(Continuing along to France…) The drive to Cannes was long but Paul was a super (and fast!) driver. The first night we spent on an overnight ferry (see Cinderella in Cannes Part One) and I fell asleep with a distinctly strong smell of fish in my nostrils. We ended up pulling into Antibes, France, just a few miles northeast of Cannes at 10pm. I went out searching for a sight of the beach Continue reading
First off let’s get the pronunciation of Cannes right. People here on the east coast of the USA say CAHnnes, in a hoity-toity way. One friend corrected me when I said CANnes, France. So I looked it up and lo-and-behold my high school french didn’t fail me, it IS “CAN” rhymes with fan.
The reason to get the pronunciation correct is that the film Continue reading
Tyringham, MA. I went exploring, seeking a new trail, and racing ahead of the snow that was forecast and to my delight was rewarded with new inspiration. My current theory is that hiking the same paths frequently puts me into autopilot-mode, rather like repeating the same workout routine, weights, treadmill, stretches, my muscles can plateau. My eye muscles need changing it up too Continue reading
I went for a quick hike in New Marlborough, MA last week. I was looking for Dry Hill Trail, one that I failed to find last year because of a snowstorm. This year the snow has held off and the trails are covered in only a blanket of dry leaves, but it was still a challenge to find. In the process of failed turns and roads that lead to infinity I looked to my left and saw this view…
It never ceases to amaze me that the Berkshires are filled with beautiful castles Continue reading
After a hectic summer, I have moved all of my belongings from Seattle, Washington to a small town in Massachusetts. I grew up in the country but I have never lived IN a small town. Here in Lenox I can walk to the dry cleaners, the market, the library, the post office, restaurants, bars, get a great latte and giggle with a friend in a fabulous bookstore. Small town life suits me. Continue reading
I’m off on location for film shoot. I’m hanging out with a film crew and young people who have never acted before and who have lived through tougher times than I will ever know. There are moments that I think I won’t make it through the 7 weeks. But here I am one week in and still alive and finding positives in weary days. Continue reading
I’m heading off again for another 8 weeks on the road. This time it’s a bit different in that I have been hired to accompany a group of young adults that are acting in a feature film. We will be traveling to 5 central US states. When the 18-23 year olds are not acting, I will be taking them on excursions and showing them some of this great country I love. I am also there to help them process their emotional responses to the film work they will be doing. Pretty exciting stuff! Continue reading
OK, so I was just writing and realized for the first time that K9 actually comes from the word CANINE. Sometimes I’m so dense! I am a very intelligent woman but there’s a mix in me that would match a country song like the Perfect Storm. As another Berkshire blizzard rages outside my windows I have the Brad Paisley song on repeat.
If she was a drink she’d be a single-barrelled bourbon on ice
Smooth with a kick, a chill and a burn, all at the same time
She’s Sunday drive meets high-speed chase
She ain’t just a song she’s the whole mix tape
She’s so complicated that’s the way God made her
Sunshine mixed with a little hurricane
And she destroys me in that t-shirt and I love her so much it hurts
I never meant to fall like this she don’t just rain she pours
That girl right there’s the perfect storm
I know how to make her laugh or blush, or mad at me
But that’s OK there ain’t no one more beautiful angry
And she loves just as deep as she goes when she’s down
The highs match the lows can’t have one without the other
And I love her just the way God made her
Sunshine mixed with a little hurricane
She’s the girl of a lifetime a guy like me spends his whole life
Looking for, that girl right there’s the perfect storm
I think I could add a verse or two… She’s smart with a dumb-blonde side. It’s taken me awhile to accept that this is a good thing, that this specimen of femininity is not predictable and perfect… but straight and narrow with a side of curves. I’ve always wanted to be all things to all people but it makes for a really unhealthy way to walk through life. So I’m working on enjoying the “Sunshine mixed with a little hurricane” part of my personality, the angel and demon, the “Sunday drive meets high-speed chase” that makes life interesting. And I’m having success! I like being complicated and unpredictable, able to surprise and follow impulses…the girl that willingly has the instincts of a fool.
Well anyway, Brad Paisley has me figured out and I’m grateful to know on this snowy day that maybe there are some people out there that can enjoy the puzzling way God made me. At least I hope it’s more than a nice song or maybe it’s time to write my own…
She’s smart with a dumb-blonde side.
Straight and narrow, with a side of curves
The girl that willingly has the instincts of a fool. (Love, Lori)
I took a few very chilly walks this week…brrr…but always worth it. The first was on a rail trail where I strolled from Massachusetts into Connecticut and got obsessed with taking photos of these beautiful barns.
Ducks have been on my mind as I read Eckhart Tolle’s description about how they are able to squabble and squawk at each other, then turn, flap their wings a few times and swim elegantly away without ruffled feathers. He recommends that we do this too. Let the emotions roll over you and then flap your wings, throw them off and get back to the business of living in the now. He does not advise reliving, revamping, or re-saying what it is you should, could, or would have said or done, but just let it go. On my walks there was a plethora of ducks to illustrate his point.
I took a sojourn to Stanley Park in Westfield, MA. It must be a lovely park when it’s not zero degrees. They have a special bronze duck, named Ozzie, on a little island in the middle of a pond. A few years back the real Ozzie was killed by a teenage boy stomping him to death. The town kids brought in their pennies to fund a campaign for a memorial for the murdered Ozzie.
As I came up the hill there arose a cacophony of squawks and duck calls (they sounded eerily like the ones my mother would practice for duck hunting) that stopped me in my tracks. The pond was FILLED with beautiful, iridescent male and female ducks and a white swan.
Let me explain my hesitation…I have been snapped at by nasty geese and chased by trumpet swans. A few years ago, unbeknownst to me, I walked near a couple of nesting swans and let me tell you, they are huge, beautiful and terrifying when they are mad. Wings out and slapping the water, with necks that stretch straight at you, they pursued me as I ran away as fast as I could. I will always remember that narrow escape with nervous laughter. So as soon as I heard the din and cackle of fowl noises my fight or flight response kicked in and I thought twice about going forward.
Thankfully there was only one swan and she/he didn’t seem to be nesting and the whole pond was welcoming me with open, clacking beaks fully expecting a handout. As I forged ahead, they calmed down and decided to leave me be since I did not come bearing gifts like the Magi. I was just another shepherd coming to gaze at the scene without even the poorest offering. I saw Ozzie’s burial island with many ducks perched around him keeping him company. I had a Lord-of-the-Flies moment of horror at the idea of a gang of boys taunting and killing an innocent duck. I am glad that they have honored the outpouring of rage against a senseless act of unkindness.
The collected pennies for Ozzie brings to mind the play I am in at the moment where I perform the role of a mother of a coma patient. Every time my character arrives at the critical care facility to visit her daughter, I place a head’s up penny on the floor by the bed to bring good luck into the room. Pennies have been a simple reminder of good fortune for a long time. I hear that we may do away with them altogether as they are not worth enough in our currency to bother printing them. But for the many reminders of simple, priceless good will, I hope they stick around.
Two songs came to the forefront this week. I wish I had the DJ skill to mash them together…I think it might come out quite magical.
The duck was dancing by the water, quack, quack, quack The rhythm made him think he oughta quack, quack He was dancing to the samba, the samba, the samba Oh, goose, oh.
This little penny is to wish on And make your wishes come true This little penny is to dream on Dream of all you can do
The goose was gaining passing by, honk, honk, honk He stopped and gave the dance a try, honk, honk He was dancing to the samba The new thing.
This little penny is a dancing penny See how it glitters and it glows Bright as a whistle, light as a thistle Quick, quick as a wink up on it’s twinkling toes
Then a lovely swan swam by, in all her majesty, and she loosened up. Hoochy-coochy-coo did that swan. She joined the duck and goose and did the samba too. You should have seen the kind of samba she could do.
This little penny is to laugh on To see that tears never fall
They did the samba so long, they all fell right in the water. While they were singing away, quack quack quack, quack quack quack
This little penny is the last little penny Most important of all, for this penny is to love on And where love is, heaven is there So with just five pennies, if they’re these five pennies You’ll be a millionaire
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mq27GXKM-yg (Danny Kaye- “5 Little Pennies”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-AS7dpGuH8 (Karrin Allyson- “O Pato”)
“ I start tomorrow for the great hot river I’ve been wanting so long to see and alone as usual...”
I’m reading “John Muir’s Last Journey” right now and though I’ve only reached page 29 it has inspired me. Mr. Muir took his final 8-month journey to South America, Africa, Egypt and back through the Mediterranean at the age of 73 years and he did it alone. I’ve been ruminating on this aloneness in my own travels. I thrive on solo adventures, hiking, and seeing new places I’ve never been. Continue reading