BB Webb as BB Webb!

Exploring the Possibilities

And if I were a dog… February 20, 2011

Not just any dog…one of MY dogs.

My boy, Ernie.

I’ve begun posts and abandoned them of late…my groove is shifting as am I. Like plates on the earth, my worlds are overlapping. I can’t seem to get enough sleep and am easily distracted, not off my game, but rather, my ‘game’ is changing. This I know for sure.

I find myself looking for comfort but there is none, so I work on being with what is, remembering that things are always shifting and this space in time is only that. I liken it to the clouds building before a rain, pregnant with dense air and anticipation. Nothing satisfies until the rain comes, the next bit of clarity, the new horizon.

In the meantime I endeavor to curb my impatience. Clarity, like a new day, will come…in time.

My reminder this evening came when walking in a nearby field with my dogs. The skies were gray, nearing dusk. I had to pull myself from my comfortable sofa where sleep lately pulls me like waves into the current. I feel drugged lately with a slight inertia and fog. Off for some exercise before dark. It was Bert, my athletic brown and black pup who reminded me that it’s all in the moment. His every move is joyful, heartful, open, loving… in the moment…not worried about tomorrow, concerned, anxious….just there. He sleeps when he’s tired and given the opportunity, runs and plays.

And then Ernie, my blondie, as he sits, just sits near me, watching, breathing, sitting, then sleep, outside with excitement, back in, a thrill, nothing really but being where he is, not off in the future, fretting over the past.

And so it is. Pretty much!

What great reminders of what is possible if one will but allow it.

BB Webb

 

Bob Banta births BB….Awwww Dad! November 22, 2010

I hadn’t put it together until just this evening, but my father, Bob Banta, (who dubbed me Barbara Suzanne Banta) was a BB as well.

Happy Birthday to my father, Bob Banta. He died some time ago and honestly, I feel a greater bond with him since his death than perhaps when he was of flesh.

Odd thing to say perhaps, but I ‘get’ him a bit more since his passing.

BB and Bob, November 2005

He was not a warm, fuzzy guy, prone instead to temper tantrums and outburst of ‘crazies’. Though part of me now understands him a bit. Actually, MORE than a bit. And I love him dearly. Totally and dearly!

We are all part adult, part child. The child parts show up in the most profound (interesting)? ways….and I’ve found for myself, often embarrassing ways. We all want to FEEL we are so entirely ADULT, but what indeed is that.

But none of us is ‘complete’, I feel on this planet….we are all unfinished specs of humanity doing our best to make our way. Some of us have a savvier intellect, or are more affable, some negotiate good business, others terrific family relations….but we all have ‘work to do’….and to me, that’s what makes life interesting, if not frustrating in moments.

We all have our world view, my Dad clearly had his. We grow up with our ‘rights and wrongs’ our ‘preferences’ so to speak. My Dad was a most rigid sort. He had a box in which he lived and anything outside that was deemed wrong. Imagine me, budding artist, creative soul living in his household!

My Dad found me a bit too LARGE for life, too animated, lively, loud, BIG and certainly dramatic. And, I am. That doesn’t make me wrong, merely ME. Me. Not him. Me. I clearly judged him, his box, his disapproval mostly, sadly. I know better now. You do NOT fight fire with fire. I prefer to ‘fight’ with boundaries and love!

And so as I’ve mellowed in SOME regard, (others not so and perhaps never will or care to), I realize that there are things we must just accept within ourselves, others we can maybe tweak but again, I am reminded of Popeye and his ever popular, ‘I yam what I yam’ declaration.

And so should you be. And if I find I am not fitting into the current choices in my life, I’d best find other digs. My brothers moved to Montana when they found the surrounds and growth within our once rural Pennsylvania, not fitting. They needed a new place to thrive and get what they needed. Certainly traffic in Bozeman is far less hectic than in an ever growing outskirt of the Philadelphia surrounds. I admire their decision making.

I too am outgrowing things in my life and it’s almost comical to watch me ‘burst at the seams’ as I do. My father perhaps never found his groove until later in life. Business was a huge stressor to him and I think the role to which he was thrust at that time in the world and in how he grew up, a mother more concerned with cleanliness that teaching ‘Bobbie’ how to love.

A funny memory is my Grandmother telling us not to sleep out in the backyard as kids as ‘bugs will get into your ears’!

Bob's 2005 BD, our last together with my brothers.

Though far from warm and fuzzy or generous with his compliments, he was a master at the back handed compliment, i.e when reading an article written about me in the local newspaper when I’d brought my play, ‘Through Ruby’s Eyes’ to my hometown….I shared the ups and downs of being a traveling artist. He said to me,

‘in other words, if you can’t stand the heat in the kitchen, get outta of the kitchen!

Bingo Bob! And that was his way of saying, ‘atta girl. You’ve got the right attitude.’ But he was unskilled in using words in that way…in the same way that some people are not effective speaking their truths in person, they need instead to write what they feel, my Dad had his own style for communicating his feelings. Though I’d hardly say he was ever much IN TOUCH with them.

I recently received a mail package of things my brothers procured from my father’s estate. In my bundle was every letter I’d ever written him, (and, effusive I am) along with trinkets I’d made for him as a child. I was moved beyond tears to guffaws of joy AND sadness. I wish we’d known one another better. I wish he’d been open to my brand of communicating and ‘being me’. I wish I’d known how to reach him better to let him know how deeply, deeply loved he was by me and how badly I wanted him to see me and tell me I was his own special girl.

But I know that now….not just because of the found trinkets and letters kept, but I feel his presence in uncanny ways. We speak to one another and honestly, he’s so damn proud of me and I feel that. He edges me along in my business, challenging me to think bigger, to create, to work my magic which he knows I have. His sense of the Universe is so much grander from where he sits now and I am the beneficiary of his vision.

He was a good man with a broken heart and a fractured soul. We’ll meet again no doubt and he’ll feel me and know on NO uncertain terms that he is valued, loved, found capable, smart, loving and special for just being who he is.

I love Bob Banta. With every inch of my fiber and more. Thank you for the gifts I’ve received through having you as my Dad, warts and all that we both have….I may be a similar pain in the ass to others that you were, but I’ve now both scienter and a heart filled with both forgiveness and love and I dare you, dare you dear Dad, to beat that.

Happy Birthday…you’d have been 89 years old today.

Love your DDD. Barbie Sue.

 

Careful ’bout that wink November 4, 2010

Filed under: LIfe,Uncategorized — BB Webb @ 10:15 pm
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Almost Friday. Each week like a bourbon splash or flirty fast wink.

With more fodder for stories. This week a topper!

I’ve written, set aside the words, written some more and ooooh, set it aside.

Though in time, another day, without the need to watch my words so much, I’ll encourage the transparent sparrow that whispers in my ear and the fingers which type out the text.

Or merely store away my ‘drafts’ for another day!

BB Webb

 

The Extolled Virtues of the Bunn September 24, 2010

Filed under: LIfe — BB Webb @ 7:12 am
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I’m speaking Bunn-o-matic this morning.

I enjoy coffee, rich, dark, freshly ground, brewed ‘Joe’, half caffeinated, half not, for no one enjoys BB on high octane….not even she. I heat my Land-o-Lakes non fat half and half, (an oxymoron if I’ve ever experienced one)….half and half of WHAT you wonder…..it’s tasty to me and I’m sadly working out far less than I’d prefer presently and though full blown half and half would be my FIRST choice, we make concessions to maintain some preferred life balances. Well, I do. Sigh.

Damn, that was a mouthful of a sentence.

But my Bunn…..o-matic. They were made for me, I’m sure of it….my preferences, desire at times for QUICK results.

I like rising early if I’ve had enough sleep, though more often that not am not unlike a little kid, afraid I’ll miss something as I tend to one thing or another too late in the evening….writing, laundry, dogs, daydreaming time, a bit of dancing, filming a new project, working with my new green screen, or something innocuous on the television. It’s my time to wander and not focus on anything in particular. I covet that time.

This morning I rose earlier than I thought I might. I abhor alarms and can pretty much avoid using them, my inner radar typically waking me up at the time I intend. I have 3 dogs which if you’ve been reading my blog over the last while, you know they are special, little gift beasties….teaching me all manner of things about love, joy, devotion, loyalty, kindness and with Ernie, reflecting my own insecurities from time to time. But most of all….they know about heart and I love them dearly and they me!

They’re scruffy and don’t get brushed much nor need it. But this morning, they are soon off to be groomed, shaped up, toenails clipped, dipped in flea solution as it seems, those little circus hoppers have come onto the scene, creating all manner of annoying nighttime scratching. But….I digress.

This morning I awoke with only a few scratches heard nearby, but wanted to get up. It was 6:45….usually a tad earlier than I like to rise. I’ve NEVER understood 7am business breakfast meetings, though had one 7:30 call at Carl House this week and an 8am meetings on another day. Not my preference. I hit the ground running most days, but running my fingers over a keyboard, not dressed, make up on, highheels shined and ready for PEOPLE. A perk of my job, this flexibility.

Nevertheless, or the more…..so this morning awoke to my normal routine, dogs at my heels, Ernie nearly knocking me over with his eagerness for his early morning bowl of crunchie doggie bits, jumping like a pogo stick with his excitement, (which when I have a grump going on drives me mad…..where I hold my hand above his head so he’ll ‘please stop’).

Who am I to curtail the joy of this wonder dog?

So this morning, into the kitchen, turn on my NON-Bunn coffee machine, a sprinkle of shrimp flakes for the fish, (also jumping up in the bowl with THEIR excitement of shrimp grub), turn amidst three twirling, jumping hound dogs, I turn off my house alarm system and head toward the back porch, Ernie pushing me all the way, Bert with his characteristic ‘bunny’, one of his dozen or so stuffed animals. He is my gift boy, always present with a ‘bunny’ to share. My boy! Out onto the porch, three noses poking at me to ‘hurry mom, we’re hungry’. Ernie first or I might get run over, Bert next and patient Bonnie, their mama, third. She let’s the bowl sit awhile, long after her two boys have eaten. And should Ernie approach her bowl after he is done, ooooh, we know who the true Alpha is, quiet mommy who can put him in his place with one yelp, despite being half his size.

In I fly followed by three kitties, all of whom have spent the night lounging under last night’s full and beautiful moon, enjoying the soft doggie cushions or porch furniture, hunting a bit maybe. In they fly, ready for their crunchy grub. Off I move to the laundry where there large bowl sits, ready to be filled. Scoop, scoop, all is well. Throw some wash from the washer to the dryer. (They like the vibration as they nibble atop this machine).

Back to the kitchen I move, rather quickly for this early hour. The coffee pot has barely spotted a drop of coffee. It is SLOW…..and I am not one to wait for my Joe….not sure how this (frankly expensive machine) became so SLOOOOW….but it is. I consider moving back to my computer….eager to get the day going.

But there are other things which need tending to. So, I make my lunch….my current theme, cottage cheese, mixed with yogurt and a slew of nuts and cut up some strawberries, dismayed that I’d let so many grow mold on them…..I sweeten the whole thing with stevia, stir it wildly and put it back in the fridge.

Coffee only 1/2 an inch high in the pot. Good heavens. The kitties all reemerge, ready to go outside again. My weekends at home are often spent opening and closing doors, the in and out animal game. They have me so well trained!

So, I empty the dishwasher, which I love to avoid. All these terrific modern conveniences…..I feel quite stupid complaining. But, bowls here, glasses there, coffee mugs stacked. I peer at the pot and hear myself saying outloud, ‘Damn this pot is SLOW.’

I pour my morning keifer drink to take my vitamins….slurp, slurp….wipe the counter, organize the fridge, throw out a few foldy, wrinkled pieces of neglected fruit, (how I hate waste), recycle a container or two. Drip, slooow drip, drip. I pick out a favored coffee mug, the new one, a find from Goodwill, with the curved edges, pottery feel, the perfect size, lip, texture, all important for my first early morning sipping experience. The second cup holds not the same allure, but the first, perhaps like a first kiss, always a bit different from whatever you’d experienced before, the sensation, warm, the way it goes down.

Finally, I can’t stand it. I pour a cup, thick as tar, dark as ink. I’d already heated my feaux half and half and upon sipping, DAMN, I can feel the hair sproinging from my chest it’s so strong. I like strong but this is TOO strong. I flip my filtered water spout and add some water to this lazy, non caring brew…..put it in the microwave, (which feels like blasphemy) and wait 19 seconds to heat it to my desired temp.

Out it comes, sip, ahhhh, a bit strong, but Houston, we have touchdown….liftoff!

Off to my bedroom. I sit with my computer, ponder my upcoming day, cup of brew by my side, all livestock tended and me, having a moment…..for me. A favored time, still a bit dark outside.

Life is good and ‘slow’, for this woman, is not bad.

Though….though she considers…..I will be acquiring soon, a Bunn-o-matic, (the other one lost in a divorce)…..I will find one, on sale too. Brew in 3 minutes flat. Rich, tasty, perfect every time and Quickdraw McDraw FAST. And if I must succumb to buying one overly priced unit NEW, it will no doubt, be WORTH EVERY DAD GUM, quick drip PENNY!!

BB Webb

 

Time Rallies Trust August 5, 2010

Filed under: LIfe — BB Webb @ 11:54 am
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I’ve not been my writing self of late….and, my body is not my own…..someone has inhabited it I fear, temporarily for sure, but it does not feel my own. I move differently than I recall, I feel leaden heavy, as though someone poured cement down my throat while I slept and blew up my skin like a balloon….my 2Lu friend said maybe it was like an oil spill happening inside me….expanding the perimeters and creating a heaviness around my wings. Yes!

And this week, someone has been leaning hard their imprint on my body canvas and I’m not liking it….not a bit. I hide it, these uncomfortable feelings, because honestly, who cares. I hide them rather well, though at home I express openly to my 6 fur clad clan….they like to hear all the details and listen with rapt attention. How kind of them!

I wish to be without a body perhaps not soon, but one day. I’d fancy being a bit more like Tinkerbell, flitting here and there with my energy flow and wand…..nimble and quick, at ease with my breathing even and sure, not this labored version that makes me feel weak and so not me.

But our ‘me’ is as varied as the cells in our body, some are distorted, others good at swimming and still others content to puff up and ruin the orderly lineup.

This teaming life. It’s not suiting me this day.

Though every now and again, even on the most ill fit day or moment, a surprise awaits…..there is always a surprise and if you’ve had enough harsh upsets, no doubt, considering the law of averages, you, we, are due for one that might instead delight us….

And just as our bodies change from one day or year to the next, I must say, in that I am a bit spoiled and not as patient with each moment, I look forward to the next uplifting gift…..as I find I am most deserving of one.

And I’m sure, oh, very sure, you are too.

I’m considering how fun snow in August in Georgia might feel. Or, a suddenly fall day to just shake things up a bit.

Most ANYthing is possible.

BB Webb

 

We’ve a little rule at my house…. June 20, 2010

Filed under: LIfe — BB Webb @ 10:41 am
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everyone must do their best to get along.

Ernie and Lester...gettin along

BB Webb

 

What is Enough? Confluence baby, confluence. April 17, 2010

I’m seeing a pattern in things of late.

One experience shining a light on another, then another and another….

…which in turn shines a light on what I prefer, what I’ll tolerate (or not) and, always, I’m finding, my desire to have events and people in my life fit somehow with me.

But I’m finding they often don’t.


I’m standing my ground in a new way, sort of….I have some work to do for sure. And well, it has me frankly up at all hours, unable to sleep. I crave peace and can’t seem to grab hold of it for long intervals.

I’m finding that if something feels WRONG, I’m probably right. Truly.

I’m on the edge of my patience seat with a certain business relationship with frankly, a lovely person. I’m not getting what I want in terms of communication or style with a vendor with whom I’ve entered an agreement. When I hear defensiveness I roll my eyes, sigh and wonder why I’m hanging on as though the situation will improve. Our styles of working are diametrically opposed as are our ways of communicating. No right or wrong here I suppose, just different.

As my retainer seeps away each month and I come up again and again at impasse after impasse, I wonder, what am I doing???? I recognize this place as I’ve been here often in my past. Pollyanna wanting to make things right.

But I’m not happy, don’t feel the synergy I need nor the connection, but merely am working my logical brain around in a flury to create a fit. I’ll wager to say I realize in time that it’s not!

I’m far from stupid, merely stubborn as hell in often the wrong places.

….and I’ve sung that song this last year til I became hoarse, blue in the face, the cows came home and the fat lady sang.

I need to trust that voice that tells me to have the nerve to just say ‘Not a fit. Best wishes!’ and move on. I’m not there yet.

Clearly I’m not there yet in THIS area of my life….but I’m fast approaching. I guess the pain just isn’t great enough yet, but it’s getting there.

Then in another breath of today, I had lunch with my long time friend and attorney today. We’ve known one another probably eleven years now. He’s as true-blue, caring and sincere as anyone I know. He’s had my back in all but one incident with all our dealings, and with that one incident, the dialogue we had around our mutual disappointment, sharing our thoughts, feelings and humanness brought us closer together as friends, not further apart one bit. I appreciated his vulnerability and that he too was far from perfect. I admired him all the more.

He has been a steadfast champion and supporter of me in a way I’ve not known much with men in my life. He builds me up, shares his concern when he has it and is always there with a kind word, a rally of support for whatever I’m doing and a twinkle in his eye. He’s a true country gentleman and a person I’m happy to call friend.

And today, just today, while the health inspector surveyed my kitchen and surrounds, as my new chef was busy chopping chives, the rest of my team, selling, handling finance, my operations person ‘operating’ here and there….

my attorney friend and I sat in the middle of my ballroom at Carl House and ate a spinach salad with salmon, drank a small glass of wine in celebration of having made it through another year, month, week, day relatively unscathed with our good attitudes in tact, a sense of appreciation for lessons learned and the knowledge that we have a true friend in one another.

Priceless. Confluence baby, confluence.

Every thing is always coming or going, coming or going.

I leave the window open for the new, better, different and same old to enter as it will, but only in a spirit of love and support as that is where I prefer to tarry and what I intend to mirror to others.

And today had it’s measure of up and down, yin and yang, delighted and pissed and both energized and rung out.

And so it is….life that is….

BB Webb