My Piece of the Sky by Maggie Scratch

1499464_10202313805982579_863405162_nI can see the sky from my roof.

Another year of seeing the sky.

Another year to look at beautiful things.

Another year to think.

Another year to laugh.

Another year to love.

To be loved.

To be amazed.

To be crazed.

And dazed.

It’s all so precious.

So delicate.

Such a fight!

To get to the good stuff.

To…see the light!

Happy New Year to You!

Happy New Year to me!

Another year of reprieve!

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Christmas Day 2016 by Maggie Scratch

Hopi.jpgThis prophecy hits the nail on the head. Especially, “At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves…” Is it possible to change? Is it possible to be a better person? Kinder? Gentler? Friendlier? TOLERANT? PEACEFUL? GIVING? COMPASSIONATE? PATIENT? FLEXIBLE? The human-being-grow-up list is pretty endless. A friend is doing her new year’s resolutions and one of them is to use less plastic. PLASTICLESS? Ok, why not? Helpful? I’m full of dreams. I wish for changes, deep changes. Not to take things personally is, personally, an excellent beginning.

I Stand Up For Everything Standing Rock Stands For by Maggie Scratch

I’m so low tec, it’s very inconvenient, but I couldn’t help myself, I started a “Community” page in Facebook called Global Support For Standing Rock. Right this minute, I’m sure the fate of Standing Rock, North Dakota is connected to the fate of my granddaughter in Norway where drinking water is still good. I’m digging up all the information I can from my apartment in Barcelona. I’m updating daily, sometimes on a totally OCD track. I need to keep track of water. I love water. I have lived without water. I know what it means to save every drop of water. If I could, I would buy a thousand bottles of Figi. Hey, there’s a good deal on at Amazon! Don’t miss it! Twenty-four 16.9 ounce bottles of Figi for only $34.50!

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Is Caspar Still the Star-Crossed Mystery Man? by Maggie Scratch

It’s not every day I’m in the presence of Caspar. When I am, I don’t skip a beat. I can’t!

His wit! His information!  His jokes! Our ping-pong-cinema-trivia game!

It’s all too fast for me. I don’t even try to write it down. What? Take notes during a conversation with Caspar? Impossible! I don’t want to miss a word! I’m all ears and eyes, what will he say next? What will he write? Horror, comedy, religion, death? Will it be scary  and bloody too?

Caspar The Aristocrat!

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The Butler!

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The Minister of Defence!

 

 

 

 

On the Road in Oslo by Maggie Scratch

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It was after showing dozens and dozens of baby pictures to Gabriela as we ooooed and ahhhhhed our way through my new granddaughter’s amazing features, that she spotted this pic and insisted I post it. So, okay. I love good graffiti, I love Bansky, I’m obsessed with documenting the moment. Sadie and I were walking to Wayne’s Coffee and when I saw that wall I asked her to stop a minute under the hot sunny Norwegian sky. Capture the moment, I thought. I really am here! I’m in Oslo! I’m walking down the road with my daughter and my granddaughter as if it were the most natural thing to do. Everything comes back to me! The heat, my daughter’s shining face, beautiful little Milla tucked into the Angel Pack, the warm love, the motherhood, the daughterhood, grandmotherhood, babyhood, childhood, writerhood, backpackinghood…it’s all there, in this picture. Oslo. I flew there, I lived there, I loved there, I worked there, I slept there, I ate there, I walked there,  I walked in the Norwegian woods with my family, there I was, I was there!

Back in Barcelona Unwinding With The Screamin Demon by Maggie Scratch

 

 

steven-tyler-says-aerosmith-will-go-on-a-farewell-tour-next-year-09.JPGI don’t usually listen to rock. In fact, I love silence, but you never know when lightning will strike. It struck me last night lying on my couch. So I put the headphones in, far in, and went down a hard rocker’s road. It wasn’t hard at all. It was like I always knew this voice, this guy from Boston, my alma mater, my alma, this unbedded fellow beast, this soul mate of words, this Joe Cocker creature, his gray streaks and chiseled face, this reinvented rebel with cause for fame, this father, this son, this singer, this man, this twin at heart. I guess you could sum it all up and say I love  his voice. But it’s more than that. Steven Tyler is my coach. My mentor. My guide. He’s a total inspiration for an old fart grandmother. Here I am, about to look at 32 years of my life, starting with my daughter’s bedroom. I will start with her closet. She is never coming back to use this closet. She has her own closet in Oslo but she still has all these clothes on hangers, shoes stuffed into bags, bags of stuff on the closet floor, all kinds of gauzy skirts that she made or collected,  stuff hanging out of duffle bags, paper bags, bags and bags and bags of her life. I really don’t want to go in there, so I don’t. I look out at the plum tree. Look! The blackbird is back! Can that bird hear the water I splashed into the dish this morning? Can the bird smell that I’ve returned from the north? Something is up! What’s up is that I am now living in the pre-new-now. The new now is what I’m trying to get my mind around. That’s why I’m fascinated by Steven Tyler. That’s why I’m starting with my daughter’s bedroom. The combination of Steven Tyler’s voice screaming at me to get my mind around the fact that something is up  and the act of cleaning out my daughter’s closet is no coincidence.It’s lightning striking twice. It’s reality. I was lying on my couch trying to unwind and Steven Tyler  wound me up.He’s still winding me up. I need this guy to scream at me louder and louder and louder, dream on, dream on, dream on… and finally, as if he were an axe — he makes a dent. Right, I don’t want to miss a thing either.  Two outstanding tee-shirts have walked by me recently. First, Now Or Never. Then,  Get Over It. How does anyone  know what will happen? Freud says: “You know everything.” But, I, for one, need a dent to realize what I already know. I’m about to stare 32 years of my life in the face. At least today I get it. The past is done. Get over it. The new-now is promising. It’s true what Freud said. I know everything. Deep deep down, if I really think about it, I always knew this would happen.  I always dreamed it. It’s all good. I’ll start with the closet.

Working With the Energy Field by Maggie Scratch

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Since I’m on Experiment 3, The Alby Einstein Principle, in the E-Squared book, and it’s all about how my thoughts create my energy and attract like energy to me and whatever I create, I had this thought: I’ll project my shepherd out into the world and direct his energy to the bigger field of energy, namely The Page International Screenwriter’s Awards Competition. By doing this, according to the laws of physics, I can affect the big energy field and draw the energy back to me, or, more importantly, to my story, the screenplay, The Blue Shepherd. The judges will be announcing the quarter-finalists this Friday July 15, and even though the odds in my category, Family Film, are over 500 to 1, well…somebody has to win, so why not my shepherd!

 

 

 

 

A Birdie Over My Shoulder in Barcelona by Maggie Scratch

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Can you find my blackbird? I think it’s a she but her mate comes too. They love water! And I clean their birdbath often, so they thank me by singing and letting me watch them shake their tailfeathers and go into ecstasy. It’s 100° in the shade today! Now that ceramic dish they splash in would be called ‘The Ceramic Dish Miracle’ by Pam Grout, the author of Esquared, a book my friend Caspar sent me about plugging into something called The Field of Potential which happens to be something I already believe in, so I’m doing Experiment One and the deadline for this first principle to present itself is in exactly six minutes. I had 2 signs so far and I’m waiting for the third. The Ceramic Dish Miracle happened one day when I  realized that what I wanted was to find a beautiful ceramic dish that would fit into that plant stand so I could have a birdbath and see if any birds would come. When I went down to the street that day, There It Was. In the street. Sitting on the curb next to the trash container. I swear this is true. I took it upstairs. It fit perfectly on the stand. Do I have a birdie over my shoulder?

 

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Birdbath for the Blackbirds

Free At Last by Maggie Scratch

The New Healing List

or

I-Think-I’m-Healing-My- Ankle-But-I’m-Really-Healing-Me

Goal: To Walk Without Pain

List

Eat Blue Fish

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Clean Plate Clean Slate

Eat Fresh Green Coriander, Turmeric, Carrots, Red Fruit, Papaya

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No Stress

No Streets

Enjoy The Day At Home

Write The Sequel to Maggie Scratch

Smell the Flowers

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Go Slow

Unplug

Take the Pressure Off

Take the Pressure off Your Foot

Enjoy the Simple Things

Cook a Rice Pulaou

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Take Meds

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Do Rehab Exercises

Talk To Your Foot

Be Wise

Take It Easy

Have Fun

Eat Ice-Cream

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Have Faith

Never Take Walking or Talking or Hearing or Seeing or Smelling or Tasting or Feeling

for granted

again.

Ankle Rehab for Beach Lovers by Maggie Scratch

20160627_124455.jpgThese came in the mail (recommended by Eva the Osteopath) and were waiting for me when I got home from the beach. My computer was dying when I was trying to buy them online.

 

wet sandThis is where I was from 9 am to 11 am before the maddening crowd got settled in and obstructed my ankle rehab path. That’s another thing I really trust about Eva, she’s totally homeopathic. “Walk in wet sand,” she told me, “That’s the best therapy.” Could rehab possibly be any sweeter? It took me a while to find the perfect wet sand, but when I found it, I traipsed in it until the tide came up and washed it away.

MFThis was my goal, the MF rock. I made it! There was a pervert guarding his towel, but he stood politely aside so I could document my morning’s work.

My computer’s still alive, amazing, a miracle, bye bye… adios!