I'm Molting

"He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit."

Do you know how I know He is the Lord of Lord and King of Kings? Just reading those words under my breath, I am convicted with thanksgiving and praise, and I cry with gladness for my assurance in Him forever.

Have you ever seen a snake shed it's skin?

Like a worn out crusty sock removed from a sweaty foot...

Or a Cicada leave its entire exoskeleton clinging to a warped wooden dock?

It is one of the most fascinating necessities as it enables the growth process. And it happens quite often..

Shuddering to envision the volume of hair and skin humans shed in a year, I started thinking about sloughing off the old to make room for the new....as our favorite hip hop white boy motivated me with his diddy.

I'm sorry mama, I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to make you cry, but tonight i'm

cleanin' out my closet...

I can't begin to imagine where the clothing purchases I made in the last decade ended up; but between living on three continents and one island over the last twelve years, somehow in my pilgrimage to the fashionista capital of the world, everything I owned when I was 20 and 20 lbs heavier (team mom days) showed up in my limited three feet wide closet.

From the sweat stained white t-'s I was waiting to bleach, to I loved this top in the 80's, skirts missing buttons, and of course the how the hell did I use to dress like an Ann Taylor tight assed Junior Leaguer comments?

I've been dressing the age, my forehead appears to be, for way too long.

So yesterday with the help of my style savvy sweetheart, we began the mildly uncomfortable, way overdue expurgation. Reading somewhere that oxygen and water are important for successful molting, we settled for chocolate and wine and cleansed deeply.

And in the rehabilitation of my old and scaly worn from everyday wear and tear wardrobe, I discovered it wasn't necessarily that I enjoyed emulating suburban school marms or a sorority house sexpot circa 1985, nor that I have no creative concept of fashion (although that could be argued), it was that I was holding on to the friends I've made (my Chuck Taylors since I was 16) and the memories of just how far I've come....

Isn't it about time for a rousing revival??

Setting Up Camp

"Some wandered in desert wastelands, finding no way to a city where they could settle." Psalm 107.4

Me and eight million others on the other hand are thriving.

Riddle me this. If a cabbie is screaming through traffic on a cross town street and suddenly slams on the brakes, throwing me into the floorboards, spilling the entire contents of my bag, and breaking the porcelain coral lamp I was hand delivering, is it his fault?

His reply...negative.

Here's the grand ole' news. The ONE item on my life list which could have conceivably had a cumbersome "what if" proceeding it for the rest of my Earthly duration, has been accomplished. ..

Nope, not pregnant.

But if it is God's Will, by the end of this week, I'll be down one weighty mortgage.

And come spring, Lord Willing, strictly a roaming renter....

And settled, well that's all very relative.

"I tell you every street's a boulevard in old New York
Every street's a highway of your dreams...
Every street's a boulevard in old New York
Streets are paved with happiness in old New York
We're proud you're a part of it
We're happy that you came.
Each sidewalk is a concrete path to fame..In this great metropolis called New York town."

Dean Martin

Do you pitch your tent by instinct or inspiration?

Blue Skies, Fair Winds

" Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself." Matthew 22:37-39

An Eastern European woman sat down next to me on a worn wooden bench waiting for the Rockaway bound L train and made the standard small talk approach... "Beautiful Day, isn't it?" I looked up from my liberally written article in New York Magazine and gave my best Stepford Wife reply. "Why yes, it's simply wonderful fall weather."

Satisfied with my warm response, she prodded. "Let me ask you a question? Could you stand to make more money?"

Here we go...

"Doing what?" I smugly asked..

"Simple, working with people."

"I don't like people." And with that I squeezed in between a healthy herd of them all celebrating quitting time.

Job description still unknown....

Do you ever have those abundantly filled days when you truly love and embrace mankind?

Those days where you honor people, their existence in the world, their family of origin, and recognize that all of us will have a demise and success? Not withstanding, we each have two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth and share the same range of emotions.

Oh the days when you pull way back and hover over this remarkable blue and green Earth, see it for one planet, one people, and decide the conflict that runs ramped amongst us like beings is impossible to fathom or understand.

Like it or not. Same Creator. Same blood. Same fight at life.

Yes, it pains me that most people's counter argument to my faith is that most terror, war, violence, hate, is about whose God reigns. And while this is true, this is man's pride, not God's problem. And we can change that. Don't we know someone who had the idea long before...Imagine all the people living life in peace?

Today, not even the Middle Eastern cabbie yelling in my face that I had no sense could pierce my mood. Yep, it's days like these when the sage request of Rodney King speaks volumes and my tolerance threshold is vast.

Sometimes I don't speak too bright
but yet I know what I'm talking about
Why can't we be friends? WAR

Would you feel the same way if you had Monday off?

Blessed Right Now

“Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth.” Proverbs 27:1

A pair of scuffed red Doc Martens laced up mid calf stand on acorn littered cobblestones, leopard tights cling to her just right round knees. The kiss me scarlet shade of blood lipstick pops in contrast against her black and bright white habit. A burnt Marlboro in one hand and worn Holy Bible in the other. St. Mark's Episcopal Church tower casts a shadow over the park and the live bodies scatter themselves in the historic graveyard with their feet resting on tombstones and their Macs powered on.

I wonder if it is feasible for us to shock our God anymore.

The risky nun pulls back her habit to scratch her scalp and the word ZANY is shaved into her head just above her right temple. She catches my eye and sticks her ring less finger up her nose.

I alter my focus to two teenage girls in acid washed jeans, leather spiked wristbands and flashdance neckline T's meet the pizza delivery guy at the threshold of the cathedral and five or six obese pigeons take flight as the saxophonist squeaks his Avant Garde Jazz. An artist beside me sketches the outline of the stone facade.

I take a moment when I can get it. Close my eyes. And breathe.

Apart from an 11:47 AM wake up call. A Jeremy Piven poached egg and sausage spotting brunch. Unabashed banter with two beautiful girls baring their hearts and living their lives fully. A Magic Hat swallow (yes, I said it and meant it, I drink enough of these to drowned all the grotesquely large rats in New York City). My roller coaster mate grabbing my hand and thanking me for bringing him here. And with my soft and truer than true words, "Thanks for coming" still lingering. I find a half vacant park bench, watch NY move with endless energy, and remember why I leaped in the first place.

No time for the complexities of conversation
No time smiles, no time for knowing
No time for the intricacies of explanation
No time for sharing, even less for showing
If I could I'd slow the whole world down
I'd bring it to it's knees
I'd stop it spinning round
But as it is
I'm climbing up an endless wall
No time at all
No time this time. The Police

You're still young. The Ginkgo's are still green...but for how much longer?

Our Town

"As you enter the home, give it your greeting." Matthew 10:12

"Want a man with a scar on his face and a peg leg
Drives his cab fifteen miles per hour down Broadway
Looks at me with his crooked smile while Gershwin plays
Hits his breaks and points out the freaks on St. Mark`s place
Here we go
Its the rhythm of the rain that falls
Its a cab ride at five a.m.
Manhattan goddess with your Levis and curls
New York City I`m coming home again..." MOE

Thank you Anna.It's 4 AM and I am starting to see a reckless trend of playtime interfering with reflection time...

It's the rain, the Chinatown Karaoke, the wooing of the wet rosso wine from Italians on Mulberry, the old school Ice Cube groove and the Filipino prance in a kind bud filled speakeasy that occupies my mind and keeps me from my home.

No wonder my husband and I are sombering so soundly in a double bed. We're sleep deprived.

It's a full moon and the freaks come out at night. What did you expect?

Auction Block Attitude

"You were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." 1 Corinthians 6:20

Casting Directors are the buyers.

Casting Agencies are the sellers.

Actors are the product.

And me, I'm fresh meat.

After spending 13 hours(union pay hooray) on Nurse Jackie as a hard working, ass kicking, scrub wearing nurse, I may have just been purchased for the right price.

-"I love acting. It is so much more real than life." Oscar Wilde

Do you sell yourself short or sky-high?

If You Can't Beat Em'

"Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."

1 Corinthians 15:8

"Don't let any man into your cab, your home, or your heart, unless he's a friend of labor." Jimmy Hoffa

---These wise words carried by the cold wind from the depths of the East River...

For a southern girl, it is hard to believe I am drinking a cup of hot chocolate in a fleece sweatshirt listening to live Contemporary Folk cuddled on a stoop the first of October.

Here's to my first heavily layered Fall in the northeast...

Have I mentioned that I am emphatically infatuated with this exhilarating prematurely cold town? I Heart NYC is not just a sentiment shared by visitors or transplants, it runs through the veins of all who call it home.

Where else can I run smack into Psycho Killer Talking Head himself David Byrne on his bicycle during my morning commute or run lines with a successful Broadway actor on the long evening trip homeward bound....

I joyfully joined the America Federation for Television and Radio Artists Union today.

Yes, I'm a changed woman.... And soon I will be able to afford to heart NYC that much more.

My grandpa would be so proud. He was the owner of WRBL Television, one of the oldest stations in Columbus, Georgia, and WRBL Radio, a CBS affiliate until his untimely and controversial death in 1977, and he unknowingly passed the entertainment bug along to me, as my honest affinity for it is literally in my blood.

And Who Knew? After enduring nine years in the broadcast world, I could be payed and protected by a talent union.

Not only better dough but more importantly better food.

Now I am free to finally shine as an eccentric conservative correspondent on the Colbert Report and gain a contingency of diehard freak followers as a dramatic damsel in distress on All My Children.

It's my way of leaning a little to the left...and moving up in the world.

Does membership have it's privileges?