On the Street Where You Live

So, it's been a pretty rough week here on Chambers Street. I realize that my blogs can be pretty vague in regards to what is really going on in our lives. Someone asked me recently what my job was- what I did all day from 9-5 to earn a living. I realized then that I never really say what I do for work. Or what Chris does. What goes on in our personal lives.

I realize that I do talk about my issues, everything I see, hear, experience and what I really think about pretty much all of it. But I don't use this blog to say, "I am a receptionist in midtown Manhattan." Not too exciting. BUT- the people, the people are what inspire me. Unfortunately, I forget to let the ones I love most in on the important life changes, adventures and otherwise exciting news that goes on in the Chambers' home. BUT- I'll not share those things here. Still. Sorry. But know, I would tell you anything face-to-face, heart-to-heart. I think you know I would- if you really know me and how honest I am.

BY THE WAY- I have been asked twice now about the previous post and yes, I did write it. No, I've never overdosed or been a divorcee- but I did write it. At first I didn't know whether to be offended or flattered when I was asked, but I took it as a compliment and later found out it was meant as such. A "modern day Psalm" - what a heartfelt, sincere compliment. Y'all are too nice. XO

So the week's been full of "sexy weather" as the Austrian in the office announced to me today. Today I spent my lunch hour in Union Square- yes that's one stop on the express train- but is so much more pleasurable that walking up and down Madison Avenue. Midtown SUCKS--- Bah, it's just where "we all work." So, Union Square. Lunch hour. I bought an apple for 50 cents and a bag of my favorite Martin's Pretzels for $1.00. The sunshine, the fresh herb plants and the man playing an upright bass the jazz trio really made me happy.

As folks gathered around the musicians: tourists, locals, guys with huge cameras and kids on scooters there was a white haired man dancing. The jazz trio played and he moved. He moved like they were playing for him- it was his song, with his own choreographed routine. He reminded me so much of my Grandaddy dancing the jig at our wedding in October 2006. Just doing his thing. Living life, because after-all we are not promised tomorrow.

In my own life I'm realizing some things about myself recently such as: I like metallic colored summer shoes. That most of my jewelry is earthy - with vines or leaves or birds. That I don't drink the last sip of anything. That half and half kicks skim milks butt in coffee. That I will spend ridiculously too much time on my hair- and have been known to do this since I was like eight. That Lesueur English Peas, petite clothing departments and Steinway pianos will always make me think of my Nana. That I like the group Little Big Town. That I had a perfectly wonderful childhood. That I have brand loyalty when it comes to toilet paper, dish soap, laundry detergent, tampons and Chris's deodorant (Old Spice- Fresh Scent- the kind that clicks up- I think it's called Invisible Solid, anyway, I know the packaging.) Anything else- I'll switch it up.

Life on Chambers Street is not always easy, but I don't know any street that it is. I'm sorry if I'm too vague or too in-your-face at times. I was telling a co-worker about my most recent piece that got published and after discussing it for a bit I let him read it. I think he was shocked at how real and open I was. He was says, "Wow that must have been the hardest thing you've ever written." And although it was hard to write, it was not the hardest thing I've ever written.

Alot of writing is hard. And I don't want to just "spill my guts" or use this blog as a sounding board, although I'm sure I walk the line. I remember once while writing and revising and trying to say just the right word or put the syntax or order- the flashbacks and what happened when. And all the sudden it clicked. And I understood another piece of the puzzle. Why it was hard for me to write at all in the first place. What I never got before. How I had disassociated myself with some aspect of it all. What I always missed. And suddenly, tears streaming down my face, I got it.

That's what I hope to evoke in readers. The Ah-Ha! moment. The getting it. The "I've so felt that before" or "I'm glad I'm not the only one" OR something that reminds us all that we are not alone, we are not weird and we've all be there.