philly serial killer

The Philadelphia police think there is a serial killer on the loose in the Kensington area of the city. Two bodies have been found so far, and one woman has reported surviving an attack that is similar to the modus operandus of the two other victims. It's early for the police to be trying to make such a connection, but I suppose they want to be sure that they get the warning to potential victims. Scary!

demanding air passenger amazes and amuses

If I had the ability to personally thank the idiotic young woman who provided the entertainment on my trip home from Miami, I certainly would! There I was, in seat 26C (when my reservation had indicated that I would be in 6D), seething about the fact that I was in the LAST ROW of that darn airplane, with my boarding card mocking me by claiming that mine was a CHOICE seat on that U.S. Airways flight. The plane took off and the entertainment began.

A young Asian woman climbed out of her middle seat a few rows ahead of me, and came down the aisle towards the toilets. She was wearing skin tight jeans, a short sleeved t-shirt and a baseball cap covered in pink sequins and rhinestones. As she approached, the gentleman seated just in front of me stood and joined the short queue for the toilets. The young woman made a loud noise, similar to one that a Beverly Hills teenager might make if someone offended her in some way. "Uh!," she huffed and rolled her eyes. Instead of standing behind him, she plopped down into his seat and began to complain loudly about the ridiculous wait that she had to endure in order to use the toilet. Three more people joined the queue while she whined and complained. When a flight attendant happened by, the young woman stood up, stopped her and demanded to know why she could not go use the toilet in the first class section of the airplane. The flight attendant, having probably answered this question about a BILLION times, politely answered the young woman. "That is RIDICULOUS!", the young woman responded. The flight attendant simply walked away.

The cartoon about the Angry Little Asian Girl (drawn by Lela Lee) popped into my head. At this point, I could contain myself no longer and I burst out laughing hysterically. The young woman looked at me in shock. I think she imagined that she might have a sympathetic audience. I said, "You've been watching too much reality television." She just looked at me as if I was from outer space. At that point, the short line moved forward and she stepped into a toilet. Now I don't want to speculate as to what she was doing in there, but at least nine people, including a young father with two children in tow, entered and exited the other toilet before she finally came out. As she returned to her seat, she talked loudly about the ridiculous inconvenience of the airplane toilet.

Since this pathetic young woman was occupying the middle seat in the back of the plane, I doubt very seriously that she was entitled to any rock star treatment, but she certainly behaved as if she was entitled. I thought about the unhappy life she had ahead of her. Nothing will ever be good enough. Nobody will ever satisfy her. Food will be returned. Service personnel will be berated. Shopkeepers will be taken to task. She is destined to leave a trail of unhappy people everywhere she goes.

Or - maybe she will grow up. I hope so! Life is far more pleasant when one is kind to people and one expects kindness in return. The older I get, the more I see that the attitude I bring to each day is such a huge factor in how that day turns out. The more I can talk myself into a happy place, the easier my day seems to progress. I hope I don't forget that as I get older! If I do, please remind me!

emmaus

This is a beautiful grave marker that I spotted while riding past a cemetery in Emmaus, PA. I thought it was so beautiful. I was in the back seat of the car, but I yelled out, "I want to take a picture of that!" Emily Jean drove around the block and returned to the spot. I got out and went over to take the photo. When I got closer, I still thought it was a gorgeous carving of Jesus. But I was shocked to see a huge bird dropping on Jesus' head. The poop had trickled down into the hand of Jesus. I took the picture anyway, thinking that I would eventually think of the perfect thing that this was a metaphor for. But it still hasn't come to me. What do you think?

happy birthday to me

Fifty-two does not feel particularly momentous. In fact, it feels an awful lot like fifty-one. The cake candles do not burn brighter than the previous year. This year however, the cake was accompanied by a fire extinguisher, thoughtfully provided by an employee. That was new!

So what fresh ideas pop into my head as a way of marking this annual recognition of time?

I would like to suddenly become wealthy. But even as this idea pops into my head, simultaneous thoughts rush in. 'Be careful what you wish for! Your wealth could be a legal settlement for paralysis! It could attract bad guys who kidnap you and then murder you after they get the ransom! It could be in the form of lottery winnings which might attract crazy people bent on destroying your new, wealthy lifestyle! It could be profits from that newly published novel, which attract a stalker who imagines you as his soul mate!'

I may not be wealthy, but I have a rich imagination.

words, glorious words

On NBC's Today Show recently, Katie Couric used "zeitgiest", "kismet moment" and "American psyche" all in the same sentence. And suddenly I understood, for the very first time, why liberal Democrats (or progressives) lose the rest of the country. We like our intellect a bit too much. We love words and people who don't know words are intimidated. So they do what they did in high school. They create their own circle and they tell the smartypants people that they can't come in. Yes, I know. This is an extreme oversimplification. I don't care. I had a kismet moment. HAHA

oya and sophia

People often ask me how I happened to choose the pen name OyaSophia. I was actually pretty deliberate about it. I wanted to be inspired by the stories and images of Goddesses. Since I knew nothing about Goddesses, I did some research.

Oya is the Yoruban Goddess of storms (or fierce winds or tempests). She is often depicted handling a tornado or some lightning. She is all about change and transformation. She is a Warrior Queen. What a wonderful muse for a writer! Oya is also a nurturing, protective mother. Anyone who has been a mother knows the overwhelming power you feel when you believe that your child is in danger. We would do anything to protect our babies. This is the power of Oya. But by herself, she was a bit too fierce. So I added Sophia.

Sophia is the Gnostic Goddess of wisdom. She is often presented as the most grounded of the divine. In the Gnostic Gospels found in Nag Hammadi, she was presented as the third manifestation of God, but was later altered to remove her feminine identification and transformed into what we now think of as "The Holy Spirit". (She also appears in many other religions, but is most powerful and wise in the Gnostic tradition.) Some people believe that Leonardo Da Vinci painted her just to the right of God in that famous Sistine Chapel painting that shows God reaching out his hand to Jesus. Go take a look!

Together, Oya and Sophia represent wisdom that comes from going through a storm. I often write to try to make sense of situations that I have weathered. I'm eager to learn.

Goddesses are symbols of the divine aspects of the feminine. Too often, women disappear from religious stories, or are regulated to minor roles. Any woman who has made it past childhood can tell story after story after story of women who have transformed situations, who have persevered, who have held each other up, who have swiftly and fairly meted out justice, who have stood tall in the face of danger, fear, the unknown or simply in the face of change. We know, instinctively, that women are powerful. I love the Goddesses because they represent our feminine power.

When I see the name OyaSophia on my blog title, it inspires me and humbles me. I am more careful about what I say. I am more aware of the responsibility I have as a woman and as a writer. It can't just be about me. My writing has to also be about how the reader may or may not be transformed. I hope that I am inspired by Oya and Sophia. I also hope that the inspiration will reach through my words and inspire others to be in touch with their creative side!

the pantry

The pantry in my Memphis home was huge. As a result, I could never find anything. Now, in my off hours, I am unpacking the boxes packed by the moving company and I'm finding many duplications of goods. I count five cans of diced tomatoes, three cans of tomato paste, four cans of cream of chicken soup and so on.

Not only does my tiny new home in Eagleville, PA lack a pantry, there is very little cabinet space in the kitchen. I have far too many things to fit in the space!

In my preparation to move from 4000 square feet to 950+ square feet, I was so busy paring down my furniture and accessories and clothes, that I failed to consider all of the stuff in that pantry. But all of these duplications makes me consider whether this isn't a good lesson for my life.

Is it possible that I have so much that I fail to see what I have? Are diced tomatoes symbolic of some other blessing that I have in abundance that I fail to be thankful for on any given day? Am I, in fact, seeking what I already have?

This is not the first time I have been faced with this lesson. When my son was six years old, I was running late one wintry morning and raced out to the car, only to find it covered with ice. I wanted to cry and silently complained to God as I scraped the ice from the passenger side of the car, "Could you not send me an angel who would do this for me?" I meant a partner in life, of course, a man who would scrape the ice from my car and do so many of the other tasks that husbands traditionally do. As I felt the full force of my bitterness flowing from me into that ice scraper, I glanced through the hole I was creating and noticed my son's sweet face smiling brightly at me through the hole he was creating in the ice on the other side of the car. I already had an angel. I smiled back and felt ashamed. Count your blessings, my grandfather used to tell us, count them - every one.

jamie

Then, there they are. The letters from his time in Iraq staring back at me from the cardboard box where they have been stored for these many years. I look at them, debating whether to open and read them again. I know that re-reading the letters, and, oh look, there are some greeting cards too from after he got back, will bring a huge sadness because ... well, because Jamie isn't walking on this Earth anymore. And I missed time with him, so busy with my own life.

I decide to open and read one card and pick one up at random. It is a Christmas card, no envelope, so I don't even know the year. But the content tells me it is after Desert Shield and Desert Storm. He is in the Golden Knights and he is headed to Arizona for off-season training. He is 8 months with his current girlfriend and things are looking promising for this relationship. His phone is changed because he was getting collections calls for two people he didn't even know. And he loves me and misses me.

And then I cry, mourning the loss of my friend again, wishing I had known that he needed a friend, needed me, towards the end of his life, wishing I could have been there for him. My mind goes through our long friendship. In college, when he longed for me, I was in love with someone else. Then, years later, after my divorce, when I was ready to love him back, he spiraled away from me. Then we just settled into a friendship. We were pen pals through Desert Shield and Storm. He wrote some of the most amazing letters ever. I can't read them right now. Maybe in a few years.

I hold him in a special place in my heart. He was my precious friend. Desperado. Jamie. I love you, sweetheart. Rest in peace.

process

The last few weeks in Memphis were pretty hectic. There was a going away party at work, complete with bar-b-q and all the trimmings. (Thank you, Phyllis!) There were projects to complete at work. There was a week spent with the guy who will be pinch-hitting as the president of the campus until a permanent president is named. There were many, many private conversations with students and employees who had warm things to say to me.

Meanwhile, there were conversations with landlords (attempts on the Memphis end and success on the PA end), utility companies (both ends), and moving companies (estimates, then the actual planning with the company selected to handle the move). There was a new home for Scamp, the little dog that I found back in December. (Thank you, Marcus!)

Then the last day of work was upon me! More conversations with very special employees and precious students. I turned over my keys to my wonderful Office Manager and carried the last of my belongings out to the car. I drove away, not feeling sad about my departure. It felt right.

Saturday and Sunday, I flew through the house like a tornado, packing up all remaining crap that I did not want. All kinds of people came by in response to my three new Craig's List ads. More books and clothes and furniture went out the door. All of the empty boxes from my move to Memphis were picked up by a young couple moving to Texas. (I had held on to them, just in case I was financing my next move. You never know!) I also packed up my belongings that were going with me in my car, including my Grandmother McClarin's Limoges.

On Monday, the packers arrived. They worked fast. I finally heard from my Landlord, who gave me phone numbers for carpet people and cleaning people. I warned him that I might not be able to get everything done. He reassured me that he could put a lockbox on the door and the people he had recommended could come and go even if I wasn't there. Monday night I stayed at a hotel since everything was packed. I left Joe at the house because I figured it would be less stressful.

On Tuesday, the truck arrived and the movers carried all of my stuff out. The carpet guy came and I paid him almost a thousand dollars to replace the carpet that Scamp had damaged. (That was an expensive stray!!!) Then 1-800-GOT-JUNK arrived to pack up all the remaining crap in the house and garage. Whew!

On Wednesday, I did some cleaning at the house. Then I visited Comcast to turn in my cable box and the post office to complete a change of address. I took Joe to the hotel and he immediately burrowed under the bed covers.

Thursday, I hit the road! Joe was not a happy camper to find himself back in the cat carrier. Like a fool, I decided to drive all the way to Staunton, VA on the first day. I was trying to aim for the halfway point, but I couldn't find a cat-friendly hotel, so I kept getting further down the road. I didn't make a reservation though. Instead, I left it open. I figured if I got tired enough, I would be willing to sneak him in to a hotel that was NOT cat-friendly. But I did make it. The last 45 minutes was really hard. Ten hours was TOO MUCH for me for one day.

I thought it was appropriate to listen to gospel music while I traveled through the mountains of Tennessee. Joe's meows punctuated the music as he sang the kitty blues. It sounded kind of like this:

"I am a poor (meow!) wayfaring stranger, traveling through (meow!) this world of woe. Yet there’s no sickness (meow!) no toil or danger (meow!) in that bright world to which I go."

The hotel I ended up at was a but dumpy, but it was serviceable. Joe did not like it at all. He was jumpy the entire time we were there. I've seen lots of stories on bedbugs lately, so I was VERY paranoid and checked the bed closely. I called Daddy and he said that I really needed to go have breakfast at Mrs. Rowe's. I carefully set my alarm so I would have time to do that and still get into the Philly area before rush hour. I went to sleep with visions of Mrs. Rowe's spoon bread dancing in my head. Unfortunately, I forgot to change my clock from Central to Eastern time, so I got up an hour later than I intended. Sigh.

One visit to McDonald's later, I was on the road. My car's GPS routed me through Washington, D.C. When I ran MapQuest prior to my departure, it routed me through Harrisburg, PA. The D.C. route was a killer, with tolls galore. Maybe there would have been as many tolls going the other way. I will have to reactivate my E-Z-Pass account now that I am back in toll booth country!

Now I am safely esconced in my hotel room in PA. I called my mover after I arrived and was told my belongings won't be here until some point next week. That means I need to get comfortable in this hotel room. Joe is happy here. He is sound asleep beside me.

Since my stuff is not going to be delivered tomorrow, I plan to drive over to Allentown to visit my Dad. But my first task for tomorrow is to go to my apartment complex and pay the deposit and pick up my keys. I can't wait!

two saturdays remaining

This is getting hard! I have two Saturdays left before the packers come and I still have a TON of stuff to sort through. I just refuse to take this crap with me! My greatest enemy is procrastination! I start something, then get distracted, then sit down to take a break and time passes ... help!