For me it’s a yellow dress with black lace.
There’s nothing like a party dress.
I put it on and sit down to write this little piece about celebrating.
Why do we need a special day to celebrate?
Let every day be a joyous remembering of life.
Thank you for today, I am alive, and in this moment, I am happy.
I put on my dress just to write this little piece about delight.
For me it is a yellow dress that spins when I twirl.
Today I am thankful and a smile lingers on my lips.
It is true, not forced, not false, not faltering.
I put on this dress, it is inspiring and fancifying.
Wistfully I think about summer, yellow as the sunflowers.
I think I’ll wear this dress all day, not just for tonight or this moment – why not?
I’ll walk a little taller and hold my head a little higher.
What will you do to make your feet keep on dancing?
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
A Little Ditty About Peas
Round
Green
Delicious
Frozen Peas to be specific
I’ll tell you I hate peas but in reality I love them
Frozen peas that is
Oh, I’ll eat them out of a pod just fine
But out of a can, forget it
I won’t have them in salad
Or pasta
Or bread... ?
I won’t even think about them in my soup
Sure, I’ll consider them on potatoes or rice
But if you offer me peas out of a bag from the freezer…
I will never refuse them
Green
Delicious
Frozen Peas to be specific
I’ll tell you I hate peas but in reality I love them
Frozen peas that is
Oh, I’ll eat them out of a pod just fine
But out of a can, forget it
I won’t have them in salad
Or pasta
Or bread... ?
I won’t even think about them in my soup
Sure, I’ll consider them on potatoes or rice
But if you offer me peas out of a bag from the freezer…
I will never refuse them
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Hey, Hey It's Alright
I am a child of the sun
A woman of the East where the light comes from
A daughter of Demeter
As the winter sets in
I long for that train headed south
I want to jump the tracks and hop one of those old cars
See where that chug-a-lug takes me
I suck the last drops of summer from a honey stick
Thinking how nice it would be to hibernate for the next three – or five months
I struggle to see the beauty through the brunt of the cold
My cheeks sting with the wind and thoughts of popsicles and cut-offs creep into my mind
There’s an internal war going on inside me –
Between wanting, needing, and shoulds, woulds and coulds
Too much time spent indoors with my own thoughts is not a good thing
Some may argue, but with the way I think, it’s just too much
How about throwing me a bone or giving me a helmet – life’s hard you know?
I need something I can sink my teeth into
Winter don’t take no vacation
So I do what I can
Give me a piña colada with a straw and a fur parka – I’ll make it work
A woman of the East where the light comes from
A daughter of Demeter
As the winter sets in
I long for that train headed south
I want to jump the tracks and hop one of those old cars
See where that chug-a-lug takes me
I suck the last drops of summer from a honey stick
Thinking how nice it would be to hibernate for the next three – or five months
I struggle to see the beauty through the brunt of the cold
My cheeks sting with the wind and thoughts of popsicles and cut-offs creep into my mind
There’s an internal war going on inside me –
Between wanting, needing, and shoulds, woulds and coulds
Too much time spent indoors with my own thoughts is not a good thing
Some may argue, but with the way I think, it’s just too much
How about throwing me a bone or giving me a helmet – life’s hard you know?
I need something I can sink my teeth into
Winter don’t take no vacation
So I do what I can
Give me a piña colada with a straw and a fur parka – I’ll make it work
Monday, November 17, 2008
Contact Improv
From a workshop I did last Saturday. Afterward, writing about it was so hard, I almost couldn’t put words to the experience of being there. But I felt I had to share the sweetness of the day. So I did my best to lead you into the room with the other dancers and have you be there in the moments of movement. To help you understand a bit more, here is a thought from a discussion I had with my sister. We decided that Contact Improvisation is to the general public, as Abstract Impressionism is to a kinder gardener – it cannot be taught until you have a foundation of the principals of art and design, or in this case, technique in body mechanics. It is simply reverting back to the basics of movement, but in a way we may never have thought of it before. Open the mind and body to the unknown and you will BE art.
Sitting in a circle, creating less linear lines in the world.
We shared our names and an adjective; bright, adventurous, happy, grateful.
We had the support of each other, unconditionally.
Points of contact were limitless.
Savoring every connection, we danced.
Trust was not an issue for those who committed fully to the experience of movement.
Freedom of expression for everyone.
Within the boundaries of the walls and the wood stove, few words were exchanged.
Dancing to the music of our own hearts, the possibility was everywhere.
Influence and inspiration was tangible.
What better way to get to know someone than to share the power of touch?
With open arms we danced.
A uniqueness shared, made us similar but not the same.
Connecting was our mission.
On that day we danced for ourselves and our friends.
Nothing could stop that sweetness.
Together we shared the rhythm of our own spirits
All we did was melt into the comfort and support of one another.
Creating art in motion, we danced.
Trying new things, we were free to experiment as we wished.
Feeling so alive.
My body delighted in the touch and the resistance of movement.
Potential for the spontaneous occurred all day long.
Ruefully we played.
Opening doorways to the unknown.
Vivaciously expressing what we knew, but could not find words for – we danced.
Sitting in a circle, creating less linear lines in the world.
We shared our names and an adjective; bright, adventurous, happy, grateful.
We had the support of each other, unconditionally.
Points of contact were limitless.
Savoring every connection, we danced.
Trust was not an issue for those who committed fully to the experience of movement.
Freedom of expression for everyone.
Within the boundaries of the walls and the wood stove, few words were exchanged.
Dancing to the music of our own hearts, the possibility was everywhere.
Influence and inspiration was tangible.
What better way to get to know someone than to share the power of touch?
With open arms we danced.
A uniqueness shared, made us similar but not the same.
Connecting was our mission.
On that day we danced for ourselves and our friends.
Nothing could stop that sweetness.
Together we shared the rhythm of our own spirits
All we did was melt into the comfort and support of one another.
Creating art in motion, we danced.
Trying new things, we were free to experiment as we wished.
Feeling so alive.
My body delighted in the touch and the resistance of movement.
Potential for the spontaneous occurred all day long.
Ruefully we played.
Opening doorways to the unknown.
Vivaciously expressing what we knew, but could not find words for – we danced.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
joyeux anniversaire
One day a year I get to be queen for a day
Starting with an unexpected birthday card from the head honcho publisher at the newspaper “my boss.”
Followed with phone calls from my family and friends
Silly cards from my co-works
A bedecked decked-out desk with streamers and balloons
Flowers from my parents – delivered to work
A sparkly tiara with sapphire Rhine stones and matching gaudy earrings
Complete with Pineapple scented bubbles
A Chai latte
And many, many smiles and kind words
Picturesque of an over zealous cupcake being eaten by 21 years on this wonderful planet
And I LOVE it!
Starting with an unexpected birthday card from the head honcho publisher at the newspaper “my boss.”
Followed with phone calls from my family and friends
Silly cards from my co-works
A bedecked decked-out desk with streamers and balloons
Flowers from my parents – delivered to work
A sparkly tiara with sapphire Rhine stones and matching gaudy earrings
Complete with Pineapple scented bubbles
A Chai latte
And many, many smiles and kind words
Picturesque of an over zealous cupcake being eaten by 21 years on this wonderful planet
And I LOVE it!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Being there, Getting there
You know those days when you just want to BE there?
Wherever there might be.
Today for instance, I was driving home – I really didn’t want to drive, I just wanted to be there and not spend time getting there.
Yes, yes, okay, that’s all very applicable to every aspect of life, and it even sounds a bit spiritual. But I’m serious.
It’s the driving or “doing” that is the point.
That’s the stuff of life.
You have to DO the thing in order to get there.
One can’t just simply BE there now.
Or can we?
Hmmmm.
This is all sort of becoming a great paradox.
This is when driving long distances alone, becomes a great self-evaluator.
Wherever there might be.
Today for instance, I was driving home – I really didn’t want to drive, I just wanted to be there and not spend time getting there.
Yes, yes, okay, that’s all very applicable to every aspect of life, and it even sounds a bit spiritual. But I’m serious.
It’s the driving or “doing” that is the point.
That’s the stuff of life.
You have to DO the thing in order to get there.
One can’t just simply BE there now.
Or can we?
Hmmmm.
This is all sort of becoming a great paradox.
This is when driving long distances alone, becomes a great self-evaluator.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Meanwhile, learning the names of the muscles in the human body
Procrastination is a wonderful thing. It aids in the creative process of good stories, getting the dishes washed, and really, good, tea. As I sit in my living room cradling my warm mug, I am drawn to write about my perpetual adventures with comfort. More specifically my saga with heat – it seems as though, no matter where I am, heating and cooling is a real luxury.
In January, in the heart of the French countryside we had only a wood stove for heat. In the desert in the middle of July in 100+ degree weather and refusing to use the air conditioning, for everyone and their cat knows it wastes gas. Even right here, in my tiny one bedroom apartment in October with four grown neighbors and a passerby, all unable to fix my furnace. I must add, that I myself fixed the bugger. I won’t go into details, because it was much too simple an explanation – I’ll just let you wonder, and giggle to yourself, because that’s what I’m doing!
So, with that, I cannot stress enough how much we take simple things in life for granted, when really they are a complete and total luxury that we have grown accustomed to – a little too accustomed to. Just remember the next time you go to complain about the temperature, there are things that can be done instead, like baking! The oven warms quite nicely! Or, roll down the windows of your car, what’s a nice hear-do when you can be cooooool! Or even, in the middle of winter with the heating bill climbing Mt. Everest, turn on some really good music and DANCE!
In January, in the heart of the French countryside we had only a wood stove for heat. In the desert in the middle of July in 100+ degree weather and refusing to use the air conditioning, for everyone and their cat knows it wastes gas. Even right here, in my tiny one bedroom apartment in October with four grown neighbors and a passerby, all unable to fix my furnace. I must add, that I myself fixed the bugger. I won’t go into details, because it was much too simple an explanation – I’ll just let you wonder, and giggle to yourself, because that’s what I’m doing!
So, with that, I cannot stress enough how much we take simple things in life for granted, when really they are a complete and total luxury that we have grown accustomed to – a little too accustomed to. Just remember the next time you go to complain about the temperature, there are things that can be done instead, like baking! The oven warms quite nicely! Or, roll down the windows of your car, what’s a nice hear-do when you can be cooooool! Or even, in the middle of winter with the heating bill climbing Mt. Everest, turn on some really good music and DANCE!
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Every Life Is Different
To fully appreciate life, and the small wonders of the world.
It takes a certain kind of innocence.
It takes a certain quiet and laughter.
It takes simultaneous awareness and carelessness.
Not everyone can pull this off gracefully.
You can tell these people by the way they are in their skin.
They are not comfortable with their being.
They itch to the tune of discontent.
They are so unaware it doesn’t even occur to them to be unaware.
Like the beauty in the sunset, or the scenery, or even the time of day.
To grasp this, they simply agree and move on to the next preoccupation.
It is not their fault – they simply don’t know how to live in admiration.
Breathe deeply.
It truly takes an understanding of life and death alike to marvel at creation.
Do not steep yourself too deeply phenomenon.
Because just like tea, it can get too strong and you won’t want to drink it after all.
Be open to beauty and the possibility of acknowledging it in everything.
It takes a certain kind of innocence.
It takes a certain quiet and laughter.
It takes simultaneous awareness and carelessness.
Not everyone can pull this off gracefully.
You can tell these people by the way they are in their skin.
They are not comfortable with their being.
They itch to the tune of discontent.
They are so unaware it doesn’t even occur to them to be unaware.
Like the beauty in the sunset, or the scenery, or even the time of day.
To grasp this, they simply agree and move on to the next preoccupation.
It is not their fault – they simply don’t know how to live in admiration.
Breathe deeply.
It truly takes an understanding of life and death alike to marvel at creation.
Do not steep yourself too deeply phenomenon.
Because just like tea, it can get too strong and you won’t want to drink it after all.
Be open to beauty and the possibility of acknowledging it in everything.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
How Do You Play?
Sitting here, with my mother, I think about what she asked me a few weeks ago. It was the question, “How do you play?”
At that moment in time I found it extremely difficult to answer her question. How DO I play, I wondered? Am I really that out of touch with childish amusement? Have a lost my ability to play altogether. Or is it just hard to find that sweet surrender when I am not around children?
Sure, each of us can let loose when we’re WITH kids – making mud pies, playing spies, or building sand mermaids. But can we find it in ourselves to enjoy, I mean really play, when that innocent influence is NOT near by? How can we continue to cultivate that feeling of childish inhibition and enthusiasm when we are alone or even with our peers.
When I thought about it and finally sorted my thoughts, I realized that I really DON’T play. Not that I didn’t know how, but just that I had not taken the time to play in that lovable way. That’s when I also decided that that would need to change.
I started that very day by buying some sparkly, gold eye shadow and wearing it everyday, even to work. Then, that weekend, I played “Dinosaurs” with my neighbor. She’s 26. I also drew some pictures. With finger paint.
Each day I try and find some way to play – to do something for fun, not just in earnest.
At any age, I pose to you this question: How do YOU play? What makes you smile and enjoy and feel completely at home in your skin?
Thanks Mom, for reminding me to play.
At that moment in time I found it extremely difficult to answer her question. How DO I play, I wondered? Am I really that out of touch with childish amusement? Have a lost my ability to play altogether. Or is it just hard to find that sweet surrender when I am not around children?
Sure, each of us can let loose when we’re WITH kids – making mud pies, playing spies, or building sand mermaids. But can we find it in ourselves to enjoy, I mean really play, when that innocent influence is NOT near by? How can we continue to cultivate that feeling of childish inhibition and enthusiasm when we are alone or even with our peers.
When I thought about it and finally sorted my thoughts, I realized that I really DON’T play. Not that I didn’t know how, but just that I had not taken the time to play in that lovable way. That’s when I also decided that that would need to change.
I started that very day by buying some sparkly, gold eye shadow and wearing it everyday, even to work. Then, that weekend, I played “Dinosaurs” with my neighbor. She’s 26. I also drew some pictures. With finger paint.
Each day I try and find some way to play – to do something for fun, not just in earnest.
At any age, I pose to you this question: How do YOU play? What makes you smile and enjoy and feel completely at home in your skin?
Thanks Mom, for reminding me to play.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Just keep coming back
What is it about the Southwest
It’s mystery
It’s majesty
It’s magnificence
What is it about the Southwest
That makes us want to run out into the open
Throw our arms around it, and squeeze
Never letting go
What is it about the Southwest
We all just keep coming back
It’s in our blood
The air, the sun, the dirt, the water or lack there of
What is it about the Southwest
Is it the history
War upon the people
A sense of freedom and peace
What is it about the Southwest
A soup bowel full of stars
Predictable summer weather
Sunshine with a chance of scattered sunshine
What is it about the Southwest
A dry, rough, prickly exterior
With an array of color and creatures
Water at its heart – an oasis of beauty
What is it about the Southwest
What makes it a parody of love and hate
Friend and foe
Home and home – in all senses of the word
What is it about the Southwest
Serenity
Complexity
Its coarse edges, and its smooth
What is it about the Southwest
Some people visit and say pretty
Others live and say heaven
Some do both and never can make up their minds
What is it about the Southwest
Makes me tick
Makes me breathe
Makes me want to be alive
It’s mystery
It’s majesty
It’s magnificence
What is it about the Southwest
That makes us want to run out into the open
Throw our arms around it, and squeeze
Never letting go
What is it about the Southwest
We all just keep coming back
It’s in our blood
The air, the sun, the dirt, the water or lack there of
What is it about the Southwest
Is it the history
War upon the people
A sense of freedom and peace
What is it about the Southwest
A soup bowel full of stars
Predictable summer weather
Sunshine with a chance of scattered sunshine
What is it about the Southwest
A dry, rough, prickly exterior
With an array of color and creatures
Water at its heart – an oasis of beauty
What is it about the Southwest
What makes it a parody of love and hate
Friend and foe
Home and home – in all senses of the word
What is it about the Southwest
Serenity
Complexity
Its coarse edges, and its smooth
What is it about the Southwest
Some people visit and say pretty
Others live and say heaven
Some do both and never can make up their minds
What is it about the Southwest
Makes me tick
Makes me breathe
Makes me want to be alive
Saturday, September 13, 2008
martini with a twist of billy
33 shots of whisky
a date with a blond
that ended in a dry run
toe tappin’
crowd turning
lip lickin’
kind o’ fun
slicked-back hair
stand-up bass
rollllllled cuffs
these guys were smooth
I mean smoooooth
three cheers for the beer drinkers
and one for the birthday girl with the caramel apple martini
big smile
de-bon-air, debonair
making love to the microphone
they had them captivated
enthralled
and left me laughing – lovin’ it
body singing the Psych-o-billy, Rock-a-billy
lovin’ life
we were
grooving on the sound of a white guitar
a date with a blond
that ended in a dry run
toe tappin’
crowd turning
lip lickin’
kind o’ fun
slicked-back hair
stand-up bass
rollllllled cuffs
these guys were smooth
I mean smoooooth
three cheers for the beer drinkers
and one for the birthday girl with the caramel apple martini
big smile
de-bon-air, debonair
making love to the microphone
they had them captivated
enthralled
and left me laughing – lovin’ it
body singing the Psych-o-billy, Rock-a-billy
lovin’ life
we were
grooving on the sound of a white guitar
Thursday, September 4, 2008
On my way home this evening
On my way home this evening,
I saw a red pick-up truck with ladders on top
And I thought of You.
I watched a couple as they savored and indulged in two identical ice cream cones
And I thought of you.
I heard a child laugh with innocence and pure pleasure
And I thought of YOU.
When I stepped through my door, I found Janis, I turned her up loud
And I thought of you.
Reading the newspaper, as I rifled through to the cooking section
And I thought of you.
Sitting here, writing this,
And I thought of you.
You are my guide, my brick wall, my stead-fast pillar of knowing.
you are the one who knows me and my life, we share and play and talk and I am here for you and you are there for me, no matter what.
YOU are my blood, my other half, the letters after my name, in my heart forever and always.
you are my cocoon and my warmth, you are me and I am you.
you are the one I am getting to know as a well as I know my other half.
you will always be and always have been my aspiration and mold of inspiration, the one with the light and dark, to find and be found, to hold and be held by those who love.
I saw a red pick-up truck with ladders on top
And I thought of You.
I watched a couple as they savored and indulged in two identical ice cream cones
And I thought of you.
I heard a child laugh with innocence and pure pleasure
And I thought of YOU.
When I stepped through my door, I found Janis, I turned her up loud
And I thought of you.
Reading the newspaper, as I rifled through to the cooking section
And I thought of you.
Sitting here, writing this,
And I thought of you.
You are my guide, my brick wall, my stead-fast pillar of knowing.
you are the one who knows me and my life, we share and play and talk and I am here for you and you are there for me, no matter what.
YOU are my blood, my other half, the letters after my name, in my heart forever and always.
you are my cocoon and my warmth, you are me and I am you.
you are the one I am getting to know as a well as I know my other half.
you will always be and always have been my aspiration and mold of inspiration, the one with the light and dark, to find and be found, to hold and be held by those who love.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
The Remedy
So when everyone, their roommate, and their roommate’s friend, mother and second cousin were in Target this afternoon, I walked in and walked right back out. Feeling slightly claustrophobic and a little overwhelmed, the last thing I needed was some irate driver honking and gesturing at me for “pulling out in front of them.” You know the type – I just happened to be in their way.
The remedy: A hardware store. I owe it to my father who showed me the secret pleasures of electric drills, super cool doorknobs, the biggest screws you’ve ever seen and just about every fix-it gadget imaginable. Thanks Pops, because that was just the ticket to clam my nerves and release that great sense of smell, keen on new tires. Wow, people are so helpful, and not the least bit stressy. I just have to remember that for next time I’m in a mood – go to the hardware store. I’m bound to find something cool that I really don’t need but could fine a use for in seventeen years.
The remedy: A hardware store. I owe it to my father who showed me the secret pleasures of electric drills, super cool doorknobs, the biggest screws you’ve ever seen and just about every fix-it gadget imaginable. Thanks Pops, because that was just the ticket to clam my nerves and release that great sense of smell, keen on new tires. Wow, people are so helpful, and not the least bit stressy. I just have to remember that for next time I’m in a mood – go to the hardware store. I’m bound to find something cool that I really don’t need but could fine a use for in seventeen years.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A short STORY
When I was working down town a few nights ago, a boy and his mother came into the store. From the get-go she was on his case about not touching anything! I was nonplused because I could care less if he massed up a display, at lease it would give me something to do. Bored out of my mind I was merely fussing with the paper towels and Windex when he walks up to me and says, “Excuse me Sir, will you please turn out the lights?” HA! That ripped me to a double. I nearly peed myself. Somewhat shocked but still smiling broadly I had to answer him quite frankly, “No, I’m sorry I cannot.” Of course his mother was appalled and fled the store immediately, nearly pushing him out the door in front of her. I was stunned and didn’t know what to think more odd, the fact that he thought I was a boy on account of my short-ish hair, even though I was wearing bright red lipstick and a dress, or that he wanted to turn out the lights… Maybe he was colored blind and had a glow-in-the-dark alien he wanted to locate?
Monday, August 18, 2008
Inspired by Birthdays
Age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are a cheese… or wine, or a car, or a dress, or an old wooden chest, or even a yellow lab named Rio.
Then age matters.
But really, who’s counting right?
Not your everyday person. I’m not… well, not always.
AGE.
What a descriptive word.
It can be negative or positive.
It can be demeaning,
categorizing,
foul,
uplifting,
satirical,
punishable,
opportunististical,
thankful,
or just plain wacky.
It’s true, as you get older, you learn more, earn more, and gain more.
However, it doesn’t always have to be that way.
I prefer age not only as an adjective but as marinade – the more you put on and the longer you leave it, the better the dish.
Then age matters.
But really, who’s counting right?
Not your everyday person. I’m not… well, not always.
AGE.
What a descriptive word.
It can be negative or positive.
It can be demeaning,
categorizing,
foul,
uplifting,
satirical,
punishable,
opportunististical,
thankful,
or just plain wacky.
It’s true, as you get older, you learn more, earn more, and gain more.
However, it doesn’t always have to be that way.
I prefer age not only as an adjective but as marinade – the more you put on and the longer you leave it, the better the dish.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Some things I’ve learned from living alone.
I can walk around naked if I feel like it.
No one will care.
Just make sure all the curtains are closed.
Leftovers are my friend.
Make leftovers.
Make them your lover.
If a jar won’t open bang the heck out of it until it opens, because it will.
It has to because having tomato sauce is more important than not having it, besides, who else will do it, if you don’t?
I can watch whatever I want, whenever I want.
I can listen to music, really loud because I don’t have to listen to anything else save for my thoughts.
If I’m lucky, if the volume’s up really loud and Stevie is wailing away on his guitar, or Dylan is smacking away at his harp, then I don’t even have to listen to those.
Make friends with your neighbors.
They’re a life saver.
Loneliness is also your friend.
It makes you stronger.
Doing dishes is optional.
So is vacuuming.
Running out of toilet paper is not.
A cup of tea and a good book really do wonders to calm the nerves and get me back on track.
I can finally understand what reading the newspaper is all about.
Really, just leave me alone for nine minutes while I read about war, politics, who’s running for Mayor and who got a DUI this weekend.
Living alone makes me appreciate people so much more.
Even the really annoying ones – they provide really good laughs.
I just have to remember to stop being afraid.
Sure life is scary.
Living on my own is even more daunting.
But the adventure should out-way most fear.
Don’t forget to breathe.
Don't freeze bananas in their skins.
Why has no one ever told me why?
Also, yams will never be sweet potatoes no matter how hard you try.
No one will care.
Just make sure all the curtains are closed.
Leftovers are my friend.
Make leftovers.
Make them your lover.
If a jar won’t open bang the heck out of it until it opens, because it will.
It has to because having tomato sauce is more important than not having it, besides, who else will do it, if you don’t?
I can watch whatever I want, whenever I want.
I can listen to music, really loud because I don’t have to listen to anything else save for my thoughts.
If I’m lucky, if the volume’s up really loud and Stevie is wailing away on his guitar, or Dylan is smacking away at his harp, then I don’t even have to listen to those.
Make friends with your neighbors.
They’re a life saver.
Loneliness is also your friend.
It makes you stronger.
Doing dishes is optional.
So is vacuuming.
Running out of toilet paper is not.
A cup of tea and a good book really do wonders to calm the nerves and get me back on track.
I can finally understand what reading the newspaper is all about.
Really, just leave me alone for nine minutes while I read about war, politics, who’s running for Mayor and who got a DUI this weekend.
Living alone makes me appreciate people so much more.
Even the really annoying ones – they provide really good laughs.
I just have to remember to stop being afraid.
Sure life is scary.
Living on my own is even more daunting.
But the adventure should out-way most fear.
Don’t forget to breathe.
Don't freeze bananas in their skins.
Why has no one ever told me why?
Also, yams will never be sweet potatoes no matter how hard you try.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Random wonderings
Who is that outstanding individual that cleans up the road kill smeared across the street? Ever wonder why it’s there in the morning but by the evening it’s gonzo?
I do.
Did.
Am.
That’s it, all my thoughts for tonight. Bonne nuit.
I do.
Did.
Am.
That’s it, all my thoughts for tonight. Bonne nuit.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
18 Days and 4400 Miles
Snack belly and trucker butt.
I took off at 4:00AM and didn’t return until I had seen Albuquerque, Boulder, Bozman, Vancouver, Washougal, Eugene, Sebastopol, Las Vegas, and Prescott. Not to mention a whole lot of space and places in between.
In my trusty Toyota Corolla, armed with a full tank of gas, 23 CDs and bags full of snacks, I hit to road purring.
I blasted out of Flagstaff fearless and unhindered.
Bombed into New Mexico to stretch my legs and fill up.
Zoomed over the mountain pass and lingered in Colorado for three days.
Soaking up the company of good friends and new ones alike.
Meandered through the sky of Wyoming and up to the beauty that is Montana.
Marinated in the hot springs and great weather.
Then through hell, also known as Eastern Washington and crossed the border into Canada.
Vancouver exudes Europe with the English language.
A beautiful and fascinating city. Missed them before I even left. I love you.
Down into the mouth of the gorge and dance. I need to dance. A lot.
Through the Redwood Forest, turned the corner, Sasquatch! Huge trees! And the ocean!
Beautiful.
Quenched my thirst in Napa Valley with more hot springs, fabulous wine, perfect company and fulfilling, better then chocolate cake conversation.
Then slammed myself back into the Mojave desert, with a near heart attach and heat stroke.
Survived enough to drench myself in one more visit with friends and house pets.
Hopped back in the wheels for a ride back to the heart, to the people that mean the world to me.
Hit the ground running today. Work, house, life.
Perfect would be the best description for this adventure. Perfect in every way. People, places, and road weather.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am so blessed to know you all. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Smiles and Laughs to remember to always.
I took off at 4:00AM and didn’t return until I had seen Albuquerque, Boulder, Bozman, Vancouver, Washougal, Eugene, Sebastopol, Las Vegas, and Prescott. Not to mention a whole lot of space and places in between.
In my trusty Toyota Corolla, armed with a full tank of gas, 23 CDs and bags full of snacks, I hit to road purring.
I blasted out of Flagstaff fearless and unhindered.
Bombed into New Mexico to stretch my legs and fill up.
Zoomed over the mountain pass and lingered in Colorado for three days.
Soaking up the company of good friends and new ones alike.
Meandered through the sky of Wyoming and up to the beauty that is Montana.
Marinated in the hot springs and great weather.
Then through hell, also known as Eastern Washington and crossed the border into Canada.
Vancouver exudes Europe with the English language.
A beautiful and fascinating city. Missed them before I even left. I love you.
Down into the mouth of the gorge and dance. I need to dance. A lot.
Through the Redwood Forest, turned the corner, Sasquatch! Huge trees! And the ocean!
Beautiful.
Quenched my thirst in Napa Valley with more hot springs, fabulous wine, perfect company and fulfilling, better then chocolate cake conversation.
Then slammed myself back into the Mojave desert, with a near heart attach and heat stroke.
Survived enough to drench myself in one more visit with friends and house pets.
Hopped back in the wheels for a ride back to the heart, to the people that mean the world to me.
Hit the ground running today. Work, house, life.
Perfect would be the best description for this adventure. Perfect in every way. People, places, and road weather.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am so blessed to know you all. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Smiles and Laughs to remember to always.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Small Town in the Desert
THE DESERT
When the stars above seem like they go on forever, I know I’m in the desert.
When I can wrap myself in the constellation and galaxies beyond, I know I’m in the desert.
When torrents of rain gush from the gray clouds and I stay outside to dance in the rain, I know I’m in the desert.
When I can predict the weather for weeks on end, just by glancing at the opal sky, I know I’m in the desert.
When it snows in winter, and is 102 degrees in the summer, in the same town, I know I’m in the desert.
When I see cactus and pine trees in the same two-hour drive, I know I’m in the desert.
When the air feels like my head in an oven on high, I know I’m in the desert.
When I can see for 97 miles, I know I’m in the desert.
When I touch the hard earth, and it crumbles, dry, in my hand, I know I’m in the desert.
When dry is just a state of what is, I know I’m in the desert.
When I really won’t have it any other way, I know I’m doomed for life to love the desert.
THE SMALL TOWN
When I see a tractor and a backhoe on a parade float, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When I’m surrounded by really bad cowboy art, tie-dye, and homemade salsa I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When people actually use the phrase, “Howdy partner,” and are being sincere, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When I can guarantee a cowboy hat in every store, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When The Boot Races are a tradition for Fourth of July, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When people grow cactus and 1953 Dodge pickups in their front yard, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When the fashion varies from plaid, to Birkenstocks, to an occasional sundress, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When mullets are the predominant species, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When all is said and done, and the only thing I have left to do is laugh, because this is where I grew up, I laugh from my heart. I know that I have is good if not great.
When the stars above seem like they go on forever, I know I’m in the desert.
When I can wrap myself in the constellation and galaxies beyond, I know I’m in the desert.
When torrents of rain gush from the gray clouds and I stay outside to dance in the rain, I know I’m in the desert.
When I can predict the weather for weeks on end, just by glancing at the opal sky, I know I’m in the desert.
When it snows in winter, and is 102 degrees in the summer, in the same town, I know I’m in the desert.
When I see cactus and pine trees in the same two-hour drive, I know I’m in the desert.
When the air feels like my head in an oven on high, I know I’m in the desert.
When I can see for 97 miles, I know I’m in the desert.
When I touch the hard earth, and it crumbles, dry, in my hand, I know I’m in the desert.
When dry is just a state of what is, I know I’m in the desert.
When I really won’t have it any other way, I know I’m doomed for life to love the desert.
THE SMALL TOWN
When I see a tractor and a backhoe on a parade float, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When I’m surrounded by really bad cowboy art, tie-dye, and homemade salsa I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When people actually use the phrase, “Howdy partner,” and are being sincere, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When I can guarantee a cowboy hat in every store, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When The Boot Races are a tradition for Fourth of July, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When people grow cactus and 1953 Dodge pickups in their front yard, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When the fashion varies from plaid, to Birkenstocks, to an occasional sundress, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When mullets are the predominant species, I know I’m in small town Arizona.
When all is said and done, and the only thing I have left to do is laugh, because this is where I grew up, I laugh from my heart. I know that I have is good if not great.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Thank you, Rain
Most people in the world close their windows when it starts to rain, not me – I open them wide and let the cool air touch the corners of my house and heart.
I am not afraid of thunder – I like to be out in it.
Dark clouds roll in over the horizon and my fingers tingle – the sun still shines and becomes brighter with every patch of blue sky wrapped with grey.
I am a desert rat through and through.
That smell, oh that smell of dry dirt and concrete pelted with fresh rain – it’s late June in the desert and I open my eyes and arms and soul to the greatness that is water.
Seeping from the atmosphere – there is nothing greater than this.
There is nothing more worth celebrating than that which provides such nourishment for all.
I want to be out in it, dancing, singing, laughing – this is a blessing of the greatest kind.
Rain in the desert – I will not shut you out.
With my windows wide, we embrace, the desert rain and I.
I am not afraid of thunder – I like to be out in it.
Dark clouds roll in over the horizon and my fingers tingle – the sun still shines and becomes brighter with every patch of blue sky wrapped with grey.
I am a desert rat through and through.
That smell, oh that smell of dry dirt and concrete pelted with fresh rain – it’s late June in the desert and I open my eyes and arms and soul to the greatness that is water.
Seeping from the atmosphere – there is nothing greater than this.
There is nothing more worth celebrating than that which provides such nourishment for all.
I want to be out in it, dancing, singing, laughing – this is a blessing of the greatest kind.
Rain in the desert – I will not shut you out.
With my windows wide, we embrace, the desert rain and I.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Do What Makes You Happy
As I lay in bed to write I think of all the things that I have to say. All the things that I should say. All the things that I shouldn’t say. But not what I want to say. I could talk about work, how my office co-workers are crazy; how I make really good sushi; how last night I saw a transvestite in small town Arizona; how I feel as though I’m supposed to be writing something worth while and profound. But all I can think about is my own nothingness and my constant need to be doing something productive instead of just allowing things to be the way the are. Relax, just relax. The universe has a funny way of giving when you’re not pushing, and being a brink wall when you are. Relax, this is the message of the day, and things will happen. Just maybe not in the form that you are looking for. So, stop looking, and do what makes you happy.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
June 15th
I entered a whole new world two days ago. Being exposed to the realm of night drivers; semi’s taking the long haul and weekenders driving god knows where at eleven-thirty in those fascinating hours of darkness. I also had a run in with singing watermelons and talking plans, on account of my dear mother’s keen abilities to “listen.” Which I am learning but still obviously, extremely inept. Accompanied by a splendid douse of lake water dolled out by my beloved father with the ore of a rowboat. Fun with the family in the sun topped off with our favorite rambunctious dog, Rio, who quickly concurred his fear of paddleboats. We can all learn from him, for one human year is equal to seven dog years. Imagine if your life went by that fast. Take what you got and run with it, cherish, and be thankful for every moment you are alive and well.
Monday, June 2, 2008
It's good to befriend your neighbors
I hope that I can forgive myself for not writing in so long. I will make the decision to say yes, I can.
The things one will do for free wireless: Like getting my upstairs neighbors intoxicated so they will give me the password. Even though they probably would have given it to me anyway. Like sitting on the porch until 2:00 in morning on a Sunday. Like ordering pizza and eating it at midnight even though I don’t really want to. I must admit it was good though. Like climbing barefoot onto the top balcony of their old apartment after hours and getting down their “doofunk” for whatever. Like laughing at really stupid jokes. Like enjoying myself just a little too much. It was all worth it and now I have reliable, working Internet. Now all I have to do to hold up my end of the bargain it make them really delicious cookies every now and again. Thank you neighbors!
The things one will do for free wireless: Like getting my upstairs neighbors intoxicated so they will give me the password. Even though they probably would have given it to me anyway. Like sitting on the porch until 2:00 in morning on a Sunday. Like ordering pizza and eating it at midnight even though I don’t really want to. I must admit it was good though. Like climbing barefoot onto the top balcony of their old apartment after hours and getting down their “doofunk” for whatever. Like laughing at really stupid jokes. Like enjoying myself just a little too much. It was all worth it and now I have reliable, working Internet. Now all I have to do to hold up my end of the bargain it make them really delicious cookies every now and again. Thank you neighbors!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Walk in Buffalo Park
I cry because you and you in this life are so beautiful. Your majesty captivates me.
You humble me with your peaks of greatness and your caverns of depth and under-worldly workings. I am compelled to fall to my knees in the snow and mud, prostrate before you.
Because of your influence.
I rub my dry palms onto the bark of a pine. I burry my nose into the rough creases and breath deep the aroma of green vanilla and tree amber. The scent, lingering like perfume. The sound of joyous frogs reach my ears and makes me smile.
You are so vast. With your rough edges and your tender inside, or is it the other way around?
Am I deluding myself with my enumeration of you?
Your presence consumes me, no matter where I am on this planet. So vast and yet so small, so complex and yet so simple, but you, my beloved, are not.
We humans are blessed to be here. And I am blessed to just sit in awe of you.
How can you have such power over me?
I thought I was exempt from your lovely torment because of my bequest.
How lovely is this gamble we play at.
I cannot escape you, nor do I ever wish to.
You’re ever-present nature enthralls me and I succumb to your love.
You humble me with your peaks of greatness and your caverns of depth and under-worldly workings. I am compelled to fall to my knees in the snow and mud, prostrate before you.
Because of your influence.
I rub my dry palms onto the bark of a pine. I burry my nose into the rough creases and breath deep the aroma of green vanilla and tree amber. The scent, lingering like perfume. The sound of joyous frogs reach my ears and makes me smile.
You are so vast. With your rough edges and your tender inside, or is it the other way around?
Am I deluding myself with my enumeration of you?
Your presence consumes me, no matter where I am on this planet. So vast and yet so small, so complex and yet so simple, but you, my beloved, are not.
We humans are blessed to be here. And I am blessed to just sit in awe of you.
How can you have such power over me?
I thought I was exempt from your lovely torment because of my bequest.
How lovely is this gamble we play at.
I cannot escape you, nor do I ever wish to.
You’re ever-present nature enthralls me and I succumb to your love.
Sunday Wonderings
Some days, like today, I just want more. More anything. More fresh air, more space, more money, more room, more tea, more books, more time. And sometimes more is just not enough. More just won’t cut it. I just can’t get satisfied, get over it, or get on with it. I just dwell until I can’t wallow anymore and all that’s left is to over come those wants–acknowledge them, say hello, and move on. So I do. I move forward and make more tea, read a little, go for a walk, and try not to judge myself on money and time.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
A Tid-Bit of Thursday
If you’ve ever had to pee in a cup, you’d know that it’s not as easy as it sounds. (Okay, so maybe it doesn’t sound easy either, but the point is it takes great skill!) One week in Flagstaff and I landed a job as sales assistant to the real estate advertiser of the Arizona Daily Sun Newspaper. But only after visiting every single store of the down town area, and humbling myself to even consider In Home Care to the elderly. Drug tests are no sweat for those of us who don’t participate in “recreational activities.” Even though the general clientele of those blue-walled, not-so-sterile buildings, with really bad art, and not-so-happy ladies at the front desk, makes you want to crawl out of your skin and go scrub yourself twice, with a really tough Luffa. More specifically, they are high school aged delinquents who look as though they’ve just drank a gallon of cranberry juice and really need a hit of something strong, and fast. I was in and out of there in nine minutes flat, with a quick thank you to the man who had to handle all the samples–good riddance to my urine! Don’t waste time when time is essential. Then it was off to find a pair of dress pants, no jeans for this job. Then back to my place (whoo, that feels fun to write!) to waste just a little of time making oatmeal-raisin cookies, okay so maybe it’s not a totally waste of time, but I think dying your hair definitely qualifies. So, what’s a little time wasted in the greater scheme of things? Time, can it really be wasted? Or is that your minds talking? You tell me!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
This is me
Back in Arizona. Round the world in 180 days. Seems like a lifetime to me. What does the future hold? What is speculation anyway? My passion calls, my heart yearns, my body knows, and my soul complies with all that is happening.
I write for you my dears. I am laying myself in front of you like a welcome mat in front of a red door. I am the arms of your friend, embracing you deep. I am the hot tea at your mothers, warming you from the inside. I am the rain on a hot summer day, cooling the Earth and wetting the dry dirt of the desert. I am the wind in the trees in autumn, shaking the leaves loose. I am the ocean, salty and so sweet. I am you and you are I.
Come all you dreamers, you wishers, you thinkers. Come you prayers, you hopers, you storytellers. Come, lend me your heart, your eyes, and year ears. Let me tell you a story, but before I begin, please remember one thing: I once heard, and still believe, you must never let the facts get in the way of a good story.
I write for you my dears. I am laying myself in front of you like a welcome mat in front of a red door. I am the arms of your friend, embracing you deep. I am the hot tea at your mothers, warming you from the inside. I am the rain on a hot summer day, cooling the Earth and wetting the dry dirt of the desert. I am the wind in the trees in autumn, shaking the leaves loose. I am the ocean, salty and so sweet. I am you and you are I.
Come all you dreamers, you wishers, you thinkers. Come you prayers, you hopers, you storytellers. Come, lend me your heart, your eyes, and year ears. Let me tell you a story, but before I begin, please remember one thing: I once heard, and still believe, you must never let the facts get in the way of a good story.
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