mama’s edition November 18, 2011

I wish I could say that I’ve been having a raging fun time over the past few weeks, but that would be such.a.big.lie.

Because I’m overloaded with grading. The good thing, however, is that I still enjoy my job, even if I complain about the workload. Another good thing is that with my spare time I go sit at my favorite coffee shop and grade, which makes the reading seem easier. I almost always run into my good friends and colleagues, so we grade together. Okay, really we bitch about our grading. But still.

My usual spot.

How can Jenny be grading with a glass of wine? Me thinks it makes for better grades.

Truly, Andy and I work hard.

In between all the grading and reading, I have had a few opportunities to get out and see some music and friends.

I went to the Jade Festival in Big Sur with my friend Greg:

Perfect Big Sur weather. Perfect crowd.

Greg getting food.

Greg’s dog Jack gets more attention than any dog I’ve ever known. He’s super friendly.

We bumped into my friend Tim who lives in San Francisco. Such a treat to see him.

That’s a HUGE piece of jade.

It was a joy to  celebrate my good friend and colleague and old office-mate Erin’s 40th birthday:

40 never looked so good.

I saw the Mother Hips play in town with some good friends.:

Paul, one of the friends in our group, got a comped booth. Nice!

Paul and Julie are so much fun. And a little crazy. But in a good way.

We had fun.

I also had the chance to go to our town’s Art after Dark. I met up with friends, had some beer, and checked out some amazing art. I especially liked the university’s student furniture show–such talented students we have!

I loved this. I wanted to buy it. can’t believe it’s student made.

Melanie and her son Diego painted a skateboard deck for one store’s gallery. Well done.

I know, this mama edition isn’t that interesting. Well, mama’s been super busy.

At least I’ve caught up with the past month and a half. I left  a lot out, but in general, we’ve been working hard, playing some, and enjoying life a lot.

There’s not much we could ask for.

new ink November 9, 2011

Over the past few months, much to Maddie’s horror and Luke’s delight, I have acquired two new tattoos. The first was one I had been thinking about for the past 3 years and the second was a quickly made decision that I’m still not entirely sure about.

For years I’ve been thinking about having part of my favorite Rilke poem, Sonnets to Orpheus, II tattooed on my body:

And if the earthly no longer knows your name,
whisper to the silent earth: I’m flowing.
To the flashing water say: I am.

But all three lines couldn’t be tattooed onto my body, so I narrowed it down to the last two lines, and then I thought for about a year. One night, this summer, I ran into my friend, Gary, an excellent tattoo artist who has tattooed me before. We started talking and I told him about my idea. We were both a little boozy and by the end of the night, I had made an appointment with him for the following week. The next morning I awoke with a head ache and a vague memory of our conversation. I pulled out of my pocket Gary’s appointment card, and mortified, I called him and canceled.

The poem was once again stored in the back of my mind until I tired of it constantly swirling around my thoughts, interrupting me as I went about my day. I called Gary. Made an appointment. Sent him the poem. Received his idea. Liked it. I headed back to the tattoo chair.

The biggest decision was where to put the tattoo on my body. I knew I didn’t want it to be in a noticeable part, and at first, I had thought of putting it on my back, but it didn’t look right on my back. I asked Gary what he thought about putting it along my rib cage. “It’ll hurt,” he said. “It hurts regardless,” I responded. Gary laid the imprint on my side, and we all looked at it. I loved it. He loved it. The other tattoo guy loved it.

Thus, I got my first tattoo in 5 years.

Looks good, don’t you think?

While my side was being tattooed, Gary mentioned how much he hates my ankle tattoo. This is not a surprise; he’s hated it since he first saw it over a decade ago. I hate it too. It was a stupid tattoo I got when I was 18, and I think the day I turned 19, I started regretting it. I’ve been talking about removing it for about 15 years now, but I haven’t. And every time I put on a skirt or dress and see that stupid tattoo, I cringe.

Gary doesn’t believe in tattoo removals, but he does believe in covering up ugly tattoos, and he has covered up a stomach tattoo I had that looked pretty bad after having Maddie (looks much better now, though Gary says I’m ready for a touch up). As we talked about my stupid ankle tattoo, Gary took out an orange marker and started drawing on my ankle, showing me what he had in mind for a cover. I walked around with the drawing for a few days until I decided to just do it. As Gary said, “If you’re going to have a tattoo on your ankle, then make it a pretty one.”

Gary’s initial drawing.

Let’s do this Gary.

The outlining is finished.

Finished:

It’s a beautiful tattoo and much better than my terrible original. But it’s taken me awhile to get used to. It seems so big and every time I look at my ankle, I’m caught off guard by this big, colorful tattoo.

Despite any misgivings I may have about this new tattoo, however, there’s nothing I can do about it now. This actually gives me comfort.

That’s it. No more tattoos. No more ideas mulling in my head.

For now.

I am a bad blogger lately… October 17, 2011

…but mostly it’s because of this:

and this:

Oh how I went from 0-60 in just a few short days. My long, glorious, relaxing summer days came to an abrupt halt when the university started up again, and I began teaching 4 more classes. Thus, my regularity in blogging also halted. And now I feel so back logged  that I’ve decided to just blog once a day (hopefully. Maybe once every other day) about what’s happened over the past month.

Today’s post is all about music. Which I’ve seen a lot of in the past month and all of it has been local, starting with KCPR’s (our local university radio station) Fall Flood Festival, in which there were 3 days of music being played all around our town: in bars, in museums, and in coffee shops. It was a wonderful weekend, and I spent the entire three days surrounded by my friends, my kids, and lots of musicians.

Kyle Field, aka “Little Wings,” played a few times (as a side, Maddie met Kyle and listened to him play for the first time. When he introduced himself to het, she said, “Mom, it’s so nice you’re friends with a homeless person.” To which I told her that Kyle is not homeless and is in fact a well-respected, semi-famous musician, who has played and is friends with Feist. Then she was enamored.):

Bottle reunited for the first time since 1997:

Sparrow’s Gate played:

There were so many musicians I had the chance to see, but to post all the pictures would be laborious, and probably quite boring for those not familiar with our town’s old bands.

I also got a chance to see Justin Townes Earle play, and even though I’m not a fan of country music, it was a great show. And his music, while country, harkens to old Americana country, like Johnny Cash or his father, Steve Earle.

Finally, I had the privilege of seeing Matt Pond, PA, whom I’ve adored for about 8 years now. He’s a real mellow singer songwriter, but even though he had a broken leg and the crowd was pretty small, he put a fabulous show, and his stage presence was amazing. I honestly wanted to make love to him after hearing him play.

My favorite song of his:

That’s it. Short and sweet. I have a ton of essays to grade in the next few weeks, but I’ll catch up on my blogging.

Promise.

20 years ago September 14, 2011

Twenty years ago, I was 15 and I thought I knew everything. Everything. I mean, everything. I had the entire world figured out and with the help of Kurt Cobain, I really understood life. I had watched enough Disney and John Hughes movies to know how love worked, I had a good group of friends and we were convinced we’d live next door to each other forever, and all the money I made at my part-time job was spent on me, me, me. I was the center of the universe. The world gravitated toward me.

Twenty years later, at 35, I realize I know nothing. Nothing. I mean, nothing. Kurt Cobain killed himself, life moved on, and I don’t understand much. There weren’t enough movies at the Cineplex to teach me about love and life, my friends have morphed and changed over time and none of us are neighbors, and all my money is spent on bills. My children are the center of my universe and I am but a small speck of dust, 1 person of almost 7 billion. I do not hold the world in my hands. I do not have the answers.

But somehow I feel like I still have learned a lot. Even though I know less and am more uncertain every day, I actually know more and grow more certain every day. I look at this sentence and realize it makes no sense, but yet, it also makes perfect sense. Wonderful sense. In the past 20 years I have changed more than I could ever have imagined and the past few weeks have shown me how different my life is at 35 from what I thoguht it would be when I was 15.

At 15, I never imagined myself with two kids and single. I think I imagined myself married and living in sweet harmony somewhere in Montana (I always wanted to live in Montana. I don’t even know why. I’ve never even been there) with a couple of young kids running through the grass. Easy kids. Always well-behaved kids. Now, at 35, however, I couldn’t imagine my life any differently. I love my kids, and I love the bad ass way I brought them into life, confident in my ability to parent by myself. Sure, a little different than most people and a lot different than what I had thought at 15, but it’s still pretty kick-ass. When I meet a man who doesn’t like kids and seems to holds it against me that I have kids, I really do think, ‘Well, that’s a shame because really the mama part of me is the BEST part of me.”

Because my life with kids has been a roller coaster of fun times. We’ve had a few dips here and there–late night puke sessions, yelling across the dinner table, one concussion, and countless time outs–but mostly we have fun. Family fun. Really, really good fun.

Like watching Maddie play her first ever volleyball game (and I am not kidding when I say Horace Grant was in the audience. Because he lives in the area and his daughter goes to the opposing team’s school. But how cool is that? Horace Grant watched my daughter play volleyball!. )

Maddie’s school lost BIG TIME (with Horace Grant watching no less), but Maddie did really well. I think this may be her sport.

Family fun is having my brother-in-law buzz Luke’s hair because I’m tired of paying for haircuts when it grows back so damn fast. Twenty years ago the thought of my 13 year old sister being married with kids to a wonderful man was unthinkable. She didn’t even like boys. Now I can’t imagine Jon not being part of our lives.

(Before)

(Starting)

(Half-way. Cate blow drying the hair off Luke’s neck)

(Finished!)

20 years ago, I would never have thought that hanging out with my mom would ever be fun nor did I think I’d live in a small town. I saw myself city-bound (for a while at least, then it was off to Montana). The jokes on me now because I hang out with my mom all the time and we do have fun and I live in a town so small that it’s almost impossible to go anywhere without running into someone you know. This past week, I took my mom and the kids to our town’s last Friday night concert and we, of course, ran into many friends.

(The concert)

(My mom with Megan and Sadie)

(Jenny and her mom)

(Carolyn and Mark, Garth’s parents)

(LOVE)

Twenty years ago, I didn’t think my mom knew I had smoked pot, but apparently she did because she said to Maddie, “Your mom smoked a lot of pot in high school.” I looked at my mom in disbelief not because she knew I smoked pot, but because now, as a parent, what am I supposed to say about my past, the things I did 20 years ago?

I also didn’t think that I would turn into the parent of my mom and scold her for bad manners like talking on her phone constantly: at dinner, at restaurants, at the coffee shop.

(Fun family time at coffee shop, but oh no, what’s that…)

(It’s my mom on her damn phone!)

I remember countless fights about me being on the phone when I was 15 and this was pre-cell phones; actually, I think it was pre-call waiting, so my mom was always yelling at me to get off the phone, and now, dammit, I’m yelling at her to get off the phone. My 15 year old-self cannot even grasp the reality of this.

In the past 20 years I’ve made some amazing new friends and I love how much they love me and my kids.

(Megan and I walked the kids downtown for dinner, but Megan walked Luke on her bike. And now he’s forever in love with her).

(Jenn and my kids)

(A bunch of girlfriends from the early college days came into town to visit Colleen, whom I’ve written about before, and who is still battling cancer. Keep her in your prayers.)

My new friends are amazing, but there’s something about the people who knew you in your youth that make them even more special. Twenty years ago, I lived in south Orange County in a pretty tight neighborhood, and it was then that I met a lot of the friends I still have today. One group in particular, a bunch of boys that all lived down the street from me and literally all next door to each other, taught me a whole hell of a lot. These boys were older, wiser, and much more experienced then me. I was just this skinny, 15 year old girl who so wanted to be as cool as they were. They went to college, and I stayed home and went to high school. They went on fun summer adventures, and I got to hear about them when they came home. But the one thing they did share with me was the love of a band. Two of the neighborhood boys, Drew and Jack, went to Chico State for undergraduate school and came home with tapes of this band, The Mother Hips, who played at their college parties. Soon, regardless of what college we attended (or what high school we were still at), everyone in the neighborhood was listening to these tapes. I’m not even sure if I loved the tape they gave me because I thought the music was so amazing or if it was the love of these boys sharing their music with me, but the band grew on me, and once I went to college, and the band started touring California, I went to every show possible. I think I’ve been to probably 50+ Mother Hips shows.

**Disclaimer: If you’re not a Mother Hips fan, you just may want to skip this entire portion**

They call their music California soul and I can’t think of a better way to describe them. This past weekend, in Chico, they celebrated 20 years together and I went up with my good friend Ryan (also from the old neighborhood) to listen to their concert and reunite with the boys from the old neighborhood.

But first we drove up to Santa Cruz and stayed at another high school friend, Kai’s house, nestled in the middle of the Santa Cruz mountains.

(I love that mountain living)

(Kai and his fiance)

(Kai and Ryan played guitar for hours. I just got to sit and listen. So very nice.)

We left the next morning, early, and headed for Chico. I’ve known Ryan since I was 15 and he’s like a brother to me. We haven’t road tripped in many, many years, but I’ve decided he is the best road trip partner ever. I laughed so hard in the car I almost peed my pants.

(Ryan’s road soda)

(We saw this as we entered Chico and I had to pull over and take a picture for my dad. Go Greenbay!)

We went straight to my good friend Matt’s house, who lives in Chico and has known me for almost 20 years (16!).

And Matt took us to the Sierra Nevada Brewing Company:

(This is the glass that Ryan stole–STOLE!–from the Brewing company by putting it in my purse. I felt like such a mule!)

From there we met up with the Hips’ parade, which sounds totally dorky if you’re not a Mother Hips fan, but oh well. Basically, it was about 150 Hips fans on bikes taking a tour of Chico and hitting up all the spots that the Hips used to frequent when they all lived there. Here’s a great video someone took of Tim and Greg acoustic during the parade. I love that everyone in the crowd is singing along.

We watched Nicki Bluhm (Tim Bluhm’s wife) sing a song on the front porch of their old college house.

She’s an incredible musician herself and it was fun to stop and watch the scene for a bit.

But then we got back in the car and took a short, short hike (it was 105 degrees outside!) to see the beauty that Chico has to offer.

Then we toured the college, and it’s a beautiful campus. Really, just gorgeous.

(A creek runs through the campus. I’m jealous.)

After spending the day wandering all around the town, I feel like Chico is some hidden gem of a place. I mean, it’s kind of in the middle of nowhere, but I loved the town and the people. Chico, I will be returning.

After all this, we finally went down to the show and caught up with some of the boys from my neighborhood.

(Bruce, me, and Ryan. I just saw Bruce last summer in Portland, but I could see him every day. He’s the nicest, most down-to-earth, loving man I’ve ever known.)

(Ryan, Jack, and me. I’ve had a crush on Jack since I was 15. And I still do.)

The show was amazing in so many ways: the original bass player and drummer members came onstage and played, and then came back and for about an hour the old and new(er) bassist and drummer played all together; the crowd was filled with real Hips fans; my neighborhood boys were all there (even if I didn’t get pictures of all of them) . I don’t know how else to say this and I know it sounds cheesy, but there was just so much love in the room.

I didn’t take any pictures or video, but lots of other people did, so here’s some from the show:

I’m going to stop dorking out now, but the weekend was amazing, and I’m so thankful I was able to be there and to see old friends.

The next morning, Matt, Ryan, and I went to breakfast and then it was back on the road again.

(Ryan drove home. The 5 is a lonely stretch of highway, but good company and the Sunday New York Times makes it so much better.)

Ryan and I spoke a lot about the past 20 years during the car ride and where we thought we’d end up compared to where we actually are. We got a little philosophical and talked about what kind of knowledge is necessary in life, expectations, dreams, desires, and the reality of it all. We thought about who we were 20 years ago, me 15 and him 17, and how different those people are. My younger-self was such a brat and know it all. She’s too confident. I really want to slap her upside the head.

In the end, I’m happy with where I am at right now. My life looks a lot different than I thought it would, but it’s also a lot better than any 15 year old imagination could have come up with. The one thing that remains constant, Ryan and I both agreed, is that we were pretty lost at 15 and guess what? We still are.

side notes August 30, 2011

I talk in circles. This is part of me being an ENFP, my communication style, or so I’ve been told. But this must be frustrating for many of my friends and family, and it’s been like this since I was a kid.  My stories almost never follow a linear path; I often make digressions and if I come full circle then it’s after a long stretch of intermittent stories, and even I am surprised when I make my way back to my main point. This is also how I teach. Somehow, though,  it must not be too bad because I still have friends and I have yet to be fired from my job.

The real hindrance is not when I’m telling a story to a friend or teaching a class; it’s when I’m trying to fit all the pieces of my life into a longer story, even–and especially–if that story is in my head, being told to myself as I turn and mull over some new development, trying to make a connection or see the bigger picture. Or trying to sum up a week or two in a blog post. Sometimes, I wonder: where do I start, what should go in the middle, and how to end???

Because everything in life has a beginning, middle, and end, but putting all the pieces together coherently can be difficult for me.  Which is why I often make side notes. I almost always have a notebook with me and when I have a thought–whatever it may be about: a song I liked on the radio, a teaching idea, a moment of self-discovery–I jot it down in my notebook, and consider it a side-note of my life. This has proved helpful in so many ways, but I’m still surprised at how often I look at my side notes and think, “well, why’d I write that down?”

A loopy circle my brain makes.

Because these past few weeks have been so disorderly, or maybe not disorderly so much as disjointed, I’m going to share my side notes of life from the past few weeks and hopefully they’ll make some sense (but probably not).

Starting with getting back into a regular schedule and going back to school. Maddie had her first day at school as a 7th grader. It’s so hard to believe that she’s already in junior high. Well, technically, she’s at the same school and campus she’s attended since she was 3 1/2, but this year the big change is that she doesn’t have to wear a uniform. She was so excited to finally wear “cute clothes” to school. Me? I’m not so happy. I spent quite a bit of money increasing her wardrobe, the dress code is pretty limited (no jeans, no leggings, no tee-shirts, no cargo pants) so finding appropriate outfits has been a struggle, and the worst, the absolute worst is having to deal with Maddie in the morning, waking up at 6:15 to try on at least three-four outfits before she picks one.

• Side note: Luke and I can easily sleep until 9a.m. if given the opportunity. Maddie going back to school means we have to wake up at 7:30, so I can make her lunch and drive her. But what’s worse is that she’s waking both Luke and I up even earlier to ask how her outfits look. It’s driving me crazy and even Luke is getting a little cranky about it. I bet he even wishes for uniforms again.

Along with new clothes, Maddie has been begging–begging–for a pair of TOMS shoes. I promised her I’d get her a pair after summer, when school started, and then I just splurged and bought a pair for the entire family.

• Side note: I’m not gonna lie: TOMS are probably the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever worn and it’s taking all my will power not to buy a pair in every color.

To celebrate Maddie going back to school, I took her out for a late breakfast, just the two of us, hanging out in our beautiful downtown, people watching.

With Maddie gone, I’ve been walking Luke downtown to a small coffee shop. I have coffee; he has hot chocolate.

I think the best part of this week was a gift from my Aunt Linda: a new mattress! I have never, ever had a new mattress.

• Side note: The mattress I have been sleeping on was my parents’ old mattress, around 8 years old. The mattress before? I’m not even kidding when I say it was the bed my great-grandpa died in. Long story.

Aunt Linda just kindly offered to buy me a new mattress, well, just because. She said the last time she was in town and she slept on my bed, she was incredibly uncomfortable.

• Side note: I think she’s lying. I think she just bought me the mattress to be nice.

This new mattress is incredible.  No longer to I roll over to one side because the mattress is indented. No longer is my back in a kink. No longer…well, anything really. I just fall into this luxurious bed and feel like I’m being held by a cloud. I. am.not.even.exaggerating.

• Side note: O.K. Maybe I’m exaggerating a little. I mean, being held by a cloud is a little hyperbolic. Maybe being held by an angel from heaven, floating above all the world’s problems fits better. Still too much?

Luke loves sleeping next to me and I love that he’s not falling right into me because of the uneven bed from before. Even Maddie has been sneaking into bed with Luke and I.

• Side note: Which is so annoying to me since we’re all crowded together; Maybe I should have bought a cal-king.

The three of us have also been doing some hiking. I feel like we took a little hiatus from hiking because we were traveling so much, but two days in a row we went with friends. The first time we went with Megan and three of her sons:

(Luke walked the entire way all by himself. It’s only the second time he’s done it. I am so proud!)

(Always a cow. The boys climbed up on the rock to watch the cow and little Luke stayed a bit behind, curious but also fearful).

• Side note: He gets that from me, I think. Maddie too. Curious and scared. Always a combination.

The following day we went on the same hike with my friend Allison and her two kids, Seth and Olivia.

This time Luke barely walked any of the hike and spent most of his time on my back. Lucky kid.

• Side note: Unlucky back. He’s getting too big for this.

And we saw another cow, but this time it was a bull, quietly munching on poison oak.

• Side note: Lucky cow. I cringe whenever I see poison oak, my only arch-nemesis.

(Look at those horns!)

Both my kids can be such complainers when it comes to getting ready to leave for a hike, but once we’re there, walking together, we all seem to have a good time, and going with friends and their kids makes it even better.

What my kids do love, however, is a good party.

• Side note: SO DO I!

And a good party we had at Melanie’s son, Charlie’s, 4th birthday party.

(Happy birthday Charlie Roy!)

(Pinata time!)

(Opening presents!)

(The whole gang)

I’ve said it before, but I love Melanie and her husband Derek’s parenting style. They’re so low-key and fun and this party was a perfect reflection of them. Kids ran around, having fun; adults mingled and drank wine. And everything was casual and easy (OK, easy to me. Mel might tell a different story). I think the testament of a good part is how comfortable your guests feel, and I could’ve stayed all night. But I did have a moment of wanting to strangle Derek when he brought out this great big suitcase of musical instruments for Luke to play with.

• Side note: I don’t even care of this makes me a bad parent, but my ears, my ears!!! Luke can only make so much noise before I feel my body tense up and my resilience eroding.

On my own time, I’ve had some pretty fun nights, starting with the best book club ever. We met to discuss the book, House of Mirth, by Edith Wharton.

I remember reading Age of Innocence when I was in college and loving it, and though I’m usually a quick reader, I lugged through this book, and I could not get into any of the characters.

• That’s a lie. I loved Selden.

I especially hated Lily Bart. Spoiler Alert: When she dies at the end, I was relieved.

• Side note: My book club seemed to think I was a terrible person for saying this, but I don’t even care. She drove me up the wall.

But our discussion was so lively and spirited and we were all talking at once during a few moments and it was just so much fun. Maybe it was the wine, or how we clashed on our feelings about the book, or even our new member Joe, but I felt electric and really alive during the meeting.

• Side note: What probably made this book club even more fun was that after we discussed House of Mirth, we discovered, as people looked through their smart phones, that Edith Wharton wrote smut–SMUT!–late in life.  Well, really what she wrote is erotica. Here’s an excerpt:  “One by one they gained her bosom, and she felt her two breasts pointing up to them, the nipples hard as coral, but sensitive as lips to his approaching touch. And now his warm palms were holding each breast as if in a cup, clasping it, modeling it, softly kneading it, as he whispered to her, ‘Like the bread of the angels.’”

• Side note to side note: Are you just dying? The “bread of angels”!!! If some man said this to me, I’d burst out laughing and have to leave the room. And this, from the first Pulitzer prize female writer! I mean, look at her portrait:

With the idea of erotica in his mind, my friend Andy is on his way to Burning Man and decided to dye his hair white for the occasion. Actually, he asked me to dye his hair, and since I’ve never bleached anyone’s hair before, I eagerly accepted the challenge.

• Side Note: Like putting a bottle of hair dye is really challenging?!?

Then Andy, Marnie, and I all went out for drinks and had a great time.

• Side note: Marnie has the best cheekbones ever! I’m so jealous of them.

I also saw my friend Reese play at a coffee shop and she did a great version of “Fever,” but only after I harassed her to sing it. But she does it so.damn.well.

• Side note: Yes, she is reading the lyrics off her phone, but I kind of think that makes the song even more endearing.

And then I saw Niko Vega play, and it was one of the best shows I’ve seen in such a long time.

• Side note: I came across this show rather randomly. I had seen it advertised and made a mental note to go, but then I forgot, and then I was on a date…

More on that later….

• And it ended rather early, and I was wandering around downtown by myself, when I remembered the show, and decided to go by myself, and had no problem what-so-ever doing that but ran into Derek (Melanie’s husband!) and he was going to the show alone as well and so we went together and had the best time ever rocking out to Nico Vega.

Whom I have a girl crush on now.

Such stage presence! Such command of the audience! I wish I had taken a video, and actually I did but the lighting was horrible, but check out her video, Gravity (this songs for the ladies. For all the feminists I know):

She’s good, isn’t she?

Finally, onto my date. The thing is, I have been dating, or at least, on dates. And I’ve mostly written about it in the abstract for this blog because it’s rather personal.

• Side note: And really, with modern technology as it is, I don’t want someone I’ve been on a date with to google my name and have my blog come up and our date explained as public knowledge. Though, I’m pretty sure if you google my name, this blog won’t come up, but still.

However, I’m going to break my rule and talk about this one date because I think it forces a pretty important question about dating and who we (I) am attracted to.

So the date: It was a blind date. But I knew a few things about him: he’s a bit older than me, a single dad, a teacher, a surfer, and I had been told, a really cool, chill guy. So we met for drinks, and he was all of the above and more. And he was handsome and smart to boot. What I really liked about him was how honest and unassuming he was and how he spoke with such love for his daughter. And we had a really, really good time. And I even met him for breakfast the next day.

• Side note: That is not a euphemism for us spending the night together. We didn’t. I swear.

But the thing is, we had no chemistry what-so-ever. Which brings me to the point of chemistry and the brain. Basically, the heart vs. the mind. In my past, I’ve had it both ways:

1. I’ve dated a man who I had incredible physical chemistry with but I knew in my mind that we weren’t meant to be together, but that physical chemistry kept us together, even when we knew the relationship was falling apart.
2. I’ve dated (and, married!!!!) a man that I had NO physical chemistry with because my mind said, “He’s so good. Look at him on paper. You need this man in your life. He will be good for you.” And well, that all just fell apart too. because when the physical chemistry isn’t there, then there really isn’t anything to hold the relationship together. there’s no glue for the paper.

• Side note: Is it surprising that I dated these men after each other? So after the relationship that had incredible physical chemistry, I had the relationship without chemistry. I told myself, after the passionate relationship, that physicality wasn’t important, so I went with my brain. Which wasn’t smart either.

The whole point is that somehow the heart and the mind must meet in the middle. I need to have both. And I knew, especially after our breakfast date, that I couldn’t date this man again because there wasn’t any physical chemistry.

• Side note: This was to the great upset of several of my friends who had high hopes for this date (I did too, actually), and I heard many comments about giving it more time, that the physical isn’t as important as the practical, but I’m sorry, I just beg to differ. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I won’t compromise for what looks good on paper. The glue–the glue–is so important as well.

And I kind of mourned this realization because something inside of me kind of thought, “Well, you’ll probably be alone forever then. Because how in the world are you going to find someone this good (on paper. Oh, and actually, in person as well) who will accept you for all your quirks and the whole single mom thing and the two different dad things, etc.”

• Side note: Que small, tiny violin. For this moment was a narcissistic pity party for myself.

But then I also thought, “Hot damn. I will find someone. I’m kick ass. And if I don’t, then I’d rather be alone than sacrifice something that I know I need.”

• Side note: Que Rocky theme music. For this was a narcissistic ego-boosting moment for myself.

Either way, it’s a hard balance, and I’m not quite sure how to maintain it, especially since I haven’t found the right balance yet.

• Side note: Which does kind of worry me, I have to admit. It makes me wonder if my standards are too high? But no, that can’t be it, can it?

But I guess I’ll keep trying and hoping and believing that there is someone who will be a fit for me.

• Side note: And please notice that i didn’t say “perfect” fit because I’m not so naive to think that there’s anyone perfect out there.

We’ll see what happens.

So the side notes of my life are what keep me realizing that even if my mind meanders an odd path to knowledge–of the world, of my kids, of my friends, of myself–I still have the ability to pull all this life information together, to form something out of chaos, and to make meaning when sometimes everything seems so meaningless.

The side notes to life, perhaps–for me, at least–keep my head out of the clouds, keep me focused, and I guess, really make me who I am.

• Side note: Which is messy I guess.

oh, inverted world August 18, 2011

The title of this blog post is outright and unabashedly  plagiarized from The Shins 2001 album. Did I like the album? Yes. Did I love the album? No, love is too strong of a word. Did I love the title? One of the best I’ve ever seen. Does it sum up these past few weeks?

Without a doubt.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of life, in all its forms–good and bad–tumbling and crashing and exploding in great bursts of energy and insight and awareness and quite frankly, pure terror. It’s like everything I know to be true about my life has somehow been turned upside down. Oh, it’s an inverted world I’m inhabiting. A different world. But I think, I hope, I’ll be just fine.

It all started with almost four entire days of no kids. Luke went with his dad to Seattle and my parents and Aunt Judy took Maddie. From Saturday around noon to Tuesday, 3p.m. I had no one to be responsible for but myself. I had been looking forward to this little break for a month, and I dreamed of how absolutely wonderful it would be to have time to myself, time to write, time to play with friends. I had a lot planned and I took advantage of every minute during this time period. What I didn’t expect to happen, however, was a full blown self-awareness attack of who I am. The long days of freedom gave me time to think, to let the past few months of introspection and therapy come blasting through me with full force. Which kind of beat me up and knocked me down for a while. But, like any true fighter, I got up again, dusted myself off, and realized how thankful I am for the change, this new inverted world.

But first, the freedom without kids began with a night out with my friend Jenny. She left her kids and husband and joined me for some dinner and drinks and conversation. The coffee shop I love (LOVE!!) was having a grand opening of their new, bigger location and it was invite only, but since I’m a regular (and habitually buy their $3 coffees), I got a ticket to the party and took Jenny. It was such a cool party. We felt very VIP.

Besides meeting some new people and seeing some friends, I also got to hang out with Reese, one of my favorite people.

Reese played a set for the grand opening and even though Jenny and I missed seeing her perform, we still had a blast talking. Plus, since I got there after her set, Reese promised she’d play for me at my house. And Reese, I’m holding you to that promise. I see a party at my house in the near future with you as the headlining band.

But the greatest part of the night was hanging with Jenny, my love of a friend if ever there was.

(How is it possible that this woman has 3 kids?)

The following day, I went up to Big Sur to relax and write. Initially I had planned on just camping ,but my dad and sister annoyed me so much with their fears of me being raped or eaten by a bear while camping alone in Big Sur (silly, since in the middle of summer you’re really never alone in Big Sur. There are always a million people camping right next to you) that I started looking for a possible cabin to rent but there were none available, so I went back to my decision to just camp. But then I decided that I really wanted to spend my time away writing rather than hiking and reading and with that came the realization that I’d need electricity, so I called again and again until I lucked out and found a cabin the someone had just canceled on. Their loss. My good luck.

So away I went to Big Sur Campground and Cabins.

And checked into a cute little cabin:

And before I even started writing, I did take a walk along the river and in the river:

I think Big Sur is my favorite place on earth, and while I haven’t been to that many places on earth, I just know deep down that no other place can compare. There’s something so remote and quiet and tranquil about the area. And when looking up through the trees, surrounded by natural beauty, I just feel awe stuck.

But as the light began to fade, I went back to the cabin, plugged in my lap top and started writing. It was so quiet: no cell phone reception, no distant laughter of a neighbor, no kids calling for me, no cars driving through my neighborhood, no internet to distract me.

And maybe it was this quiet stillness that inverted my world because suddenly I kind of understood the path I’ve been on. Much of this has to do with having a good therapist, writing out a semi-autobiographical novel (I use that word loosely), and even having some pretty emotional, deep, tear-filled talks with Garth about our relationship. It also has to do, I’m sure, with having a significant amount of time without my kids, but in a matter of two minutes, I felt incredibly vulnerable.

Which is so vague. And it’s been something that I’ve been wondering about and have even written about in this blog. I know I’m not vulnerable. I know I put up walls. I know where this stems from. I know this is something I have to change. But it’s like I said in my post here when I asked my friend Melanie, “well how do I be more vulnerable?” and she gave me an amazing answer that I wrote about. Because I really don’t know what being vulnerable means.  And I’ve asked everyone:  my friends and therapist, “what do you mean by being vulnerable?” And for a while I thought it just meant being willing to get hurt or taking a risk. But I still wasn’t quite sure. After all, as a woman, a single, working mom, aren’t I already vulnerable?

But sitting in Big Sur, I realized that none of that is what being vulnerable is about. For me, at least. For me, to be vulnerable is to let someone else take care of me, to be willing to be taken care of. This is the big mystery for me. When I stare at cute married couples and wonder how they do it, what I’m really wondering is how does that woman let that man take care of her and her kids and her problems. How do you give that up? And what this is also all about is letting go of control for me. And I never thought I was a controlling person and I’m definitely not controlling in the “my way or highway” kind of way, but I have taken absolute control of my life. I don’t have to share with anyone, I rarely have to compromise, and in many subtle ways, it is my way or the highway. I have sheltered and structured my life so that no one can come in.

As I sat in the cabin, drinking a cup of tea, I started looking back on my life and I saw that since I was a little kid I was taking care of myself and then at 23 I was taking care of Maddie and now I’m taking care of Luke too. And then it hit me, who’s been taking care of me? And I don’t mean this in a feel-so-sorry-for-me kind of way because I have lots of friends and family who love me and surround me and help me, but that is not the same as letting people really into my life and letting them take care of me, hold me, care for me. I abhor having to reach out and say I can’t do something, and I always thought this was just my pride. My pride at being a kick-ass single mom, a working woman who gets shit done, a can do anything if I set my mind to it person.

But really what this has made me is incredibly lonely and empty inside, and that’s how I felt as I got into my car the next day to drive home: lonely and empty. Like I hadn’t been filled up in so long that I didn’t even know how dry my well had become. How absolutely exhausting it is to care, care, care for my children and my house and my pets and my students and to come home at the end of the night and not have someone to care for me. And the biggest kicker is that I’d done this to myself. Ask Garth, he’ll tell you how hard he tried to be that person, but I would never let him in. In fact, ask almost any past boyfriend, good friend, or even my family. They’ll attest to this truth. The walls I put up may have protected me from a lot of past childhood pain, but they haven’t helped me in becoming a healthy person, a woman really.

So that is what being vulnerable is for me. And when that realization hit me, I just felt so beaten up and deflated and confused and really, really just sad. So I got back from my trip, went out to dinner with my best friend Denise, and did some more writing. But everything felt surreal and hazy and confusing.

And I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I always do when I’m confused, I got the hell out of dodge.

I got my babies back, kissed them both a million times because I really did miss them,  packed up the car, and headed down to southern California to visit some good friends and family.

I stayed with my best friend Jill and her husband and son.

We spent a lot of time talking and catching up because I haven’t seen Jill since my birthday and I don’t think I’ve seen Greg, her husband, since last October. We also went to the beach, the one thing I miss about southern California. Jill decided to take me to Strands, the beach that I spent most of my summer days as a kid. It’s in Dana Point, and to get there, we would park (or take the bus) our cars on a cul-de-sac, walk across an empty field, climb through a hole in a fence, and walk down a windy, steep trail until the sand touched our feet. The great, warm ocean spread out in front of us, and there were few people there. Mostly just surfers and younger kids, like us, who didn’t mind walking back up that steep trail when our beach day was over. The only houses were up the hill, across the street, and they were pretty modest town homes.

But when Jill took me to Strands what I saw was a completely different place. Long gone is the steep cliff and windy trail. Wealth and commercialization have taken over this once sacred spot of my youth. Now, instead of walking down, you can take an inclinator. I’m not even kidding.

Yes, there are steps for people to take down as well, but it’s like California wants to keep people out of shape since most beach goers seemed to be waiting for the free ride. And the beach! The once empty beach now has million dollar homes right on the sand. There’s still public access, of course, but when I look behind me and see monstrous homes, pangs of nostalgia for an empty cliff side purl in my stomach.

Regardless of the homes and the destruction of natural beauty, we still had a wonderful time at the beach, playing in the sand and the warm, warm water and  meeting up with some old friends.

(Luke loving the soft sand)

(Jill. Oh how I love her.)

(Ryan drove down and met us at the beach. Luckily, I’ll see him in a few weeks again. We have a weekend road trip planned!)

(My good, good friend Kurt. I’ve been friends with Kurt since I was 15, and I haven’t seen him in over a year. And he’s getting married in April to a wonderful girl, and while I’m happy for him, I’m also feeling sorry for myself. Kurt’s always been my go-to guy when I need a date for a wedding, a reunion, a party. And now he’ll no longer be my date. He’ll have a better date always–his wife. But I’m feeling a bit elegiac about this. Selfish, I know.)

While we were in the O.C., I dropped Maddie off at her grandparents’ house so she could spend some time with them. They are truly the best grandparents ever, and as my unofficial in-laws (since Maddie’s dad and I never married), I feel so fortunate to have them in our lives. They have been living in Italy for the past year (for business, though they’re also having tons of fun), and we haven’t had a chance to see them since October. Maddie stayed with them for 2 days and they took her to Disneyland and she got to play with her cousin, Leah, now 8 months old.

(Maddie and Leah)

(Maddie at Disneyland with Grandma Amy and Grandpa Cliff)

Luke missed Maddie so much that I spoiled him: I took him to Toys R Us and bought him some new  toys. Toys can’t replace his sister, but they do help distract him.

After a great couple of days with Jill and friends, I packed the car up and took the kids to L.A. to spend some time with my family, and generally just enjoy relaxing.

(All my aunts! Aunt Jo, Aunt Debbie, Aunt Linda! LOVE THESE LADIES!!!)

(Cousins!)

It was especially important for us to be down in L.A. because my cousin Hana was visiting from Japan and we only get to see her once a year if we’re lucky. I still remember when she was born, but she’s 18 now, and my God, she is just gorgeous.

We had a big family BBQ that was fun.

Big props goes to my Aunt Jo who is, and always has been, the family photographer and takes amazing pictures.

I left L.A. on Monday with a heavy heart, not quite ready to go back home. Mostly this was because I had to teach my first class on Tuesday evening and not only was I not prepared to teach, but I didn’t feel mentally prepared to go back to work. I also wasn’t really feeling like I wanted to face some of the feelings I had wrestled with in Big Sur. Getting out of Dodge was awesome and really helped me clear my mind, or ahem, ignore it, but I had a long drive ahead of my with nothing to do but think. And I really didn’t have the energy to go there.

So I didn’t. Instead, I thought about my class. I made a scary decision toward the middle of summer, but also an incredibly good decision. I dropped a class at the community college. This is scary because community colleges are getting hit hard with budget cuts and while I’ve been safe for the past few years, I really don’t know if there will be classes for me in the Spring, so teaching 2 classes in the fall seems not only like a blessing, but also a good way to save a little money just in case I don’t get classes. On the other hand, though, I was scheduled to teach 2 classes at the community college and 4 classes at the university: that’s 6 composition classes total. I did this last fall and I about had a mental break down. Plus, I had no social life what-so-ever. My entire life revolved around grading. Even my kids were often pushed to the side as I read essay after essay. Furthermore, I got a terrible schedule this fall, and I basically was teaching Monday-Thursday from noon-8p.m That’s just ridiculous with two kids.So I gave up one class at the community college (the terrible 6-8p.m. class), and even though I’m a bit worried about money, my stress level is already down, and I feel like my work load will allow time for my kids and my social life.

But I also made another huge decision. I decided not to use a textbook in my class. I’m so tired of the high prices and they all seem so prescriptive. If I tell my students NOT to repeat their thesis in their conclusion (and you never, ever should…uless of course, your essay is going to be over, say, 30 pages long…and even then I wouldn’t advise this.) inevitable every writing textbook will tell them to repeat their thesis. And that’s just ridiculous.And it pisses me off. At the beginning of summer, when I made this decision, I felt all confident, like, “of course I can do this. I’ve been teaching writing for almost 10 years. I don’t need a textbook!”

But then, on the drive home, I had a serious panic attack. What was I thinking? What was I going to do for 18 weeks with these kids without a textbook? And why, why, why do I always wait until the last minute to plan out my semester???

So I thought and had Maddie jot down some notes about what I was thinking and I just drove. I dropped Luke off at his dad’s and I dropped Maddie off at my sister’s and I took a shower, opened my computer and got to work. I finished my syllabus, my August calendar, and had a pretty good plan of what to do for the first few weeks.

On Tuesday, I set out to campus to teach.

I walked into my class, and I took roll and went over the syllabus, and answered questions and then I did something I’ve never done before. I wrote the word “reading” on one white board and the word “writing” on another white board and told my class to get up, go to the board, and write one thing they hated about each word. This is what I got.

While I took pictures of their comments, I asked them to take 5 minutes and write–anonymously–what they feared most from this class (at least what they feared after hearing me describe the class and read the syllabus). Their responses are pretty typical: fear of failing, losing interest, missing too many classes and getting dropped (I have an attendance policy), etc.

I’ve made a list of the top 6 or 7 writing and reading dislikes as well as what they fear from the class. I think I’m going to structure my class around this. I think I’ll tackle each fear/dislike and show them how to tackle it. Well, I’ll give them tools to help them. It’s a new way for me to teach a class, but I feel like it’s much more student-focused, like I can answer their questions and fears without first imposing what I already know to be wrong with their writing in general (and not that I’m all so knowing or amazing, but after teaching the same class for 7 years, I know the general writing problems they have).

Oh, this inverted classroom, we’ll see if it works. but I guess if I fail, at least I can say I tried something new. I hope.

So my teaching methods have changed and I will stand in a classroom later today with no clear map and I will feel fear and anxiety, but I think this may be good. For me and the students.

And as I sat in therapy, and explained to my therapist all that I had realized while in Big Sur and all that I had ignored while in Southern California, he just looked at me and smiled and nodded.

“I’m on my fucking edge, Tom,” I said. “I’m on my fucking edge.”

And I was crying. And I believe this may be the very first time I cried in therapy with Tom. And he just kept smiling.

And then he said, “Good.”

And I looked at him like he was crazy and I said, “But Tom, I don’t like being on the fucking edge.”

And he said, “O.K. then stop.”

And then I realized that I couldn’t just stop. Nor did I want to. How can I have this great feeling, this great scary feeling of being alone and being unsure and knowing that I can blame no one but myself, and then go back. Go back to being sheltered? And controlling? And closed off? No, I can’t do that. Letting myself open up, allowing myself to be cared for by friends and family, now that’s really difficult. But it’s also better than the alternative.

Even if I feel unsure and fucked up and kind of off balance.

And as Tom sat there smiling, it dawned on me that he knew this about me the whole time, probably since our second meeting and that he had guided me, gently at times, roughly at others, to this point. My edge. And I kind of wanted to hit him because why couldn’t he just have told me this months ago. But then I also realized how many people in my life had been telling me this for years–how hardened and impenetrable I was–and I had ignored them. No not really ignored them. I had listened, but I didn’t understand what it meant.

Now I do. I had to get there on my own. So then I wanted to hug and kiss Tom out of gratefulness, but that would be wildly inappropriate, and I’m also a little peeved because I’m still on this fucking edge and I’m not sure where to go from here. And maybe I won’t go anywhere. Maybe I’ll just reside here for a short while and see how it feels. I won’t, I hope. creep back from the edge.

My world may be inverted, and I may have to finally deal with this overwhelming sense of loneliness, but it’s definitely more interesting and more unfamiliar and ultimately more untouched than anything I’ve ever had in my past.

I think I can deal with that.

Thankful Tuesdays begin and oh how I love San Francisco March 29, 2011

The week went by rather quickly, and there is much to be thankful for.

Like finally finishing grading and ending a long and arduous quarter by submitting grades after spending much of the week grading like a mad woman, which is both exhausting and exhilarating:

Then for a very brief reprieve, I packed the kids into the car and off we went for a weekend in San Francisco to visit my mom and dad, attend my best friend Michelle’s baby shower, and spend some time with some great friends.

Oh, how I do love you San Francisco.

Is there any bridge more beautiful than the Golden Gate?

Of course, with my terrible sense of direction, I spent a very frustrating amount of time driving around lost in this city, but then I came to realize, getting lost near Golden Gate Park is not such a bad way to spend my time lost and driving around the city:

And spending some time on Tasha’s roof so we could take in the views of the city? Practically heaven:

 

 

 

 

Or being in the Sunset district and looking down a street, admiring a row of uniquely styled houses, which is always a reminder of why the diversity of the city–even in just the houses and districts–makes San Francisco a place that other cities should be jealous of:

And just because I happened to be lost and somehow ended up at City Lights Bookstore, I’m putting in one of my favorite poems by its founder (note: the actual spacing of the poem is not transferring correctly):

Constantly Risking Absurdity (#15)

by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Constantly risking absurdity

and death

whenever he performs

above the heads

of his audience

the poet like an acrobat

climbs on rime

to a high wire of his own making

and balancing on eyebeams

above a sea of faces

paces his way

to the other side of day

performing entrechats

and sleight-of-foot tricks

and other high theatrics

and all without mistaking

any thing

for what it may not be

 

For he’s the super realist

who must perforce perceive

taut truth

before the taking of each stance or step

in his supposed advance

toward that still higher perch

where Beauty stands and waits

with gravity

to start her death-defying leap

 

And he

a little charleychaplin man

who may or may not catch

her fair eternal form

spreadeagled in the empty air

of existence

 

 

I attended Michelle’s baby shower while I was up in San Francisco as well, seeing most of my same best friends I saw at my birthday. Which was great. It’s so rare we get together that often. Plus, celebrating Michelle’s new baby coming (due May 11th!) made my visit seem even more special:

(Another girl for Michelle and Cain!)

 

(lots of presents for this new baby girl)

 

(Michelle, proud mama to be, relishing in the attention she deserves)

 

(Michelle was delighted to have many family members fly up to SF to help celebrate. I was delighted to see her family!)

 

And then it was off for a night on the town with Tasha, some old friends, a few new friends, and I even got the chance to see my old neighbor, who I miss living next to (he didn’t call the city and complain about my chickens!). We had so much fun; oh yes, we did!

(That’s Tasha and my old neighbor Brady. They are not kissing. Just hugging.)

The night was a love fest and it was one that I will always remember. Good times and good memories: I can’t ask for much more.

Sadly, I had to leave Sunday as it was time to drive home and  prepare myself for a new quarter with classes starting Monday. Though I was up way later than I had anticipated, I’m thankful I successfully finished all my prepping for the new quarter. Giving up some sleep was well worth waking up without stress.

And then it was back into the classroom, and the first day, why always exhausting, is also invigorating. I think of all the possibilities that can come from both me as an instructor and my students as well. All the possibilities that await exploration. That’s what makes all the grading and exhaustion worth it. Very worth it.

It was a good week. A busy week. A short vacation with a lot of love spread around.

I’m so lucky in life. That I know to be true.

 

melanie’s brithday and we still know how to party January 8, 2011

My friend Melanie turned 40 today and had a party.

 

To say I had fun would be s complete understatement.

Cause you know you’re gonna have a good time when you walk in and this is the first thing you see:

And the house is decorated for fun:

 

And Melanie sings and has an amazing voice:

 

And there’s a full dance party going on (sorry about the poor quality, but you get the point);

 

 

And you realize that you feel 25 instead of 34 or 40 or 50.

I’m so thankful Melanie was born and became my friend. Cause Lord knows she can throw one kick ass party!

 

i am a rock star January 1, 2011

Last night (and since it was past midnight, half of the night counts for today’s post), I went out for New Year’s for the first time in as long as I can remember. Luke was with his dad; Maddie was at her best friend’s for a sleepover party.

I was so anxious before I left the house. When I worked in the restaurant industry, we often called Valentine’s day and New Year’s Eve amateur night. And that’s exactly how I felt: like an amateur.

Sure I go out and get a drink every once in a while, but I never go out, get dressed up, and stay out past midnight.

As I was getting ready to leave, I honestly had butterflies in my stomach.

So it was good that I spent the first few hours at my friend Melanie’s house drinking some wine and just talking. When we finally made it downtown to the party, I was feeling much more confident.

We had bought tickets to what we had heard was the best party in town–a restaurant on the creek that converts itself into a night club just for New Year’s eve. There were 2 DJs, at least 3 bars, and swarms of people. The best part was the majority of people attending were over 25, and most were in their 30s (or so it seemed), which is such a rarity in my little college town (where the average age seems to be 21).

Can I just say that I had a blast! I really, really, really has so much fun dancing, drinking, talking to friends, meeting new people, and overall ringing in the new year with some of the best people I know. I’m beyond thankful for the amazing night I had and the amazing people I was fortunate enough to spend my evening with.

And when it ended at 1:30 in the morning, I was feeling so good that I walked over to a friend’s house where we all drank some more wine and talked until 4 in the morning.

Yeah, I was up until 4AM!!! This quite possibly is a new record for me (at least since my 20s). And I’m proud to say that I made excellent decisions all night long, I didn’t get super drunk (though I will admit I was a little drunk), and overall handled myself very well.

Dude. My mom would have been proud. Hey, even Jesus would have been proud (especially because I drank wine all night. Oh, and champagne. Well, Jesus may not have been too proud of me peeing outside in the back of the restaurant, but then again, Jesus would not have liked me peeing all over my new dress while I waited in a line that was at least 15 feet long. No, I think he’d be okay with peeing outside. But my mom? No way. She’d have a heart attack. ).

I didn’t have a hang over and to be honest, I feel like a freaking rock star.

Which leads me to my only new year’s resolution: No more banging myself up about my past. At all. I’m done. Hallelujah.

It’s a new decade. A new decade!

I can’t wait to see what’s in store.

New years December 31, 2010

I’m thankful I’m out for new years!

 

(Just to clarify…I did post this at 11:49 last night from my phone, but it only posted as a draft. So I made my daily post!)