I cannot believe that I have not set foot on this page in aeons! I mean, alarms go off in my head almost every thirty seconds, generated by some sight, sound, smell or taste... and that's when my imagination goes into OVERdrive/super-daydream mode... remembering all the experiences I should have memorialized in print...

Like when I was standing on the banks of the James River this past weekend as I explored the early 1600's fort at the Jamestown Settlement thinking about those who spent their days collecting sand to be mixed and coaxed into beautiful vessels by the glassblowers who labored over the sun-hot stoves...

Or when I was navigating the pretzel-like twists and turns of Perkins Memorial Drive, sun rays held back off of my head by the shade of the trees... then sitting atop Bear Mountain's 1,284 feet as the Hudson... while at its edge, known as wide and deep... just looked like a wading pool from my view.

Then there was that late night in Miami, almost midnight, when...fresh off the plane from NJ... we stood in line with my daddy in front of "World Famous Mr. Boneless Ribs" and his portable pit with LTD pulsing through the towering DJ speakers as smoke, scented with charred wood and pork fat, floated us up to where he took our order and rewarded our patience with a mound of BBQ that melted on my tongue, placed on a cushion of a white bread slice (which I surely used to "sop up" the sweet smoky elixir...or sauce, as commoners would call it).

I laugh when I remember the time when my sister-friend and I made an early morning (read: before sunrise) pilgrimage through the tubes of the Hudson and stood on the dim platforms of the subway station which, thanks to the brew of summer heat, rain run-off and assorted garbage and pest remnants, put out a smell for which it was too early to digest... all to arrive at the just in time to be at the front of the pack when Smokey Robinson stepped on the "Today" summer concert stage and sent his honey-twinged tones over the dancing flutes of "Tears of a Clown."

I cannot lie... I need to write...everyday... In fact, in my imagination, I think I AM some kind of lost journalist who had not found her way... creativity stifled by "the man" and his corporate slammer (Google Dilbert July 8, 1993)... (OK, humor me!) Although my check stub, schedule and parking tag say different, I've decided to take the time to answer the call of my imagination and manage to peck out a few words here and there to hush the sirens... but for now... I'd better get back to my cell, um, I mean, day job!

PS - mom, if you are reading this... I am OK... and yes, I am thankful to God for my good job... (smile)