This was the scene out of our front window last Wednesday. Over the weekend I took a run in shorts and had my plants sunning in the outdoors.
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We aren’t far off from spring, I hope!
Why I’m glad I’m not a teenager anymore.
A toddler will be entertained with a zipper for an hour. Teenagers enjoy socializing with friends at the mall. Old ladies love flowers. People of all ages play golf. Different hobbies entertain all different kinds of people. The way a person spends their time differs with age and is related to the freedom we perceive.
While watching ‘Lost in Translation’ I noted the age of the two main characters and their situations that put them in a similar place to cross paths. The difference between the two characters was how they entertained themselves during free time. Scarlett Johansson’s character enjoyed self-help books on tape. Travels in a new city lead her to Buddhist temples and flowering dog trees in the tea forests of Japan. Bill Murphy’s character mocked the job that brought him to Tokyo and spent time golfing or floating around the pool in between spending nights at the hotel bar. The bar is where Johansson and Murray meet to exchange an automatic, almost too familiar, connection that brings the rest of the movie to life.
This comparison of characters began to paint lines in my observations dividing age and the differences in how time was spent during different times of life.
When I think of life without responsibility, no worry, free-minded, untethered people I think of a little boy I spied on once. The memory is a battle between a boy and a bush. The bush is winning, woody branches have grown taller than the boy’s front porch and he is in full combat. Swinging his bat to the base of this plant, the boy charges into its leafy arms, only to get whipped in the face by an elastic arm. But, he isn’t giving up. One more spin move, his dance electrified from the open grass he stomps, and he is full fledge back into the hedge. It looked like fun, therapeutic, to throw yourself into your front beds and to come out alive! A better man. So went his routine until dinner time, a guaranteed event to cut the fun short. The shrubs don’t stand in the way of anything we need, any security of food or home, and if we were to look at the situation for enjoyment you see he only got caught in imagination, the bush was an army against him and he was able to take it on. It was time for the play that determined the outcome. Everyone needs this time to realize day dreams. He acts because there isn’t a bargain for time. There is ample time –and too much of it frankly, waiting around for the adults to catch on.
I remember a time growing up when all of my belongings were cataloged, my tapes were a collection of radio recorded songs that I had the patience to wait for and then alphabetize. I remember that I also collected paint chips from Wal-Mart, drawing the same ranch-style dream home over and over. There were Barbie empire weekends, designed to keep our younger brother out of the room, and Lego land. My sister and I built precisely with every plastic block, taking so long we never did play or act in Lego land. These times were in lazy summers, the ones that don’t exist into your late twenties. After college, you are lucky to plan free days about one weekend a month when you must plan to do nothing at all.
So, six-year-olds are content to make enemies out of the hedgerow all day and build lands that won’t ever be played with. The next years of life begin to incorporate learning how to survive, including a job, perhaps an education, volunteering, boards of the local do-good venture, service, kids, food, house, etc…an endless amount of things piled on until the strain of our body contorts us. We become stressed out people who need to find a balance in all of this abundance. Life becomes faster.
To ‘slow’ it down we must strike a balance. Consciously let yourself go unplanned as you get older and realize that this is how the young and the wiser spend their time, proving that success happens on the inside. It takes age to grow into that confidence.
If a different path presents itself this opportunity causes a personal evaluation. If a chance arrives to seek your profession, refine your gifts, or be influenced into a new search, then change. What a teeming experiment being mildly distracted is. Step back and be conscious of the situation you are working for. Write about it. Perhaps there are goals to obtain and change is initiated by your own determination. Young adults growing into their forties are finally free to roam different paths and they begin to mold into unexpected grooves.
These adults seem to know how to enjoy their free time, dinners with the family, watching a show, traveling to the sun, relaxing in a way that has become common to them. They are involved with children and a school community while taking upon the responsibility of friends. Desires and hobbies turn into volunteering. Finally comfortable with who they are, adults partake for the second time in their life an unprescribed happiness. The imagination leads them. The lingering uncertainty allows room for being flexible in the moment. Not only does getting older provide an acceptance into retirement, we also grow into the customs of our aging mind. ‘Territoriality in humans is more related to the needs of self-identity and freedom of choice.’ a
Youthful life is devoted to finding something to define yourself by –and if you are lucky you may find it in good work. This age group is busy trying to find out what will sustain them. It’s age in the mid-twenties before one begins to worry about supporting their enjoyments and securing a future. That is, securing a future within the pressures of what our society expects of us. But, for those who want something more, who are thirsty for helping, climbing, experiencing, working, searching, the searching becomes equally exhaustive because there are a lot of options. If a young adult doesn’t have a firm grasp on how to control, stabilize and finance themselves by this age, they’d better catch on quickly. Work becomes a time to enhance our personal being through what we do. If one isn’t fulfilled in what they do, this generation of workers, staring around year 2000, isn’t afraid of moving to make the change. So, for the young working adult, we spend our time trying to earn worth out of our work. Once through this life period, aged adults begin to enjoy more time with their family, invite the neighbors over, and relax by playing tennis. Free time spent during one period transitions into something else. Take note of how an older generation passes the time. Perhaps they have fulfillment figured out.
The ability to realign yourself and alter or deepen the path you are on seems to get harder and harder the older people become. You receive the experience of a working adult. Other people’s opinions have steadfast influence. This can become more and more complicated unless you find a way of dealing with it. Thinking things out and giving yourself time to do so until they are no longer problems, is necessary. Financially, entertainment, enjoyment… are we not lucky that these are our needs? I have riches in food, shelter, and safety. This is what the older person has determined for themselves and are therefore enjoying in the time of fifty years.
Getting older means that one year is fractionally less and less of your time. As these responsibilities and obligations add up the more the busy-ness seems like nonsense. Amidst searching for yourself you begin to give up! What we should do instead of allowing responsibilities to impede, is take time to digest and order the things that are important.
If there are a few things to keep in order, make a quick list. My list begins with my health and house. Eat healthy, have fun with friends and incorporate exercise into your ever becoming sedentary way of life. There are family obligations, friends’ weddings, babies, career change, moves, layoffs and opportunities galore. Enjoy.
I want to have the ability to watch over myself. Goals of the day make big resolutions for the week and fare well when they stack up into years. I try to be myself everyday. I do that by taking the time to be conscious of myself in an honest evaluation. Only I am in control of where I put myself, and only I can enjoy the free time I allow myself to have.
I am inspired by fabric. Expressed in the threads you wear are a sense of style, a type of daring, a piece of your inside feelings expressed externally. For some time I’ve wanted to reupholster my couch. It’s a tan Ikea model with a nice shape, but without a personality.
{found on Pinterest}
Some fabric companies I consult with are below… am I missing any?
Exterior Designer Shades
Mecho Shade (Interior / Exterior)
Lutron (Interior / Exterior)
Earth Shade www.earthshade.com
Arc-Com Fabrics Artemis
Brentano Fabrics Artemis
Solucent Exterior Shades by Cambridge Architectural
Dressage and Strata by Conrad UV Shades of Natural Fibers
Fabric by Distinctly Duralee
Lee Jofa
Raoul
Lisa Fine
Katerina Tana
RP Miller
Twigs
Marcie Bronkar
Kerry Joyce
Off White Castle
Le Gracieux
Kathryn M. Ireland
Carolina Irving
Jasper
Katie Leede
Rose Tarlow
Peter Dunham
Ferrick Mason
Fabricut
High Fashion, La St. Tx
Mood Fabrics
Anzea fabric, recycled
Custom Fabric on Demand
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Bob Villamagna’s BluesMan II
August 15, 2011
Blues Fest Tear Down, again
The voices have faded now
the reverb of drum and Jazz bounced
reflected until the slightest sound
no longer be heard
bounced to silence
.
The oil slicks are washing away
in colorful shades of the rainbow
where the cars were piled
cars and vans who had traveled
with flashy bumper stickers
exclaiming in their overuse
their own attention, like wallpaper print
a language of tattoos
translating to me
a new genre of people following bands
.
The city had been alive with thousands of people
the crowd before the stage never ceased,
moving, colliding with one another in a hypnotic
motion, feeling like a lifted spirit
capturing a joy felt within, from being around so many people
doing the same thing
.
The heart beats on as the lyrics continue
as they leave Wheeling
somewhere else they play the blues
mouths wording a continuation of where we left off
Sunday night as the sky faded and clouds parted
into a pink hoola hoop lying on the horizon,
capturing, along with the river
moving us all, at the same time, in one languid motion
the essence of the blues taking hold
dance together, as people worked together
the reason of the blues grabbing us in one shared movement
to reveal that the soul has remained the same,
and more powerful if we can live like this, together.
~
Visit the Wheeling Heritage Music BluesFest 2013 this August!
Madonna di San Luca
Fatto
To do as those in Bologna do.
Ancient archways hold a long arched hallway along the street
lead to San Luca church, a place the provides a space
for meditation, a journey there.
Bologna was built for people needing to get somewhere.
It wasn’t some place for a tourist
but it shows how Italians judge time.
It is a city of movement, of hallways and
few open piazzas where the old tower of Bologna stands
in the center.
At 7:30 the large grafittied iron shutters roll down
the crazy long hallways close the city in on us
make us lost in a labyrinth of running.
Venice Night
He walked with a wet leg into the Museum of Modern art
with me
women were sewing large sails at a huge scale
in painting
men were carved, forever carrying the weight of a detailed pediment
their muscular bodies know strength.
There are women too, in these sculptures
stepping off stone bowls to show muscle and body contortion
just holding on.
.
In the evenings the brightly lit windows
reveal frescos on the ceiling
plaster molded details in the rafters
the reflective waters bounce the dinner scenes
on the canal and through out the entire city
looking up at Venice
from the view of an ocean.
Venezia
Venice is a rubbed painting
that reveals a lost era.
Water floods and recedes
marking its territory in deliberately carved ripples
of marble.
The terrazzo floors are sloping
the timber structures giving out
falling with five stories weight into the Adriatic.
Symphonies play in San Marco
it’s the end of the world – a last show,
to remember.
For six dollars you can stay at a table where they serve coffee or wine.
In other places
up against the canal, where there are small plazas
and most often restaurants, you can eat
an early pizza for lunch, have some wine.
.
The city is a mask of skin with hollow eyes
pull your face from the lime light
hide behind the curtains, your nose last to leave.
What’s left in the shell of the blue light?
A city of fantasy and flying creatures
vendors willing to talk in English and Italian in waves if
you make a drawn-out purchase.
Here, our seams were open to one anther – I
bartered for a scarf, my husband found a museum with French directions
yelled from a window, then
he slipped into the canal trying to make me laugh.
No, I’m not in Florence, as this lovely lady has been recently,
.
but, I am still remembering my honeymoon there over a year and a half ago…
Firenze
Worn stairs climbed from a walled off city to us
until now
The domed city capped the night off
in a spectacular array of people and gray
brilliant orange over a sparkling river.
The rain fell swiftly around three
the night was misted, no longer wet.
We ate papa pomodoro at Theatro Restaurante
late that evening before returning to our room on piano 2.
Two days and one night in our favorite Italian city so far, Firenze.
That morning
we’d stepped off of an early train and found our hotel easily.
The heavy wooden door unlocked
a green dim courtyard open to the sky
up two flights and through another
keyed entry is where we found our
beautiful comfortable room, red clay tile floors,
a sink, a big bed with a Michelangelo painting
of the Sistine chapel hung over it. The heavy key,
a window with shutters out to our quiet courtyard.
I did laundry in the sink and packed for our bike ride adventure
onward to Sienna the next day.
We walked to the Duomo and climbed to see the city
from there and then went to eat an early lunch at a pizza place on the piazza.
There were places around many corners where I felt I’d been
I’d taken photos in this same place eight years ago
where there was a replica of Michelangelo’s David.
There were rioters and posters telling the ‘truth’ to tourists of people who
Florence didn’t want.
We walked aimlessly, came back to rest in our room for the mid-afternoon rain
We found a beer festival in front of a church, on a Sunday, no less
and tried the Atlantic Oil dark beer, watched young children
drink, watched the interaction of so many people talking
From there we walked across the Ponte Vechio bridge into the working man’s
neighborhood. We noticed locks on the chain link -looked like love letters with heart-felt inscriptions.
There was a sunset to be found, before it got too late and if we continued to climb we’d have the promise of finding it.
And we did.
Through the neighborhood where Sunday sales were held
houseware goods and garage sale items were
displayed on the neighbors sheets in the street.
We climbed the last stairs. The grand cafe had closed.

(Ristorante La Loggia ~ Willie Wandrag Photo)
A man played his guitar like a keyboard
vendors were closing up for the night
Michelangelo’s sculptures and paintings were now
trinkets and prints for sale, made in China, shipped to Italy and sold to the Americans.
Maybe that’s what was being debated in the festivals before the church.
We stood in the dark, taking in the lights and the sky,
the murky river and other couples taking pictures of one another.
Old hat, new hat
evolving city that lives without me
thick gray glass
heavy water drinking
fluffed chair cushion
my grandma would sew.
~
Beneath the pressed tin
a concrete building
treasures hold an evening
mocking, pretend, antiquated dining
spoon in a silver kitchen.
.
My brother introduced me to this South Side restaurant that serves vegetarian dishes among unforgettable antiques. The table is set from your grandma’s curio cabinet. Expect an experience. We drank from old goblet glasses, ate off of gold rimmed china, and made room for desert. Enjoy the popular brunch served on Sunday, or dinner on a rainy Friday night as you slip in off of the car-packed streets.