the library..

Oh how I love the library..let me count the ways..The library..books..peace..silence..reverence..faint smiles..oderly..respect..these words are a few reasons why I love the library..Today, while in downtown Riverside..I drove past the Riverside Library..built in the late 60's..I remember with such fondess the first day the libary opened to the wonderful people of Riversde..I went with my father..who was an avid library attendee..You could always find Dad at the Arlington CA library..he emersed himself in books and always had two or three books going at once..He loved mystery novels..history..stories about war..usually WW1 and WW2..he would read and study about battle..I think he knew every battle..who won, who lost and what general screwed up..and sent the boys into harms way...My dad never got over his own uncle who was killed in battle during WW1..a newfoundland boy..just a mere 19..killed in France..I grew up hearing about war.,.battle..marching..the boys..the food...the uniform..4 years marching with the Canadian Army..Dad said his war years were the best years of his life..Dad landed in Normandy on D Day and was always so proud of that...

Today, when i glanced at the Library..a huge emotional reactioin came over me..tears started to flood down my cheeks.,.I had to pull over as I could not see to drive.."Dad, were you really gone?" "Dad, am I really 53?" "your age Dad"! why does time..become an enemy to us all?. I find that getting old or "older" one of the saddest things we humans have to endure..short of losing a child..I long to see my mother's young face..my Dad's brisk walk and comanding voice..I would love to hear the sound of the old Hi-fi playing Johnny Cash or Dean Martin..these are all precious memories that i'll never forget..I feel so fortunate that I can feel the depths of my rich family history..I also feel blessed that my father taught me the love of books..the written word..".books are your best friend" he would say.

Books.. never let you down..they can be tucked under your arm..like a teddy bear..you can read the last page over and over..there are no rules..I will always love the library..books and the sound of the librarian..whispering softy.."the new books are over there" i'll walk to the new books..look them over..and decide that i really want to check out an old book.. why i'm an old book now...

these boots are made for walking and sometimes a swift..

tonight.. i went shopping for boots, with my oldest daughter Allie..Boots are the "it" wardrobe item this fall..or so it seems every fall..Boots are a must have wardrobe staple..I will admit I have not worn boots since early college..I don't know why really..maybe because living in socal..who really needs boots? For whatever reason...boots were not in my closet for many years...until now..I have become completely obsessed with boots...short boots, over the knee boots, black boots, cowboy boots, gogo boots, slouchy boots..you name it...I want, I want..I imagine myself..wearing boots to the opera, going to a sunday movie..sporting cowboy boots while picking out pumpkins at the pumpkin patch...over the knee boots if i really want to make a statement.."i'm 53, do i dare wear these?" "oh just watch me" boots have become my mantra.."these boots are made for walking..and sometimes a swift kick in the seat" I can feel the power of boots..and ask myself.."why did I wait so long so wear boots again?" Who cares if it's still 108 degrees outside" It;'s not about functionality..it's about the walk..the power play..the strut..the imagination..channeling your inner bond girl..Boots are about power..now girls..go out there and buy a pair of boots..or if you are like me..4 pairs of boots..I bought cowboy boots at Target, to wear to the pumpkin patch..dark brown, to the the knee boots at DSW.. to wear to a sunday movie..short pant boots, in black, at payless to kick around hollywood in(or stater brothers)..sassy black boots, with a bow on the side, at DSW.. to wear to church.(or say i'm going to church)..whatever boot mood i am in..I'm so ready..Boots..who needs snow to wear them? .

perfume..and other scents

a scent and familiar aroma fill the room..you are swept back to a time, place..a good place.. a smile softy comes over your face..Scent is such a strong emotional factor that people will pay a high price to replicate grandma's perfume or mother's signature scent..i remember my introduction to perfume..it was 6th grade and for Christmas that year..i was given a bottle of Yardley's oh de london..I am sure this was a last minute gift..bought by my mother at the drug store..My mom was obsessed with making sure..we had plenty of gifts around the tree..a child of the depression, mom often spoke of years when all she received from santa was an orange, a few walnuts and licorice..Mom wanted to show us the works..and gifts stretched out to the front door was her aim..I carefully opened the bottle of oh de london and sprayed it on my Christmas clad pajamas..i immediately was taken by the smell of woodsyness..musk and jasmine..i was in love..Oh de london soon became my signature scent..i wore it everywhere...everyday..just the sight of the oh de london bottle sent me into a delirious..daze.. of love and confusion..i knew in my heart that I had enterted into a new higher way of being. I was a woman..simply because I wore perfume..I had yet to wear a bra..yet to kiss a boy..and yet to even say a dirty word..i was simply going to do it all..and could hardly wait..except for psuedo dirty words like..heck, shoot, jeepers..golly wow..that was about as far as my lips would take me in the swearing department..but boy..when my brother David..would relentlessly tease me..a few choice words were right there..in my mind..yes..the mind where life's secrets are held and only you have the key to unlock..

When fall approaches..scent becomes a precious memory for me..Candles burning..the smell of fire burning in the fireplace..beef strew simmering in the kitchen..the anticipation of Thanksgiving..apple pie baking..Fall is the beginning of a whole new joy..I also love getting new perfume for Christmas..sadly.. they do not make oh de london..new scents have taken it's place..but i will always remember my first love..the bottle given to me so long ago..by my dear mother...Let's all go and buy a new perfume..make new memories to cherish.. and spray spray away...and for the record..i have kissed a boy.. too many probably..wear a bra..which straps digs into my shoulders..but for the dirty word department..i still keep my lips sealed...

bit o' life and love

do you ever feel happy and wonder why this feeling of elation came over you? do you ever feel sad and are not sure why? I truly believe the human condition is so complex...so miraclously beautiful..that we need to just soak in the emotions of life, and not dwell on why this and why that!! often circumstances outside our control dictate where we are emotionally or physically at any given moment..for instance..you cut your hand and have to be rushed to the ER...you stepped on a rusty nail(and who has really stepped on a rusty nail?)..haven't had a tetnus since college?..ouch!!.. a shot is in order...or emotionally..you just had a slight disagreement with a loved one..Life is unpredictable..all we really have control over is how we react to every crazy situation that comes our way..

It is so much easier to handle life's daily march if we love ourselves just a litte bit more..if we don't who will? we can't expect someone else to make us happy..It is not possible..I recently put away my halo..of trying to make everyone around me happy..I thought I possessed magical powers..funny..53 years of trying..my magic must of been cast from an extremely weak spell..as i always came up short..dang..the unhappy was? you guessed it.. still unhappy..so dear folks in bloggerland or any other land..I am here to tell you..what good ol' Shakespeare so wisely said, "to thine own self be true" please!!! if I could shout it from the swiss alps I would.."to thine own self be true" nobody has the right....to control..manipulate, berate, smother, humiliate, bully, yell at, scream at..hit..you..you are a wonderful creature of God..I am here to give permission to love yourself..your gorgeous old self..so walk a little merrier..sing a little bit louder..whistle away...go buy an ice cream cone..kiss the mirror...because heck..you never know when you are going to step on a rusty nail..ouch!!!

my life in jeans..

my emotional attachment to mom jeans ran deep..afterall i was a mom for 26 years..i plunged into momhood with mama bear like instincts and never looked back..well, until now..Let me begin by telling you a bit about jeans and me..the first time I heard the term.."blue jeans" it was on summer vacation 1967.. road trip .. across the fruited plain..My family would travel caravan style with my uncle Bob...and cousins, Richard and Brenda..Brenda wanted to wear blue jeans and her mother, my aunt Ellen, was having a fit over it all..It was a constant battle between the two. times were a changin' blue jeans were in and peddle pushers were out..I sat back and listened to the war of words between my aunt and Brenda thoughout the vacation..I was so relieved when knights in white satin came on the radio...finally a bit of peace..all was quiet..until the next jeans argument erupted...

When I look back on my life according to blue jeans..I remember my first pair..they were blue jean bell bottoms..cute as can be..hip hugger style..I wore a leather belt with them and tied up my tops..wore hippie beads and a leather headband..i must admit..this look was my "signature" look and one I remember with fondness..next in the blue jeans dept..was a pair of high waisted blue jeans...belled with a cuff at the bottom..very 70's and much approved of by the adults of the day...

Today..while cleaning out my closet I went through my jeans..I had a myriad of mom jeans..mom jeans left from my years of car pooling..after school activities..taco bell runs..walking with neighbors around the block..throwing on mom jeans in wonder woman fashion..ready at any moment to rescue my child..I wore my mom jeans with pride..I had elastic waist mom jeans..pull up pant style mom jeans..acid wash mom jeans..pleated in the front mom jeans..all worn..with love..and total devotion to my momdom world i so lovingly embraced..Today when I looked at each pair of mom jeans.. and put them in the "give away pile" ..i wiped away one tear..shuffled my feet a bit and kissed the last pair goodbye...My nostalgia was brief.  I quicky threw on a pair of newly fashioned Lucky Brand.. hip hugger Hippie Jeans.. worn with a leather belt..I feel like an old me has emerged..an old me that was always there...and just waiting to peek her face around the corner and say, "psst psst..over here...hey it's knights in white satin" "Pull up your blue jeans..your 17..reaching for your dreams" and you know? that is exactly how i feel today..this very minute..53 and reaching for my jeans and dreams..and i will never look back...

May Day..and a basket or two..

It was May Day..the day when neighborhood kids gather twigs, leaves..pretty rocks...flower petals..and..then artistically assemble this bounty of natures finding inside a tiny basket, made out of a grocery bag;...The next task at hand was to decide who in the neighborhood was going to be lucky enough to be the proud owner of this beautiful May Day surprise..The kids, including myself..decided on old man Smith..and mean Mrs Cotton...both needed a lift..a surprise..how we giggled..and ran..all carefree spirits..to knock on the door of mean Mrs Cotton..The fun part was to ring the doorbell..place the basket at the front door and then run away..Mrs Cotton would find the basket and a grin would spread across her face..and the same would hold true with old man Smith.


Precious memories are what keep me going on days when i feel there is no joy left in this world...The joy of a childhood memory can soothe the soul like no other..Try it..close your eyes..look back..feel the warmth of a sunny day..the smell of homemade cookies.. hear your mothers' young voice calling you by name..remember an old photograph where you are grinning from ear to ear...Even if your childhood was not the best..looking back at one good memory will help you feel grounded like no other..you do matter...you are good and worthy...it helps to love the child within..

hello it's me..a glimpse..

I am a baby boomer..My name is Sandra..some call me Sandy..and even San..My nickname is Dee..don't ask me why because i never knew..Life as a kid was well, a bit of this and that..i am the youngest child born to Kay and Barclay Martin..Canadians..and proud to call the maple leaf their home..being born to Canadians and raised in SoCal was a bit of an emotional challenge..i do indentify with immigrant children..you have to work a bit harder to fit in..My parents never seemed to embrace the SoCal lifestyle..when other kids were having mac and cheese for supper..we were having liver and onions; as a family, we were proper to a fault..we were too polite..and seemed a bit odd at times.. our family politeness was taken to a fault..such as.."oh you hit our car?" "i am so sorry you did" "i know it was not your fault"...."you ran over our dog? "please don't worry yourself"..this is how i grew up..politeness to a fault...

My blog is to help and encourage anyone or just plain chit chat..I like to bring the past into the future with old tales and strories...to share joys and sorrows..to cheer each other on and yes..even to complain..voice your pet peeve..i want you to feel relaxed and happy..there is no judgement on my blog and no..who is in and who is out... my jotting and plotting blog is a friend to the people..so please..pull up and chair..laugh with me..smile..we will have a great time..