why I love andy January 13, 2012

Because  comes over to my house and cooks dinner for me and my kids:

 

Because he buys himself an expensive, fancy shower head and when it’s too big for his shower, he doesn’t return it, but instead comes and installs it in mine:

Because when I ask to borrow his ax to cut my Christmas tree, he doesn’t just lend it to me, but comes over and cuts the tree for me:

 

Because when I got rid of my TV a few months ago and decided I wanted my living room to be more suited for conversation than just static entertainment, I asked Andy to help me redecorate. But then the holidays came and decorations went up. But once the decorations came down, I stared at my living room and thought “blah.” I started moving furniture around and purchased a new chair and a lamp, but then I got stuck. Fortunately, Andy came over and with his creative eye, he got straight to work: moving paintings, candles, books. Voila: I now have an amazingly comfy living room, which I’m now calling the “parlor.”

 

 

I love Andy for many more reasons that the kindness he bestows on my family. His ease of conversation, his constant comfort, his keen advice always: he’s a treasured friend. I’m so thankful for him.

And I won’t share him. Sorry.

vacation’s over January 10, 2012

I’ve officially been back to work for a week now, and surprisingly, I’m feeling really good about this quarter. I felt ready, really ready, to get back to work.  Though, the day before school actually started, as I was sitting in my office prepping, a sense of dread did come over me.

Thankfully, it passed. And before school started, I had a fantastic break with the kids.

Maddie won our local AYSO U14 final game, coming in first place and then came in 3rd place in regionals.

She had such an amazing team of girls. They all got along so well.

Her coach, Coach K, was amazing: by far the best coach we’ve ever had. In any sport. Hands down.

Maddie played so well this season. Her coach guided her to become more aggressive, skilled, and overall, gave her the shot of confidence she needed.

I’m thankful that my best friend Jill, her husband Greg, and her son Gavin made the drive to see Maddie’s game. That’s true friendship.

My sister and her family also came. I’m thankful for how supportive they ALWAYS  are.

The kids and I also went to see my nephew Braden’s soft ball game. It was really cute. And some of these boys are so talented!

Maddie and I went to see my niece Cate’s very first ballet recital. It was so damn cute, I wanted to capture the moment forever. All of us cheered her on.

 

On a sunny yet chilly day, I took the kids down to the beach with Baily, our dog, to walk along the pier and play in the sand.

Then we went to the barn to buy some fresh produce and walked among the sunflowers.

Luke and I had a date and went apple picking. Even though the season is over and were few apples left, we still enjoyed the experience.

 

 

I spent hours making flower bobby pins and magnets for Maddie’s school to sell for their annual Christmas Boutique.

Luke and I had one of many coffee dates while Maddie was out busy with her friends.

The Luke got sick and even though I hate to see him ill, I love how cuddly and loving he is.

As a treat for our family, Milo, our cat, brought home a mouse.

That was still alive! I tried my best to save it (him? her?), but alas, Milo had the final say and the mouse died.

In many ways our vacation seemed too brief, but then it also seemed incredibly long at the same time, which is probably why I was ready to get back to work. But I’m thankful for the quality time I had with my kids.

I’m also thankful that I had a fun New Year’s Eve without the kids. I was with my sister and a bunch of friends at a local restaurant, and I had so much fun, I didn’t even take pictures, except for this one which a friend sent me (and it’s not even that good, but at least it kind of shows how much fun everyone is having).

 

I really believe 2012 is going to be a GREAT year with much to look forward to.

My only New Year’s resolution is to be more conscious of what I’m thankful for. I think not writing everyday has made me less conscious, which I don’t like. I also resolved to tell people–in person–that I’m thankful for them. Even if they hear it multiple times from me, I’m going to be much more vocal this year.

Finally, on New Year’s Eve my friend Devin, who had recently broken up with her boyfriend of 4 years, introduced me to her new boyfriend. He was so handsome and nice and I told Devin this. She responded by saying:

“That’s because I’m great and I deserve great things, and so look: I got someone GREAT!”

I love it. Devin is a humble person–no ego at all. But she knows she’s great and she has a wonderful and healthy confidence.

So I’m also stealing Devin’s saying and making it my own for 2012:

“I’m great and I deserve GREAT things”

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.

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.

blissed out lazy summer days August 5, 2011

I have finally found my summer stride and all this means is that I’m feeling rather peaceful and really, really lazy. For example,  I usually have a really clean house (as noted on several of my blog posts) and take advantage of every free moment I have to do the house “extras”: cleaning out closets, fixing up the backyard, doing something for work.

But this summer, I’m doing none of that. Don’t get me wrong, I still clean my house, but instead of a good cleaning every other day, I’m waiting until the last possible moment to bust out the broom and mop. But by forgoing my neurotic cleaning, I’m actually enjoying summer a lot more. The kids and I have almost perfected the art of lounging in our PJs, meals come when we decide we’re hungry rather than on any timed or planned schedule, and basically, we’re just playing a whole lot.

I have also perfected the art of procrastination this summer. I had planned so many projects to do this summer–changing an entire class structure in one comp class I teach, working with a couple of learning communities, quilting a few quilts–and I’ve done almost nothing. Even this blog has been put on the back burner of things I need to do. Surprisingly I am feeling no guilt what-so-ever about this. Even when Christine, my adorable roomie for the summer, came up to me the other day with a pouting face and said, “when are you going to write your blog post? I really miss it,” I just smiled and said, “soon.” And so this has become my summer mantra, “I’ll get around to it when I feel like it.”

Feels pretty damn good.

:::::

I can’t tell you how many amazing beach days we’ve had. It’s so nice to hop into the car, drive 10 minutes, and be at the beach, relaxing. I must admit, I get a little smug when I meet a stranger who tells me about how much she likes vacationing here. In a moment of schadenfreude, I smile and say, “I know; I’m so fortunate,” but what I really want to say is “Fuck yeah, sucka!”

:::::

Maddie asked if she could give me a pen tattoo. I said sure. This is what she tattooed on my thigh:

:::::

My dad’s sister, our dear Aunt Judy, just got into town from New Jersey. She’ll be here for 10 days and we’re all so excited and thankful.

::::::

My brother also came back into town. He’s been living in Hawaii for the past year and a half, and I haven’t seen him since he moved. We only got to see him for a few days because he’s moving to the Bay area, but I was thrilled to have him back. He’s cool, funny, insightful, and damn, do I just love him so much. We’re pretty close and I can–and do–tell him everything, so having him back stateside and close by makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

To celebrate his return, I invited a bunch of friends over for a big dinner. It was so nice to all be together.

(Jonathan, my sister, and me. Reunited again.)

(Jon and Jon: best brother and best brother-in-law)

(Kids playing during the party.)

::::::

Luke’s been needing an unusual amount of love and comfort lately. I’m not sure why he’s feeling this way, but I can’t resist holding him and hugging him and loving him. I mean, really, who can resist this face:

(“I want you mama,” Luke says about 100 times a day.)

::::::

In the biggest news of my summer, we all had the chance to witness my Uncle Mike do something incredible: compete and finish in his very first ironman. For the past year, my uncle has been training and running smaller races (he even completed a half-ironman earlier this year) all to be ready for the big one. The ironman triathlon is a monster of a race: a 2.4 mile swim, a 114 mile bike race, and then a marathon. The ironman my uncle competed in was in Sonoma and is called the Vineman. He started the race at 6 in the morning and finished at 10p.m. 15 HOURS!!! I can’t imagine doing anything for 15 hours, let alone competing in a race. Like my brother said, “I can’t even sleep for 15 hours!!!1″

But he completed the race despite having some pretty bad knee and calf cramping by the time he got to the marathon portion. We are so very proud of him!

(Waiting for the race to begin)

(Finishing the swim portion)

(Starting the bike portion)

(About 16 miles into the run. Looking good!)

(The finish line)

(Luke and I waiting at the finish line.)

(Finished! Maddie with Uncle Mike. He’s now an official IRONMAN!!!)

It was a long day and I didn’t do anything but show up for the end. Much props goes out to my Aunt Debbie, her husband David, my sister, and my mom who were there for almost the entire race, cheering and handing out gel packs. I’m so fortunate to have seen such an amazing feat. And even though my uncle said this was the only ironman he’d ever do, he’s already signed up for another 1/2 ironman and a 50K ultra marathon all in the fall. he also just announced yesterday that he’s going to do the Vineman again next year and try to cut off two hours from his time! I think he’s a bit batty, but you can bet we’ll be there to support him!

::::::

Because my uncle was doing the Vineman and it was in Sonoma, most of my family decided to make a vacation out of it and rent a house on the Russian River. My mom and dad, my sister and her family, my Aunt Debbie and her husband, my brother-in-law’s sister, and I all enjoyed a beautiful house right on the Russian River, complete with a private beach. It was heaven.

I actually left a few days before everyone else, so I could stop and visit friends and family along the way.

I just love driving over the Golden Gate Bridge. Is there a more beautiful bridge anywhere? I think not.

The first stop I made was to visit my old college roommate, Cory and his son Jake (his beautiful wife, Kara, was working so we didn’t have a chance to see her.).

(Picture taken from facebook. Had to steal it because it’s just the most beautiful photo ever!)

We met at Cory’s house and then took the kids to the park and took a walk in a little creek. We all had the best time.

From Cory’s house, we drove to my cousin Nicole’s house to spend the night. Nicole and her husband are the nicest people and their two sons are not only gorgeous, but so well-behaved!

(Nicole and Chris. Another pic stolen from facebook because I suck at taking good pictures!)

(Beckett, the most adorable two-year old ever! P.S. Pic stolen from facebook)

(Baby Finn, the newest member of Nicole and Chris’s family. And I actually took this photo)

(Nicole and Chris have a little studio under their house, aptly named the Rose Cottage, which is where we had the privilege of staying!)

It’s funny because when we were all little kids, all the cousins would see each other quite often, but then distance and family changes separated us and we didn’t see each other very often at all. Over the past year or so, as adults, we’ve all made a concerted effort to see each other more often, and I’m so glad we’ve done this. It’s not only nice to get together and talk about our kids and lives, but also to catch up on the past. I feel so very blessed that we were able to spend some time together and I look forward to many more nights chatting over wine with the kids playing in the background. This is what life should be about.

After a great visit, we left Nicole’s house and battled some terrible traffic to make it to Sonoma.

We arrived at our destination, a huge 5 bedroom house right on the Russian River. The whole weekend was filled with relaxation and river time (after the big ironman day that is). My best friend Michelle, her husband, and their two kids even joined us. We had such a nice time. I would go back in a heart beat.

(The view from our house. From the trees you can see the beach and river.)

(The river)

(Big family dinners are my favorite!)

(Luke, Cate, and Olivia relaxing in the river)

(Michelle’s daughter Olivia is pretty much the cutest little girl ever!)

(Olivia and Luke watching a movie and resting)

(My dad with Cate and Luke on the hammock.)

(My dad and Cain [Michelle's husband] took all the kids on a canoe ride.)

(Luke and I lounging and chatting)

(Enjoying inner tubes)

(Naps outside under an umbrella may be Luke’s new favorite thing)

(Michelle holding baby Lila and me.)

The weather was perfect, the company was amazing, and the river was awesome. I could get used to a lifestyle like this.

:::::

I had the most random fun night out. It all started with Garth coming to town. We went to a poetry reading, then out to dinner, then met up with some friends, and then spent the rest of the night dancing. Well, let’s be honest, Garth sat in the corner talking and I danced. It’s so nice to know that Garth and I can be friends, really good friends, and go out and have a really fun night with really fun people. It always amazes me how far we’ve come from when we dated. But it just goes to show: we were better friends than anything else.

(Garth and I)

(Garth went to school with this woman, Sabina. Turns out she’s one of the top tattoo pin-up girls. Besides being absolutely beautiful [and a mother of three kids!], she was one of the  nicest girls I’ve met in a long time.)

(This guy danced with me all night long, and he’s a practiced swing dancer, which meant that we really, actually danced together. Which I was terrible at. he pointed out that I just don’t know how to let a man lead [big surprise!], so he asked me to trust him, and I did. Then he flipped me over his head and spun me around. Everyone saw my undies. Awesome.)

::::::

As someone who’s just getting her toes wet dating again, I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I like and don’t like in a partner, as well as what I need to work on myself. Finding the right balance seems impossible at times, and it’s so easy for me to get caught up in the moment rather than thinking ahead and making wise decisions. But this past week, I saw a few images that help remind me of what I should look for in a man, in myself, and in life.

I also read this great blog post by Donald Miller. Donald Miller is actually a Christian writer, though pretty liberal. And why I don’t consider myself a Christian, or maybe a good Christian, or maybe what I’m trying to say is a practicing Christian, I did think his post was beyond wise, and I basically just ignored all the Biblical connections (though to be honest, there weren’t many). His post is titled, “How to Live a Great Love Story Vol II For the Guys” (as soon as I typed that I realized that there must be a Vol I for the girls, which I haven’t read, but will do so immediately). I seriously urge you to read this. It doesn’t matter if you’re a male or female, dating or married: This guys makes some excellent points.

READ THE ARTICLE HERE

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My writing project is coming along nicely. I’ve written 40,000 words, and I still feel confident in the direction its taking. But that doesn’t mean I’m confident. I have moments of confidence where I think, “Yes. This is good. This is really good. I’m actually going to make an impact on American modern literature.” These moments mostly come to me when I’m drunk, which isn’t really that often. And when I’m drunk I feel pretty confident. And make incredibly stupid comments that I’ll actually change American literature.

Mostly though, I’ll write a thousand words, unsure, and then have a serious panic. I’ll think everything I’m writing is absolute crap, and I’ve wasted almost an entire summer writing terrible prose and an overly-sentimental plot and a character that no one will like. I feel like this about 80% of the day.I know that my dialogue and descriptions and language are terrible, but I also know a lot of revisions will improve that. But I keep getting stuck in the same cycle of self-doubt: what about the plot and the main characters? What if the actual plot sucks and the characters do too and no one wants to read it (not even me!).

So I finally made a decision: I broke my promise to have no one read a draft and sent it to three people. Three.

The first person I sent it to was my friend Jeremi, who actually read the first 15,000 words and liked it. I trust Jeremi’s opinion more than almost anyone I know and I told him to give me good constructive criticism.

The second person I sent it to was my sister. She actually did not want to read it because she feels like she’s not in the right literary caliber. Which is exactly why I picked her. I’m too embarrassed to give this to one of my high-literary colleagues, but my sister is smart, and she reads a lot. All I asked her to do is read what I have so far and tell me if she wants to read more. I don’t want her to worry about critiquing anything else.

The third person I gave it to was my brother and only because he begged and I hadn’t seen him in such a long time. I gave him the same instructions as my sister. Part of what I also told Jeremi, my sister, and my brother is that the 2 page introduction is super lame and I’m taking it out, so to pretty much ignore it. I feel like I made a mistake in giving my writing project to my brother because as soon as he started reading it, he said, “The intro is really terrible. I mean really bad. Whiny. Girl-whiny. God. It’s just bad.”

“I know,” I said, “that’s why I’m taking it out. Ignore it. Just read the whole thing quickly and tell me if you’d want to keep reading. If you’re interested.”

“Well, I hope it’s better than the intro cause that really sucked.”

Ugh. Maybe I’ve made a huge mistake, but I do want the honest truth, and I’d much rather be exercising and getting my ass in shape than just writing a load of crap. No one’s gotten back to me about it yet and so I feel anxious all day long. It’s like the first time you tell a man (or woman) that you love them. There’s always a pause and you wonder:

1. Will he/she say ‘I love you too’ quickly and actually mean it? Which makes you feel VICTORIOUS and totally full of love and happiness and encouragement.

2. Will he/she say ‘I love you too’ slowly and just be saying it to appease you, but in no way does he/she mean it. Which makes you feel depressed, but at least hopeful that the real love will come around.

3. Will he/she say nothing and just look at you in some sad, pathetic way and then you’re screwed and you feel like an idiot. And don’t give me all that self-help shit about how at least you said it and were true to your feelings because that doesn’t change the feeling of being a complete and total sad sack moron.

All three of these things have happened to me in the past and waiting for writing  feedback today is like being stuck in the long pause between saying ‘I love you’ and getting a response: torturous.

:::::

All in all, I’ve had a wonderful couple of weeks and we’ve been pretty busy doing almost nothing everyday except enjoying ourselves. I feel these blissed out lazy days are exactly how summer should be.

something lost, then gained July 19, 2011

Yesterday I was talking with a friend. The conversation is really unimportant, but a comment I made has my mind working overtime.

I said, “so and so is just rational, and I’m so much more emotional.”

What? Did I really just say that?

I am not emotional. I am the exact opposite of emotional (minus the years 12-16 when I was an emotional wreck. My mom will tell in great detail how tortured of a soul I was then. Come on, it was hormones. I also blame The Smiths.)

I pride myself on my rational mind and heart. Though I also know that this rational side has become a little (or maybe a lot) too hardened. Too protective. And I have been working with my therapist to soften this side of me, but I didn’t think I’d actually made any gains.

Until I said that sentence. Out loud. And even my friend looked at me quizzically and made a comment about how I’m not really emotional.

I can’t even blame The Smiths this time around (though I did listen to their album Louder than Bombs [their kick-ass compilation album] last night and then seriously thought about putting on all black and smoking a cigarette in bed, but OBVIOUSLY I wouldn’t do that because smoking is bad and even worse when your 3-year-old is sleeping next to you and also because it would be odd to wear all black in bed with a sleeping child, but still…).

Anyway, all last night I started thinking about this whole emotional side of myself emerging, because yes, it is emerging, and I think it all started with a breakthrough I had in therapy, then a sad movie, and the next thing you know I’m all tears in Harry Potter 7, and well, I might be on my way to actually being a somewhat normal, emotionally healthy person.

How very, very frightening.

My major breakthrough in therapy occurred last week. And it was one of those breakthroughs that I didn’t even see coming. There I was just discussing my week, and my therapist started really pushing me with one particular part.

He said, “Well, what does that mean?”

I said, “I don’t know.”

He said, “Yes, you do. You do. What does this mean? Why is this important to you?”

I said, “Ummm, I don’t know. Cause I was raised Catholic?” (Ha. My go-to answer for everything).

He said, “No. What does this mean? You know this.”

Finally, with much frustration (on both our parts, I think), and together, we came to what was probably pretty deep beneath my surface but what was also bubbling up and pretty damn obvious.

Breakthrough. Big time.

And I know this is vague, but it’s also too personal to write about, but it was like all these little lights, like the ones you use to decorate Christmas trees, lit up in my brain and then all connected.

Magical progress I’m making. But also very, very scary. It’s like being on uncharted territory (what a terrible cliche, I know), and I’m not sure what to do from here.

But still, progress is good. I think.

So a few days after this amazing breakthrough, I went to the movies with my friends Andy, Jason, and Emily. And I really wanted to see Buck, this new documentary that looks amazing, but they all wanted to see Tree of Life. I had read so many reviews of ToL and they were all mixed and mostly negative. But my small vote to see Buck was diminished by their 3 strong votes to see Tree of Life. So I went in all cranky and upset that I wasn’t seeing Buck, but within 5 minutes of the film, I was drawn in and sobbing, and I pretty much cried the entire film, and poor Andy kept handing me his popcorn stained napkins to dry my tears. And after the movie, though we had plans to all go get a drink, I just couldn’t. I felt incredibly emotionally drained.

That’s not to say that everyone should see this film. I do understand why the reviews were mixed, and some of my friends vehemently hated it. I think there are some parts that could have been edited out (like those stupid dinosaurs), but as a mother, I was engaged in the story, and the feeling of being emotionally drained stayed with me for a few days.

So for a few days, I walked around in a weird haze, and life around me seemed to be covered in some sort of mesh material. And I felt rather like I lost something, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

This weird haze engulfed me as I went about my week. Maddie and I had a few date nights when Luke was with his father.

We rode bikes:

We hiked a lot:

(The family that iPods together, stays together!)

We went and saw Harry Potter 7.2 with my sister and her son and our friends Brian and Jen and Jen’s little sister.

And I cried. Even though I’ve read the book and knew what was going to happen, I  couldn’t help but get choked up during a few parts.

Luke and I also have had some date days and nights. I love watching him and Cate at music.

(15 seconds later he pushed Cate off the stage, but still, he does love her)

And can I just say my boy’s got moves:

As a family, we also entertained a whole lot, and I’m pretty sure in the past 10 days or so, I’ve had people over for dinner or meetings at least 7 of those days. I didn’t take any pictures because I was having too much fun, and I’ve tried to make it a point to leave my phone in another room so I’m not disengaged with my friends.

Luke has been needing a lot of outdoor time, so I took him and Maddie to see my friend Reese’s band, The Kicks, play at an outdoor event. Kids were all over, people were dancing, the sun was shining: there’s not much more we could ask for.

We also went and celebrated a neighboring town’s 100 year birthday. There was a block party, lots of friends, tons of kids, a parade, and even fireworks.

On my own time, I’ve been spending a lot of time writing my novel (it seems so pretentious to call it this, don’t you think? What would be a more humble and true name for it though? My work-in-progress? I like that better. From now on, I’ll refer to my writing project as my work-in-progress. No, wait. I like writing project better. I’m going to use that.)

So I’ve written 24,000 words, which is good, and I have a more clear direction of where this story is going. But still, some more writing worries:

1. A colleague and friend (who teaches fiction writing and has published a few good novels. Quite good, actually.) once told me that no one can be a writer if he/she doesn’t know the craft of fiction writing (i.e. has an MFA or even a PhD). If this is true, then I am  seriously screwed.

2. Another colleague and friend (who teaches poetry writing and has published books of poetry and is very accomplished) said recently that a writer is not made, s/he is born. That a writer has always been writing: at 5 writing rudimentary stories, at 12 more involved stories, at 21 more introspective stories, and so on and so on. I called my mom and asked, “Did I write a lot when I was a child?”  The answer was no. I’m prone to blame my own mother for this lack of creativity, but there’s really no merit to this except for the fact that I wanted to keep a diary but was too afraid that she would read it (and case in point, she DID read my sister’s diary and then my sister was grounded for, I believe, LIFE. In fact, she’s probably still grounded in my mom’s eyes.). Regardless, I wasn’t an avid writer when I was younger, though I was an avid reader but that’s not the same thing, so I feel like I’m doubly screwed.

3. Do writers have kids? I know this is a stupid question and the answer is “YES,” but my bigger question in HOW. I can’t write with my kids around; I get nothing done. And so this limits how much little I actually write. Which is frustrating. Writers are generally poor, correct? So who watches their kids? Surely not a well-paid nanny. My only answer can be “the spouse,” which I don’t have, nor necessarily want. But if ever there was an impetus for me to find a spouse, this is it. I can already see the craigslist ad: “looking for a husband to look after kids while I write. Will cook and clean in return.” But you know what I really need then? A freaking wife. And since I’ve never had lesbian tendencies then I feel like I’m kind of shit out of luck.

Despite my fears, this whole writing process gives me such an incredible feeling that I crave the time I do have to write. I’ve never thought of myself as a creative person, but at the moment, my whole being feels like it’s giving birth to something really creative (and not creative in the sense that I think what I’m writing is great or even good, just in the way that I feel alive from the inside out, which is an amazing feeling). I don’t feel reigned in at all. I feel free. I feel different.

Partly I feel different because my life has taken on a somewhat introspective, somber tone, which is fighting with my happy outlook on everything. I’m not depressed; I’m more just different. Like crying during Harry Potter or while alone in bed late at night.

Something kind of broke in me this past week or so, and it feels like I lost something. Perhaps what’s been lost is one of those high and guarded walls. Which is terrifying, but liberating at the same time. Because when the walls start to come down, I gain something in its place. Something that makes me feel more like a real person. Unguarded, sure, but real nonetheless.

It’s like a text I sent a friend the other day, which had nothing to do with this overall conversation about who I am, or maybe who I’m in the process of becoming, but still, I think it speaks volumes for where I’m at right now:

“I feel really comfortable in uncertainty.”

I think.

I’m late, I’m late, I’m late July 7, 2011

This post is coming up seriously late, 2 days late to be exact.

But it’s only because I was traveling and having fun and actually…

…doing a whole bunch of writing.

As I shared in my last post, I revisited a novel I started about six years ago, and now I’m fully immersed in it. I’ve been writing almost every day for at least two hours and at this point, I’ve written 16,808 words, and added an additional 20 pages to what I started with. This is also why my blog is late: the times I’ve sat down to write my blog, I’ve been more drawn to writing this novel. I’ve been super grateful to all the friends who’ve answered my silly questions (ex: quick: name 3 albums that came out 8 years ago), but it’s kept me going.

But damn is this difficult at times. I refuse to stop and edit what I’m writing because I know, I just know, I’ll get caught up in a terrible paragraph or a terrible sentence or even a terrible word and then I.WON’T.MOVE.FORWARD. So for now, I just write and keep going, even if it kills me that I’ve used some word multiple times in a paragraph. I can fix all that later.

There are some serious concerns I have about this whole writing a novel process:

1. When I get stuck with something, I keep thinking just “write one true sentence” (Hemingway’s advice). But then I panic: what does truth even mean? When I texted my friend Leslie in a panic about this, she responded with one word, “YOU.” So mostly, I stick to writing what I know, which means my life, which means this is slightly autobiographical, which means I’m really laying it all out there, which is totally fucking frightening.

2. A week ago, I thought I knew the exact plot this character was going to take. Now, I’m not so sure. I feel like I’m discovering her as I go, which is cool in one way and super frustrating in another because I’m pretty sure most writers have a solid sense of what’s going to happen next. Not me. But then again, I’ve never called nor considered myself a writer. Right now, I think of myself as someone who’s just practicing.

3. I will not let anyone–anyone–read a draft of this until it is done. Christine begged to read part of it, and I relented and let her read a short two-page dialogue scene. All I asked was for her to tell me if the dialogue sounded real, like how real people would talk. She read and laughed and actually gave a good suggestion to change one word, and then she sat back, smiled, and said, “I really liked it. It reminded me so much of Dawson’s Creek.“

Shoot me now.

4. I have 16,000 words written, and I’m definitely writing more than 250 words a day, but I asked my friend Jenny how long a typical novel is and she said 100,000 words. Holy shit. That’s a lot. I keep looking at all the smaller novels I have in my bookshelf and think, “Perhaps I’ll aim for a shorter novel.” But then I just kind of relax and figure when the stories finished, it’ll be finished.

I could go on with a million other things I’m worried about, but I’ll save that for other posts. But that’s basically why this post is up late: writing. But also because I was in San Francisco visiting friends and family, and we had the best time ever.

Starting with me leaving the kids with my parents so I could go see Neko Case for a free show at Stern Glen in the city. I went by myself, which is something that I actually LOVE doing. Sometimes I would much rather see a show by myself than with friends. But when I got into the venue, it was so packed that I wondered how I would ever find a place to sit.

As I walked around, I noticed that there was an area marked off right in front of the stage, an area with benches no less. I walked up to one of the volunteers working this area (more like guarding it), and asked him what this special are was reserved for.

“Seniors and disabled people,” he replied.

“Well,” I said, “I’m clearly not a senior nor disabled, but I’m by myself, I’m rather small so I won’t take up that much space, and I drove all the way here from my town by myself just to see this show.” (The last part, I admit, was a total lie.)

“Hmmmm,” he thought, “Come back in 10 minutes, and I’ll consider it.”

“10 minutes,” I said, “No problem. I’m just going to stand right over there and wait. I mean, I’m going to keep staring at you, but don’t worry. I can wait.”

“Fine,” he said exasperated (but also with a smile), “you can go in.”

Hell yeah! I had second row seats!!! Sure I was surrounded by seniors and disabled people, but I had a beer, the sun was shining (in San Francisco. Amazing.), and I was in the second row. And you know what? Seniors are rad. I had such nice conversations with them, and one lady even gave me a cold beer half-way through the show (there was no way I was going to risk losing my awesome seat by getting up to buy a beer.  No way in hell).

And the Dodos were great:

But Neko Case really stole the show. I’ve seen her twice before, but this show is now my favorite. She has the most amazing voice, and she was chatty with the audience, and she was humble, and my God, just incredible.

And even though video recording was forbidden, I broke the rules and took this video of my favorite song of hers (and let’s be real, everyone around me–even the seniors!–were recording songs with their phones. I even helped some cute little old lady figure out how to record on her iPhone. Those seniors, they certainly are embracing technology).

The only thing that distracted me from Neko Case was the hot, hot, hot sound guy.

While his head is turned to the side, trust me when I say that he was beautiful and just my type and hey hot sound guy, I doubt you’ll ever read this, but if you do, find me. I’ll love you forever. I promise. Well, that’s if you’re cool as well (which in the fantasy I’ve created of us, together and happy, you are).

From the show, I got in my car and drove to meet Tasha at the bar she tends on Sundays (because it’s not enough that she works 40 hours a week as a scientist!). We drank beer, I told her about the show, and after about an hour, her shift was over, and we headed to her house.

We made a quick clothes change as the beautiful San Francisco 85 degree weather was turning back to more typical SF weather: cold and foggy. Then we drove to meet Garth and have dinner at Burma Superstar, and I can attest that not only was the company awesome, but the dinner was amazing. There’s a reason an hour wait is typical at this restaurant. The food was just.that.good.

From dinner, we wandered around the area, walking in and out of stores, eventually stopping to have coffee and dessert. We found this GREAT little bookstore and record store all in one, and spent a pretty significant amount of time just browsing.

We all had a great time, and it was so nice to see Tasha and Garth. I miss them both tremendously, and Tasha, damn Tasha, I miss her the most! I’m so thankful we had some quality time together. And I have to give big props to Garth who helped me with a portion of writing this novel by describing–in perfect detail–his old record player and stereo system. He even sent me an email of the description and I cut and pasted it into the novel, changed some wording and the tense, and pretty much used the whole thing verbatim. It’s now one of my favorite scenes.).

Sunday was a very good day.

The next day, my entire family joined up in Marin county for my cousin Nicole’s son’s birthday party. Me, my kids, my mom and day, and my sister and her family all had a great time celebrating Beckett’s 2nd birthday and meeting Nicole’s 5 week old new son, Finn. Plus, we saw more family–it was a mini family reunion–and it felt so good to be together.

(Happy 2nd birthday Beckett!)

(My beautiful cousin Nicole and her new son, Finn. He’s gorgeous.)

(I think my kids are perfect, well nearly perfect, but I cannot–for the life of me–get Luke to smile for a photo. He looks like he hates us. But I know the depths of his love. It runs deep.)

(Beckett’s birthday present: a newly constructed side yard with toys galore. All the kids were in heaven)

(Can I just brag for a moment? How beautiful is my daughter?)

(Luke playing on some kind of construction worker toy. My dad said he looked like a natural on it and maybe he’d have a career in construction. Bite your tongue, father. Not on my watch.)

(Maddie, my sister, and my mom. Also in the background, Jon, my absolute favorite brother-in-law ever. Also my only brother-in-law, but still…)

(The Mayor, aka my dad, who makes friends with everyone wherever he goes, and Cate)

It’s been a great week (plus two days), and life’s been a bit busy, but still so, so, so good.

Hopefully, posts will be up as usual on Tuesdays, and I’ll try my damn hardest, but if I’m in the middle of writing something good (or really rather shitty, but something with perhaps the potential to be good? Or kind of good? Or at least a step up from Danielle Steel or for God’s sake, better than Dawson’s Creek.), then I’m going to be late on a post or two, or maybe even skip one.

But I feel alright with that.

the present is always the past June 29, 2011

Warning: This is a long post, which is why it’s going up Wednesday. I only finished 3/4 of it by midnight and then called it a night.

There are times in my life, more so in the past year or so, that I begin to feel like a I belong in the Talking Head’s video, “Once in a Lifetime:”

t’s not that I want to be in the video, so much as I completely understand this song, and really, deeply understand the meaning.

I think David Byrne is a genius, especially lyrically, and his genius, I would argue, is most apparent in this song. Here is a guy who wakes up suddenly and wonders, “You may ask yourself: where is that large automobile? You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful house. You may tell yourself this is not  my beautiful wife?” This man is in the middle of an existential crisis, surely a social commentary of the high living, skyrocketing income, and coke-snorting mores of the 1980s. At the end of the song, after trying to “let the water hold [him] down” and even “the water flowing underground,” the man cannot achieve any sort of renewal (water as a metaphor for baptism), and everything will always be “the same as it ever was, the same as it ever was, the same as it ever was.”

Existential. Sisyphusian. True.

Though I’m not quite near the state of mind Byrne is in this song, I think it does speak to me in a sense of growing older, growing up, and realizing that so much of life can be the same.

I guess the feeling of life remaining the same comes in a weird sense of time passing for me. There are days when I wake up, take Maddie to school, drop Luke off at daycare, go to work, and then repeat everything the next day. And then the next. And then I feel the monotonous “sameness” of life.

And I have a flexible, always changing job. Imagine all those who don’t. Those who sit in the same desk, in the same office, doing the same thing.

Every.Single.Day.

Mind-numbing.

Getting out of my routine and enjoying the lazy days of summer causes me pause as well though. I don’t find myself doing the same routine thing so much as I take the kids to the park, or the beach, or on a hike, but all of a sudden I freeze up. I look around. I notice the green lines in a leaf, the century old shaved down smoothness of a beach stone, the cracking plastic of an aging swing.

I think: I’m 35. When did that happen? How did this happen? Where did these kids come from? How did they grow so fast?

It honestly seems like just yesterday that I was the lost 18-year-old student that I now teach. It seems like just yesterday Maddie was two years old….or not even born. In one swift blur, as I stand at the park or on a trail or at the beach, every moment of my 35 years hits me.

“You may say to yourself, well,  how did I get here?”

And it’s in these moments that I turn and stare intently, and most likely quite rudely, at the oldest person I can find. I stare at her wrinkles. I absorb her attitude. I wonder, “Is she happy. Was her life fulfilling? What does she wish she’d done differently? What can she teach me? Is she bitter?”

Then I find the youngest person to stare at: a young adult just starting life. I stare at his flawless skin, his confidence, his bravado. I want to tell him, “Do you know how fast this will all go? Do you realize that every decision you make WILL impact your future? Will you always–please, please, please–use birth control diligently until you are ready to have kids. Oh, and don’t be ready to have kids until you’re in your mid-30s. Oh and don’t get married until you’re at least 30. Oh and….”

I promise I’m not crazy nor having some kind of break-down, and I actually believe 35 IS still very young. But sometimes these moments give me pause. And I rather examine my life pauses than ignore them.

Which is all to say this past week, in some cosmic intersection of oddness, brought me back to my youth, my younger years.

Starting with the fact that Luke’s father and I had mediation to reassess our parenting schedule and we decided to block out Luke’s time more with his father to lessen Luke’s developing transitional anxiety. What this means is that Luke’s father gets Luke 8 more hours a week, which isn’t really that big of a deal, but what is a big deal is that I have every other weekend without Luke. I thought at first this would be really difficult, but it wasn’t at all. It was needed. And Maddie was with my parents all weekend.

Which meant I had 48 hours, basically, all to myself.

Pause.

This is the very first time I’ve ever had this amount of space to myself.

Wait. Scratch that. When it was just me and Maddie I took a few trips without her (once to Chile when she was 2 1/2; once to England when she was 7; and a few weekend trips–and I really mean just a few–throughout the years). But since Luke’s been born I haven’t really been apart for him for more than 24 hours, and even the one time he was gone with his father for three days, I still had Maddie. Sure I get a night off from both my kids here and there, but an entire weekend….

…be still my heart.

My weekend started Friday night with dinner and drinks with my sister and my sister’s sister-in-law. It was a good time and the fact that I didn’t have to worry about getting home at a certain hour was liberating.

Saturday morning I woke up and went to Jon, my brother-in-law’s, birthday party. His one request for his birthday was to play sloshball. Talk about bringing us all back to our late teens and early 20s. Sloshball is a form of baseball that involves drinking a beer at second base. usually played by young, obnoxious, drunk men in college. However, we were going to play the game with a bit more class (or so we thought).  A bunch of Jon’s friends came into town and even my dad played the game. It was such a fun time, and I think Jon had the best time of all.

(pre-game relaxing)

(reviewing the rules of the game)

(my sister at bat)

(my dad at bat)

(2nd base drinking)

I left the game a bit early because I had another engagement at a winery. I was a little hesitant to leave the game and drive up to the north county, but I am so very glad I did. The summer solstice wine event was fun and the wine was good, but even better was the little reunion that occurred.

When I moved to this town in 1995 I was 19 years old. I moved with some friends, and the first person I met outside my roommates was Matt whom I worked with. Matt was actually from a town that neighbored the town I grew up in. Matt had been living in town for about a year, I believe, and I’m not kidding when I say about 20 or so of his friends also lived in this town. Through Matt I met many friends, including Maddie’s dad, my friend Colleen, my friend Jenn, and Steve.

It was an incredible time and there was this two-three year period (before I had Maddie) when we all hung out all the time. There was one house that we all seemed to gather at–a house where about 5 boys lived. These boys were honestly the first men I met that taught me what good men, gentlemen really, are like. I was so used to boozy, immature high school boys from my home town that meeting these boys can be likened to opening my eyes to manners, and respect, and consideration. They opened doors for me and all their guests, women and men. They offered friends water (or beers). They cooked dinners. They were considerate when I was at their house and doing homework. They tried–unsuccessfully–to teach me the fine art of baseball. They were so different from boys I had known before. Kind really. In fact, I often think how much I’d like to thank their moms for doing such a good job.

After I had Maddie, I quietly slipped into the life of a mom, a student, an employee, and person with responsibilities and many of these boys moved back to their hometown, and other than the friends that still live here, I haven’t seen these old friends in over a decade.

Until Saturday at the winery. The main reason so many traveled up to the area was because another old friend, who still does live in the area though I rarely see him, is part-owner of this winery and invited everyone. To show up to this event and see all these people I haven’t seen in a decade was not only fun, but almost magical. We sat around a table, drank wine, and told old, old stories that made me laugh until my side hurt. In many ways, we’re exactly the same, though more mature with kids and responsibilities, but still…the core of our personalities is still there, and it honestly felt like no time had passed.

From the winery, I met my friend Leslie for a movie and then a glass of wine. And I wanted her advice.

I had–rather all of a sudden–been thinking about a novel I started writing about six years ago and this past week I revisited it, knowing where I wanted the plot and character to go. It’s silly how this story came back to me, but it basically started with me commenting on a friend’s facebook status, and I liked what I wrote, and then suddenly, I just knew that comment would, or maybe could, be the first line of that old novel I had started so long ago. I had abandoned the novel because I felt stuck and lost with the writing, and quite frankly, my life was going too well for me to write. I tend to write better when I’m depressed. I’m in no way depressed right now, but there’s something about this summer, this moment of pause I’m having about my age and life, that makes me feel better equipped to write more truthfully.

I wanted Leslie’s advice because I know nothing about fiction writing and she has an MFA. While her MFA is in poetry, I still figured that she’d have some good thoughts. Right now, the novel’s in first person, but I’m debating changing it to third person. Leslie advised to stick with the first person as it offers more immediacy and intimacy with the reader. Which felt good, because writing in third person may be too difficult for me: I can’t fathom how to get in every character’s head nor do I feel the need to have any God-like powers over my characters (even if I decided to go with a third person limited  point of view).

I shared with Leslie the whole plot and my struggle with how the ending should go since I still haven’t decided what decision the main character will make. And she liked my idea, which made me feel ecstatic. And ready to write again. So I made some serious edits because a lot of what I wrote six years ago is embarrassingly bad.

But I’m also nervous. I think I can do this. I mean, if I write 250 words a day then I can foresee finishing a rough, rough, rough draft by the end of summer. But the mountain seems so high right now, especially after talking with Leslie because she is a poet, and I love beautiful language even more than plots, and Leslie just gets the beauty of language (I mean, even her facebook posts are gorgeous. Case in point, her last update:  “Tonight I believe we each have one honest gesture; not that other gestures are dishonest, but one, in the course of a life, might change things. So every note, word, touch becomes practice for something greater…yes, I’m talking about tilting a life on its axis.”).

Seriously, who writes like this?

Leslie. Which makes me feel like I’ll never accomplish beautiful language, but that’s alright because I’m not Leslie, but I’ll use her not only for advice (and our obvious friendship), but also as a challenge: a challenge to make it up the mountain, to the very top and look at the words I wrote spread across the sky, scattered and disconnected, and then rearrange them into something honest and beautiful.

Well, I’ll try at least.

The weekend ended Sunday morning when I woke up–still without kids–and went over to my friend Andy’s house for coffee, conversation, and the New York Times.

(NOT bloody mary’s. Smoothies.)

After this long, fun weekend my kids returned to me, and I felt relieved and happy to have them back in my arms. But there was a part of me that was longing for the freedom I had this weekend. The freedom to roam where I wanted, to wake up when I felt like it, to take care of no one but myself. I never appreciated nor thought about this before I had kids, and I became a parent at 23 years old. My entire youth shifted and all my focus has since been on my kids. Which is good. And I think the parent in me, the all-consuming mama, is the best part about me and my character.

But sometimes there is this purling inside of me to step back in time. To be 21 again. To have no responsibilities. But to be this way with the sensibilities I have now. I’d like to go back to the young me and whisper in my ear, “Leave. Go travel the world. Experience everything you can. Let go of that Catholic guilt.  Roam the streets of Italy by yourself. Be more comfortable with who you are. Be more self-assured and confident. Don’t be afraid to show emotion. You don’t always have to be so hard. Open up to the possibilities.”

The thing is most of this advice I have learned throughout the years and the younger me wouldn’t have understood it. I still need to work on some of it, but I believe having these few free weekends a month will help me accomplish that. No, I can’t go to Italy for the weekend, but I can do something just for myself. I can be open to the possibilities. To the brief freedom.

I think this will make me a better mama and a better person.

The past is sexy, always.so.damn.sexy. The movie Leslie and I saw was Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. And it was so good. Amazing even. Sure it was not as deep as some of his finer films (though not as bad either as some of his newer films like Match Point) and the literary characters were a bit overdone, and the main point was rather didactic, but still, it was whimsical and witty and it tackles the whole idea of longing for the past, though in this case the past is more generational, but the point holds true for all of us looking backwards. The main character, Gil, learns that it is better to accept the present for what it is. And then he quotes the famous Faulkner line: “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”

At some point we all must have a moment of pause where we wonder, like David Byrne, “well,  how did I get here?” I think it’s good to stop and think this.

I think it’s good to consider that it’s the “same as it ever was, same as it ever was, same as it ever was.”

Existential. Sisyphusian. True.

But that doesn’t make it unconquerable.

detox June 21, 2011

It’s been exactly one week since I finished work, and while I look forward to this day from the beginning of Fall quarter, by the time the real deal rolls around, days of no work, I actually become a little manic.

I wake every morning and literally have nothing that needs to be done. Sure, I have a summer to-do list that includes cleaning out closets and stuff, but basically that can be put aside if I want. I have no essays to read, no emails to answer, no meetings, no where that I must be,

The sudden stillness of my life is at first very irksome.

The day spans ahead of me and time ticks by more slowly than I ever thought possible. I find myself counting down the hours until lunch, then dinner, then bedtime. My children look at me expectantly and I think to myself, “what the hell do stay-at-home moms do all day?” We go to the park, visit friends, take adventures, and then the day is only half over.

By the time Fall quarter comes, I’m completely used to this lifestyle and can’t imagine how I will ever go back to work. But for now, it’s like I’m in detox. I shake a little; I don’t know what to do with myself; I feel all out of sorts.

It’ll take a good two more weeks before I settle into the routine of being a “mother-of-leisure” (as my friend Andy calls me), but until then, we’ve managed to have some great moments this week: moments that I’m thankful for.

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What to do with two kids and hours of sunlight left? Beach days! And lots of them. The kids run free and I read in the sun: it’s a win-win for all parties.

(I love this look: Luke’s roaring like a tiger.)

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I’ve been spending my days getting crafty. With so much free time and so many people to thank for all the help provided to me and my babies throughout the school year, I’ve got some serious gifting to do. The first up? Luke’s preschool teacher who’s leaving for L.A. We’ll miss her TONS, but know she’s going to be super happy. I made a bag for her in less than a day. It felt great to put needle and thread together. I’ve missed this.

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When you finish a grading marathon at the end of the quarter, you should celebrate. So me and some fellow colleagues got together, drank wine, ate chocolate, and enjoyed not feeling guilty for drinking instead of working because, once again, WE HAVE NO WORK.

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If I get to have a small get together then so should the kids. Which is what we’ve been doing a lot here this week: having friends over to play, watching movies, eating home cooked dinners, and relaxing.

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With the nights staying light until almost 9p.m., it feels good to walk downtown for just an hour or so to check out some live music. This week, my friend Reese was playing at a local coffee shop and I went down to see her play.

I’ve known Reese since I was in grad school, and I just love her. She’s hilarious, kind, thoughtful, and such a good singer:

(This video is terrible quality, but you can hear how good Reese’s voice is)

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I’ve finally had time to catch up on all the news that I’ve missed in the past week, and to read about New York possibly passing a same-sex marriage bill makes my heart swell with happiness. But what makes me even happier is Republican New York Senator Roy McDonald’s comment:

“You get to the point where you evolve in your life where everything isn’t black and white, good and bad, and you try to do the right thing. You might not like that. You might be very cynical about that. Well, fuck it, I don’t care what you think. I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m tired of Republican-Democrat politics. They can take the job and shove it. I come from a blue-collar background. I’m trying to do the right thing, and that’s where I’m going with this.”

Finally, a Republican I can get behind. I LOVE THIS!!!!!

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I think I may finally be winning my fight against poison oak. I’m not even going to upload a picture of how bad it got. It’s that disgusting. Let me tell you, poison oak is no joke. I have never, ever, ever–in my entire life–been so uncomfortable and itchy and my God, this shit is just plain all-consuming.

So I went to the doctor, got a shot of cortisone in my ass, got on a regiment of steroids, started scrubbing with Zanfel (the absolute best poison oak medicine in the world. the only thing that has stopped the itching. Of course, it’s $50 for 1 ounce, and I’ve gone through three tubes, but I don’t even care. The relief is worth every penny.)

My legs look terrible, but I’m hoping by next week all will be back to normal.

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Finally, because I really can’t not do anything all summer long, I’ve paired up with a fellow instructor to study incorporating wiki pages in the classroom. Neal, my colleague, was the one who instructed me on wiki page usage in Winter quarter. In Spring, I started using them myself and loved the results. Now we’re planning a study, meeting, and we’re even going to blog about our adventure (which will actually work as a sort of virtual meeting place instead of trying to meet all summer long). The study will–hopefully, if everything works out well–last all next year and even have the potential for long-term usage, but for now, for this summer, we will just plan and get everything in order.

I’m super excited about this.

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So I’m working a little, but not too much. I’m relaxing a bit and getting more used to long summer days ahead of me.

Within a few weeks, I will be in full “mother-of leisure” mode and will have made significant progress in getting the work, work, work drug out of my system.

Detoxing can be such a bitch sometimes.

an irish blessing (of sorts) June 14, 2011

I have always loved the famous Irish blessing:

In this same spirit, and after having a week of many blessings, I’ve created my own Irish blessing for you. Well, an Irish blessing of sorts.

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May there always be preschool graduations. Because they are just so damn cute. My niece Cate graduated from preschool this past week, and seeing twenty 3 year-olds on stage singing and dancing, some enthusiastically and some frightened,  is akin to God smiling on every person in attendance.

And, during the course of a preschool graduation, may you have a son who has no self-awareness nor inhibitions; thus,  while Cate is on stage said son screams, “Hi Cate. That’s Cate. Hi Cate. Hi Cate,” while frantically waving his arms.

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May you live in a town with many places to hike and surround yourself with nature. I know it may seem redundant that I always hike, perhaps even boring, but it’s the one thing I love second to my kids. And I’ve been exploring different treks lately, stepping out of my norm.

May your hikes be abundant with foliage, trees, wildflowers, beautiful views, and cows close enough to pet!

May you always have a good friend to hike with, like my friend Leslie.

May you have a good-natured daughter who will begrudgingly hike with you because even though she hates the exertion to reach the top, she loves the accomplishment and the descent.

May you always, always, always push to the top no matter how much you want to give up. Because it’s always worth it.

And may you never, ever be proud and arrogant when encountering poison oak and exclaim with pride, “I never get poison oak.” And then rub it in to all your friend who DO get poison oak. Because the universe is funny that way and even though you may have trekked through poison oak many a times, you will be kicked in your prideful ass when luck catches up with you and you awake one morning to find your ankle covered in poison oak. You will be humbled and shamed and incredibly itchy.

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May you have a good friend, like my friend Mel, who has a HUGE backyard and invites you over so your kids can play. I mean, I love Mel, but I really LOVE her backyard.

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May you always take time from your week to spend some one-on-one with your kids. Like walking downtown with Luke to get ice cream on a warm day and then going to the bookstore. Happiness on every level.

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May you have a friend who needs a date to a wedding and asks you. Cause then you get free food, free drinks, some dancing, and generally just have a great time. But more importantly, you get to witness a couple starting their lives together with hopes and dreams of being better together. I’m a cynic when it comes to this, but let me just say, this couple was not only cute, but seriously in love and committed to each other and their families were supportive and the speeches made me tear up. Thanks to my friend Adam for bringing me along.

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May you have incredibly intelligent friends in your life to make you feel smarter just by being around them. Tasha, my dear, dear friend whom I miss daily (daily!) came down for just a few hours and I got to see her for just a short hour, which was not enough. The reason she drove all the way down from San Francisco though is because her Master’s thesis won Outstanding Thesis of the Year award!!!! That is amazing, especially since she lived with me the whole time she was writing it, and I still couldn’t tell you exactly what it’s about (feeding cells, feeding cells is all I understand and even then I just picture Pac Man). I told you she was smart–off the charts!

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May you never have a friend who battles cancer, but if you do may your friend be like the indomitable Colleen!

Colleen left this week for Seattle where she will be having another round of radiation on her brain at a metropolitan hospital that specializes in this. She will be surrounded by a team of neurosurgeons and oncologists, and I have complete confidence that this will be the last treatment she will need and will finally kick this cancer in its ass. But, let’s be honest, the last time she did radiation, it wasn’t bad at all, but she was also at a level 2. In Seattle, her radiation will be at a level 18. So send prayers, whatever your religion or faith, for an easy treatment and an end to this cancer.

Because Colleen and her family will be in Seattle for almost the entire summer, Colleen’s friend Katrina arranged a surprise birthday party for her daughter, Scarlet (Scarlet’s birthday is in July). Keeping a secret with this many moms and kids seemed impossible, but Colleen was surprised!!! Our good friend Matt was in town and since he’s a singer/songwriter of children’s songs, he played for all the kids. The party was a great success and a good way to send Colleen off to Seattle–with lots of love and support.

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May you have people in your life that love your kids almost as much as you do and support you in every way imaginable. And may you always cook them dinner in return. Like I said, my good friend Matt popped into town and I had him, Steve, and my sister over for dinner. It’s obvious how much my sister does for me (A LOT) and it’s also pretty clear how much Steve is a part of our lives, but since Matt moved away, we only see him about twice a year. Which is definitely not enough, but I’m still thankful for it. Because when he’s here, he’s hanging out with my kids, downloading new music on my computer, singing songs, and generally trying to cram in a year’s worth of love in just a few short days. My God, do we just love him. And Steve. And my sister. I’ll cook them dinners for the rest of their lives for all they’ve done for me. With friends and family like this, I never feel alone.

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May you have a couple of guy friends to drink beers with and eat greasy food and tell amazingly funny stories when you really should be grading but can’t focus and need to take a break. That’s right, I couldn’t stand reading one more essay and so I went out for beers with my friends Joe and Tim. We had a good time. they had good stories to share.

And if you decide to keep the party going, and wander over to a friend’s house, a friend who likes to be called, “the nicest guy in town,” and whom I like to call “ONE of the nicest guys in town,” and in the middle of a conversation you feel the slight churn of your stomach and you silently count how many beers you had and realize you may have had ONE too many, and then have to bolt, mid-sentence, to the bathroom to vomit…
…may you have  friend like mine to hold your hair, pat your back, flush the toilet, give you his toothbrush, and tell you that there is no shame in puking, for that’s what toilets are for.

Oh, but yes, there is shame in this. I’m pretty sure I walked home with my head hung low. But in my friend’s own words, “You puked then made an instant recovery. No tears, no loud yodeling exhale. You’re a natural. You should do it more often.”

I did make an instant recovery and bought him a new toothbrush, but I also learned an important lesson:

May you know your limit.

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Finally, may you have a job that rewards you in a million little ways even when you’re cursing all the late nights and busy weekends and low pay. A job like mine. Where the biggest reward is finishing grading, pleased that everyone passed, and then getting emails from a few students wishing me a good summer and thanking me for the class. All the hard work, all the hand cramps from writing comments…it all seems so worth it in the end.

Oh, I lied. The biggest reward is having summers OFF!

And not having to look at this:

Let summer begin!

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An Irish blessing, like any other blessing, only holds as much fortune as we allow, but this week has been so full of blessings that I feel like every minute made an impact on who I am; perhaps more who I’m becoming.

Becoming me. Becoming myself.

Comfortable and happy.

Now, for another real Irish blessing. The best I’ve ever read:

May your joys be as bright as the morning, and your sorrows merely be shadows that fade in the sunlight of love. May you have enough happiness to keep you sweet, enough trials to keep you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, enough hope to keep you happy, enough failure to keep you humble, enough success to keep you eager, enough friends to give you comfort, enough faith and courage in yourself to banish sadness, enough wealth to meet your needs and one thing more; enough determination to make each day a wonderful day than the one before.