The Tell-All Story behind Last Week's Facebook Rant

Ha!  Tricked you into reading...

Although I know you might enjoy it, I am not going to write a tell-all about the very minor episode that unfolded over the past week.  And yes, my attitude towards it is that it was very minor...  very very very minor.  It was brought on by someone else's drama, not mine. And it would just give more power to the other person.

In fact, I am only going to reiterate "Thanks to those who congratulated me. Many hugs.  And thanks to all who posted kind words about the whole craziness."

I would like to say one thing. I was mad. Pushed to the limit and sent over the edge. Not the kind of mad where you're upset that you didn't get any of Joan's famous cheese ball at work or mad at Rover for chewing up your favorite shoes.  I'm talking about mad. I wanted to punch something. Like take a whack at Ouiser Boudreaux.  I might have been able to uproot a mighty sequoia given the chance or at least flip over a Mercedes.

Me getting angry is so infrequent that I'm surprised that the National Weather Service didn't picked it up as a sudden 90 degree heat wave across Central Indiana in mid-December. It just doesn't happen.

My father was the type to fly off the handle and the whole episode was over in flash.  My mother, on the other hand, had that type of anger you should fear the most.  You know that "look." The one that mother's give.  The one that says "no need to worry about what your father's going to say."  It's more like "you need to worry about right now and what I'm going to do to you."  That look that has made grown men cry.

I have my mother's kind of anger.  Once you're there, and it takes a lot to get there, you had better get the hell out of my way.  But not before I let it ferment and fester.  Or if you like, let it simmer and put it in the fridge over night, allowing the flavors to blossom, then reheat it and see how they dance across your palate.  Which is exactly what I would do... Push you down and clog my way across your face.

But for the most part, I chose not to get angry anymore.  There's no need.  I always stop and ask myself "Will this matter in five years?"  If so, then I might throw a temper tantrum, but even then I don't feel like dropping to the floor and banging my fists on the carpet.  It's just not good for my back.

I prefer to think that I am like a fine Chardonnay or Pinot Noir.  The more I age, the better I get. Pop open my cork and see what you get. Tasty. Bubbly. Flamboyant. Velvety. Yes, those are all words used to describe fine wines.  Don't believe me, just Goggle it.  Look up "words to describe fine wines."  Go ahead...  Search...  Go on...

HEY!  I said "Search..."  Or else!

CSM

The Year 2016 in Review... Or Thank God This Year's Over

Well, the year 2016 is almost over and once again, I failed to accomplish the following...

Lose 50 pounds
Win the Hoosier lottery
Find a boyfriend and build a long-lasting relationship
Make a New York style cheesecake
Go to Disneyland
Take a long weekend to New York City
Finish writing another book
Make out with or at least kiss Darren Criss
Meet Julie Andrews
Make an Academy Award winning movie
Fly to San Francisco
Win an Academy Award
Win a Pulitzer Prize
Win an all-expense paid trip to Paris for two
Play strip Candyland or strip Monopoly
Learn to fly a Sopwith camel
Buy a giraffe
Travel about the countryside in yellow-painted gypsy cart with a horse named Cyril
Read Vanna White's biography
Write a love letter to the boyfriend that I didn't find
Do the jig-saw puzzle of Florida sitting on the shelf in the bedroom closet
Find a lost stash of gold coins
Travel to Mars
Meet Joanne Worley of Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In
Punch anyone in the face
Try Absinthe
Get anything stuck in the vacuum cleaner hose
Establish contact with the Great Beyond
Memorize Edgar Allen Poe's poem The Raven
Dig up a dead body and put a normal brain in it and bring it to life in my castle laboratory
Learn to play the imaginary piano that I only bought in my head
Get snowed in at an all-male adult film convention
Discover the long lost city of Atlantis
Get stalked, as far as I know I didn't
Throw up after seeing a vagina... maybe gagged a little
Make promises that I didn't intend to keep

That's just a few of the things I didn't get done...  But I did get a lot of other things done...  And made some great strides... And I laughed and cried and hoped and prayed...  Maybe I'll get some of these done in 2017.

CSM

A View of the Town, Episode 10: The Strange Tale of Amaryllis Stemm

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we turn now to Dr. Fletcher and Amaryllis Stemm's Arrival in Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by corn.  Dent, flint, pod and pop, flour, and sweet. It's a-maizing. Corn.

And now on with The Strange Tale of Amaryllis Stemm.

From previous episodes, I've told you about a "witch" named Amaryllis Stemm who came to Misty Cove back in 1882.  When I first arrived, one of the first stories I heard about was Stemm and her disappearance into the woods north of town.  There's been a lot of mystery around the woods over the years.  People seeing lights, hearing chanting, and even a couple of the town's children disappearing for days.  I am going to recount for you one story from one of the town's old citizens -- Amos Wolf.

Amos recalled the day she walked into town and camped near the north edge of town.  She was strange and mysterious just like a gypsy fortune teller.  After a few days, she hired some townsmen to fell trees and build a cabin deep in the woods.  They chopped the trees downs, but never built the cabin.  It simply appeared over night.  Folks could barely see it, nestled between the fir trees. Smoke curled up from the top of the squat smokestack. Sometimes the cabin was hard to see, like it wasn't there at all.  At night, folks could see lights, floating balls of light really, moving about, weaving in and out of the trees.

But back to Amos, it was a Sunday morning, right before church, and Amos was out walking to the small Lutheran church he attended regularly, not far from the her camp.  As he passed, Stemm watched him, standing next to her tent.  She was in the middle of packing up.

"Good morning," said Amos, trying to be friendly.

As he recalled, her voice was sweet and silky. "Good morning."

"Are you leaving Misty Cove?"  Amos slowed down.

"I'm moving.  Into my cabin. There in the woods."

"I see the chimney peek." Amos picked up speed again and turned away, but he decided to stop and ask her if she would be coming into town and maybe she would like to come to church.  When he turned, she and the camp was gone.  Completely vanished.

"Hello?  Where are you?"  He yelled towards the cabin. "You were very quick to take down your camp."  But there was no reply.

Amos turned to walk on, but stopped again.  This time to listen.  From somewhere in the woods, maybe near the cabin, maybe from the sea, or maybe from the earth.  There was chanting.  He could hear it all around him.  He couldn't quite make out the words, but he swore it sounds like Latin.  Latin phrases that seems to swirl all around.  Then the faded and...  BOOM!  There was a flash of light from near the chimney of the witch's cabin.  The leaves in the trees rustled.  Birds flew in all directions.  And a ball of turquoise light popped for just a moment and faded just as quick as it came.

Amos didn't wait.  He ran to the church, and in moments, the whole congregation stood at the edge of the woods.  No one could see the cabin now. It was gone.  Searchers scavenged for a few days but found nothing.  No logs, no stones, not even a foundation on which could have stood.  Amaryllis Stemm and her cabin simply disappeared.

It wasn't until later someone thought they spotted it.  That was just a few weeks before Halloween when one of the town's children vanished, only to appear a few hours later.  Otis Major later disappeared for a few days.

Many people have seen the cabin appear and disappear.  I know I have, never believing at first.

And that's the strange tale of Amaryllis Stemm.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us another tale from Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by corn.  Roast it, grill it, boil it, pop it, eat it on the cob.  Corn. Savor its sweetness.

Join us again soon for another episode of A View of the Town.

CSM

Change, Please! Or... Could I Get Four Quarters for the Meter?

I'm going through the change again.  I've longed for it.  It is in my reach.  Very soon, I will make a major change.  Moving from one job to another.  I cannot tell you how long I have waited. Sometimes I thought it would never come.  And here it is.  But I'm not here to talk about my career move.  The real change that I want to write about is the change in my attitude towards everything else.

A few months ago, I made a decision to focus on three goals.  If it didn't pertain to those three goals, it would be swept off to the side.  (Except for housework. I insist on cleanliness.)  Those three goals have set the tone for the adjustment of my attitude towards life.  And it has changed me.  I am not the same person I was at the beginning of the year.  Once I set those three goals in place, focused my attention on them, all else became irrelevant.

I focused on only them. That was the first key.

I have to stop and point something out.  These are long term goals. You know like losing weight.  I set out to lose fifty pounds. Which I did... over and over, but once I crunched the numbers it was well over fifty pounds.  Somehow the scales don't seem to care and remind me I still weigh the same.

Back to the keys of this change.  Next, I pushed away the negative.  That was the second key.  I pushed away consistently annoying people.  I packed up unwanted stuff in my apartment and got rid of it.  Stuff can bring about negativity.  Think about moving it all.  The packing, hauling, unpacking, dust, bugs, the money you'll find that you thought you lost, but fell between the stacks and got covered up. I also got rid of negative thoughts.  Don't get mad, be glad. I was glad that I found that $50 that I stashed away... and then hid elsewhere and now I can't find it.  That is a little negative, but then I think about how I'll feel when I find it again.  And voila, I'm happy.

And the next key was I downed a couple of bottles of Sangria.  That was just for the hell of it.

And the final key, I committed to my three goals. If I truly want to meet these goals, I would find ways to make it happen. (Sometimes through trial and error.) Make sure, however, that they are what you really want.  This is where your spiritual journeys, meditations, vision boards, peyote-induced hallucinations, Tarot card reading, dream interpretations, self-explorations using yam-based lubes and whatever else come into play.

You HAVE to know what your heart truly desires and not be lured by false dreams, tainted hopes, and overblown expectations.  Know the difference between love and lust.  And be prepared to change when you realize they are not the goals you really want.

Find your connections by getting lost. Not literally lost... like in the woods or in some abandoned amusement park where a serial killer lives.  Think along the lines of... say... going to a nudist camp. Buck-ass naked with a bunch of other naked people. Questioning whether you can do it.  Letting it all hang out.  Flapping in the breeze.  Worrying that really was poison ivy.  Are you saying as you read this "Hell no! I'm not letting it all hang out."  Well, think again.

The point isn't to get physically naked (unless that is something you want to try); it's to do something that you've never done before.  Break away from the rut.  Yes, it's hard to get out of that rut.  Yes, you're used to it.  And damn, that was poison ivy and you want to itch that spot but don't because it will spread further...

Aha!  To spread further.  Once you've got the confidence and you do it, you may never view yourself the same way again.  And you confidence spreads further and you begin to see yourself as someone different. Does that mean you have to keep going to that nudist camp.  No.  You simply set out to challenge yourself and found that it didn't change you.  Other than your new found fear of poison ivy in places you can't see.

And please, believe me, I know. I was there and I challenged myself to do things I have never done before.  Some I have done again.  Some I will never, ever ever, do again.  But I tried. And have some left over calamine lotion in case there's more poison ivy.

The three keys to my success intersected perfectly, because I wanted them to. What is that they call it when everything intersects and it aligns beautifully?

Oh yes, The Bermuda Triangle.

CSM

Who is the real Christopher Marshall? Or... How the Hell Should I Know?

I was asked about my recent post titled "Dating... Or How to Spot a Jerk 10 Feet Away."  It's the previous post, just scroll down, you'll see it.  The reader wanted to know if it was all true and did all that really happen to me. (This person knows me too well.)  And then they went on to say "You need to show us the real you."  Well, okay.  Since one person asked, everybody gets to read.

First... yes, I'm going to digress... Erma Bombeck once said that while Jane Goodall was studying gorillas in the wild and working on her tan, she (Erma) was studying the lives of four homo sapiens in Ohio.  A husband, a daughter, and two sons.

Now that's good humor (or at least I think so).  I am an Erma Bombeck fan.  She studied people, with a focus on her family, in the most humorous way possible.  I want to write blog posts like Erma and sometimes I forget that.  And so I am trying to return to that.

So was the "Dating" post all true?  Yes, but I would say that 75% was made up of other people's crazy stories and weird experiences.  I just can't help but see the humor in the world around me.  There is so much craziness and it's so fricking funny!

I will say that the last part of the post was me.  The part about not settling for anything less.  The last couple of paragraphs came straight from my heart.  And I truly mean it.  (Hmmm... Sounds like a topic for another post.)

And now onto who is the real Christopher Marshall?

Well, he is a kind-hearted, loving, caring guy who gets hurt a lot because he cares too deeply to the point it's painful.  He can't help but feel empathy and sympathy for others, especially friends he cares about.  And he has lots of them nearby and across the country.

He watches movies and watches his favorites over and over. He spends an incredible amount of money on Legos.  That company has him hooked... Hook, line, and sinker!  And they're not the only one.  He would live in the Magic Kingdom, given the opportunity.  Those folks at Disney...  He just loves you...  And he just knows you love his money.

Fiction writing has become a major love and he gets highly frustrated when he feels like the imagination well has run dry, but then freaks when it's overflowing.  He is currently working on a new book idea with his favorite characters that he created.  He wants you to know... He writes fiction... most of the time.  Except for this post.

He strives for the heavens and gives it the best shot he can.  He loves life.  He loves liberty.  And he loves the pursuit of happiness.  He misses his parents. He has regrets.  And most of all, he loves, wants to be loved, and never gives up.  Well, that's not true... He knows when to give up and walk away.  And he has done it.  Several times.  But only in certain circumstances.  Maybe.  Okay, so he can't stop when he really should.  He really sometimes just needs to stop.  Just stop.

OMG!  Just stop writing about how he never gives up when he sometimes does...

Okay.  Done.

CSM

Dating... Or How to Spot a Jerk 10 Feet Away

The other night, I was pondering my dating/love life.  The whole ponder lasted all of about... thirty seconds. Very sad, isn't it?  That the pondering would only last that long.

In recent years, I have dated a number of guys.  Some have made it to second and third dates.  And yes, a couple of times they shouldn't have made it to the second or third dates.  It wasn't that I was desperate; I just wanted the night out. I mean look at it this way... He might have taken me to a nice restaurant where I might have meet a guy who would be the love of my life.  You've got to keep those options open.  But I digress...

The reason I was pondering was because of a recent Facebook post...  It was basically a "tell us 26 things about yourself."  One of the questions was something along the lines "what is the question you get asked the most?"  My answer: "Why are you still single?"  And yes, I do get that question on a regular basis, but I've never really thought about it.  Really pondered it.

Why am I still single?  And since I know you are all dying to know, I am going to answer it now... (Feel free to wash dishes or laundry or take the dog for a walk... I won't mind.)

I am still single because I chose to be single.  First, I had a career to develop.  (Done.)  Then I had dying parents to tend to.  (Both gone.)  Then came the estate.  (The most weirdest year of my life. It's odd seeing your name on court papers even though it has little to do with you personally.)

And most of all... OMG! Doesn't anyone know how to date?  I guess this is the payback I get for believing that dating is like what I see in the movies.  We see each other.  We plan to meet on top of the Empire State Building.  I get hit by a car and don't show up.  And six months later, Cary Grant shows up on my doorstep and all is well.  How lucky was that Deborah Kerr...

I've met guys in various ways.  Like placing an personals ad in the local rag, then onto Yahoo dating, then to free websites, and now the cellphone apps era...  Where every one can hide, lie, cheat, and play games.  My favorite is the opening conversation game.

"Hey"
"Hey"
"How r u?"
"Good.  You?"
"Hornie"
"I appreciate your honesty but dislike your inability to spell."

That single conversation lasted over twenty-five minutes.  In person, it could have lasted one minute.  And he could have hid is inability to spell.

I've found the ones I've meet in person are the best and the most promising. I see him.  He sees me. (We can't hide that extra 10 pounds like we can in an app picture.)  I evaluate his facial expressions, listen for key words, see if he... "leans in."  I touch him, smell him... (It's important.  Does he have that soapy smell that means he took a shower?)  I feel his presence.  Does he make me feel good? Does he know how to articulate a sentence?  Does he have all his teeth?  (Don't ask about that last one.)

Dating is hard and finding someone who is honest with from the get go seems to be even harder.  And the ultimate reason to date is to find that one person who will become your best friend, your confidant, and your co--builder of a life full of memories and adventures.

I will never settle for anyone less.  He must like me for who I am and just as important he has to like who he is.  And more importantly, we must have connections.  Be it travel, Legos, Disney, movies, books, writing, cooking... A seed that will grow into something more.

I'm reading the newest book about Julia Child and I can't help but think about how she and Paul became American icons...  And it all started over French cooking.

So, this is Christopher Marshall.  Bonne Recontre!  (Which means Good Dating! in French)

CSM