tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69508199573320341282024-03-18T13:22:32.518-07:00curb appeal in sleepy hollow Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.comBlogger946125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-143245069572541252024-02-27T11:48:00.000-08:002024-02-27T11:50:40.503-08:00Purpose and Purposelessness <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCzoI5nh5lWDVbcHbYJfVZg3pY4QYJHVEa_x1JFR3RXlynAjDjmhrt98B44QaRLdQTyv9oZ1go8sae8kRdWOIzzQgTgtEQ_t5B5pWZBVNeoTs21keGd41RZ_rJBT5M8AWWGC9NAZ5FJsvq/s1600/Dorothy+w:+Gloved+Hands+1973.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCzoI5nh5lWDVbcHbYJfVZg3pY4QYJHVEa_x1JFR3RXlynAjDjmhrt98B44QaRLdQTyv9oZ1go8sae8kRdWOIzzQgTgtEQ_t5B5pWZBVNeoTs21keGd41RZ_rJBT5M8AWWGC9NAZ5FJsvq/s640/Dorothy+w:+Gloved+Hands+1973.jpg" width="530" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>(please note I wrote this post in 2013 and left it in draft until today. My father took the photo of my gloved hands many years ago at my direction. Thanks Dad!)</i></div>
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I'm trying to overlook how boring most photographs are even as each gleams (or not) in its fashion. There are too many images out there, and if they are not derivative or repetitive then the alternative is that they are often intent on being quirky and odd or descriptive of events extreme to which we bear witness from the security of our insular lives.<br />
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I like looking at author less images- the planets, taken from satellites, or from a microscope, or snapshots that someone threw in a drawer and forgot about for years and years. It's too much sometimes- this global relentless universe of picture making and even poignant images can sometimes bore me to tears. I can't stop wrestling with the endless commodification of life through photography and all that entails.<br />
<br />Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-42579173689695437462023-12-20T10:20:00.000-08:002023-12-27T15:36:43.730-08:00Sometimes I wonder<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1Ws2VHtdzPriRL-3B2Bb_DY1jYexTg7OxhVoosnNoaInFeFn_eY74-sAYMSIzuP4NORWABzzsMc95Uk67iJ93Ipi0QBQJWbdpZe_eJk3nSTDmGwMObLK9LvrZeuM5hZYu-c0vOmXET3RYMOMkr3uF2bxcZ-Yu19Br1k8ucdBEQfFWXw_jr3ui26KHnBz/s1154/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-20%20at%201.10.08%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1154" data-original-width="986" height="570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1Ws2VHtdzPriRL-3B2Bb_DY1jYexTg7OxhVoosnNoaInFeFn_eY74-sAYMSIzuP4NORWABzzsMc95Uk67iJ93Ipi0QBQJWbdpZe_eJk3nSTDmGwMObLK9LvrZeuM5hZYu-c0vOmXET3RYMOMkr3uF2bxcZ-Yu19Br1k8ucdBEQfFWXw_jr3ui26KHnBz/w486-h570/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-20%20at%201.10.08%20PM.png" width="486" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sometimes in checking the visit stats (above is for the past 24 hours to this blog) I'll wonder who is looking or reading or clicking through and given that I do no marketing for this effort, how did they find me? Is it random google searches (Sleepy Hollow, curb appeal...) that have brought these visitors to me? Since I commenced in 2010, the life and travels of content, free of a pay wall in the digital sphere, are constant sources of curiosity and amazement. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>And if you find yourself a visitor and willing to share in comments who you are, where you are from and how you found me I would be delighted. </i></div><p></p>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-58255341551381725562023-09-17T01:44:00.015-07:002023-09-17T01:49:48.428-07:00The Empty Nester is Adjusting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRANL0P1XG2dGr0pX0KPMLxVP4Lzp36yLlamAqHnku3ruxORo3qIwNpexPwh2m-viAFUJ8P9ZsB7JWIuEyvhMeMkhp-mFEPJ5s06UzceCBUIGhzwzbvH9pC_FpY6Oz5DxGZZtzmKv3N7FaU8q9QDeB4MQCHiUmbaTH6LEoCSW6TivmQARvN6G33Ln8wFR0/s509/kayaker%20on%20Hudson.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="360" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRANL0P1XG2dGr0pX0KPMLxVP4Lzp36yLlamAqHnku3ruxORo3qIwNpexPwh2m-viAFUJ8P9ZsB7JWIuEyvhMeMkhp-mFEPJ5s06UzceCBUIGhzwzbvH9pC_FpY6Oz5DxGZZtzmKv3N7FaU8q9QDeB4MQCHiUmbaTH6LEoCSW6TivmQARvN6G33Ln8wFR0/w325-h460/kayaker%20on%20Hudson.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">I'm in my first year living on my own- month 7 to be exact- and the solitude is a big adjustment after the decades of family life. Divorce absolutely rearranges the deck chairs and holidays and family events are different with my ex no longer a part of the picture. With the kids launched, everything is fluid and I'm more susceptible than I care to admit to look back rather than anticipate what lays ahead. </span></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-72637646973749527012023-05-09T09:22:00.000-07:002023-05-09T09:22:16.231-07:0025<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdZ1j1Pkn12RtKkPxSwUOybxybuI1iXwmiOpvkMrVVOySIe8cR7Y9LrScCWvWYBQ9heoeQTPhji91zIrAcnaBx_DR2CyoIYwdMG1vURarXvMvcrKiOGQxbKuLKMiJMSJDYtIPoRP0uxu1ABfPx-dkEHPcbjGiforbWYLQQ7isQNsyBc5VKR3_8cduCw/s2852/Jacob%20and%20Sarah%20in%20Cherry%20Tree%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2852" data-original-width="1908" height="598" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdZ1j1Pkn12RtKkPxSwUOybxybuI1iXwmiOpvkMrVVOySIe8cR7Y9LrScCWvWYBQ9heoeQTPhji91zIrAcnaBx_DR2CyoIYwdMG1vURarXvMvcrKiOGQxbKuLKMiJMSJDYtIPoRP0uxu1ABfPx-dkEHPcbjGiforbWYLQQ7isQNsyBc5VKR3_8cduCw/w400-h598/Jacob%20and%20Sarah%20in%20Cherry%20Tree%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">My youngest turns 25 today and I am in a state of nostalgic time travel. Lucky me. I got to be his mother- to spend those tender years together and watch him grow and thrive while nurturing him the best I could. Nothing in life for me has compared to the journey of this complex relationship we call parenthood. Very grateful for the three young adults who are my kids and ever amazed at how life rushes by no matter how much you long for things to last forever.</span></div><p></p>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-52423240985168341332023-02-10T10:37:00.000-08:002023-02-10T10:37:04.285-08:00A Re-post about Hearts...<p><i>...because it's almost Valentine's Day.</i></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><h2 class="date-header" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="color: #222222; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Friday, April 10, 2015</span></h2><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12.000000953674316px;"><div class="post hentry uncustomized-post-template" itemprop="blogPost" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin: 0px 0px 25px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><a name="1178080214144895710"></a><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">Potato Love (for Jim Dine)</h3><div class="post-header" style="font-size: 10.800000190734863px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1178080214144895710" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 13.199999809265137px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 688.9889526367188px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01lq6lbD5iUk0zONQC35adnWMLF8hh1x_M1s-qjjZNiQ_o6mmyC9-xdnCgN60IWufT7_NmE66g1PAlaVdEF8Y4j1Xp-dYoaMrbXj3rqPo8fZ5ZT_8GDXChi_mGhsQ8ZNJ2uq9YIq-g4I2/s1600/+Potato.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #888888; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01lq6lbD5iUk0zONQC35adnWMLF8hh1x_M1s-qjjZNiQ_o6mmyC9-xdnCgN60IWufT7_NmE66g1PAlaVdEF8Y4j1Xp-dYoaMrbXj3rqPo8fZ5ZT_8GDXChi_mGhsQ8ZNJ2uq9YIq-g4I2/s1600/+Potato.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">How many heart shaped potatoes have crossed your path? I know of exactly one and its uniqueness made me tuck it away so that I could examine its potential as a print making device. It was exciting to embrace the serendipity of polish applied to the surface and then transferred in succession to a white board. Nothing like the thrill of the unknown.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUQLMyPl3ilCvlFvqWHUbzjJDCwS7yeHrNK_rTfqaCGd92XVXIoHD2q17I6QF-rjl49vmBL_oGJcKC5q3dslMAvyYc_juN8MQyOVTO7TddHXgyu3Cu82Qh1Y4m6lebXFBAYVLJX2WERYe8/s1600/A+pair+of+hearts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #888888; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUQLMyPl3ilCvlFvqWHUbzjJDCwS7yeHrNK_rTfqaCGd92XVXIoHD2q17I6QF-rjl49vmBL_oGJcKC5q3dslMAvyYc_juN8MQyOVTO7TddHXgyu3Cu82Qh1Y4m6lebXFBAYVLJX2WERYe8/s1600/A+pair+of+hearts.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTp3gnLcDaTmJxoNZLXaujWtDU0Zvq4X2psGE-U1xQh5k_rWAoL6oj-OM2GpRz9Ug0oIS16TYwCnum-sChL9U1V_U497JtvqIAbgeLtWETw5NBo5QlP3as67l6Zu3DH2CkWWtNuYVtR8d/s1600/nail+polish+heart1025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #888888; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTp3gnLcDaTmJxoNZLXaujWtDU0Zvq4X2psGE-U1xQh5k_rWAoL6oj-OM2GpRz9Ug0oIS16TYwCnum-sChL9U1V_U497JtvqIAbgeLtWETw5NBo5QlP3as67l6Zu3DH2CkWWtNuYVtR8d/s1600/nail+polish+heart1025.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="363" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2LAthGJ7MTxOG5y6zirCoPufL_zS4ADHuVJwSc98C8nscfP0ay96VHPMTDj4tVvY5Vv3-3yW84qC1kel3sQpGbEEl7iuQmED7-iA18ClhohFj2MjahZFGiYyQ5xaueiW0rDavhabq-2N/s1600/Heart+2027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #888888; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2LAthGJ7MTxOG5y6zirCoPufL_zS4ADHuVJwSc98C8nscfP0ay96VHPMTDj4tVvY5Vv3-3yW84qC1kel3sQpGbEEl7iuQmED7-iA18ClhohFj2MjahZFGiYyQ5xaueiW0rDavhabq-2N/s1600/Heart+2027.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="397" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwspURigS2GUxlddDg5oRDhncDoEfEnKiidzw82PRocEtmvuvaqKIExL8zDOUx64uX5jzouPimbcLhYiYhzRpaRQM2vYiwEjp_ZD2rl5ZZFB927xTQdndoqyZmG_AAwwvwhSZlb8qAfBC/s1600/Heart+3028a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #888888; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwspURigS2GUxlddDg5oRDhncDoEfEnKiidzw82PRocEtmvuvaqKIExL8zDOUx64uX5jzouPimbcLhYiYhzRpaRQM2vYiwEjp_ZD2rl5ZZFB927xTQdndoqyZmG_AAwwvwhSZlb8qAfBC/s1600/Heart+3028a.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="368" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><i>(and click <a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1&biw=1280&bih=606&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=k1aIW8GvJ8rs_QaH5av4Dw&q=%22jim+dine+heart+paintings%22&oq=%22jim+dine+heart+paintings%22&gs_l=img.3..0i30k1.13993.17955.0.18375.2.2.0.0.0.0.63.121.2.2.0....0...1c..64.img..0.2.121...0.0.Tpr0U0isPmg" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">here</a> to see some of Jim Dine's iconic heart paintings....)</i><div style="clear: both;"></div></div><div class="post-footer" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; border-bottom-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #666666; font-size: 10.800000190734863px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 20px -2px 0px; padding: 5px 10px;"></div></div></div></div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-61279373840184907152023-01-15T08:15:00.013-08:002023-01-15T14:42:31.518-08:00A Confession (of sorts)<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2c26codT2XOACFKyC4kagjCLKCh4RJ9eeWBy2_RXpIfC-qFdBGd-XfDwldyLh-8E0xI4dKE3PDw0hg61hdnymdpkbb8CwwnNSPVbtO9KDPwspjQ5JmCAx759VPZ-z7SV--CcO8gXkIuNh6uOLwGJ-1rcUAmKg7axXa4ZXU7oK0A1IhRBHFAyfOTMzVA/s3600/PMBC%20Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="3600" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2c26codT2XOACFKyC4kagjCLKCh4RJ9eeWBy2_RXpIfC-qFdBGd-XfDwldyLh-8E0xI4dKE3PDw0hg61hdnymdpkbb8CwwnNSPVbtO9KDPwspjQ5JmCAx759VPZ-z7SV--CcO8gXkIuNh6uOLwGJ-1rcUAmKg7axXa4ZXU7oK0A1IhRBHFAyfOTMzVA/w408-h408/PMBC%20Collage.jpg" width="408" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br /></span></div><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><div>Calling attention to myself is something I do with a fair amount of trepidation. Who am I to share my images, opinions, experiences, feelings? Why should anyone care? Sometimes I wonder if I am some kind of suburban mystic uncovering truths in the grocery aisles or sharing another revery as the sun dips down behind the Hudson. I know I have a fair amount of ability when you put a camera in my hands and I hope I am not boring others to tears as I struggle to find my place as a photographer, artist, and creator in the scheme of things. Anxiety both spurs me on and inhibits me. Best to focus on the work and my must do list in the end.</div></span>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-87257161468757632692023-01-11T12:20:00.004-08:002023-01-11T12:20:57.598-08:00Mulling<div><i>(This was originally written in 2014 and saved in drafts. Wanted to share.)</i></div><div><br /></div>I've been trying to steer clear of tag sales and thrifting but I succumbed to the lure of a few recent sales<br />
(one of which was held at the same house I wrote about <a href="http://curbappealinsleepyhollow.blogspot.com/2013/11/if-these-walls-could-talk.html">here</a>) and $16 later acquired some interesting items.<div><br />
If you don't find things like china interesting, you can't stop here. I had one of those rescue pangs when I looked at the box of <a href="http://www.susiecooper.net" target="_blank">Susie Cooper </a>china (marked $6) and knew I had to bring it home. Add in the 4 Christmas dishes at .25 each and I was once again in the thrall of a small piece of history, far from the place and time when it was manufactured. I also found a great throw made in Norway ($5) and a beat-up copy of <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/197193.The_Family_of_Man" target="_blank">The Family of Man</a> for $1 (no reason to say anything else). Making one last pass of the garage I saw an ottoman and thought it possibly by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_and_Ray_Eames" target="_blank">Eames</a> for which I bargained to $3 from $5 (because it seemed worth trying due to its present condition battered condition ). </div><div><br /></div><div>At these times, the chance to meander and observe the remains, remnants and discards of another's is a uniquely fascinating activity all its own and I'll leave it at that.</div><div><br /></div><div>
<br /></div>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-63046492764334047082022-08-06T05:29:00.019-07:002022-09-10T06:39:30.138-07:00Forever the PrecipiceWhen you are small and fear the monsters that you imagine are waiting under your bed, with luck, there is a loving adult who shines a light on their non-existence and allays your fears so you can sleep. Life propels your forward through childhood to eventual adulthood with the requisite schooling and relationships, responsibilities, challenges and desires- resulting in the perpetual reality of managing uncertainty and risk. Little is more stress inducing than pregnancy and parenthood and babies who grow up to become teenagers whose actions can be unending sources of concern.<div><br /></div><div>Now as the parent of young adults, the unknown floats up perpetually and in the absence of their presence, I have to have faith that our well being is not precarious and that with luck and our better angels, we will survive to see another day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yet the inner turmoil wrought by worry can easily paralyze me. Then I'm forced to accept the laundry list of unknowns, press ahead and appreciate that the abyss while ever present has been averted, at least for now.</div>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-16086124277605497452022-02-09T13:11:00.008-08:002022-02-11T10:32:15.243-08:00Valentine's Day<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rfSNcQTLg-A/S3hwxxKr8DI/AAAAAAAACGs/hJn_Ok7SSA4/s1600-h/valentines+toast.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" height="469" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438220550363934770" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rfSNcQTLg-A/S3hwxxKr8DI/AAAAAAAACGs/hJn_Ok7SSA4/w416-h469/valentines+toast.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 355px;" width="416" /></a>
<div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>(This post dates from 2011- from the "before times" when my ex and I were still married.) </i></div><div><br /></div><div>I have always loved Valentines day. Not the selling of it- but the opportunity to tell the people I care about how much I love them. Woke to the smell of coffee and in the kitchen found my sweet surprise from James. I'm in no mood for more baubles or chocolates- a little gesture of human kindness can go a long way.</div>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-78272434905258870842022-01-10T08:08:00.021-08:002022-01-12T10:12:25.455-08:00Losses<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh60V1-H05C-Z0CixObEquqzZGYISzT8n1r9TEwGz1EDu2nLhop9gj8ZUPlSdJn1BEcS-I1lKCDBH0thUEmnJL_bINyPSId73_dYWyIfNQjzTAQ08zDWVnmAb-cYjg0BaR_JaoRhMtymVswmPF4cMzFZZ_OmlM7PJuqaNr6dPm4av5V8rPpYP4icyqnaw=s2599" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2599" data-original-width="1766" height="533" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh60V1-H05C-Z0CixObEquqzZGYISzT8n1r9TEwGz1EDu2nLhop9gj8ZUPlSdJn1BEcS-I1lKCDBH0thUEmnJL_bINyPSId73_dYWyIfNQjzTAQ08zDWVnmAb-cYjg0BaR_JaoRhMtymVswmPF4cMzFZZ_OmlM7PJuqaNr6dPm4av5V8rPpYP4icyqnaw=w362-h533" width="362" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><div><i>My brother David and I circa 1970</i></div></td></tr></tbody></table><p>There have been some notable losses in the pantheon of entertaining greats recently; Betty White, Bob Saget and Dwayne Hickman. I never watched either of Bob Saget's television shows- Full House and America's Funniest Home Videos. At the time I was enmeshed with small children and didn't need more cultural fare that spoke to the perils, pleasures and inanities of family life. But Dwayne Hickman made a huge impression on this child of the 60's. When he broke the fourth wall in <a href="https://curbappealinsleepyhollow.blogspot.com/2017/08/thalia-menninger-and-me.html">Dobie Gillis </a>and spoke to the camera- <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=dobie+gillis+and+the+thinker&client=safari&sxsrf=AOaemvL0VtEZCrJni1K7GjONbbv9VQpeaQ:1641830671109&tbm=isch&source=iu&ictx=1&fir=WfJP_TFPLoEIwM%252CS3nRadJ4KGphAM%252C_%253B93uwWbLGVQih7M%252Celp8o4QsEMuTHM%252C_%253B2GBPSnkQ_J4TpM%252C9sedroXMd9iYfM%252C_%253B8hyCKrQ4UD-VMM%252CjLvmDes8Be6FZM%252C_%253BKTGE_Wm6fge7cM%252CQzBAg8dBNAvx-M%252C_%253BdWWDxuJ9UDxF4M%252C0wkmWUVpMwCCOM%252C_%253BqH1C-CuDVDeUMM%252Cj_9CmUyiCTqJ_M%252C_%253BtKjGB0gnL40UBM%252C8y3iRb9n621EYM%252C_%253Be9MPFRTTZ5sGjM%252CLcmbhRhIPKOTpM%252C_%253BiQYwHKpx8njgEM%252CVbyTn45QXQoUeM%252C_%253Bf3kVIzfDwWWd_M%252Cm8ktiXHI7vQofM%252C_%253Bpb_BLt_TkYIrwM%252Cj_9CmUyiCTqJ_M%252C_%253Bp21mOBqmrkN0sM%252CoNlMi5FfOI9EgM%252C_%253Bb_ku0Bgs7L60uM%252CM8rVQ0rufwnSbM%252C_%253BVe3NGeXxDPJw9M%252CEAQoU4hiFAqlPM%252C_%253BuolqOmf8I-OVrM%252C-pLgAqAaEgOpiM%252C_&vet=1&usg=AI4_-kQOXv60LfSyJb5GTV5_y3AMGyh6RA&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwilsLrvx6f1AhVQTt8KHWw4DBMQ9QF6BAgTEAE#imgrc=KTGE_Wm6fge7cM" target="_blank">in the presence of Rodin's "The Thinker"</a>, a statue I knew well- I thought the degree of sophistication unparalleled for the wink of the narrator sharing his day to day tribulations of his high school existence.</p><p>In that half hour I witnessed an alternate reality of non-conforming with the understanding that I too could go "off script" if needed. Rest in Peace <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2022/01/09/obituaries/dwayne-hickman-dead.html" target="_blank">Dwayne Hickman</a> and thank you for taking us all inside Dobie's world of adolescent angst that you created with such humor and grace.</p>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-66320832332117528862021-11-25T09:12:00.008-08:002021-12-08T07:50:04.432-08:00Thankfulness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiXGjnFh2jxSEPbS05YxlAm2dLmNLfQpMg-A3HKUNBqffz6UMnAyjn1ybjhinmYSbPoZMwFVjcE8nfISae6bGOFqYE6CaBwGrNhavoM0wFq1MVuneYvvwgdidRElRNPEVkmk_w8fgeNj6cqv6wBvpxUCW2gZnQhbexVchmOCBftHS-uxGDN6U9yKr4UQ=s931" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="750" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiXGjnFh2jxSEPbS05YxlAm2dLmNLfQpMg-A3HKUNBqffz6UMnAyjn1ybjhinmYSbPoZMwFVjcE8nfISae6bGOFqYE6CaBwGrNhavoM0wFq1MVuneYvvwgdidRElRNPEVkmk_w8fgeNj6cqv6wBvpxUCW2gZnQhbexVchmOCBftHS-uxGDN6U9yKr4UQ=w315-h391" width="315" /></a></div><br /><p>I began this personal narrative of mine a little over 11 years ago and <a href="https://curbappealinsleepyhollow.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-promised-myself-i-would-try-and-write.html" target="_blank">reading back</a> on my first years reminds me of earlier days where issues of motherhood occupied me with the daily concerns of raising three kids and keeping the whole enterprise of life rolling along. Now that my offspring are young adults themselves, I am in a different point on the continuum where my energies are best directed at obligations of work and self. Still, I reside in the house where three people were raised and two were born and so these walls team with memories of other days. </p><p><br /></p><p>On this Thanksgiving I feel grateful for the blessing of stability and well being, loved ones, friends and the grace and good fortune of living in this beautiful part of the world. Wishing you peace, health and optimism wherever life finds you today.</p>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-4659551390080128702021-10-11T07:29:00.001-07:002021-10-11T07:29:23.679-07:00(from the archive) Halloween in the Hollow<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Y8CpMHwuhJXSGKXeQEawFul8M2Xc_H02DUM-X31QJade1qpbh1o2lVhZqNnwUpGPMG0WwvMYP7AF3nAaDxo1BlfAUKW-bmIAOWv4LrFrhhAHpP9VNA4U2YJNsM_nwBvZneA09WehUoK4/s2048/Screen+Shot+2021-10-11+at+10.19.50+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="1418" data-original-width="2048" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Y8CpMHwuhJXSGKXeQEawFul8M2Xc_H02DUM-X31QJade1qpbh1o2lVhZqNnwUpGPMG0WwvMYP7AF3nAaDxo1BlfAUKW-bmIAOWv4LrFrhhAHpP9VNA4U2YJNsM_nwBvZneA09WehUoK4/w559-h388/Screen+Shot+2021-10-11+at+10.19.50+AM.png" width="559" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihRJS7Sli8Hwe1YyIb_QvLJ3eMfV5Y6CCscS6ik4HdrUsEOp3J6Hax67BtsPvoxYaFZZ2xEgA9Dh5FCXBeQ5ImFjniDnyT987UPqHZ2smZcENPy4-U4hZUDjr3MZNBxyicIzfX7STB5mdx/s1696/Screen+Shot+2021-10-11+at+10.20.10+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1696" data-original-width="1130" height="491" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihRJS7Sli8Hwe1YyIb_QvLJ3eMfV5Y6CCscS6ik4HdrUsEOp3J6Hax67BtsPvoxYaFZZ2xEgA9Dh5FCXBeQ5ImFjniDnyT987UPqHZ2smZcENPy4-U4hZUDjr3MZNBxyicIzfX7STB5mdx/w327-h491/Screen+Shot+2021-10-11+at+10.20.10+AM.png" width="327" /></a></div><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.199999809265137px;">When you live in a historic town, its cultural legacy is hard to avoid. This is the area where </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Washington_Irving" style="color: #888888; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.199999809265137px; text-decoration: none;">Washington Irving</a><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.199999809265137px;"> made his home called </span><a href="http://www.hudsonvalley.org/historic-sites/washington-irvings-sunnyside" style="color: #888888; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.199999809265137px; text-decoration: none;">Sunnyside</a><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.199999809265137px;"> and his famous story, "</span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Legend_of_Sleepy_Hollow" style="color: #888888; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.199999809265137px; text-decoration: none;">The Legend of Sleepy Hollow</a><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.199999809265137px;">" takes place here. Halloween in Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow is more than an evening of interesting costumes and trick or treaters gathering candy traipsing door to door by the light of carved pumpkins. It is a month long extravaganza of terror inducing hayrides, literary re-enanctments of spooky stories and the spectacles of haunted houses. Yes, it's one big commercial opportunity for local tourism which by October 31st has exhausted the interest of most everyone who lives here. So, when something at all unique is created, it is a treat for me. The members of the Hill and Dale Garden Club of Tarrytown decorated our local Historical Society this year and one of the tombstones was especially poignant and timely. A brief ode of sorts to another legend in a setting meant to inspire.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.199999809265137px;"><i>(I'm reposting this from October 30, 2011 and hope you enjoy!)</i></span></p>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-9735759422912784522021-09-06T12:31:00.024-07:002021-09-06T12:40:02.419-07:00R.I.P. dear Comet<p><i>Yesterday we received word that our family dog, Comet, who lived with my former husband, passed away. In the spirit of sharing something about this singular creature I am reposting something from 2014. Comet lived for 16 years and had an amazing journey here. He will be missed by all who knew him.</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><div class="fauxcolumn-outer fauxcolumn-left-outer" style="bottom: 0px; left: 0px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; top: 0px; width: 0px;"><div class="fauxborder-left" style="background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: no-repeat repeat; height: 3241.03125px; position: relative;"><div class="fauxborder-right" style="background-position: 100% 0%; background-repeat: no-repeat repeat; height: 3241.03125px; position: absolute; right: 0px;"></div><div class="fauxcolumn-inner" style="border-right-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; height: 3241.03125px;"></div></div><div class="cap-bottom" style="background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: repeat no-repeat; height: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="cap-left" style="background-position: 0% 100%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; float: left; height: 0px;"></div><div class="cap-right" style="background-position: 100% 100%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; float: right; height: 0px;"></div></div></div><div class="columns-inner" style="min-height: 0px;"><div class="column-center-outer" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; float: left; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; position: relative; width: 749px;"><div class="column-center-inner" style="padding: 0px 15px;"><div class="main section" id="main" name="Main" style="margin: 0px 15px;"><div class="widget Blog" data-version="1" id="Blog1" style="line-height: 1.4; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="blog-posts hfeed"><div class="date-outer"><h2 class="date-header" style="font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Wednesday, June 11, 2014</span></h2><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry uncustomized-post-template" itemprop="blogPost" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin: 0px 0px 25px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><a name="4438232104244179304"></a><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">Who do you love?</h3><div class="post-header" style="font-size: 10.800000190734863px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4438232104244179304" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 13.199999809265137px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 689px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHqmtPe0q2S1449T__r4P_Wi-3pU19YlBtURaL39LYDtkbaE7mQ4apdIYX3Q6y4YbprOHxAjNWNpk6gjVUpGoa_P6Qj-Fe4Vu6_z7qW8GEEY_-U_1kvefXUAUz90LzXuUgWPlDSbShzNLo/s1600/Comet+at+Skinner%27s+Falls.jpg" style="color: #888888; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHqmtPe0q2S1449T__r4P_Wi-3pU19YlBtURaL39LYDtkbaE7mQ4apdIYX3Q6y4YbprOHxAjNWNpk6gjVUpGoa_P6Qj-Fe4Vu6_z7qW8GEEY_-U_1kvefXUAUz90LzXuUgWPlDSbShzNLo/s1600/Comet+at+Skinner's+Falls.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">I'll admit that among the five human members of my family, good will doesn't necessarily abound 24/7. Harmony does happen, it's not a constant atmosphere of discontent by any means. But there is one member of our household whom everyone adores at all times, even when he misbehaves (well, eats someone's sandwich left in a spot conveniently placed for easy access by....him). </span><br /><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Yes Comet the dog is a reliable source of happiness and companionship- maybe because he's always excited to see whoever walks through the door, is always interested in a belly rub or a scratch behind his ears and finds each of us fascinating, no matter what mundane chore requires our attention. (Okay, he's not really fond of the vacuum cleaner or lawn mower, if truth be told.)</span><br /><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">And parentally speaking, it's also nice to have one household member who doesn't require a cell phone plan! </span><div style="clear: both;"></div></div><div class="post-footer" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; border-bottom-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #666666; font-size: 10.800000190734863px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 20px -2px 0px; padding: 5px 10px;"></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><p><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></p><div class="columns-inner" style="min-height: 0px;"><div class="column-center-outer" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; float: left; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; position: relative; width: 749px;"><div class="column-center-inner" style="padding: 0px 15px;"><div class="main section" id="main" name="Main" style="margin: 0px 15px;"><div class="widget Blog" data-version="1" id="Blog1" style="line-height: 1.4; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="blog-posts hfeed"><div class="date-outer"><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry uncustomized-post-template" itemprop="blogPost" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin: 0px 0px 25px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="post-footer" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; border-bottom-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #666666; font-size: 10.800000190734863px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 20px -2px 0px; padding: 5px 10px;"></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><p><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-60751328039730146412021-08-20T07:30:00.005-07:002021-08-20T07:34:25.926-07:00Not the best day (an entry from the past)Fighting with my teens is exhausting. If I went away it might be better. That's what I think anyhow. As the years progress I find myself more solitary- less engaged- as though the window that was mine to partake is closing. That's probably too harsh. I let things come to end. There were a lot of people I just couldn't be friends with anymore. Not that I didn't like the people- I just didn't like the relationship we had created. It seemed like it hinged on me being pliable, giving, and tolerating. What if you don't want to do that anymore? Someone who is consistently concerned with mostly themselves- how do you fit in? And so if it no longer fits- it had to go. And a lot of people went. Call it my coming of age- albeit a little late in the game. I wasn't even that lonely in my own way in that regard. I couldn't say I didn't feel the loss- I just didn't know how to change the kinds of relationship I was having. I don't want people to drop pointed veiled criticism that way. I don't want to feel that unless I am perfect I am not deserving of love. Maybe that is the crux of the whole matter.<br />
I had a doozy of a fight with my daughter. My nephew stayed longer than we planned. It threw off my whole equilibrium. My nephew is sort of unaware of himself in space- leaves dishes laying around, can never push a chair in to the table- or if he does- then I think it is some kind of display designed to show me he is playing by my rules- but thinks they are silly. A little condescension.<br />
My eldest came home from school and has reverted back to childhood. Resents being asked to help. It's just one big fun time all the way around. I know I will make it through. There might be some bumps, some surprises, some setbacks. The kids are children no longer. In principal I know that is a good thing. In principal, even we can't really sit down to a meal together- is that the worst thing that ever has happened?<br />
<br />
I must be a terrible mother. I'll take all the blame if that's the way it needs to be- I am flawed as a mother and a person.<br />
Do I love my children?<br />
Yes, very much.<br />
Who knows how much that matters in the end.<div><br /></div><div>(This is a post that I left as a draft written during the summer 2015. Negative thinking is clearly one of the talents that I am forced to admit.)</div>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-42205935752546750912021-04-23T14:43:00.013-07:002021-05-16T04:33:39.980-07:00Life (as I know it)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8Tzj503HFfAqo8bbpunMccfK_1RvF0ghpQjmKwyht10J0dDgM_0Y-wAZmamBovyCQi45cGrFyksB6XukouUKWaVZ2OVClJRNUaTurZresTtv8ICsxcSO0fzLOBd9FaB0p9hQVYU8jyEn/s879/Flowering+Dogwood.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="879" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8Tzj503HFfAqo8bbpunMccfK_1RvF0ghpQjmKwyht10J0dDgM_0Y-wAZmamBovyCQi45cGrFyksB6XukouUKWaVZ2OVClJRNUaTurZresTtv8ICsxcSO0fzLOBd9FaB0p9hQVYU8jyEn/w341-h400/Flowering+Dogwood.jpg" width="341" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've been otherwise occupied so sharing my inner thoughts on the platform has fallen by the wayside. Everything requires upkeep and attention and if I am distant and flip it's because events have led me to this wary place. There is a shortage of honesty and my faith in human decency has been sorely tested. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's all grist for the mill and mostly it all makes me laugh when I am done feeling appalled. Mostly.</div><br /><p></p>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-42598205624649232052020-12-31T09:23:00.024-08:002021-02-08T11:33:21.760-08:00With trepidation and hope for the new year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Suz3-FBziTxAWRcqKdty8v0fMXB73RMVuh11ychQPPPcv1Ui0-t5lWDL7aAfScuD7njWZurgBWZqq8EfAsecDbigHupIi0iR-IpEd8IjSRV_iSwZjz5MHwFMpyrznF7eGvamunLub9sF/s658/Happy+New+Year+vintage+me.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="558" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Suz3-FBziTxAWRcqKdty8v0fMXB73RMVuh11ychQPPPcv1Ui0-t5lWDL7aAfScuD7njWZurgBWZqq8EfAsecDbigHupIi0iR-IpEd8IjSRV_iSwZjz5MHwFMpyrznF7eGvamunLub9sF/w314-h371/Happy+New+Year+vintage+me.jpg" width="314" /></a></div><br /><p>2020 is a hard year to put in to words. The pandemic, the orange haired man, Black lives matter and weather events bringing their own mayhem through wind, water and fire- there is no shortage of abject pain and hardship. Living in my suburban bubble at the age of 68 and holding tight to a restricted universe in the hope of not catching Covid-19- life has different quantifiers than before. Are you loved ones Covid-free? Do they possess antibodies or better yet will they be vaccinated sooner rather than later? Will my young adult offspring continue to use good sense and practice social distancing with the requisite face mask and hand washing? Will the economy revive so that many of our fellow Americans- naturalized, native. green carded or living with the ever present fear of deportation- will their well being be restored when their means of employment return? Will a new president with a more humane agenda bring the decency, compassion and global vision so desperately needed? </p><p>It's easy to wake up fretful in the night. I have never felt such anxiety on an ongoing basis. Yet there is much to hope for and in that vein, there is the call to action to stay steadfast, to ignore bullies and their angry followers, to stay clear eyed for my kids so that I may be the rock that they depend on and may I persevere to be my own rock as we forge ahead.</p><p>Wishing you all health, peace, happiness and success in 2021. With that I'll sign off for now.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>and the vintage image of me, I hope, says it all.</i></p>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-76401332730653604222020-09-11T12:11:00.004-07:002020-09-11T12:11:55.093-07:009/11 (repost from September 11th, 2010)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rfSNcQTLg-A/TIv0TLXXKWI/AAAAAAAACh8/ZH1PvAlT_BI/s1600/butterfly.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515770778950773090" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rfSNcQTLg-A/TIv0TLXXKWI/AAAAAAAACh8/ZH1PvAlT_BI/s400/butterfly.jpg" style="height: 400px; width: 350px;" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>It's September 11th. Such an ominous day for one and all. Nine years ago, we witnessed the tragedy and mayhem of the hijacked planes, burning buildings, and loss of life. That day was truly beautiful weather-wise. Much like today with warm temperatures, clear skies and brilliant sun. I remember sitting outside with my youngest, Jacob, watching him play in the garden as the butterflies and bees went about their business. Our little patch of suburban eden was untouched by the terrible events unfolding to the south. Observing all the well-intentioned folks going about their daily routines, I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Fear would be our new companion and worry its constant associate.</p>Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-60522426661871631762020-08-20T03:43:00.002-07:002021-04-20T03:45:54.170-07:00Many Swims (Revisited)Here we are, late August and the light is changing- the end of summer hovers closer and it's bittersweet. I have a love hate relationship with summer and some days I am so drained by heat and humidity that my brain refuses to function much at all. But these crisp August mornings have created the divine opportunity to get up and jump in to the river whenever I can and it's been a sweet respite from the harsh realities of this year.Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-77188831254075406612020-08-02T13:42:00.009-07:002021-04-20T09:25:13.684-07:00Thalia Menninger (and me)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEvNGtSDFu9yWZjyMK9KT-bTU9hDPOd8HR_Ff6owzIR08AvYsAI-XGiwdohYPHMTFKOfabtGTF7Jmv-VUFtzD83sOP6FslryCD-OZH4AmosRVRpHnB0Q-9xCPDvucHuFchcqDu0xiD10P-/s1600/Thalia+Menninger.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="260" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEvNGtSDFu9yWZjyMK9KT-bTU9hDPOd8HR_Ff6owzIR08AvYsAI-XGiwdohYPHMTFKOfabtGTF7Jmv-VUFtzD83sOP6FslryCD-OZH4AmosRVRpHnB0Q-9xCPDvucHuFchcqDu0xiD10P-/s400/Thalia+Menninger.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I was born during the dawn of television and the impact of a lifetime of watching shows has had a profound influence on me. In those early years, before color and decades before multiple channels and on demand, gathering to watch a favorite program was an event that drew myself and my siblings together.<br />
<br />
I wasn't old enough at the time to get the sophistication of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Many_Loves_of_Dobie_Gillis" target="_blank">Dobie Gillis</a>. I knew that Maynard, his ball of string and aversion to work was pretty unique. That Dobie was often plagued with difficulties trying to accomplish any of his life goals. That Zelda always wrinkled her nose when Dobie appeared and a regular kid could be friendly with someone as high born as Chadsworth Obsourne Jr. I relished the prospect of being old enough to be in high school, to speak knowingly around my parents and have cryptic exchanges with my friends and teachers, but the true object of my fascination was Thalia Menninger, brilliantly played by Tuesday Weld.<br />
<br />
Thalia was everything I thought I could never be. She was never tongue tied. She always looked fresh and pretty. And she often appeared to look right through Dobie, because as fate required, Thalia needed to marry well. Money was her particular focus (she was famous for sharing <i>“My father’s sixty years old and has a kidney condition, and my mother
isn’t getting any younger either. I have a sister who’s married to a
loafer, and a brother who shows every sign of turning into a public
charge."</i>)<br />
This was a woman steered by personal responsibility- of a sort. <br />
<br />
My mother and father are no longer among us. My offspring are thriving and finding their way. But the Thalia in me, not obsessed with financial security, but with a desire for a relationship that better fills my needs. Let's just say, I can relate.Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-91046275308976745852020-06-22T08:20:00.002-07:002020-06-22T08:22:19.549-07:00Solstice 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
We are lumbering through the advent of summer along the Hudson. Despite all the trappings of privilege, it's still a hard passage to cobble together well being and the simmering pains and losses of the past can boil over so that the glass appears half empty and frustration absorbs all the oxygen in the air.<br />
<br />
You have to focus on gratitude then. For lack of apparent illness, for the stability of a roof overhead, food to eat and the comfort of friends even as the house harbors more difficult memories than are easy to address. Then you have to hope today and tomorrow afford more chances to do better and put life in to perspective.<br />
<br />
We all bear wounds that resist healing, Some do better with resolution or find a way to forgive themselves or others. As for myself, I am trying to coax more optimism from each moment and wish you the same.Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-125173760190473282020-05-11T07:46:00.001-07:002021-04-20T03:27:56.192-07:00(Brief) Thoughts during this pandemic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8QvdEs6p45wotUCbOGNiwhUYy-jkd4fqCdxzWSU60rnb41tizh7AbsVVtrKKpQ4V7BXMhF3CCGrxq41csL21yjJlycCVvWtRtwywB_Kg8bQxgZOUS8FFzz0ykr1Y6E5v_lReL6g9-BU0H/s1600/Azalea+in+Bloom.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="963" data-original-width="614" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8QvdEs6p45wotUCbOGNiwhUYy-jkd4fqCdxzWSU60rnb41tizh7AbsVVtrKKpQ4V7BXMhF3CCGrxq41csL21yjJlycCVvWtRtwywB_Kg8bQxgZOUS8FFzz0ykr1Y6E5v_lReL6g9-BU0H/s640/Azalea+in+Bloom.jpg" width="408" /></a></div>
<br />
Words fail me. Last fall was a tough interval where I saw my on again off again relationship with former flame go south- well- I'll go with the "wasn't meant to be" line of thinking. And then this insanely horrible pandemic of Covid- 19 descended and things have gone to hell in a hand basket. I thought refraining from sharing (or oversharing) made sense, given how awful the devastation caused by this virus between loss of life and the economy reduced to its shell as we ride this wave of contagion out. There are just no words and only prayers as we plug along in our social isolation, hoping we are doing enough to protect ourselves from ourselves and one another.<br />
<br />
Life pre-Covid shimmers as s recent memory of mobility, socializing and commerce and now it's all virtual from the relative comfort of being bound to the home. There will be a life post-Covid and I'll be grateful for what we didn't lose when life allows a return to old routines and vow to make greater efforts to count my blessings even more than before.Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-11107962989299640612019-10-18T17:16:00.003-07:002019-10-18T17:22:07.229-07:00Sums it Up <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>(my current status)</i></div>
<br />
Overwhelmed and cranky.<br />
Busy and engaged.<br />
Lonely and preoccupied.Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-24735072333959481592019-08-29T08:35:00.000-07:002019-12-03T15:42:51.082-08:00Summer's End<br />
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<br />
I've been silent on this forum and I am short on excuses. Too busy. Instagram. Full time job. Fried. Tired. Everything moves forward. My kids at 26, 23 and 21 are living their best lives or trying to and it brings me a lot of happiness that the setbacks are manageable and mostly good things happen. Hard to ask for more. Time has taken a more precious aspect- things feel fleeting and it's important to savor every moment you can. What remains as I grow older hovers expectantly and I hope for as much as one can.<br />
<br />
The mornings in late August ring with crickets and the hint of autumn bring back memories of my kids drinking in the last of vacation and how anticipation mounts for the return to the classroom and the mix of faces familiar and new. The haircuts. The grumbling. The shopping. The scheduling. Regimentation is back. At their current ages, managing their own affairs and needing mostly financial assistance, I now bear witness to these weeks of transition. I remember my own going off to school, I remember the longing for my own children pre-motherhood, to meet at the bus, and today, I observe the parents pushing carts in Staples, clutching lists, and the add-ons attractively packaged to catch their kid's eye as they roam the aisles. The satisfaction I got from meeting their needs.<br />
<br />
My life has morphed from parent to working woman and it's a transition I embrace because I had no other good options. The past three years has brought tremendous change and as I write it's likely my days in Sleepy Hollow (24 years and counting) are numbered and a different chapter awaits. Two of my children were conceived in this bedroom and the majority of my family life happened in this house. No wonder it's hard to imagine what it would be like to actually leave.<br />
<br />
(and for another take on summer's end click <a href="https://curbappealinsleepyhollow.blogspot.com/2010/09/almost-end.html" target="_blank">here</a>.) <br />
<br />Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-68336810265878816952019-02-10T12:16:00.001-08:002019-12-01T10:38:52.746-08:00Dispatch from the Goodwill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
I did something today of some significance. I bought my new beau (well, he's really an old beau with whom I have reconnected finding ourselves single at the same time, but I digress) a tie when I was thrifting at Goodwill. An Italian silk, which if it is to his liking will enhance his blue eyes when he wears it. So I am crossing in to the realm of shopping for a man who is not my ex-husband (but for whom said ex I did pretty extensive purchasing combined with the wifely concerns of making sure the same ex had respectable undershirts and other whatnot-but I digress again).<br />
<br />
I am very happy about getting to know this old beau better and just spent a wonderful stretch of days visiting him at his home, 400 miles away. Distance is a factor when it comes to being together and I do not know what lays ahead. I hope he likes this tie and wears it knowing that he means a lot to me. I was in a lonely minefield of a marriage for many years and basking in his kindness and affection is something I appreciate deeply.<br />
<br />Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6950819957332034128.post-84187612272794038062018-12-15T11:53:00.001-08:002019-04-02T13:42:38.179-07:00News (of a sort)I'm seeing someone as of late. We connected in early October and as we have a plan to spend New Year's Eve together, it seems I am dipping my toe in to the world of romantic relationships again.<br />
<br />
I thought newborns were terrifying and toddlers exhausting. I thought the days my three offspring each got their driver's license new levels of anxiety were unleashed. That waiting for the acceptance letters to arrive (or not) senior year of high school was a vortex of disquietude. But this, realizing that I might be falling for someone who once upon a time meant the world to me and is somehow back in my life, is the scariest and most exciting thing I've faced in a long time.<br />
<br />
Here's hoping that fate is kind to he and I. And wishing the same for us all.Dorothy Handelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239408809296400921noreply@blogger.com0