"Oh My Gosh"....Breaking Down With Usher

OMG…Call me crazy, but this Usher song makes me move.


Let me love you down..

clap clap clap clap

there is so many ways to love ya.

Oh my God, I’m so in love.. I finally found you….you make me want to say…oh.oh.oh.oh.

My shoulders are shifting up and down…

and my booty is moving pow pow pow….

check check check it …checking you out….I’m getting down like in Animal House--lower and lower...I'm grooving....

It makes me feel sexy…I just want to dance and sway.

You make me want to say…oh.oh.oh.oh. Oh My Gosh…..

oh.oh.oh.oh. My foot is tapping; my body is moving….

my oh my…..fly so fly….my oh my…

.Ohhhhh, baby you got it all. Sexy from the head to toe. Baby I want it all.

Oh my Gosh..I’m so in love…I finally found you finally. Honey let me love you down. There are so many ways to love ya.

Okay. Here’s the story…I am majorly stressed out because while my husband was watching my son play lacrosse someone smashed his driver’s side window and plucked out his wallet from our car. Yes, my husband is from another time and feels like all is good in the world and that no one would ever do such a thing. Today was a reality check. Not only were there credit cards and more…but that wallet had sentimental value, too. It was his father’s wallet and still had some of the contents in it, such as his father’s wedding picture and his driver’s license. His father died 3 ½ years ago from wretched leukemia. So, that is why I am cranking music and letting it out…with music. Like the 80's tune, "We Can Dance If We Want To..."  Keep your things, safe people. Stay safe. Peace….Now, time for Mozart or Celtic tunes to soothe my stressed out soul. - SSdh

So…Was Getting Hit By The Church Basket Good Luck After All? Was It A Sign?

Hard to say, …YET. I did get an article published in MORE magazine’s website. I did meet some fabulous authors at a Book Signing at Pindar over the weekend. And I perhaps, crossed paths with an angel with a scary last name (kind of ironic, actually) that could lead me to new opportunities.


So, maybe that lump on my noggin’ was worth something after all. Things aren’t moving for me as fast I’d like, and I still feel the need to paint and write to release some pent up emotions. That is actually normal and healthy as opposed to locking it inside and letting it damn up until I explode on somebody in a PMS volcanic eruption. That has happened and it is not pretty. My co-worker never knew the meaning of the word PMS until she met me. When I breeze into the office and announce that my period arrived last night, she actually falls back against her chair and sighs in relief like she had just run the marathon or something. What? “Oh, thank God. I made it through this month.” Geez. Am I that bad? Well, yeah, I can be. I think right now I’m PMS’ing and she poured me some tea…come to think of it. She looks like a nervous rabbit and is kind of tip-toeing around me. I’m cranky, yes. I’m tire, yes. Oh, crap. I am PMS’ing.

I digress. Back to the church basket. I guess, if I want to see major good luck or a sign from above instantly, I suppose, I needed to be clonked on the head unconscious. Patience, my dear. Patience. Something of which, I sorely lack. I want it NOW! (PMS talking.) When the tears arrive, it’ll be over soon. P.s. I don’t really recommend sticking your head up for your own collision when the usher comes by with the church basket. Dog doo never worked either.

Checking out Dunes and Dreams Romance Writers

I'm heading off to Pindar Vineyards for a book signing hosted by Dunes and Dreams Romance Writers. What's cool is that I can speak to published authors, possibly purchase a book, one has me intriqued by the title alone, The Glass Armonica, but that anything I purchase supports Literacy in Suffolk. So, it's an awesome cause supporting the love of reading! I'll check back and let you know how it is. I may join their group so I can meet with authors and discuss the process of writing these novels, while having fun! I'm dragging a fellow writer with me as I am not brave enough to go alone.

Art Therapy Birthed "Lady Cecelia"

I used Art Therapy on myself. I couldn’t shake the fog out of my head, feeling lethargic, listless and a bit rather hopeless. I want to do things at this point of my life and sometimes, I feel it is as though it is too late. I know I read many articles and personal stories of it is never too late, but at times, it gets the best of me of me and I feel it is too late for me. So…”Lady Cecilia” has been haunting me, begging me to add color to her. You can see my sketch on the sidebar. I’ve been scared to. Sketching is one thing, but adding color is do or die time. Once color is applied that is it; there is no going back. And, faces! I hate painting faces! I can sketch them to some degree, rather decently, but adding color is when I screw it up. But, I must say…I’m loving this painting…I held my breath and went for it. Played with color, one dab at a time and fearlessly painted. The vivid red and the cobalt blue are vibrant and happy, yet her expression is extremely pensive and is the teasing storyline I like. Is she waiting for someone? Is she regretting a decision she made? Is she mulling over a decision? It’s up to the viewer. The background is soothing with its colors of mustard, light blue and pink. Put it all together and this pictures speaks to me, pulls me in. What do you think? p.s. It’s not finished, nearly there….need to do pillow, necklace and gloves.

Drug Awareness Forums Are Everywhere…Blame it on The Hot Tub Time Machine!

Seriously. If everyone on Long Island doesn’t know who Dr. Dewey is, I’d be surprised. How many school billboards did you drive by where it said, “Drug Awareness Night…Dr. Dewey speaker?” My husband and son attended one in our school district just the other night listening to Dr. Dewey’s associate who explained exactly what drugs do to the brain. What really moved them was hearing the wretchedly sad story from a father who lost his precious boy to drugs. He recounted the days by his son’s beside in the hospital begging his son to come back, when he had already passed away. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place. There truly can’t be anything worse than losing a child. Stupidly, he admitted he turned a blind eye to his son smoking pot. His uncle smoked pot with him. The message couldn’t be clearer. Drugs of any kind are a “No.” Period. The end. Alcohol is a “No.” It’s against the law until age 21. You have the law on your side. Parents need to be parents and get in their child’s lives whether they want you or not. BUT…do you know who and what you are up against, who is NOT on your side??? The movie moguls out there that make the movies our kids/teens see. Hot Tub Time Machine blew me away with its unbelievable over the top excessive use of every drug under the sun…mushrooms, cocaine, bongs, you name it…it was there. If they could sniff it, inhale it, eat it, drink it, they did. It was sickening. Even a weird Energy Drink with crap in it was in this movie. There was alcohol and more alcohol with binge drinking until one of the characters was projectile vomiting. I squirmed in my seat feeling so uncomfortable at how crude, lewd, and grotesque this movie was. There was so much over indulgence of alcohol and drugs in this movie, I wanted to projectile vomit. I really should have walked out. My husband wanted to, but I guess we both hoped it would get better. It didn’t. How can we fight this battle with these guys displaying on the wide screen all of the things we are trying to prevent? How can we compete with that? The media, magazines, television, oh good God- YouTube, the internet, and movies make drug and alcohol use look like it’s the norm, perfectly fine, cool even. No wonder our kids are tempted to try it, once. Once is one time too many for heroine, meth, cocaine…all of it. Once and your hooked, and possibly dead. Damn that Hot Tub Time Machine. That movie could have been so fun, celebrating the silliness of the 80’s (mullets, big hair, Farrah Fawcett and Charlie’s Angels, Flock of Seagulls, double polos, chinos, dock siders, Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, Vidal Sasoon, The NY Rangers doing a Sasoon commercial, ….oh, I could go on and on….) I’m going to go watch Ghost Hunters with my boys now…no drugs. No alcohol. It’s just intriguing stuff, hanging out on the couch. That’s all I got in my battle. It’s has to be enough….SSDh http://www.catalystpharma.com/dewey.htm

Am I Being Punked? Is THAT What This Is????

Short tempered. Moody. Stressed. Teary. Disappointed. Lost…ugh. I swear a “dementor” was just here and sucked the joy right out of me leaving me feeling like a deflated balloon. I’m laying on my bed staring at the cobwebs of my ceiling asking myself, “What the hell am I doing with my life?” It hit me like someone threw a bucket of cold water on my face. Is this a cruel joke? Am I being punked? No. I sat up ramrod straight. I’ve realized to my utter horror that I am in the midst of…of…(I hate to say it)… A MIDLIFE CRISIS…DUH DUN. A Midlife Crisis. Huh. I never thought it would happen to me, a 40 something female who thought someday I would do something freaking special and touch many people’s lives. Nope. I’m not doing that, at least I don’t think so. What’s worse is that my feeling of dissatisfaction is rippling through my whole family’s life with my hideous short temper and mood swings. Add sweaty to that, and I think I hit on something else all together. Good God, what’s next? No! Please, no, not that! It could be…oh, just say it and get it over with…Menopause on top of a MidLife Crisis, a double whammy! That is harsh. We’re talking unfair, people. M&M’s, the chocolate kind, are delicious and pure bliss, this M&M is pure evil and simply unfair to womankind. It’s cruel. Time to Get A Grip…Get a Hold of Yourself! “Get off your pity pot,” Grandma Josie would say to me. Any brilliant ideas out there? I’m having trouble snapping out of it. Job dissatisfaction in an economic crisis does not beget hopefulness, but there are jobs. Obama says so. I do love to write and am pursuing the magazine market; there is that. As for menopause, I guess it’s time to see my doctor. (The idea of the cold stirrups, though I always wear a fresh pair of socks to shield the doctor of sweaty feet smell, but sorry poor doctor, I can’t wear a sock down there, so God bless him for diving in to my …nevermind.) The point? That annual visit is not pleasurable in the slightest. Yes, your uterus is getting bigger, your vagina is NOT getting tighter- “Would you like a device to exercise with?” Groan. Vagina weights. Am I being punked? How many calories will it burn? “Those spots are new…” Anyway, moving on and away from that. I’m not in it yet, but it’s definitely peri-menopausal – fun hormonal imbalances that keep this rollercoaster ride going. Up and then down. Up and then down. Don’t forget the water rides! That would be tears, in case you didn’t get it. I have a never-ending well. Well, I have terrible PMS and the bonus to menopause is that, I think, moods stabilize. God, please tell me this is true. There has to be some good out of menopause. But back to the Midlife Crisis. My sister’s comment to me was, “You are having your first? I’m on my 4th or 5th!” Nice. Well, Grandma Moses started her artistic career in her 70’s and now has her own museum about her life in Bennington, VT. She was a famous Americana artist that captured the simple moments of Vermont life through all of the seasons, like tapping Maple on the trees, apple picking, and cows and more cows poised on gorgeous green rolling pastures. I digress. The point is: it’s never to late to start something new, and at times you may feel that way, but you have to fight it with every fiber of your being and get out there! Do it! Start something…life is too short to hesitate. Thus, I started this blog for better or worse. At least it’s cathartic and healing in that way. I do feel inspired and a bit lighter. I may paint a cover of one of my Regency Romance Books…yeah, I just may do that! See ya! Peace….S.Sdh

If You Are Hit In The Head by The Gift Basket at Church, is it good luck?

This isn't by any means a "holy roller" blog, but I had a moment in church today, Psalm Sunday...hmmm, does that mean anything? Taking my father's advice, I went to church a little early so I could pray for guidance..."Help me, Jesus. Help me, Jesus. Oh, please help me, Jesus. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, God, Mom, Spirit Guides, anybody...I need some guidance with my life." Well, Father Lolake said, if you need help, don't be afraid to say, "Help Me, Jesus." So, I did. I actually said it outloud so make sure Jesus heard me. I'm pretty sure Jesus could hear telepathically, but I wasn't taking any chances today. Later in the mass... The usher comes down the aisle pew after pew, dipping his pole with a basket on the end into each pew, pushing it down, and then up and over to the next pew, again and again in a smooth fluid rhythm- until he gets to my row/pew. I'm in the last row and toss in my donation, he forgets to push the basket down the pew; the lady next to me had an envelope ready to toss in. The older usher with glasses like triple paned windows clonks me in the head as I turned to signal to him about the lady's envelope. Ow. "Good thing it's only a basket," I say not to make him feel bad. But it was a rather hard basket. How many times has this happened? Never, perhaps? Why did I get clonked today? Is this Jesus helping me? Is it some sort of good luck like stepping in dog doo? Can't say I ever experienced a surge of luck after stepping in dog .... Maybe it is a sign...it's going to be an interesting holy week. I think the week is rather symbolic for me...I could use a rebirth of sorts and now is the time. I have a lump on my head as a reminder. Jesus, it hurts. (Excuse me, Jesus...but I think even Jesus has a little sense of humor.)