I am the oldest of four girls. We were known in and around Stone Harbor and Manhattan as the “four gorgeous giddy Grove girls.” “Giddy” because we were.

I’m Anabel. Anissa and Alana are twins; two years three months and three days younger than I am. Alexa is but seventeen months younger than the twins. I’m the accident. I’ve never felt bad about that. Most families have one. Our parents called me the “dynasty maker.” Really they were.

Our mother dressed us all the same. We wore velvet dresses for winter events; organza, lace or polished cotton for summer.

Until I was about twelve I loved being seen with my family. Unlike many of the other mothers, our mother was naturally blond. When our parents married, she converted to Judiasm. Many people including our grandmother thought she wasn’t a real Jew. Our parents didn’t care. And really everybody loved to look at us

Our mother was from the South and her voice was the sweetest most calming sound I had ever heard. When I need to relax today I put on Southern movies for background noise.

When I was twelve our mother told me I could choose my own clothes with her approval of course. When the other girls turned eleven they copied me. I became a hippie. They became hippies.

Our father cringed at our clothes but smiled at our loyalty to one another and the entire Family Grove. Being loyal to the Family Grove meant everything to our father.

Our long thick wavy but never frizzy varying shades of gold and honey hair was called “rich girl hair,” by girls who coveted our lives.

The summer I turned 20, my former fiancee Hunter married our cousin Sabrina. Being her only cousins we were all bridesmaids. I remember walking up the aisle, looking at my sisters and wondering why they were smiling a bit too brightly, not that anybody would notice. I don’t think anybody noticed Anissa seemingly gently touching the bride’s dress. Sabrina tripped as she reached the pulpit.

I choked on my laughter. I remember looking at my sisters and thinking how almost obscene it was that we cared so much about each other. Despite Hunter, despite the other girl’s first love failures, we were happy.
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I will be away for eight days making mirth with friends who are family and family of friends. Happy Thanksgiving, Americans! The one holiday we all almost celebrate. Always my favorite.

Stumble it!

He stopped cutting my hair as he explained what he was going to do next. His hand deftly moved down my long hair, under the salon apron and onto my tailbone. Very discreetly I put my hand under the apron and slapped him. Later in many discussions of this after he stopped laughing he would claim most women wanted it.He’s evolved since then. We wouldn’t be friends….

Yes dear readers that was the start of a beautiful friendship 20something years ago. I didn’t realize I haven’t been breathing until he called from home early this evening.

His two brain aneurysms clipped, he sounded like his usual charming self. i don’t use the word “charming” lightly. He said if there’s anything he can ever do for me!!!

Hello, he’s been doing things for me for two and a half decades. I believe it’s my time to do for him. He sounded exactly as always: Latin lover with an amused edge. He is himself.

His phone messages were constantly filled. He would empty them and they would fill again. I hope he’s beginning to know how much he’s loved by so many people.

I couldn’t imagine my life without Rafe. Now I don’t have to.

Stumble it!

I walk onto the balcony though really it’s too cold. He’s an argumentative drunk filled with self-love and loathing for almost all people. He’s to leave, not me. I own the shabby chic condo in a part of town that once was up and coming; striving to be Ocean Isle City’s Tribeca when it couldn’t even be Greenpoint, Brooklyn at the top of the bubble.

I know my weaknesses. I like liquor, men, make up and clothes, probably in that order. No men should be last but unfortunately needed.

Jerry thinks he’s still in charge. He thinks it’s life like it was at the turn of the Millenium when he had a wife and he had me. He had money and a career also. I liked him then. Once a month he would fly down for a long weekend. My job consumed just enough of my attention to let me go to Hatter’s,most nights.

Hatter’s a bar you would be laughed at if you asked for a tini drink. Martini’s at Hatters were always no name vodka straight up. The food was edible and sometimes wonderful.

I liked my life in Ocean Isle City on the coast of Florida. I had been a cougar since I was 28 and loved a 20 year old boy. Younger men made me feel alive. They would always obey me.

He’s younger. But what’s 45 when you’re 55? Jerry wants me to wither; to marry him so I cant be compelled to testify against him. He needs me to testify for him as his ex is planning on telling all.

I won’t help a man who out Madoffed Madoff. I let him drink and rage all he wants. For I know before midnight the FBI will be here to take him to jail.

Yeah he’s to leave not me. My karma will let me live the life I like. Bye bye Jerry

Thommy G does the words for 3WW. He’s one of my favorite bloggers as everything from his “outdoor column” for his city’s newspaper to his flash fiction is worth reading. I did 3WW for the first time in a long time but don’t know if I will link to it as I don’t know if I will be able to comment. Frankly it’s beautiful out and who knows when we’ll see warm weather again? Then that write a book in 30 days thing is happening. I’m not participating as I’ll be in New York for eight days but am trying to write 50,000 words in the next two weeks minus the a week plus the first two weeks in December. My own personal whatever….And really October would have made the perfect month. No major holidays until the last day. Nobody travels to visit the relatives on Halloween. Unless they throw one incredible party.
Thanksgiving is the only holiday that almost all people in the USA celebrate because really we’re all grateful to live in this country. I began a new life this past year. I’m very very thankful.

Stumble it!

A few years ago if you told me that my idea of happiness would be going to a street fair and free day concert, I would have thought you deluded. The street fairs in New York sell the same sheet sets and mops. Here there are slate candles lit with oil for indoors or outdoors (my new version of a fire pit,) incredibly beautiful clips to pin hair up with, bird cages–OK tack alert, but everything else….

I couldn’t eat the food as I had my fried food quotient for the next several months last weekend, the ribs looked great and I did think about them but it doesn’t seem worth being on an exercise program and not dieting.

The “fresh squeezed lemonade” looked like lime pee but I’m sure the ice cream was good.

The music, Carolina beach music, the best of which always has more than a touch of soul was great.

It’s CLo and W’s last day for the summer–they have stretched summer out so that it’s now officially from the end of March to 11/01. They brought the dogs so we were very popular.

The sun came out just as it was over. And I’m not even complaining. Tomorrow might just be a beach day.

I thought 30 Rock was especially brilliant and funny this past week. Here’s the episode. It’s not a Halloween show; it’s a Northerners goes South show and I can relate to just about everybody

Stumble it!

I tripped over a rock most people would have noticed. He first saw me then. Later he said that was the moment he fell in love.

My features were unformed; most people confused them with perfect. At eighteen I knew they were childlike. Most girls longed for beauty; I longed for character.

I did and didn’t want to blend into the curtains; to be camouflaged until I understood what I was doing.

That year, 1968-69. I felt as if I were a girl in a candy store. My candy store gave out real life boys. I was in hippie princess heaven, complete with sound track by Janis, The Airplane, Moody Blues, Donavon and Melanie among others.

For the first time since early elementary school it was better than OK to be me. I could dance to my own rhythm; sing out of key, be sloppy, do whatever people with the unnamed disorder did or didn’t do. It didn’t matter what I did. People either hated me or were entranced.

Life would have been perfect had I any idea about what I was doing. I accepted my life as a gift from the gods but was never actually sure why.

That year, and the one after that, and the decade that was to come gave me much warped confidence.

I knew I was desirable but wasn’t sure why. I thought I was smart but was convinced most people thought otherwise. Even when all the evidence pointed to the contrary.

I love writing in fiction. It’s something I discovered I was good in after I began my blog. But I feel pulled toward writing a memoir about living with non verbal learning disorder. People either feel pity or don’t believe it’s a real disorder.

I’m not a person to be pitied though I often hurt from what I can’t learn. That I can’t learn too many things no matter how much I try doesn’t point to stupidity but a bona fide disorder

Crossposted at Red Room Please comment there. I realize this is territory charted too many times. It’s language I’m playing with
I just realize you have to give your life story practically to comment at Red Room–which includes such authors as Maya Angelou. It’s a very interesting site. So comment if you want

Stumble it!

It’s a rainy Monday. The rain is constant and usually soft with some fervent activity. It smells fresh, as fresh as air can smell. I breath it in as often as I can. The negatives ions are at constant work. My house smells as if I have the best air freshening and cleaning machines in each room.

I don’t like to talk intensively or often about NLD as I don’t want it to define me. Yet once I learned about it and passively or not studied it for the next six months, I took total charge of my life.

About six weeks ago CLo sent me the website about boot camp. I thought for about five minutes. It emphasises everything I’m bad at. I know I might never get better at somethings. But you know? I didn’t care.

Every week Greg asks “what our goals for boot camp are.” Every week I answer that I want to be in great shape by July, and that’s true but I always had a nagging sense of leaving something out.

Last week he asked “what we would do if we knew we couldn’t fail?” I have that quote on a silver plaque that I haven’t unpacked yet.

It so fit my real goal. I want to get over whatever it is that’s blocking my writing. I think blogging can keep you back because it’s so easy to be seduced by the wonderful comments, tributes and more. No matter what I told myself about hard work, queries, hard work, and luck, I believed success would easily be mine.

And I was incredibly successful for several years. I will always remember the headiness of people liking my writing. When I wrote for dollars I made my editor grade me so feedback’s important. The platitudes from blogging so beat the money. However now money trumps all. It’s not all just in writing.

In the summer of 06 I learned about NLD and my world began to make sense. It was liberating and yes vindicating to know that things I had always thought were true.

It makes me sad that though people think I’m very independent and in charge of my life, I never really was until then. All those wasted years yet I wouldn’t change a moment of much of my life.

Everything I did led to this point. My lack of coordination and balance (which sounds worse than I look) led to many phobias. I’m ridding myself of them by taking boot camp which stresses everything I know I’m horrible at.

There’s so much positive energy I love it whether I’m good or not at any exercise. Had gym been like this in school; had the dancing classes, sports camp and other things my parents subjected to me been this positive I would have spent my life being super confident rather being “adorably____” (Fill in the negative word.)

I’m hoping and have been hoping that it unblocks me book wise. Last week I realized the mere act of going and trying is doing that.

My friends CLo and W are going back to Atlanta next Sunday. They’ll be back in March as this place has seduced them too. What used to annoy us we now find charming.

CLo’s sister, Lucia, my best friend was here for a long weekend. I took her to Brookgreen Gardens.
Lucia and my sister are both artists. Both were entranced by this amazing sculpture museum with the most incredible gardens. When you buy a ticket it’s good for a week. I’m going back as it’s impossible to see everything at once, and now it’s the fall gardens. They offer a three week course my sister wants to take.

Can the South Carolina jokes. It’s a wonderful place to live. My life has led me to this moment in time where I’m sitting in my office perfectly content. I might sit in the sun room and read for the rest of the afternoon.

I had many dreams last night that centered around one theme–me getting a PHD in one subject or another. I think I changed the subjects until I found the one I truly wanted. There was much more to the dreams than that but I know it was warning me that I need to be constantly stimulated, and will grow old fast if I’m not.

Exercising the body is as important or more important. Greg’s on a mission to make people love and honor their bodies. I found myself talking about boot camp this weekend as a convert who proselytizes a bit too much. But Lucia bought gym clothes….

Now I have to actually learn most of the exercises and get that book finished. I so hope I can…
Because what would I do if I knew…? I would see a book to completion. From first draft to published. And not self published though I understand why people would go that route

Stumble it!

We finished day four of boot camp. My pressing on is a metaphor for something but I’m too darn tired to figure that out.

It’s as different from a New York health club as a cold is from swine flu. In New York it’s everybody for herself, here there really is a feeling of solidarity. I think boot camp is going to be very good for me but I’m too tired to think. I should explain it’s not boot camp that’s making me so tired but gray skies. Yesterday it rained all day–we met at the park before the heavy rains but I’m a princess and rain and I don’t mix. At the same time I’m a fresh air fiend so I slept with all the windows in the sun room open and the sun room is connected to the bedroom. Sometimes I think about taking down the wall to the sun room but I love that room for itself.

It’s the only room I still have to furnish. I kept saying I wanted white wicker but I realize that I want all different white fabrics.

It’s not that New York seems horrible to me but I find I miss it less and less. It’s been a year today since I handed over the keys to my apartment and in return got a fairly substantial check. Actually two. I’m so glad I was insistent on selling when I did. A year or two earlier I could have gotten much more but now……

I own a house!!!!!!! That still thrills me. And because I’m about as handy as I’m athletic I have a house husband, Eldon. My cousin who is divorced and very handy actually came up with the phrase when she looked at something outside and almost cried out: “you have a house husband!!!!!.” Apparently he has done things she wouldn’t think to do.

Eldon and I redid the front “yard” on Tuesday. A lot of the plants hadn’t taken so I went for more ornamental grasses which I realize is what I really wanted originally but didn’t realize that yet.

I’m not being sexist when I talk about a house husband. My father could have used a house husband. I think, no I know, he was afraid to change a light bulb–electricity can kill you, you know. My athletic smart father looked as if he should have been good at somethings besides taking out the garbage but…..

My mother was handier, and did the little little jobs. Everything else was foisted off onto professionals. Or family friends. So I’m just continuing a tradition.

I think this move is going great and I’m actually looking forward to cold days when I don’t feel obligated to run around and can sit in one of my decks in ten layers and just write. Though I don’t like how it went from AC/beach weather to cold seemingly overnight. I think it’s going to get warm again. I know, we all know,(how could we have missed the articles and news casts?) how colds and flu’s are transmitted but I will always believe chronic weather changes and rain play a part.

Selfishly I don’t want it to rain again until boot camp is over–and my best friend is coming a week from today so it would be nice if it’s warm and sunny. But I don’t want to tempt the gods by asking for too much.

This is a small town, in many ways. Eldon’s been telling me about somebody who goes to boot camp but is away this week practically since we first met.

Stumble it!

By the end of boot camp, after we had done all the hard things, the garbage man came and took garbage from bins, the smell oh the smell. All I could think–during yoga moves, the easiest on the heart, was “John Hughes; John Hughes.” And I have always been a swimmer with excellent form. Not on land. My form was good for the weight exercises. I can walk up and down stairs with the best of them. Though I hate walking down stairs.

I’m the oldest. And the only person with non verbal learning disorder–spatial variety. I’m truly spatially retarded. It’s still hard to explain to people so I make a lot of jokes about it. Easier to keep them laughing.

The only thing I absolutely didn’t try to do was jumping rope. I mean I couldn’t when I was four so….Though my sister learned to bike ride and swim as an adult and she’s incredible at both. She doesn’t have NLD.

Today we just met at the park. I hope it doesn’t rain this week a lot so we can do Pilates at the beach.

I hope I’m not the first person they ask to leave. It is bringing up a lot of memories of being a kid who was last to be picked. I don’t mind the memories. They’re good for my writing, I think.

I’m totally perky now. Maybe this will be good. They say by the end of the week I will have the moves down. They don’t know me.

The women were nice. Nineteen more days. I can do anything for nineteen days.

Stumble it!

It wasn’t infidelity. Letterman while living with his now wife wasn’t married. Neither was the woman he slept with.

I might think that living together equals marriage but it doesn’t to many people. And if he was married? He’s a late night talk show host not a politician. He doesn’t have to be better than thou. I know so many straight men who ran to judge Letterman. Before they knew the facts.

I believe they relate to Letterman too much. Not sleeping with other woman. But there’s something normative New York about Letterman. He’s a bit snarky but I don’t find him nasty. He’s the regular guy who became something big and everybody wants to be like him–or wants to hate him.

Letterman had more reason than most to be scared of a blackmailer. He had a woman stalker for years who called herself “Mrs. David Letterman,” and probably believed it. She killed herself. That probably creeped him. An employee of his was convicted of conspiring to kidnap his son, Harry, and Harry’s nanny.

We live in a society that’s turning more and more to the right. I live in a place where the regular Republican party has a table at a fair with big letters “Obamacide.” No Democratic table. I don’t consider myself a Democrat anymore–party of wimps, but I’m going to the next meeting and if I have to get tables at every city and county happening, hell yes. People have to hear balanced views.

I don’t remember Joe McCarthy but I heard about him all my life. We live in a society with a faux morality where Republicans seem to be more moral though god the scandals. I don’t want a return to the days where celebrities who lived with people outside of marriage openly had to leave the country. Nor do I want to live in a country where celebrities overtake the country. I’m a bit sick of Jon & Kate & all eight kids. I’m sick of celebrities leading the news every night.

It’s not that I lack a sense of humor or fun. It’s just that I think we all, Democrats, Republicans, everybody, seem to have things backwards.

Letterman is a good example of that. He went to the FBI. He gave a phony check for two million and the man’s lawyer is saying that’s proof of his guilt. I hope nobody buys into that but really our society has a critical thinking quotient of minus ten.

I don’t care about people’s sex lives. It’s their life. I think we would all be a lot better off if we stopped focusing on sex lives, and began to focus on what’s wrong and what’s right with this country.

When you go to 9/11 Memorials that really are preludes to tea parties–on public property with the mayor speaking, you begin to truly question everything once again. 9/11 was one of the transforming incidents of my life. Politics don’t belong in 9/11 Memorials. I can’t and won’t let that go.

Nor will I let Republican tables that scream “Obamacide” go. The people sitting there were laughing and laughing over the absurd health reform fight. Maybe they all have great health insurance. Though a lot of people here don’t have health insurance. If they don’t have resources they really don’t care about a hospital suing them. And the people who do–well they can afford the $80 for a check up. They don’t want to subside the lazy people who can’t.

I can afford the check up. It is the things that possibly can be found at a check up that I can’t afford. I think too much about things that aren’t going to happen, you think.

That’s why one of the best friends I have ever had is in the hospital recovering from surgery from one brain aneurysm as the doctors figure out what to do about the second.
I’m scared and so I watch Letterman because he makes me laugh.

Ahmadinejad’s revealed to be Jewish. He can deliver a hate filled rant to himself.

That’s funny. I’m Jewish. It’s too true. I do them all the time.

My mother refused to believe Letterman wasn’t Jewish. His name. His humor. His being….Yes she saw Dave’s Mom in Indiana. That only made her more sure. He’s Lutheran, mommy, Lutheran!!!!!! I speak to dead people. Uh, I even yell at dead people. My Mom will have died eight years ago next week. And her birthday would have been this coming Saturday. This isn’t my favorite time of year even when everything is going perfectly

I love Letterman’s timing. I love the way he repeats lines he loves. The way he twists his tongue. His ties that match the set. OK I love Letterman but not in a creepy stalker kind of way.

Stumble it!

Oh man, I’m so not a crier and have never cried so much in my life. My head hurts from crying.

This afternoon I was crying from good news. I would be doing the happy dance if I could dance or stand that expression. Where did it come from and why do so many people use it? It’s better than the 80’s “I feel your pain,” but not by much. No it’s not. It sounds so cute and I have visions of sugar and no spice and nothing truly nice.

Rafe had surgery. He’s talking and is coherent but isn’t out of the woods as the aneurysm was next to the optic nerve. He will be in the hospital for three weeks.

Of course when Lucia told me this I began crying rather hysterically and she being in work had to hang up. She’s going there tonight as she’s not 900 miles away. I can’t go though I sent him a very funny email.

When my father died, Rafe was over every night and forced me out. When my mother died, he took me to the funeral. All her best friends, thought I was having an affair with the Latin Elvis (from Elvis’s good days) and were very impressed. NO. WE. WEREN’T. Nor had we ever. But that’s for another time or the stories are probably in the Courting archives. Somewhere.

Stumble it!