WALL-STREET-PANDEMONIUM

Waiting for my Knarly Head to arrive, my elbows lean on my hightop, hands clasped in, 'here's the church - here's the steeple' kidplay mode. I stare wondrously at the massive glittering wall in front of me. It is beautiful. Hidden fluorescents illuminate the great expanse of mirror and glass shelves, artistically arranged with hundreds of bottled spirits, and a few brightly colored art-glass artifacts. Only a handful of patrons surround me at T.L. Schmit, a new establshment to me. The music is soft, but spunky. A multitude of glaring screens that portray a variety of sporting events in progress hang suspended in space around the perimeter, volume off. So pleasant. I smile, masking the turmoil alive and well in my gray matter. Closing my eyes, I soak in the calm, but nurturing atmosphere, hoping for clarity to arrive. As my server boldy places the stemware of deep velvet red in front of me, I return to the moment. Lifting the goblet, I swirl briskly, forcing the liquid up in waves close to the rim. Embedded in my cerebral moments my eyes fixate on the rolling of the fruit of the vine. I think - I wonder -things I'm good at. Finally I try out 'the nose' of it. Oh yes....hmmm, nice spice, smoky but fruited - perhaps blackberry and apricot. A smooth palate of flavors. Quite a nice 'Zin' for this evaluating and thoughtful moment..

It is a rather delightful game to engage in - "I wonder what..." - when enjoying an evening's happy-hour, solo. A look around displays a handful of occupied tables. Three suited and neck-tied gents, intense in discussion lean into their conversations, sometimes frowning, and then a gentle 'yes' - shake' of the head - a firm affirmation of their proposed business plan. In the far corner, four 20-something couples laugh, poke at each other, animated in their pleasure moments of friendship. A single finely-aged woman brushes past my table, perching herself confidently barside, her motions lively, a certain flair about her. With lively engagement she places her order with the bartender. From an obscure angle, I subtly read her ambience. I will call her Vanessa - carefully coiffed, white-haired classic boufant-headed Vanessa. Intuition tells me she is in town on business, a briefcase at her feet. Her chardonnay arrives. She reaches purposefully and with a gentle grasp, no swirls, she sips at the buttery spirits. Both she and I peruse our shared-wall view. She wears finer dress on this evening than I, but I wonder how 'fine' are her inner thoughts. Have you ever observed the hand movements of a person, alone, waiting barside for their meal or just speculating in their private world? One can learn plenty from silent observation.. Vanessa sits stoically upright on her stool, hands folded as in prayer, resting on her counter. She stares into space, perhaps evaluating her business of the day. I continue my reading and notetaking of the current book of interest in my life, glancing occasionally at Vanessa. One moment she rests her chin on her cupped hands, ring-bling glaring at me. The next moment her arms fold on the counter edge before her, waiting. My velvet Zin slinks over my palate in microns, warming my spirit, assisting my focus on the decisions I must make in the coming week, evaluating the options to come. Vanessa's meal arrives and she delicately cuts, spears and savours her fish and vegetables. No fine food for me this night, only my Zin and a few almonds from my jean pocket (frugal female that I am). Vanessa makes her graceful exit a few minutes after her meal has disappeared. No eye contact has passed between us. The thoughts of our day, the roadways of our lives held captive and inward.

Turmoil and confusion enter us all at one time or another, uninvited. Some souls live in a virtual state of turmoil, perhaps self-imposed by bad decisions, some as a result of no fault of their own. The confusion that is presently occupying my thoughts is the result of my RV accident of a few weeks ago. It would seem that though the damages were what I considered minor, the repairs required add up to a much larger sum of money than imagined. Amazing how that happens! My dear Pedro is almost 13 years old, and therein lies the problem. Insurance companies that declare vehicles a 'total loss' use current vehicle value as a primary indicator. If the percentage of cost of repair is at a certain level in relation to the vehicle value, the result is: a total loss declaration.  Pedro's damages are riding on a thin line for resurrection or death. This is the reason for the pandemonium in my brain. How to approach the new direction of the pilgrimage I am on is the decision that lies before me.  Options for a new vehicle - RV or otherwise - more stationery art-time in specific locations, or more time in California with family all occupy my thoughts. Prayers for the right doors to open flow freely. Walls have a way of turning us in a '180' oh so quickly.

The urban freeways of many a great city now erect great walls at the perimeter of the multi-stripped concrete roadways. Noise pollution has become a popular discussion in city council chambers nationwide. Environmental design engineers are having a hay-day as they strive to out-do each other in their creative ways of planning these massive functional walls.  Some of these walls I have seen on my travels have scored an A+. Esthetics aside, these dividing barriers have created more than a little confusion in many a driver, myself included!  I would surmise that you may have a story or two for sharing as well!

The imaginary walls that I have begun to contemplate this week as a result of my 'accident diddy' have left me feeling like a critter in one of those fancy Halloween hay-bale mazes created at countryside orchard stands for October kid-entertainment. 'How do I get out of this crazy jigsaw of walls that I'm running into!" You've seen a 5-year-old's temper tantrum when told they can't have that cookie? Well, I'm stampin' my feet, folding my arms over my chest, jutting out my chin and sayin' "Really?,...come on now!!!" (We all revert to kid-dom at times, don't we?!) I'll let you know when my tantrum is over.

By the time I'd drained my glass of Zin at T. L Schmit I had a notecard of options before me. Carefully tucking it into my bag for later reference, I floated out, past a few patron tables, feeling lighter. I'd sent my turmoil packing into never-never land - at least for now. Walking purposefully to my car (well, OK, Michelle's car) I pass the line-up of newpaper dispensers. The Wall Street Journal stared at me. I imagined the pandemonium that is a constant on their trading floor, and I breathed a prayer of thankfulness that I am not one of them. I will delight in the relatively peace-filled retired life I now life - though minor turmoil does show up as an appetizer on occasion. By the time desserts arrive, I will be a happy girl. (Note: try spelling 'desserts' backwards! ...  a bit of humor.  The moral of this:   Eat more dessert!!) 

As I finish this blog, listening to my Pandora selections through my earbuds at my local tea-hangout, the words from Yanni's relaxing music is the encouragement I need for today. "Let your arms enfold me, through the dark of night. Let your angels surround me until I see the light." I will cleave to this prayer as I wait for the apparent walls to be removed and the new doors to be opened.

Intothewind,

Naturegirl