My Response To Question

 

Life – An experiential experience of  consciousness?  

Agree or Disagree?  Why or why not?

Even as a small child, perhaps four or five, I felt I knew secretive things … deep within, and the only way to describe it is by these two words: Intuitive Knowing. I truly believe that we are in a cycle and that our lives loop and are personified, that we are all one and the same, yet different facets of our Creator’s thoughts or dreams. A way of His preoccupation in keeping Himself busy or entertained. Much like playing Trivial Pursuit or a game of chance by oneself.

Happy Holidays!

        

 

I have been so busy in the kitchen but I wanted to take a quick break in order to let you know that I am thinking of you, and sending out my sincere wish that your enjoyment and reflection of the winter celebrations are happy and fulfilling.  I will say that over the last few days I have prepared the following: Lemon Curd, Chocolate Dream Cookies, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Oatmeal Raisin Cookies, Honey Oatmeal Bread, Orange Current Cream Scones, Orange Blueberry Cream Scones and Russian Tea Cookies.  

Today I am preparing Rum Raisin Cream Scones, Garlic Butter Honey Oatmeal Bread (broiled) Spaghetti and Italian Sauce, Sauteed Spinach drizzled with butter and sprinkled with sea salt.  For later delivery Orange Blueberry Cream Scones and little bags of assorted cookies.  Oh, and Apple Cinnamon Bread, too.

I hear the crack of the whip so I had best get back in the kitchen.  Peace, love, thoughtfulness and artistic flair be yours.  Ow Santa … that hurt.  Just kidding.

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

    

My Nephew Performing

Gonzales_Feist_&co_olympia_01_12_08
Uploaded by Scarlettedc

My nephew is also a recording artist.  Here he is performing and is in the middle of the stage.  This was in Paris December 1st.

Island Tulips

Original Art Acrylic on Canvass by Theresa H. Hall Circa 2002 

Do not copy or reproduce.

Portals, Dreams And Scruples

Hey, Mr Postman, originally uploaded by Annie in Beziers.

Part Eight

After a very sleepless night, I decided to call the whole thing off. Call me a coward, but I had had time to think things through, and that morning, after I showered and dressed, I called the man I had met at the deserted cafe` the other day. I told him I had changed my mind but that he could keep the retainer. He seemed to find this suited him as much as it did me.  We ended the association amicably.

I would have to deal with Delilah on my own.  She was no longer engaged to Stan, and I very much doubted that she would consider a reconciliation. Stan’s attitude toward her had become frigid since he had learned the truth, and that she had only used him to get to me.

Geoffrey kept dropping by so I surmised that he and my half-sister were an item. For some strange reason, I do not think Stan even cared. I was reluctant to approach him about his broken engagement, and so I determined I should return the ring to him today. Get it over with, I told myself.

Going into the butler’s pantry, I closed the door behind me, opened the wall safe, removed the ring and made sure my brooch was still inside. Mine!  It felt right to refer to it as mine. I wondered what special occasion would prompt me to wear this wonderful piece of historic jewelry.

Returning to my room, I picked up Stan’s wallet that I had found yesterday and placed the engagement ring inside. Going to my desk I removed a thick cream colored envelope from the top drawer. Sitting down I wrote a note on matching stationery, and when I had finished, I wrapped the wallet and ring together. Opening the envelope wide, I placed these items inside and sealed it shut.

Using the house phone I called and asked the driver to bring the car around.  Then I went downstairs and slipped out the front door.   Once settled in the car, I instructed the driver to take me to Stan’s house. He lived downtown in the affluent Pearl District.  When the driver pulled up before the brownstone, I got out and climbed the steep stairs.

I rapped on the door using the brass knocker.  When that brought no response, I slipped the envelope through the letter slot. It was a French antique that Stan’s parents had brought back from one of their trips to Paris. I allowed myself to dream of Stan and me in Paris one day. Almost at once, the door flew open and who was there? Stan! He was holding the envelope and staring straight down at me.

“I was hoping that was you at the door.” He went on, ” I called the house and Delilah said you had taken the car out. Won’t you come in?” he asked.

Caught unawares, I made motioning gestures toward the driver and back to myself. My mouth simply didn’t want to work, so instead I nodded my head in agreement.  He waved to the driver indicating that he would bring me home later. I watched as the car pulled away from the curb, traveled down the street and stopped at the red light.

I followed Stan inside, walking past the tank full of exotic fish. They all seemed to swim toward me and then follow me down the hallway. I looked back to see their little faces staring after me. Turning away so I could watch where I was going, I felt Stan take my elbow and escort me to the plush dark green velvet sofa.

After I had taken my seat, Stan opened the envelope and removed the contents. He glanced at the letter, looked at the wallet and then opened it to remove the ring he had given Delilah, only two weeks before. Looking a little sheepish he admitted, “I cannot pretend that I am sad she called off the wedding. We would never have suited, even had there been a child.”  He walked toward the crackling fire to stand, his back toward me. “Are you glad I won’t be marrying your sister, Constance?” He asked quietly.

I looked down at the thickly carpeted floor. My hands were folded in my lap and I was determined not to fidget. My answer seemed to surprise him, “I hated that she lied to you and used us both so disgracefully. No, I am quite happy you are not to become my brother-in-law.” The emphatic delivery of my words had him closing the distance between us,  and without so much as a by-your-leave, he began kissing me soundly. Very soundly indeed.

Portals, Dreams And Scruples

Monastery Saghmosavank, Armenia, originally uploaded by Zinnie.

Part Seven

This was a photograph of the place where they would be taken. An old isolated monastery in Armenia. Delilah and our mother would be kept there for a period of two years. Time enough for me to handle things here and bring Stan closer to me.

I hid the brochure under my pillow because I could hear the tap of high heels approaching my bedroom door. The wearer halted right outside the entrance to my room, and I held my breath because I felt so guilty about the scheme I had put into place.  Whoever it was changed their mind and walked away.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I dressed in comfortable clothes for I wanted to walk along the beach to clear my thinking. Lately my thought processes seemed cloudy and a little strange. Mayhap when I fainted I had hit my head. I ran my fingers over my skull but didn’t discover any bumps or lumps. Good.

Dressed in black from head to foot I wrapped a scarf around my neck and put on my parka. Checking in the pockets for gloves, for it had turned much colder, my hand touched something square and flat. Removing it from the inside of my jacket I was shocked to find Stan’s wallet. What on earth was it doing in my pocket? I knew it at once, for I had purchased it as a Christmas gift, two years before. I looked inside but it was entirely empty. Lifting it to my nose, I inhaled his scent, for he must have handled it so many times. Why was it in my pocket! I would fret over this for the remainder of the day.

Earlier I had visited my father in the west wing of the estate. There he was tended round the clock by an expert nursing staff. They told me he’d had a rough night and his breathing was a bit labored. By the time I took my leave, he rested peacefully, as though somewhere in his mind he recognized the touch of my hand and understood the intentions in the soothing words I spoke. I really wanted to believe this was so.

Walking along the water’s edge, I removed the photo of the monastery I had brought with me.  Once more I felt delight in my clever plan. The two of them could keep each other company and our mother would finally have all of Delilah’s attention, for it was certain that there would be no one there who would listen to their explanations or pleas. At the end of their stay they would be rescued and returned to the States.

The pounding surf drowned out the arrival of a young man wearing a white lab coat, and I was startled to realize I was no longer alone. He looked familiar to me and as he came into focus I recognized him as one of the male nurses, who took care of my father. I immediately knew what he was going to tell me before his mouth opened to say the words, which I’d been dreading. I waved him off and ran away to be by myself. My father had died and a part of me had died too.

By the time I was back in my suite of rooms, I blindly made my way to the window seat to sit in silence. I was not surprised by my father’s death.  Sadly I realized the only person who had ever really cared about me had left me alone.

My mother entered my room without knocking, and began fidgeting with the perfume bottles on my dressing table. She seemed to want to line them up with the round sprayers touching.  Raising her eyes to mine, she seemed apologetic when finally she spoke softly, “Constance, as you know your father is gone, God rest his soul. Is there anything I can do for you?” Tears rolled down her face, shocking me for a minute. Had she really cared for father? I asked myself.

“Did you ever care for my father?” I blurted the question before I realized I had spoken aloud. She nodded her head turning slowly to walk away. She looked back over her shoulder and because she appeared so very tired, I relented and walked over to her. “Your father and I did not have love but we did have respect and sometimes a friendship. I too shall miss him.” Her drooping shoulders told me she spoke the truth.  Turning away from me now she walked out of the room and toward her private chambers.

Could I, in my confused thinking have entirely misunderstood her feelings? Apparently I had and now … oh no! My hands flew to my face and I silently wailed. “What have I done?” The sentence I had imposed upon my half-sister was well deserved, but now I knew that I could not do the same to our mother. It seemed as if she had suffered for her deception, and who was I to hurt her even more?

My father’s death had opened up a well of compassion which I needed to explore, but I must act quickly if I hoped to renegotiate the terms of my contract.

Lying down I was overcome by sleep.

Portals, Dreams And Scruples

VILLERS: LE BAR DE LA PLAGE DESERT, originally uploaded by Boccacino.

Part Six

I’d made the decision to buy the services of a stranger, to the tune of one-hundred thousand dollars. Here I sat nervously fidgeting in a wooden chair, thinking about what I was setting into motion.

I kept reassuring myself that it was the only way to take care of my half-sister, who seemed to take the greatest delight in tormenting me. I knew she was the one who took my rightful inheritance, our grandmother’s antique brooch.

Delilah had blatantly lied to trick Stan into proposing to her, when all the while she knew I loved him wholeheartedly. She was a skilled seductress and before he knew it, she told him she was carrying his child. Not only had she slept with him, she had driven a deep wedge of deception between Stan and me.

My thoughts were abruptly quieted as a very large, gruff individual made his way through the empty cafe`. Eying me over he continued to draw near and halted just shy of the only occupied table in the place. Mine.

We talked for a while and I paid him a third of the agreed-upon amount. I made him promise she would not suffer. Even though I hated Delilah I was a squeamish young woman and I did not want to think about the outcome of my actions.

Rising we each went our separate way. I would no longer trouble myself over Delilah’s future. She did not belong in mine or Stan’s life for that matter. I practically ran back to the waiting car and waved the driver to stay inside while I jumped in then ordered him to drive me back home.

I saw his eyes in the rear view mirror. Understood that he was speculating as to why I had him take me to a deserted restaurant. I refused to look away and in the end, my unwavering stare won and he looked ahead and the car moved forward.

Stan would be mine and my father’s estate, along with my grandmother’s brooch would stay in the family, but I would be the only one in possession. Those two, mother and Delilah, would have to go.

Leaning back against the cushioned seat, I looked out the limousine window to watch the scenery whizz by.  The hypnotic movement soon had me shutting out the world as we sped toward home.

Portals, Dreams And Scruples

Zarka_Baakleen-River, originally uploaded by A. Saleh.

Part Five

Sitting on the Doctor’s examining table the next morning, I ran my hand over the puff of white cotton and adhesive tape, wincing because the nurse who had taken two blood samples, had strapped the tape too tightly against my arm.  I decided to loosen and then reattach it to my arm.  Ah, much better.

I had never fainted before. Last night’s dramatic collapse to the floor was the ultimate way to get Stan’s attention, for he had rushed over, picked me up and laid me on the divan near the ladies lounge. Delilah had recounted the entire scene to me, allowing heavy sarcasm to drip from her every word.   My stomach felt a little queasy and even now I was lightheaded.

Hearing the door open and close, I saw the nurse bringing a pitcher of orange juice. Stopping before me, she poured the golden liquid then offered me the glass, promising it would help me feel restored. It tasted so fresh I drank the entire contents straight away. It worked, I did feel better.

She suggested that I dress, as my examination was now complete.  She thoughtfully mentioned that the good doctor would be phoning me later on in the afternoon. Apparently everything had gone  smoothly and there seemed no real reason for concern. Earlier, I had confided to the doctor that I had gone all day yesterday without any nourishment.  Later on I was to discover that he’d had a slight suspicion that I might be with child. Ridiculous!  Absurd!  Why ever would he believe that, I would ask myself.

My driver transported me back home where I climbed up the stairs, walked to my room and lay down upon my bed, there to rest for the remainder of the day. Lying still, I stared out my bedroom window.  I wondered how it felt to have Stan’s arms holding me, carrying me, touching me. What made it so darned upsetting, was that I didn’t even remember anything other than opening my eyes and seeing everyone standing over me, wearing surprised expressions.

I later discovered that someone had stolen the box from my handbag during the time I was indisposed.  Now I had to search for my grandmother’s brooch all over again.  It was probably Delilah trying to torture me.

Pulling the duvet over me and sinking into the down pillows I exhaled a long sigh.  Leaning my head back I became hypnotized by the pretty reflections moving across my ceiling from the pool and small, man-made waterfall outside.  The sounds spilled forth to lull and relax my mind. I closed my heavy eyelids and listened to the splashing water. All at once, my eyes flew open and realization flashed through my mind.