Enchanting Fairy Doors

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Not just fairy gardens…

Do you have these charming creations in your town?

A fairy door is an adorably miniature door usually set into the base of a tree, behind which may be small spaces where people can leave notes, wishes, or gifts for the “fairies”.

Fairy doors are thought of as portals to a magic realm in which the fairy can come and go, but humans cannot enter.

There are lots of them in my little beach town of Carlsbad, but this is a new fairy door I noticed on my walk today.

It might have been missed altogether except that I was walking slower than my usual very brisk pace because I have a broken toe and it was too painful to walk as fast or as far as I usually do.

The next time, I’ll definitely remember to bring a little offering.

Do you believe?

 

 

 

 

A sign and a warning?

Do you believe in signs and messages from the Universe or spirit guides or your own inner voice?

If I’m completely honest, I’d have to say I’m a pretty skeptical Taurus; I often prefer scientific proof or proof beyond a reasonable doubt (to quote my attorney dad) in order to make decisions.

But strange things have been happening. My mom visits me in my dreams with verbal and written messages.

And this…

I was digging up the part of my garden where there once was a half pipe skate ramp my son and his friends built when he was in high school.

It’s a major physically challenging project, and before I took a well deserved break, I decided to dig a hole in the area I planned to move a smallish jacaranda tree.

I hit something hard and was hoping it was a big rock ‘cos for me that’s like finding gold– but it was slippery and flat. I dug and dug and part of it broke; didn’t feel rock-like, so I was curious and couldn’t stop until I dug all the way around it and pulled the pieces out of the ground.

DANGER. Hmm. DANGER. 

Quite literally a SIGN.

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Yes, a sign for sure, but what does it MEAN????

Is it a coincidence or is it a forewarning, a message, a signal?

Should I be on high alert for something?

If so, now what am I supposed to do, get a crystal ball?

What or whom or where is the danger?

It made me think of Lost in Space. “Danger, Will Robinson!”

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With tonight’s waxing gibbous moon, Jupiter, and Saturn all in alignment, it’s a time for intense magical energy and manifestation so I’m gonna heed the message and stay close to home and dwell in my safety zone.

Y’all take care.

 

“Is that a keeper?” More chat with the brilliant Angel Boy 2.0.

My little guy and I LOVE LOVE to search for rocks and seashells and feathers and other treasures.

It doesn’t matter if we’re walking in the neighborhood or at the beach or in the mountains, we make time to search for Mother Nature’s precious gifts.

Holding a rock in his little (but almost as big as mine) hand, he says, “Is this a keeper, Grandma?”

I take a look, think for a minute, and reply, “No, not that one. It’s not asking me to come home. Let’s leave it for someone else to find and bring to their house.”

“How about THIS one, Grandma?”

“Oh YES, T! That’s exactly the kind I love. It’s perfect.”

“OK, you bring it home with you and I’ll see it when we come to your house.”

“Why do you love rocks so much?”

“Great question, T. I love them because they make me happy and I like to collect pretty things. Why do YOU like rocks?”

“They make ME happy, too, Grandma!”

“OK. Think about this. You like it when you get presents in the mail, right? Well, this is getting presents too, but they don’t cost money and we get to have so much fun finding them together, so when we’re not together, we can remember what fun we had.”

“Hey, T, is this the kind that you like?”

I’m holding a pure white oval rock.

“Oh yes! Do you want it, Grandma?”

“That’s very kind of you to think about me, T, but this one is for you. Let’s look for more.”

At this point, all my pockets are full and weighted down by rocks and seashells, and my backpack has no more room, either.

“T, look at me, I’m all loaded down! Let’s leave some to find next time, OK?”

“Grandma, we love rocks so much, don’t we? I put the special ones in the little box you sent me. Where do you keep yours?”

“My special favorites are on the windowsill in my bedroom, so I can see them every day and think about you.”

“Can you take a picture of them and send it to me?”

“I sure will, little buddy.”

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Baby Whale Retrospective #wordlesswednesday

I LOVE whales (I mean, who doesn’t?) and three years ago in August, I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time with my camera to chronicle a juvenile California Gray Whale that became confused and almost stranded in our Agua Hedionda Lagoon.

Whale August 4

See that post here: https://enchantedseashells.com/2017/08/08/a-full-moon-and-a-lost-whale/

A large crowd gathered and we all took pics and video of the poor little one trying to get back out to open waters and back to mom. It was a magical moment and I’m happy to say there was a happy ending. Several agonizing hours later, s/he safely disappeared beyond the jetty.

This little whale reminds me of that special day. I know it’s a bird feeder, but I filled his mouth with yummy little succulents instead of seed.

And this way, that little baby whale can stay with me forever.

Because nothing is longer than forever.

 

That Dreaded Call at 3:00 A.M.

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2020 Update:
I’m going to re-post an old one from 2014 because I just saw this meme that triggered a memory. There have been many other moments like this, but the one that came first to my mind was at the hospital where we waited hours for the surgeon to walk off the elevator and tell us what the hell happened to my baby boy, and IF he was going to survive. Or not. I was strong, I was calm, I didn’t cry at all in front of anyone, but at one point, I remember going to the bathroom to cry a bit in private so I wouldn’t scare DIL, and I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself that if I cried, he died, so STOP IT and I forced myself to only think positive thoughts about the outcome. I’m not one that likes the anxiety of a cliffhanger, so I’ll tell you that he DID survive AND thrive, and that’s why we now have Angel Boy 2.0 and Angel Girl 2.0. But on that day and for two months after that, every day might have been his last, and I’m grateful for his every breath. If you know me IRL, you’ll know that is a very true statement.


May 2014

free_wallpaper_of_baby_a_cute_baby_holding_a_teddy_bearThey are always our babies, no matter their age, ya know?

Right now, things have calmed down a bit. Fingers crossed, we’ve avoided a crisis of nightmare proportions…

 

…Monday 3:00 a.m., the incessant ringing of my cell jolts me awake.

I can’t find the damn phone and it stops ringing only to start again.

This time I found it buried under a pile of clean laundry.

When I saw my daughter-in-law’s name on the screen, I almost didn’t want to answer it.

Nothing good comes from a phone call at 3:00 a.m.

Nothing.

And not this time, either.

With a bad connection and dropped words, trying to hear/not wanting to hear, she told me that my son, Angel Boy, was taken to an ER in Rhode Island because of excruciating stomach pains and vomiting.

“What?” That’s all I could say. She had to repeat herself a few times and talk slowly. I wasn’t comprehending.

The pain was worsening and his belly had become distended and was filling with fluid.

The first thing you think of is appendicitis or even a burst appendix, but the tests were inconclusive.

There were other diagnoses floating around but none of the tests pointed to a specific diagnosis: gastritis, diverticulitis, colitis…

The pain was overwhelming and not responsive to morphine.

There seemed to be no other alternative than to admit him and prepare for more invasive testing.

A surgical team was hastily thrown together as exploratory surgery seemed to be the only option.

We’re in California. I’s 3:00 a.m. What do we do?

The Universe was in alignment and we were able to get the last seats on a direct flight out first thing in the morning and we arrived at the hospital in time to discuss Angel Boy’s medical condition.

Whatever it was, was serious, and needed immediate intervention.

Or. Or I won’t say, but you get the picture. OR is NOT good.

Because his belly was continuing to distend as it filled with fluid and the pain was increasing, there seemed no alternative than a laparascopy with a camera.

The head surgeon speculated about what he might find: a possible bowel obstruction AND something with his appendix.

We gave him the go ahead to fix what he saw, no matter what he found.

We all kissed him goodbye as the first pre-op drugs entered his body and the surgery commenced at 8:00 p.m.

At 10:30 the surgeon came out with a smile.

Apparently, my son had a congenital defect we were never aware of — because up until then it had never caused a problem.

An abnormal sac or pouch that develops at a weak point in the intestines is known as a diverticulum. In some instances, people are born with a diverticulum in their intestines. This condition is called Meckel’s diverticulum.

Meckel’s diverticulum develops between the 5th and 7th weeks of fetal growth.

Because the condition is present at birth, it is classified as a congenital health issue. Although it generally remains silent, life threatening complications may arise.

And they did.

It was a perfect storm of a worst case scenario.

He had a massive bowel obstruction; intestines were strangulated and all knotted up. By the time the surgery started, two feet (24 inches!!!) of intestine had lost blood supply and died, all within a time span of twelve hours. The surgeon removed the necrotic part, did a resection, including eight inches of colon and removal of his appendix.

Without this life-saving surgery, there is no doubt that this Mother’s Day would not have been. It’s anticipated that he’ll have a rapid recovery — he’s already walking around around due in large part to his overall good health and fitness level.

Now, as soon as he’s released and we can fly him back to SoCal, my Mother’s Day will be spent caring for my Angel Boy and nursing him back to health.

His future is as bright as it ever was; this was just a brief course change in a life full of joy and adventure.

P.S. The surgical team at Rhode Island Hospital were/are AMAZING. We lucked out with a guy who clearly enjoys what he does, who knew his way around this type of surgery, and explained it all to us with intelligence and humor.

 

 

Was it a lucid dream or a visit from beyond?

I don’t know if it’s caused by all the current planetary behavior (as above, so below) but lately my dreams have been excruciatingly real and detailed. Some of them are so vivid that I’m able to retain enough of them to journal before they disappear like a mirage in a puff of ephemeral smoke.

Anyway…

THIS particular dream went beyond the limits of what my brain can comprehend. (If goose bumps and hair standing up on your arms is any indication)

I was exhausted but satisfied by the completion of a tough garden project, replanting a flowerbed from where I had moved about 150 pounds of white rocks. What once was a cool mini desertscape had devolved into a tangled mess of climbing aloe and not very happy succulents and cacti. I removed them all, raked up the truckload of small white rocks that were all dirty and sad looking, and planted Bird of Paradise and Clivia I dug up from another part of the garden. Both have orange-y flowers and will look so pretty against the house.

The next day was going to be full of stress and anxiety because oral surgery was scheduled and I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. Thinking about the impending pain triggered all kinds of panicky ruminations.

I must have fallen asleep when I felt Bandit, my cat, jump on me, landing hard like she would do to wake me up (she was the real princess around here), and she curled up next to my stomach just like she always did, and I actually put my hand out to pet her and that’s when I freaked out and woke up.

Bandit spent her nights sleeping with me; most often would end up under the covers near my feet.

Nothing too strange about that, right? That’s what cats do.

Only…

OMG. The fact of the matter is that this is 2020 and Bandit went over the Rainbow Bridge in 2010 from complications due to chronic renal failure.

Bandit has been dead for ten years. She was thirteen-years-old when she died.

IT WAS SO REAL.

I looked at the clock. It was 3:00 a.m. I was now completely awake; my heart was racing. I never could get back to sleep. I still felt the warmth of her body, the silky feel of her fur tickling my arm. I felt her presence and it was REAL. I miss that little girl so much. I really really need her love and her comfort.

Was I in a lucid dream state or did Bandit really and truly visit me from beyond?

All I know is that I was so stressed when I was at the surgeon’s office today,  I  hyperventilated and my blood pressure was too high, so I started to visualize my beloved Bandit and it brought down my BP almost immediately. She was able to offer comfort even though she’s no longer physically on this earth. Her love for me transcended everything that my logical mind has a hard time comprehending.

Have you ever experienced a dream like that?


Lucid dreaming is when you’re conscious during a dream. This typically happens during rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, the dream-stage of sleep. During a lucid dream, you’re aware of your consciousness.

My darling Bandit.

Summer Wind

This Frank Sinatra tune floated in and out of my head along with the symphony of wind chimes as I took a break from a very hard garden project to sit on the deck and quench my thirst with my favorite (daytime) beverage, cold ginger and peppermint tea.

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My view from the deck. Lawn is suffering a bit in this heat.

Like the song, our fickle summer wind blows from the west most of the time; I’m a couple miles from the Pacific Ocean.

Nobody can ever compare to Frank’s lyrical interpretation.

Summer Wind

The summer wind came blowin’ in from across the sea
It lingered there, to touch your hair and walk with me
All summer long we sang a song and then we strolled that golden sand
Two sweethearts and the summer wind
Like painted kites, those days and nights they went flyin’ by
The world was new beneath a blue umbrella sky
Then softer than a piper man, one day it called to you
I lost you, I lost you to the summer wind
The autumn wind, and the winter winds they have come and gone
And still the days, those lonely days, they go on and on
And guess who sighs his lullabies through nights that never end
My fickle friend, the summer wind
The summer wind
Warm summer wind
The summer wind

Songwriters: Hans Bradtke / Henry Mayer / Johnny Mercer

Thoughts about Blogging

(An alternate title could be “Please scream inside your heart” like the signage at that theme park in Japan meant to discourage screaming on rollercoasters and reduce the spread of Covid-19.)

I’ve blogged since the summer of 2012. On one sunny day in June, my DIL told me I was really funny and I should write things down and begin to blog.

I knew nothing about blogs; never even read one, so she took the reins and opened a WordPress account for me.

That was eight years ago, as I was reminded by my WP anniversary.

At its heyday in 2014, my little blog averaged around 7,500 visits a month. For some unknown reason, my highest read posts were recipes.

After attending a BlogHer convention, I was excited and energized, ready to monetize, to grow and expand my brand and my voice.

I’ve always been a writer, especially about things that cause me to wax passionately: saving wolves, rescuing abused animals, finding humor in life from my own lens; researching and meeting and learning about all kinds of people (from Al Gore to His Holiness the Dalai Lama), reviewing cool products, and most of all, I LOVED responding to readers and comments from all over the world.

I still do. I respect and appreciate your time and the effort to reach out to a virtual stranger and engage in conversation.

Now I notice that my posts only have a handful of likes and some none at all.

My overall followers from all platforms is around 3500.

Did I lose my enthusiasm?

Nope.

I know why, I DO, but I still can’t talk about what happened except to say that if you read between the lines on certain posts, you might catch a glimpse of infinite profound sadness, more death than death because I’m still alive and breathing.

The walking dead. An episode of the Twilight Zone in real life. A literal black hole.

As I’m slowly getting back into the rhythm and comfort of writing, finding my voice again, I’d like you to know that I appreciate everyone who has stayed faithful to my blog and continues to read my words, even the ones between the lines.

Much love. Seriously. ‘Cos if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s what love is. And what it is not. On any planet. Stars might be crazy, but I’m not, so I’ll continue to scream inside my heart. And my head. In a princessy way, of course.

 

The Fine Art of Healing with Retail Therapy

Frivolous or not, the re-opening of Nordstrom Rack sent waves of happiness through every cell of my body.

Today was almost like a pre-Covid day, with the exception of mandatory mask-wearing.

(I started sewing some Chanel and Dior masks; look for that DIY post soon.)

My day began at Homegoods where I found an adorable beaded basket for $7.99.

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I moved to TJ Maxx, where I purchased these amazing summery earrings ($9.99) and a skateboarding dinosaur t-shirt for Angel Boy 2.0.

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At Nordstrom Rack (yay, they’re open again!) I couldn’t resist these Sam Edelman Passion Red Velvet Dot Tulle heels. I might not have anywhere to wear them right now, but they are SOO me. They’re a bit pricier than my other items; on clearance, right around $50.

I LOVE doing photo shoots with shoes and jewels. It’s so much fun, especially balancing that one shoe.

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But my shopping joy didn’t stop there! Marshalls is next to the Rack. I walked up and down every single aisle and that’s where I discovered this gorgeous handpainted mandala glass bowl (I’m fascinated by receptacles). I couldn’t stop snapping pics! It’s embellished inside and out, glowing in the late afternoon sunlight. Also $7.99, unbelievable. How could I resist?

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It was a thoroughly satisfying and mentally healthy day, the best kind of retail therapy, and it doesn’t always have to be a pricey Chanel to bring pleasure.

UPDATE: While I was out, Governor Newsom ordered a new shutdown, so it seems as if it’s possible that stores and malls will once again be closed. I’m grateful I was able to experience a few hours of normalcy.

Another encounter with a famous person, a rock and roll superstar…

I just saw an old video of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and it reminded me of something from my past.

Sometimes, when my son was around eight or ten years old (early 1990s), I’d bring him along with me to the gym and he’d go (reluctantly) to the babysitting room for an hour or so. It was mostly other doubledigiters so he didn’t have a real problem with it, and eventually became friendly with a boy about the same age.

Their friendship progressed beyond the gym to birthdays and sleepovers. For a while, these two boys were inseparable.

One day, out of the blue, and I’m a bit fuzzy on the details, the boy’s dad asked if I could give him a ride to LAX. It’s a ninety minute drive and I’m not sure why I said yes ‘cos I seriously HATE to drive, especially if it involves LA traffic, but I loaded the boys and the dad (along with his guitar) in my car.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when I learned that his dad was Ron Blair of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, but I was suitably impressed and starstruck. All I do remember is that he was always quiet but courteous and appreciated the airport ride. He looked EVERY bit a rock and roll superstar.

A couple weeks pre-Covid, a friend invited me to a fundraiser for the local food bank. It was an outdoor venue with a lot of musical guests. The headliner’s name was a familiar one. Lo and behold,  it was Ron Blair, who now lives in my little town.

We chatted a bit; I can’t honestly say that he remembered me, but he did remember my son which was cool.

Still quiet, still friendly, and amazingly talented.

Blair performing in 2017

We’ve all aged and I’m obviously way too old to be a groupie (sigh), but I do remember THOSE good old days, haha.

My brain just recollected something else…meeting my son’s friend’s maternal grandmother, Mother Antonia. She was infamous for having renounced all her wealth to become a Roman Catholic American religious sister and activist who chose to reside and care for inmates at the notorious maximum-security La Mesa Prison in Tijuana, Mexico. As a result of her work, she founded a new religious institute called the Eudist Servants of the 11th Hour. (Wiki)

Before her death in 2013, she was on TV quite a bit advocating on behalf of the prisoners.