll make a difference in an animal's life.

The Old Crooner

He sits in a little old wrought iron chair, black with intricate, French-inspired design work. He's sipping out of a paper bag, a drink by the same name of the street he's on. He's sitting, and watching. Watching life whizz by him, wondering why his is standing still. His hands are dirty, his clothes worn and his face drawn. He looks in need of sleep. He asks a passing young couple for some change, they give him a dollar but he sees the judgement in their eyes. He straightens his old cabbie hat and sits up a bit.

On the corner, a band starts to set up for an evening show as the street lights flicker on. The neons spring to life all around him. The band starts to play…jazz, lively, just like the city. The piano beckons, the trumpet tempts, the sax calls his name. He gets up and starts to leave…stops, turns back. He starts walking toward the trio of sharply dressed men. He stands and watches among the crowd that's forming. His toes tap quietly on the sidewalk, his hand beating lightly against his thigh, keeping the rhythm. Five or six songs pass. 

The final tune starts, and his breath catches in his throat. He swallows quickly as a tear springs to his eye. It's a song he knows well, one that speaks to his heart. This song is meant to be sung, not just played, he thinks. He pauses a moment, considering his options. He sets down the bottle in his hand, and steps forward. He stands in-between the band and the semi-circled audience. Everyone stares. He begins to sing, right on cue. The men in the band smile and continue on, a little more lively now. The man sings with such emotion, such an obvious understanding of the lyrics. The music ends, everyone applauds. He tips his hat, first to the crowd, then to the band, and starts to walk away. 

"Hey, Pops! Wait a minute man!" calls the trumpet player. The man stops, and walks back to them. 

"That's some voice you got there, old man. How come I ain't seen you out here crooning' before?" asks the pianist. 

"Well, thank you boys. But I don't perform…not anymore. I used to, but that was a different life. Hell, that was a different world." the man responds, allowing a slight sadness into his voice.

"Say, how did you even know that song, anyways? Don't nobody play that no more! We only know it 'cause my daddy used to put the record on. But even then, no one else knew it," the trumpet player says.

"Well…I…I wrote that song, son. A long time ago, back when I was like you. I was in a band then…we used to kill 'em! We'd have Bourbon street goin' so loud!" he laughs at the memory, and continues, "But that was years ago, back when I knew what mattered. We were gonna big, man! The whole damn world was gonna know who we were! But then this shit came into my life…" He looks angrily at the bottle shaped paper bag at his feet, "I messed it all up. Everyone would be playing our songs, but I didn't care. All I cared about was where my next drink was coming from. I could have been the King of New Orleans, and I gave it up for that." A tear or two slip from the old man's eyes.

The band members look at each other, surprise in their eyes. They can't believe that the beaten down man they're looking at is THAT man…that legend! How can it be?! The pianist starts to speak as he looks back toward a man they all worship…

"Say, man, why don't you come back down here again and…." he trails off as his eyes finally reach the spot where his hero had been standing…it's empty. The man is gone. All that they can see of him is a dark shadow under a far streetlight. The wind picks up for a moment, and an empty glass bottles rattles as it rolls into the street. 

Of Mice and Metamorphosis

You changed. I've watched it happen, sitting silently on the sidelines, growing concerned and fearful. I watched you change into something I never thought you would be. You were once the most optimistic person I knew. You kept my afloat in the roughest of waters, always sure things would be good again. You never lost your hope, your smile. You were always the one laughing, always the one cheering those around you, healing even the deepest of hurts. So full of life and joy, so open, so warm. I look at you know and can barely see the shadow of that sweet, confident, buoyant boy. I can't stand the man you've become. All you do is hate. You've become so negative and hurtful. You've lost your compassion and now only look down upon those around you. A suffering friend now gets only the response of "at least it isn't me" out of you. You have no hope, and see only ugliness. You hurt the people you once would have given anything for, but more so you hurt yourself. Then you use your self-inflicted wounds to fuel your anger, your distrust, your indifference toward everything. What happened to you? How did that boy grow into this man?

I've changed. I'm not sure how or when, but I think it's called growing up. I've shed the timid, lost child and become the woman I always longed to someday be. I've found contentment in the parts of myself I once viewed as bad. I no longer try to fit in, but have learned to embrace what i've aways been. I see the world around me so much differently now...there's more beauty than I ever knew. Even in darkness and solitude, there is peace, quiet, comfort. Where once I saw a useless weed damaging the sidewalk, I now see the hopeful flower, growing in spite of everything. I used to keep everything so deeply inside and shun those around me, and now I crave the comfort of others....I feel the joy brought by connections, even the most fleeting ones. I was a girl that hadn't found her voice, never spoke a word, that has changed into a woman singing at every chance.

We've traded places, you and I. Both grown from children to adults. In a few short years we came together, got lost in the big bad world. Along the way, we lost each other as well. Somewhere one of us turned off. Did you take this new path of discontent and jaded pessimism? Or was it I that wandered off, frolicking into the sunny open fields of "life is beautiful"? Where did our hands come apart? Why didn't we notice the other was gone?

love letters

To you-

Hello, my love. I just wanted to write and tell you how amazing you are. I love you so much. You're so sweet and caring. I treasure every second with you. I love the way you sneak up behind me and wrap your arms around me waist. I love the way you hold me, kiss me, look at me. I love that we can stay up all night, talking about anything and everything...from trivial joking to deep philosophical pondering. I love that you truly listen to what I say, and respect me for my opinions and beliefs. You make me feel beautiful, loved, protected, smart, funny, desired and needed. I love that I can feel your love for me in every touch, see it in every smile, hear it in every whisper.

I know things aren't always perfect. We get mad at each other, we yell, we hurt each other's feelings sometimes. But each bad moment is so heavily outweighed by the good. I don't want perfect, anyways...where is the fun in that? I love our crazy life, and all the wonderful adventures we have and will continue to have. There's a big world out there, and I wouldn't want to see it with anyone else but you. You, who understands that the flower you pick out of a field will mean more to me than any store bought gift ever could. You, that I can cuddle, travel, relax, explore, debate, or just sit and do nothing with. I love that you're content whether we are out dancing all night, or just sitting and reading as the sun sets. You don't care if we're out until sunrise at concert, or just laying in the yard watching the clouds roll by.

You make me the best possible version of myself. I hope so much that I mean that same to you...that I make you feel all the joy, peace, wonder, passion, amusement, hope and love that you give to me.

P.S. ~ I hope I meet you soon...

the perils of air travel

And no, I don't mean the cost. I mean, yeah that part is getting crazy, but I can deal with it.

Not the security lines, either. I actually rather like getting to show off my crazy socks, and my laptop easily returns to my bag once I'm through the line.

I'm not even talking about the other people. I've been stuck with the ill, belligerent, and crying masses. Annoying? Occasionally. But nothing to quit flying over. Hell, I've been the ill myself. (which reminds me...don't fly with a bad head cold. It will hurt your ears immensely, and leave you deaf for several days.)

No, the perils I speak of are the missed moments. Flying, while quicker, robs you of the experience travel is supposed to be. Like the old saying, "it's not the destination, but the journey." 

When you drive, you have an experience. You cram everyone into the old car, suitcases and coolers blocking the windows, radio blasting. You get lost, you pull off the road, you take a detour or the much beloved "scenic route" (fatherly code for "I'm lost but it'll work out.") You see cute little towns, out of the way attractions, and giant food on sticks. You stop at crappy little motels. You make memories.

I grew up travelling. My first road trip was when I was 4, from my home in Michigan to Disney World in Florida. In the time since, I've never really stopped roaming. That first trip was followed by two more to the World. There was also the nearly month long trek to the Great American West, which included the Grand Canyon, Mt. Rushmore, San Fransisco, Portland, Death Valley, Las Vegas...and so many other places. There was a similar journey throughout the east coast...New York, Boston, Plymouth, Myrtle Beach. I've also ventured into Canada several times, mostly Toronto, Niagara Falls, and Vancouver.  I've been to so many battlefields, ancient cemeteries, middle of nowhere diners, beaches, historic landmarks, national parks...but I'm not done. I will always ramble, I will always wander.

And I will always do it in a car, not on a plane. You loose too much up there, pretty as the view may be. You miss the best of the trip.

Craft Corner!

I'm not an overly "normal" girl. I spend a lot of my time in various costumes, or just dressing "weird" in daily life. Because of this, i've been turned onto the use of hair falls. These can be made of many things, from yarn to synthetic hair, and pretty much everything in between. Because of my skill level and budget, i've so far only attempted yarn falls. So, today's craft corner is Yarn Hair Falls!

What you need:

good, sharp scissors

scotch tape

pony tail holders

yarn

something to wrap (about 1/2 the length of how long you want your falls to be)

I generally use two or three different yarns. I also generally make one of those a "base color" that is similar to my own hair color, so a more well blended look. But that's just me, obviously you can choose whatever colors you'd like!

To start off, I like to unravel all the yarn before I do anything else. That way, if there are any knots/etc I can deal with them ahead of time.

Grab the thing you are using to wrap the yarn around. Depending on the length I've wanted the falls to be, I've used a book, my laptop, and the back of my dining room chair. I liked the length I got from the chair the best, so that's what I used this time as well. 

Grab one end of each yarn, and tape the in the center of your wrapping base, like so:

Now, wrap the yarn around your base until you reach the end of one of them. Cut the others to the same length as the one that ran out first. Now, using a little scrap of yarn or string, tie the yarn together in the center, opposite the side you taped down.

Carefully slide your yarn off of your base. Holding it where the bow is, cut entirely through the opposite side.

You should now have one long, straight bundle of yarn. Don't worry about the length being even now, that will come later. Untie your yarn and lay it out flat. Grab one of the pony tail holders. 

Now grab 2-3 strands of yarn. Fold the yarn in half. Put the rounded end through the pony holder, then pull the loose ends through the loop. Pull it as tight onto the pony holder as you can. Repeat this process until you get the fall as full as you want it, but leave a space on the pony holder with nothing on it.

* Note- the more strands you try to tie into one knot, the thicker the actual knot will be. This will mean that there will be less room to tie on others, and will result in a thinner/less full fall. Doing 2-3 strands at a time is tedious, but the end result is better*

So, that is how you make them. Now let's move on to wearing them!

To put the falls on, pull your hair into a high, tight bun or buns, depending on if you are doing a pony or pigtails. I prefer the look of pigtails.

Grab one of your falls. Decide which side should be the "front" or visible part of it. Place this part over your bun, against your head, so that the "back" is facing up. Wrap the empty part of the pony holder around your bun. Stick in a few clips or bobby pins. Flip your head up. The finished look:

I made these ones without a base color, so they don't blend as well with my hair. These particular falls are for a rave though, so I wanted them really bright, and i'm hoping the white will glow in the blacklights. Here are some others I have made using my base color:

Life's A Stage

..but why do all the plays seem to be dramas? I understand that the world today can be a very rough, ugly place. What with the economy, government, family, friends, love, lust, money, responsibilities, and any number of other daily stressors. I try to keep my life as low-drama as possible. For the most part, I think i'm a fairly calm, laid back kind of gal. I try to be as zen as I can and always look for the brightest side of everything. So, when other people come into my life and bring drama with them, I tend to not like it much. I've worked hard to overcome issues in my past and cut the drama out of my life, so why should I have to be bogged down by that of others?

I know things I wish I didn't. Not because they are disturbing or gross or anything. But because there is nothing I can do to make the situation better, so knowing these things just weighs on my mind needlessly. I'm torn between trying to help a friend, or trying to act like I don't know what's going on. Neither sound that great to me. I feel like no matter how I react to this knowledge, it's going to being unrest and drama into my life, neither of which are welcome. The problem is that it's hard to stay out of something that affects those you care for. And what's worse...I really can't discuss this with the people I would normally turn to for guidance because of the people that are directly involved. And so, I turn to blogville.

I'm trying to stay positive, stay calm, stay zen. Maybe i'll meditate on these issues one at a time until I find some clarity.  Maybe a cup of chai and some quiet music. Until I find a solution, I turn to finding peace and beauty around me. Here are a few shots from a trip I took this past weekend to Manheim, Pennsylvania:

This little one opened his wings for me at the perfect moment. Thank you.

A stunning church I passed on the way into town. Some of the headstones around back were dated pre-revolutionary war.

Simply joy is always beautiful, especially when so lighthearted and brightly colored.

Going to the Hound

So, this has nothing to do with anything at all.  Obviously there is more to my like than making food, writing, and taking pictures, and this here is a huge part of it:

This is Delilah Jane, my 4 1/2 year old Beagle. She's pretty much the love of my life. She's my buddy, my teddy bear, my alarm clock, my mop, and my muse. She's the sweetest thing in the world and loves people to no end. I've had her since she was just two months old, and can't imagine my life without her.

Adding Some Spice

I really like Chai tea. And Chai Spice tea. And Chai Spice lattes. Sensing a pattern? So, when I found this recipe for Chai Spice bread I just had to try it. Given that the last week or so has been spent pining away for fall, and it actually got semi-chilly and rained for a week, I was in the mood to bake something. This seemed seasonally appropriate, so, here it is:

You Need:


3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup Chai tea
1/3 cup milk
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp vanilla
1/8 tsp cloves
2 eggs
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp ground cardamon
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

3-5 tbs milk
1/4 tsp vanilla
1 cup powdered sugar
ground cinnamon

~
Heat oven to 400, and grease a loaf pan.

Beat sugar and butter until fluffy. Beat in tea, 1/3 cup milk, 2 tsp vanilla, and eggs until well combined. Stir in flour, baking powder, cardamon, cinnamon, salt and cloves. Pour into the loaf pan.

Bake 50-60 minutes. (55 did it for me)

Once bread has cooled, stir together powdered sugar, 1/4 tsp vanilla, and 3-5 tbs milk, one tbs at a time until thin enough to spread. Drizzle over bread and allow to harden. Sprinkle with ground cinnamon.

Makes 16 slices, 190 calories.

Just out of the oven

Just after icing

And a peek at the inside

This was very good. If you aren't used to the taste of Chai, you may or may not care for it. It's a light flavor, but it's also obviously there.

The only negative note i'll make about this recipe is that it was very hard to slice the bread. The outside had a slight crunch to it, so I had to put some force into the knife, but at the same time the inside was very soft and didn't hold together well. So, this was a little crumbly, and not all the slices came out looking pretty, but it tasted great.

Where's Remy?

If you're a Disney fan, you'll get the reference in the title of this post. Last night for dinner I made Rotini Ratatouille. Very easy, and very good. This is a crock pot recipe, so all I had to do was chop up the veggies (zucchini, eggplant, and a red bell pepper), pour in the marinara, and put it on low for 4 hours. Then you add the noodles and olives, cook 30 more minutes, and you're done.

Ready to Fall

As a midwesterner (a term I take issue with...there is nothing western about Michigan! But I digress) I have a deep love, nay, reverence for all things autumnal. Fall is by far my favorite time of year. There are parts of other seasons I like, for example, I'm a Christmas fanatic. But as far as a whole season, Fall wins out.

I love the crisp chill in the air, the cool breeze carrying the scent of dead leaves, spices and apples. I love being able to put away the shorts and tank tops and pull out the jeans and hoodies. I still jump in the leaf piles. Fall holds almost all of my favorite scents - apple, cinnamon, pumpkin, and all the various "harvest" and "farmers market" type things you'll find at Yankee Candle. It hold my 2nd and 3rd favorite holidays, Halloween and Thanksgiving respectively. It yields my favorite foods- turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, hot apple cider, fresh cinnamon donuts, pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, various spice breads and muffins, etc. Many of my favorite activities are best saved for Fall...going to the apple orchard, taking long walks in wooded areas, baking. It's a time that stresses family togetherness and being thankful for what you've been given. All in all, it's a magical time to me.

So, imagine if you will, the pain it causes me to live in Arizona, where seasons don't exist. There are no leaves to turn color. No apples growing to pick and bake. No color, no crisp air, no anything. It actually brings on a depression every year for me. So, I do what any normal (read, crazy) person would do. I put up my fall decorations in mid August, as soon as the stores do. I leave them up until I put up my Christmas decorations. I turn up the AC and close the blinds, make a cup of pumpkin spice coffee, close my eyes and pretend i'm at home where I belong. Sometimes it even works, a little. So, this being the middle of August, that's what I did this week. Even though i'm sick and supposed to be "taking it easy", I chose to instead climb around hanging faux leaves all over, practically break my neck in the process, and turn my desert home into an autumn haven. I'm not done yet, but I thought i'd share some pictures and officially move this over into a PHOTO BLOG.

apple pie centerpiece, leaf print runner, and in the background there, my little scarecrow door-knob hanger

my dining room/office. those leaves over the windows are what nearly killed me. (FYI, when climbing the high, don't do it on a bar stool)

leaf wrapped lamp post

harvest bouquet hanging in my hallway

kitchen. they're hard to see, but there are little leaf stickers all over the stove, microwave and dishwasher. the towel hanging on the stove is a fall print that says "abundant blessings."

close up of the centerpiece on the island. ceramic pumpkin I hand painted, with a leaf wreath from JoAnn's, with extra loose leaves added in.