A Scream & A Story

Source: istockphoto (Altered)

There was a s-c-r-e-a-m!

No, it wasn't a dream, but yes, I had been sleeping.

Casting it aside as mere everyday drama: an early morning petty disagreement between two people in public, I rolled over and attempted to fall back asleep.

But the screams were now G-u-t-t-u-r-a-l and WAILING!!!

Clearly, they were the cries of some aggrieved female, possibly being assaulted!!!

Alarmed, I leapt out of bed and headed towards the phone to dial 911 while peering out my bedroom window for a crime in progress.

Nothing! I saw no one! My eyes darted across the expanse of parking lot behind our complex... still nothing!

Then, there to my right, in our small patch of a dog park, I spotted a young woman crouched on the ground surrounded by two small canines.

No one else was present... just this woman, her dogs and upon further scrutiny... someone on the other end... of her cell phone!!!

What the???

Whatever was going on, the hysteria continued for quite some time, until she and her pooches were... poof!... gone. Leaving me here: in my apartment, fully awake, somewhat distraught, and like you, clueless as to what the hell just happened.

Sorry. Sorry, to leave you hanging like some french film: full of intrigue but without an ending, because I know, as Americans, we prefer our stories neatly wrapped up like our burgers with french fries to go.

Source: GW University

So, while we'll never know the story behind the scream and wailing: if they were expressions of rage, grief, agony, over something major like a death, a divorce, an unforeseen disaster or something minor, like an overblown reaction to someone forgetting to pick up a half-gallon of ice cream... perhaps we can pretend to know, in order to tie up loose ends.

Me? I'm going with a "Break-up" but one with a happy ending.

I'm imagining the "Screamer's" fiancé on the other end of the phone conversation. You know, the usual... he found someone else and the wedding is off! And after some heavy-duty wailing, off she goes... back to the apartment to shred all his stuff.

But first... she decides to rummage through his coat and pant pockets for clues of infidelity when she discovers several crumpled, lottery tickets and immediately thinks... "LOSER!" but curious, she checks the numbers online and discovers one of the tickets is a "WINNER!"

New clothes? New car? New condo?

Hell yeah! A whole new life!... She's a Millionaire!!!

Or...

Same break-up, same story, but before shredding all her ex-fiancé's stuff, she and her furry companions head off to Starbucks for a dose of consoling sweet treats.

Source: Starbucks.com

There she orders:

A Venti Double Chocolaty Chip Creme Frappuccino

An Everything Bagel with Cream Cheese

And a Double Chocolate Chunk Brownie to go

But while waiting for her 1300+ calorie order to be filled, one of her dogs gets tangled around the ankle of a guy standing in line behind her... a guy who just happens to be tall, dark, and so very handsome. But she notices none of this because she's so intent on untangling the leash wrapped around this man's leg.

When suddenly, their eyes meet.

And as they say in cliché-land

"It was love at first sight."

Enough sentimental sugar... I'm counting on you to come up with something better. You won't have to try hard, anything will be less corny and predictable than the two scenarios presented. Perhaps you're into thrillers: spies and fast cars, or rom-coms: involving magic and potions, or something Sci-Fi: centered on time travel and parallel lives.

Lift my spirits. Surprise me!

Pronounced: say-la-VEE'

French phase meaning: 'That's life'

XOX... Dyan

Time & Time Again

Source: Jane Doe Asylum

Eye'm back... though I don't recall ever leaving. 

I've been sort of... stationary, like a planet having no apparent motion in longitude, while the words, "You're only as good as your last story," once said by journalist Helen Thomas, spin in my head.

"Only as good as your last story."

I sure hope not. My last post: A Mess Done and Dusted, was a disaster, about a disastrous move that left me hollow, and worse, it was written almost three years ago!

I know, I know... excuses, excuses. Well here's another one... the Pandemic.

Like most, I was Here, at home. And, as you well know, because of the shutdown, there weren't any Next(s)... the next place to dine, the next get-together, the next bit of travel. And it was that same-old, same-old, day in, and day out, that left me without much to say, except... "It's been a lost year plus two months, and still counting."

That, and time flies.

End of excuses.

So, what exactly did I do with my time in quarantine, besides: grocery shop, eat, sleep, read, research and play games on my computer, view movies, and binge-watch?

Well, since we were all in this together, for once, I refused to beat myself up over my total lack of motivation, and instead, treated this prolonged confinement and concentration of time as one extremely long Planetary Retrograde.

Source: Moonboard

Specifically, a Mercury retrograde, which in Astrology, refers to a time when Mercury appears to be moving backwards in the sky, an illusion that happens about three to four times a year for a period of three weeks. And during this time, things having to do with communication, transportation and technology seem to go haywire: computers crash, flights are delayed, contracts are misconstrued etc.

It's a time best for reviewing, reorganizing, revisiting unfinished business and projects, rather than starting anew.

Source: Abstract Clock Wallpaper

And so, I Reviewed: Cosmetics.

No, I'm not an influencer. But I do use facial cleansers and moisturizers, just none that I like. So, I've been on my computer reading tons of reviews and researching tons of products, spending so much time online that the ONLY ads that now pop-up... on EVERY site I visit... have to do with skin care!

And like an idiot, I click on every one of them!

And because there may be more beauty products out there than people on this planet, I may be reviewing this subject long after the Pandemic is over.

Source: istockphoto

Then I Revisited: Periodicals.

About 2 years ago, I purchased a huge stack of Art in America magazines for 25 cents apiece from a local library and haven't looked at or touched them since, until now. I've since: read the articles, researched the contemporary artists whose work interested me, and then cut the lovely glossy pages filled with great color into assorted shapes to be rearranged into various compositions to be photographed, or collaged, or both.

The fact that a gazillion of these cut-out shapes still sit on a shelf, still not photographed or collaged, says they're perhaps waiting for some future Mercury retrograde to take place.

Source: Wallpaper Cave

And I Reorganized: Photographs.

This was a tough one. Everything I've ever read about downsizing and what to keep, toss, or donate says, "Save the sentimental stuff for last; it's the hardest to part with." Plus... perusing old photographs makes me sad... so many lives, so few loved ones still living.

But since there might not be a better time, I located and opened the large box of photos that had been kept closed for over 6 years. The old photographs, no longer contained in albums, were a mishmash collection I inherited from my mother and grandmother, a collection in need of major organization. 

After months of sorting, some of the sadness turned into amusement, when I noticed just how many images involved cake!

The celebratory events may have differed, so too the hair styles and clothing, but cake remained constant. There were photos and photos of people: blowing out candles on a cake, cutting cake, handing out cake, and eating cake... cake! cake! cake!

Happy to say... all photos have now been sorted. All that's left to do is choose the ones I wish to keep and which to pass on to my remaining relatives. To be continued... I imagine, when Mercury again starts spinning backwards.

Enough of my life in quarantine. What have you been up to?

Interestingly, back in March of this year, I read an article published in The New York Times titled: 7 Questions 75 Artists 1 Very Bad Year... where 75 artists shared their experiences while quarantined.

Here are 9 of my favorites:

Source: You Are Just A Number

Perfume Genius the musician Mike Hadreas

In the beginning, I was writing a lot. It was all kind of fragments, but it felt like it was starting a new project, and then it just kind of died. I thought: What if I started drawing again, or doing things that were just creative practices for me? But I'd rather just, like, have a snack, you know?

Sean Scully artist

Lately, I have fallen in love with yellow. At the moment, I seem to be using it in every painting. I'm not sure I understand why, though maybe it offers a kind of protection against the cold, or against the sorrows of Covid. One on my new paintings is called "Yellow Yellow." Another is called "Wall Orange" and has blurs of yellow and orange seeping into each other. Yellow is complicated.

Karen Russell novelist

I made a googly-eyed owl out of toilet paper rolls. It was supposed to be a collaboration with my 4-year-old son, but we had artistic differences and he left to be a Ninja Turtle. My baby daughter pulled the wings off, and now the owl looks the way we all feel. We've got our fingers crossed for the Whitney Biennial.

Lexie Smith artist and breadmaker

I killed my goldfish. His name was Feldspar. It's really a metaphorical reckoning for me: In the beginning of quarantine I took aquatic plants from a friend, along with some teeny tiny snails that lived in the water with them, and put it all in my goldfish's tank in an effort to cheer up his living environment. Soon the plants were monstrous and the snails were enormous and plentiful, and my goldfish could no longer swim. Eventually I decided the only ethical choice was to deliver him to his end. Why did I do this to him? He never asked for anything. The whole thing made me question my ability to visualize a better future or nurture anything.

Katori Hall playwright and screenwriter

Ordering a couch during the pandemic. It took four months to arrive, and I had never sat on it, but once I did, it was so uncomfortable, so I had to send it back. Then I ordered another one and had to wait another three months.

Source: Clock Forward

Mike Birbiglia comedian

We took my 5-year-old daughter Oona snow tubing. One time, Oona and I went down the hill together and the snow tube just kept going and going and going, and I realized we were about to slide into this little pond, which is not the best place to bring your snow tube. So my brain went into panic mode, and I pushed my hand against the ground until we stopped moving. Anyway, I saved our lives and until now I'm the only person who knows that. Oona just knows that we were going fast and it was really fun. Which is sort of a metaphor for the entire pandemic with kids - you only tell them what they need to know.

Karen Russell novelist

Thinking I could watch a 1-year-old and a 3-year-old while also participating on Zoom calls with students; I have a bleary memory of watching our baby feeding bread to the houseplants while her brother stood on the kitchen table, feral and naked, and thinking to myself, well, at least I can angle the camera.

Hayley Williams musician

I still don't know how to estimate what the practical amount of groceries for my household should look like. They don't teach you that on tour. Every night in my kitchen is like an episode of "Chopped."

Makaya McCraven musician

I don't know if I'll ever forget washing a bag of Doritos in my sink with Clorox.

The last two, by Hayley and Makaya are so familiar. Michael and I are still grocery shopping two weeks' worth at a time to reduce our Covid exposure. And before items are put into our freezer / refrigerator, everything (except produce) gets wiped down with alcohol.

And once the groceries are jammed into the fridge, we can no longer find anything. Every time we pull something out, it's a surprise! "Oh, look what I found: a container of orange cranberry chicken salad!" And then the disappointment... when we discover it's past its "use by date."

Source: Robin de Blanche

Time to publish this baby... if I can remember how.

Three years is a long time, even when time flies.

Source: Megan Smith

And for a brief flight back in time (1966)

listen to

"Time Has Come Today"

by Willie & Joe, The Chambers Brothers

here.

XOX... Dyan

A "Mess" Done & Dusted

Photo: Jay Mantri

I know it's been quite a while since my last post, but like the polar ice caps that keep melting, I've been having meltdowns of my own.

And unfortunately, there are no long stories short here... ever since a tsunami of misfortunes unleashed itself upon us.

That said, should you choose to read no further, I'll understand, for your problems are probably greater than mine. But if you're willing, I'm able and now ready, to put 'pen to paper' in order to lay this mess to rest and finally move on.

The "mess" a.k.a. "the move," "the double move," or more aptly, the "move from hell," began when we were notified that our lease wouldn't be renewed and that the house we'd been renting for the past 12 years would be sold... the first of the waves in a current of bad news, the first breach in the floodgate swelling with tears.

Photo: Ray Collins

The second incoming tide prompting hysterics hit months later, in mid-January, in the midst of us trying to prepare for an April move with all our stuff pulled apart and strewn about the house trying to decide which things to toss, which to donate or keep... the news that a realtor would be listing and showing the place in exactly 2 weeks!... 30 days earlier than we expected, 30 days earlier than specified in our lease!

And so, we objected... objected to suddenly having to curtail our moving preparations, of having to reorganize our newly created clutter and keep things pristine, while also having to leave the premise, often at a moment's notice every time a realtor, accompanied by an inquisitive neighbor or potential buyer, wished to traipse through our private space filled with our personal possessions.

Yet, our objections went unheeded... much like our objection to the weather at the time that kept pounding our area with one snowstorm after another: 4 Nor'easters in 3 weeks leaving us little choice but to spend countless days and weeks shoveling white stuff from our sidewalks and huge driveway when time could be better spent packing and finding another place to live.

Only, much to our horror, there were no other suitable places: houses or apartments to be found, even with months of extensive searching online and working with realtors!

Photo: Ray Collins

So, with the house now sold and nowhere else for us to go, we were forced to do something we've never done. Settle. We settled on an available unit to rent in a high-rise... once highly sought after in the 1950's, left in disrepair then shutdown in the mid 2000's, and now being rehabbed and leased as luxury apartments with "rehabbed" being the operative word... though not a word ever written or mentioned by management.

But wait, I've managed to get ahead of myself... probably due to the whirlwind of events and monsoon of emotions that soon followed.

I believe Robert Burns said it best in his poem, "To a Mouse"..."The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men gang aft agley."

Known better in English as... "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry."

For as much as we planned this move, much continued to go wrong.

Like the leak that sprung suddenly in our soon-to-be apartment.

And while the leak was fixed promptly, the problem was more extensive than originally thought, requiring a total tear-out of the main sewage pipe from the 12th to 1st floors along with the new fixtures and tiles in all of the bathrooms... delaying the date of our 'move in' from April 15th to the 29th... the same day set for moving out of the house!

Thus, wiping out the 2 weeks we had planned for gradually transitioning out of the house and into the apartment.

Waaaaaaaaaaaah!

Photo: Ray Collins

I wailed. Then wailed some more when next, the date of settlement changed, shortchanging our stay at the house by another few days, when every day mattered, for there was still packing to be done, movers and installers to be rescheduled, and a house in need of some prepping: patching, painting, and a good thorough cleaning.

WAAAH!

And just when those torrential tears subsided, another surge of bad news emerged... stating that repairs at the high-rise were going slower than expected... and not to expect to move in until sometime in May.

MAY???!!!

It was then, in my head, when I heard "The Stones" playing...

"You better stop, look around

Here it comes... here it comes... here it comes... here it comes.

Here comes your nineteenth nervous breakdown."

Photo: Ray Collins

Only with so many breakdowns constantly ebbing and flowing, I was no longer sure of the count or if I could keep going, for what began as a 'single' move now became a "double"... "The double move from hell."

Double... because now everything had to be moved twice!!... once, from the house into storage... then at a later date, moved out of storage and into the apartment.

And Hellish... in part, because we only, just barely, managed to vacate the house on the date required, even though 2 AM was technically the next day.

And if not for friends, Doug, who spent days helping us pack, lift, and cart the contents from an entire house and full basement, and for Lu and Nhi, who volunteered to pack and store some of our valuables during those last frantic hours, we'd still be in the house packing, prepping and desperately trying to move out as the new owners were attempting to move in.

Then... with the house emptied and no apartment to go to, we moved ourselves and some bins filled with essentials, into a motel where we stayed, not days, but weeks!

4 weeks!... waiting for repairs at the high-rise to be readied, while watching the dollars flow from our pockets, for with the double move came double expenses: another truck rental and person to help with the move, the cost of rent and a motel, as well as all meals taken-out or eaten in restaurants, plus a plethora of tips for housekeeping and waitstaff.

WAAAH! WAAAH!

Photo: Ray Collins

If only someone had just tipped us off sooner... before we signed the lease on our "new luxury apartment," which turned out to be neither new nor luxurious except maybe for some new tiles, fixtures, and appliances, and perhaps luxurious to some, in some parts of the complex, like the lobby, pool area, and amenities building that were intentionally built for "show."

The rest... is just old.

But with no other option, we had to take the entire high-rise "as is"... with its blips, chips, cracks, and blobs poorly painted over or hidden by carpets, along with its ancient mechanical systems that should have been gutted and replaced, but weren't.

Sigh.

Which is why, ever since moving into this place 3 months ago, I'm still having meltdowns... meltdowns due mostly to the constant comings and goings of contractors: electricians, roofers, plumbers, painters, drain cleaners, and HVAC guys who are continually called in to remedy huge problems.

And it's these contractors... along with the phone and cable installers, gardeners and trash haulers who are causing most of our problems... as they arrive early, sometimes as early as 6:30 in the morning, and park their vehicles under our bedroom windows when they have designated parking farther away.

And it's the racket these workers make... with their trucks beeping and doors being slammed, their mowers, leaf blowers and jackhammers blasting and dumpsters screeching when hauled, and it's their ladders and equipment that clank and clatter as they're lifted and loaded onto carts with wheels that squeak when dragged along asphalt... that wakes us up startled, forcing us to start our days loooong before we're ready.

And it's not just the contractors, the early hour, or noise driving us crazy, it's also the lights, newly activated and aimed at our building from the car dealership next door, that have turned night into day in our bedroom even with the vertical blinds tightly shut.

And if all this isn't annoying enough, imagine our frustration when the water, power, or AC is suddenly turned off.

It's enough to make one give up, or in my case... simply melt down.

Waah.

Photo: Ray Collins

So it's come down to this... continue to be miserable with all of management's chaos and our own disorder: living out of bins and boxes with 3/4 of our stuff still in storage, or... choose to be happy?

In choosing happiness over misery, I'm reminded of something Theodore Roosevelt once said, "Do what you can, with what you have, where you are."

And despite having to live in a complex with infinite problems, we happen to have a uniquely-configured 2 bedroom apartment with good bones and potential... one that's open and spacious (1400 sq. ft) with parquet floors and walls full of picture windows that flood the place with copious light and free-flowing air.

And on those rare occasions when all is calm and quiet, it's almost possible to forget the "helluva mess" we've been through... a mess that's almost done and soon to be dusted.

Source: Pxhere.com

And in your next quiet moment, here are a few links you might find interesting:

27 tips for home-packing here.

Ice caps breaking down here.

Robert Burn's poem "To a Mouse" here, explained here, and recited here.

A young Rolling Stones performing "19th Nervous Breakdown" here.

More on photographer Ray Collins here and his waves in motion here

If you've read this post sticking it out to the end, thank you!

May the place where you reside

provide you with all the comfort & security you need.

XOX... Dyan

Books, Attraction, & A Day in the World

Have you ever thought about why we're attracted to or gravitate towards some things and not to others? I haven't given it much thought until now as I continue to purge possessions and pare down on books in order to make an April residential move, to who knows where, somewhat lighter and hopefully less stressful than it already is.

Parting with books is hard, but now necessary. My collection is huge and with books being so heavy, the thought of lifting and carting boxes, and boxes, and boxes, and boxes, of them sits heavy with me.

And so, with each book I lift, I must decide which to keep and which to discard and donate.

So far, I've given away 389 books (and still counting) to two local libraries. Books on: Divination (Astrology, Numerology, I Ching, Runes, Luck and Feng Shui) the Arts (Writing and Writers, Artists and Art History, Painting, Photography, Creativity) along with Craft books (Origami and Bookmaking) the Soul, Dreams, Zen and Meditation, Motivational and Inspirational (aka) self-help books, good Fiction and more.

If only I collected stamps instead of publications (sigh), which is like saying, "If only my grandmother had wheels, she'd be a bicycle... an absurd-sounding statement often made by my dad (about wishing) that I'm only beginning to understand now. 

And so, it's with both hands that I'm clutching this book, A Day in the World, initiated by Aday.org when exactly 63,294 amateur and professional photographers from more than 190 countries submitted over 100,000 images with descriptions (1,000 of them included in the book) documenting daily life on one given day, May 15, 2012.

Some might call this a 'coffee table' book (a large picture book that's displayed on a table to peruse and spark conversation, I suppose while relaxing and sipping coffee). I don't know, I don't own such a table.

What I do know is that this book weighs as much as some small tables, registering 6 pounds on my bathroom scale, which is why sadly, this book must go... but not before going through it again and again, once more.

And the more I look through this book, it's odd, or perhaps not so strange, that it's here, with these 6 images, that I stop and pause a bit longer each time.

pp. 88-90 London, UK, 08:45

"In the past 10 years, I have moved house eight times, living in Kabul, in four different flats in New York, briefly in Los Angeles, and finally in London. In each of these places, I always build a memory box corner. A suitcase full of secrets, a time capsule, an alcove, it gives weight and roots to a new place— and for that matter must remain untouched. I never sweep the dust off the shelf. Sometimes I add an object or remove one, but some are central pieces. As an ensemble, they comfort me, express the passage of time, and provide a form of permanence in my vagabond life."

Photo and description: Claudine Boeglin

A vagabond and a warrior, how extraordinary to have the strength and ability to frequently uproot one's self and continually move on.

pp. 80-81 London, UK, 07:57

"Ivy was looking at a Rapunzel sticker book in her room before she left for nursery. Her favorite is a nursery rhyme book. Ivy loves her room and is often found 'relaxing' (her word) with books or children's magazines."

Photo and description: Suzanne Plunkett

Ahhhh... a room of one's own, to be surrounded by the things that we love and intrigue us. How comforting and engaging.

pp. 24-26 Cape Spear, Newfoundland, Canada,  05:45

This is the easternmost point in continental North America.

"We see the first rays of sunlight before anyone else on this coastline. The lighthouse in the foreground is the oldest in Newfoundland, built in 1834 and used until 1995, when the newer lighthouse— whose light is visible in the background— replaced it."

Photo and description: Dave Armstrong

How privileged to have a light that guides you and to receive the very first rays of the day, each and every day, before anyone else in all of North America.

pp. 128-129 Kawasaki, Japan, 10:00

"My girlfriend started losing her connections to the outside world because of depression. She is being treated at a hospital for her illness, trying to confront the trouble inside herself. She is afraid to get a job, because she would have to quit if her condition got worse. Somehow she has found comfort in taking care of this little plant."

Photo and description: Daichi Koda

How grounding, people and objects can be when life becomes fragile.

pp. 386-387, 390 London, UK, 17:53

The skyscrapers of Canary Warf form a new financial district, to the east of the traditional city, in an area that once teemed with dockside activity.

"Looking out of my seventh-floor window, the pattern formed by the strolling office workers suggested an upturn in the market. I'd spent much of the day in meetings and it was almost time to go home, so this was an optimistic end to the day."

Photo and description: John Angless

For a change of perspective there's nothing like an expansive view from above. How uplifting!

p. 442 Chicago, USA, 18:23

Optimo Hats is in downtown Chicago in what was said to be the world's largest office building at the time of its construction in 1893. The Photographer was in the building but looking through the closed shop window to Dearborn St.

"I love this hat shop because it is reminiscent of a different era. The shot turned out to be a happy accident."

Photo and description: Jessica Garrett

How playful the Universe can be through coincidence, happenstance, and synchronicity as this man walking outside appears to be wearing the hat that's shelved inside the building at the instant the photographer snapped her camera.

And why these 6 images out of 1,000?

Apparently, we gravitate towards and are attracted to things that resonate with us, that speak to the I, me, my, of who we are at a given moment.

I believe this moment, of having to relocate, being in a state of flux and uncertainty, chose these images.

And if there's one thing for certain, it's that... everything changes.

I wonder if theses same images or new ones from the lot of 1,000 will make themselves known to me once things here become a bit more fixed and certain.

I'll let you know when I next visit my library and see this book, my book, sitting on one of their shelves.

Also, soon to be shelved for a limited time may be this blog, "Here and Next" as Michael and I undergo our residential move. Posts will follow once we're 'cable connected' and settled.

Till then... I'd love to hear from you on which things hold your attention or what things you choose to collect and why.

May your daily life be

grounded, connected, enriched, and surrounded

by the people and things

you love most in this world.

XOX... Dyan

Winter, Marshmallows, & Pillows

Photo: Dyan Titchnell

"Oh, the weather outside is frightful

But the fire is so delightful

And since we've no place to go

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!"

~"Let it Snow" lyrics by Sammy Cahn

Growing up on Long Island, New York, no adult I knew would dare tempt fate by singing, "Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!" for we had more than our fair share of frightful winter weather without encouraging more.

Sure, the term "Cyclone Bomb" hadn't been coined yet, but the mere mention of a "Blizzard," and one headed our way, was scary enough for it often brought extremely high winds, massive snow accumulations, and power outages that were deadly.

Source: governor.ny.gov

And when a fierce Nor'easter hit, all anyone could do was ride it out as my family did... hunkered down in our basement, huddled together in our hats, coats, and scarves with canned rations that were heated over a Sterno: a small tin of fuel with a flame the size of a candle... hardly a roaring fire and definitely not delightful.

Thankfully, not all our snowstorms were blizzards. The modest ones, that closed schools, businesses, and roads but left power intact, were my favorite for I'd spend hours outdoors, like most kids, building snowmen and having imaginary adventures with real friends.

And when my cheeks got beyond rosy and I could no longer feel my fingers inside my gloves, I'd head indoors and...

Toast marshmallows!... on our electric stove!

Source: Wikipedia

So messy I know, but I'd grab a fork anyway, jab one of those square puffs, and dab it to the red-hot coils on the burner, where I'd watch my marshmallow go from white to soft ochre, seconds before bursting into flames and turning black. Just the way I liked it... burnt on the outside and liquidy on the inside.

Marshmallows, Yum!

Besides being tasty when toasted, they were also fun to eat straight out of the bag... all squishy and cute, like little pillows perfect for small creatures.

But now, as an adult, those squishy marshmallows, like little pillows, remind me that I missed January's White Sales when bedding and linens were deeply discounted and that...

The pillow I'm sleeping on is now dead!

Source: Getty Images

I know this because I read that if you can fold a pillow in half, there's no life left in it and it's time to buy a new one instead.

But why do I need to buy a new pillow when the one I have is only months old? Pillows used to last years!... and came in just feather and foam.

Now the choices are vast: down and down alternatives, poly and memory foam, feather and fiber fill, microbeads, cooling gels, water pillows, shredded latex and lofts: light, fine and lux, all which come in soft, medium, firm and extra firm densities for back, side, or stomach sleepers, but few for people like me who sleep in all three positions... and none, if any, that last.

Source: dallasfeldenkrais.com

And although my pillow didn't have a very long life, it was a comfortable pillow until now. Only now, I can't find this exact pillow anywhere, in a store or online.

But I did locate the manufacturer and sent them an email with images of: the actual pillow with its diamond pattern printed on the fabric, the original plastic bag which held the pillow and included additional information on fiber content and size, the UPC from the store where I purchased the pillow... plus my request for a duplicate pillow and where I can find one.

Source: qcpsigns.com

Rebecca, from customer service responded immediately and said...

"Thank you for the information provided. I have included a link to a pillow that contains the same fiber fill as the one you are in search of... included is a link to a 'Classic Hydrogel Cooling' pillow."

But my pillow is a regular pillow, not one temperature controlled and I relay this to Rebecca who replies with...

"I apologize. I have included two pillows with the same fill you are in search of... one is medium to firm density, the other is firm to extra firm... included is a link to two 'Gusseted' pillows."

Immediately I email Rebecca and remind her again that I have a regular 'king size' pillow and not a gusseted one.

A few days later she replies...

"Hello. After much research, I have found a pillow that does not contain a gusset and has the same fill that you have been in search of... included is a link to a lux-loft, firm density, down alternative pillow sold in 'Standard' and 'Queen' sizes."

Standard? Queen? Hellooooo, are you not listening? I'm looking for King! I keep those last bits to myself and wonder if I'm communicating with an actual human or perhaps Siri or Alexa.

Instead, I thank Rebecca for her effort and let her know that I'll be following her last lead. A lead that is useless, for apparently the pillow I'm looking for is nowhere to be found.

So, it's back to the mall to test out each and every king size pillow. UGH!

But I did get some advice from a magazine: that when shopping in a store for a comfortable pillow, stand with the pillow between your head and a wall.

Like a bed gone vertical... like my brain right now.

Maybe I should make my own pillow... perhaps out of marshmallows, hundreds and hundreds of them hot-glued together... all squishy and cute like a big pillow perfect for large creatures, like me.

I don't know, it's winter... and I think I've lost my mind.

"Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!"

May your Winters be cozy

and your

Pillows be comfy.

XOX... Dyan