In search of creativity

Well, today is November 30th... my 30th blog post in 30 days. I'm pretty excited to have finished the month. I'm extending my "blog a day" goal through the end of December. I'm enjoying it even if hardly anyone is reading it. It makes me feel creative.

I am hoping to get a camera for myself this next year. Not a point and shoot. I want a DSLR. It is another outlet for creativity. I find myself craving outlets for creativity in my life these days. I don't want to just be an observer all the time. I want to participate, and by creating I have something to show for it... even if it's just showing it to myself.

One of Mom's paintings

My mother started painting in her 50s. She really enjoyed it. And then one day she seemed to run out of things to paint, or was no longer interested, and the stuff got put in the closet. After she died we found a whole box of canvases with her paintings on them... stuff she either didn't finish or didn't like enough to display. It was a lot of fun to look through. Then in her 60s she started tap dancing. She'd not been a dancer... she was a beginner in her 60s. But quickly they moved her from the beginner class to join The Silver  Tappers. And then she was showing newbies how to tap and even choreographing for the group. She even made costumes for them.

I look back now and see that Mom and I are alike in this too. She reached a point where she'd raised her kids and her job was not a challenge. She needed to be creative. And she went out and did something about it. I like this. It encourages me to try. The worst that can happen with any endeavor is failure. And failure is really isn't that big a deal... it either makes you work harder, or it leads you to something else. :)

The Potential of 2013

I do not believe in New Year's resolutions. I do believe that every day is a day to make good choices, to work towards goals, both new and old. Every day in our life is a chance to be a bit more of who we want to be. And every day is a chance to smile and laugh. And if yesterday didn't work out, then each day can be a new beginning.

It is almost December... and I am looking toward 2013 with a lot of things I'd like to do. I'm not picking it because it's the New Year. I'm looking at 2013 because it will be a time when I will start to feel a little settled again... hopefully. And quite honestly I need some potentially happy things to look toward.

So here it is... my very incomplete list (subject to constant tinkering) of things I have planned for 2013:

1. Cook meals at home more.
2. Eat out less (a consequence of  #1).
3. Drop the weight I've picked up at the end of this year (this will be directly related to #1 and #2).
4. Get new Les Mills certification (this is looking to be accomplished the first weekend of January! Yay!).
5. Create first costume... embracing my total geek side. I want to make a Steampunk Wonder Woman costume.
6. Try sewing my own yoga clothes.
7. Continue looking for a new job... hopefully find one. :)
8. Save money for a good Nikon.
9. Be awesome.
10. End the year healthier and2013 happier than I start it.

Lottery time! My ridiculously mundane plans if I win (which I won't). :)

Tonight is the big ass lottery drawing! Yes, I bought a ticket (2 actually). No, I have no expectation of winning. But it is fun to think about what I would do if I won. Assuming I didn't end up one of those sad sack cases whose life is ruined by the money it would go something like this:

1. Freak out. Freak out some more. Compare my ticket about 150 times to the numbers online. Freak out.
2. Get paranoid... immediately find a safety deposit box and stick that ticket in it... after filling out my name and address on the back.
3. All the technical stuff, financial advisor, lawyer, etc.
4. Collect money, promptly disappear for a while.
5. Make a list of all my friends and family, and give them a million bucks each. Then tell them not to ask me for anything else. :)
6. Buy a car that is reliable.
7. Travel.
8. Chill out.
9. Still write my blog. :)

Yes, this is a boring list... but it's what I would do. My mom used to buy us lottery tickets for Xmas, especially when they would have the big ones... I remember getting a $20 ticket from her once. I always thought it would be cool to win that way. She would have given most of it to her kids, I think... I bet she wouldn't have even moved out of her house into another one.

So that's my boring lottery win. Maybe you'll see me on TV. And you'll think... dammit she's just gonna buy a Honda or something... what a waste! :)

The Douchebaggery of Chris Brown and Rihanna

I am severely annoyed. What is annoying me today? Well... I am incredibly annoyed by Rihanna and Chris Brown. I have to say that they are a couple of total douchebags. I know... I've never met them. But let me explain my feelings.

Chris Brown: I think this one is pretty easy to understand. He is an asshole with anger management issues who beat his girlfriend badly enough to send her to the hospital. That's basically all I need to know. And I have yet to see anything to show that he's even remotely reformed himself. Why should he change when idiotic women tweet things about how they'd take a beating from him if they could have sex with him... sorry, I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Rihanna: Perhaps I should have some sympathy. But I don't. I don't because she keeps going around in interviews talking about how she likes to be submissive and crap in her relationships and in the bedroom... and this is why she goes back to Douche... I mean Chris. I totally get the concept of someone being submissive and liking a dominant partner... but she is a f*cking moron. Wanting to have someone be dominant in the bedroom DOES NOT EQUAL BEING ABUSED. I blame all this stupid "50 Shades of Gray" bullsh*t making the rounds right now. The fictional character of Christian Grey can kiss my ass. Relationships should include trust and safety. AND BEING BEATEN AND SENT TO THE HOSPITAL by a douche canoe isn't safe and it has nothing to do with trust.

Perhaps I am the naive one in the world... thinking that good relationships of any kind... romantic, platonic, familial, whatever... should be about trust and safety. That you should trust the people close to you to look out for you physically, emotionally, and mentally. That you should trust them not to get pissed off and use your face as a punching bag... how selfish of me for liking my face the way it is.

I've been the codependent with a partner who emotionally manipulated me for years... it didn't seem like abuse. It seemed normal. And he wasn't consciously trying to hurt me. But looking back when you start thinking "if they would just hit me... then I could leave" then there is something fundamentally wrong. You are being abused... and you should leave.

So I have some shred of understanding for Rihanna, but I don't have sympathy. I have this sad feeling in the pit of my stomach that we will see her battered face again on TV someday... or worse. I hope not... but it worries me. But her life is her choice. I just wish she'd shut the f*ck up because she has influence on kids... whether she wants it or not it comes with the territory of fame.

I also wish music producers would quit working with them both. Rihanna has like 153 songs on the radio... and every damn one of them is catchy as hell. But I've started boycotting them both. As much as I like the songs... I turn the channel now. I've deleted them from my iTunes. I hear they have a duet coming out. I won't be listening... douchebags.

Food, moving, and whining

I really shouldn't eat fast food. I left work today, stopped by the store where my brother works and picked up a couple empty boxes. I ran into Kmart for a minute, then hit some fast food on the way home. Plan? Eat some dinner (because I was hungry) while watching a little TV. Then pack a couple boxes. But what happened? I ate crap. Now I feel lethargic and sad. And I know damn well part of it is due to the food I ate.

This is how I sound these days. :)

Oh... and I hate moving. Packing sucks. Moving sucks.

Okay... now that I'm done whining publicly I can get moving and pack my couple of boxes.

Thank you for your attention. :)

Okay... my life is a mess, but it has potential. Now if my brain would shut up that would be great.

My brain will not shut down sometimes. I wonder if it's from hormones. Then I decide no... it's my real life keeping your brain busy as shit. Sometimes it really is hormones... but not tonight.

In 2 weeks I'll have officially moved out of my house. I'll have a roommate. I'll have a room to hide out in when I need it, but I won't be able to "go home" when I want to be alone. I'll no longer be living in a section of town I've known like the back of my hand since about 1998.

I'm nervous, scared, excited, sad, depressed, anxious... not just about the move, but about my life. I feel all of the emotions sometimes at the same time... sometimes bouncing from one to the next. Often I feel like a failure as I walk away from one life and try to build another. Sometimes I see it as a great opportunity for adventure.

I wonder what my mom would think of my choices. Some days I'm almost glad she's not here to ask because I don't know if she'd approve. Even if she didn't she'd support my choice... but it always felt better to get a "that's a good idea" pat on the back from her.

So this holiday season I will do like I always do... I will enjoy the lights, the music, my tree... I will enjoy getting gifts for my friends and family. And I will do my best to look forward to 2013 and the potential it holds.

Xmas tree saga 2012: The R2-D2 tree

The R2-D2 tree, Xmas 2012

This is the story of the Xmas tree I decorated for this year. 

I am frugal. I fully admit this. And I don't think it's a bad thing. I buy things on sale, I look for good deals, and I buy Xmas stuff after season. And I had, had, the best Xmas tree deal ever until...

Now let me step back to the summer. I lost my job in May of this year. I had packed all my personal stuff I'd hoarded at work over a 7 year period into my car including a big box of Xmas decorations, a really tacky multi-colored tinsel tree, and a 6 foot tall slim-line green artificial tree that I'd purchased at Target a couple years back after Xmas for $5.00. Yup... a $5.00 Xmas tree... and it was awesome.

So all this stuff is in my car, and when I get home I unload most of it... most of it... I don't think I really had anywhere to store my Xmas tree, though, so I left it in my trunk and figured I'd sort it out later. Then I forgot about it.

A couple weeks go by and on a Wednesday morning I am asked to teach at the gym at 10:20am. It was raining so I pulled into a spot close to the front instead of where I usually park way towards the back so I can use my legs. :) I try not to take my wonderfully working legs for granted. ;)

I leave the gym an hour later, and didn't even look at my car as I got to it. I drove to the front parking lot to hit Chipotle for some lunch. On my way out I notice that my tail light has been completely smooshed in... the light still works... but the red coating is broken off and the metal of the car is bent into the trunk. There happened to be a Raleigh Police officer parked next to me and he told me it hadn't happened at Chipotle. We went back to the back parking lot and found pieces of the red from my light in the parking lot. That's right, some douchebag had hit my car and left. And of course I find out the cameras in the parking lot are running, but not recording.

One of the side effects of this collision is that my trunk won't open. And being broke and unemployed I don't have the money to fix it.

Flash forward to November... my roommate is game to put up a tree... especially when I say I'm gonna use R2-D2 lights on it. I start telling about my awesome $5 tree and how it'll fit so well in the apartment. So I go back to my place (I haven't actually moved yet), and start gathering my Xmas stuff. Wait... where is my $5 tree? Oh... fudddggeee... that's right motherf*ckers... it's held hostage in my trunk... which is now surely moldy as crap.

So thank you douchebag... thank you for the Xmas love that you started back in the summertime.

I got my 2nd choice tree out... it was bought for $10 in Goldsboro maybe 15 years ago. I was with my mom when I found it so that's a decent memory. It's a shorty tree, though, so it had to sit on a box. I gave it a good treatment... I pulled together a look I hadn't done before. White garland (which kind of goes with the r2-d2 lights, blue bulbs, glittered icicle decorations, some other glittery gold and green bulbs, plus some red bulbs which I decided represent Darth Maul (love me some Ray Park).

So I am happy to have a tree up this year. It's gonna be a busy, rough month... and something as simple as R2-D2 lights on a tree actually help because they make me smile.

The life of a Xmas tree: Part 2

This is the 2nd Thanksgiving in a row now that I haven't gotten to put up the Xmas tree at Mom and Dad's house. The loss of this tradition hurts me quite a bit, but I understand Dad not wanting to do it. But I will miss it until I can find my own tradition. So in lieu of actually putting it up I'll at least describe the process which is fun in its own way.

Our Christmas Tree

I helped Mom put up the tree every year that I can remember. I'm sure I started when I was very young, hanging the bulbs that I could reach. Mom and I had a very specific order to how we put the tree together. It is possible that I threw my OCD on this a bit as I got older... or perhaps it was the Catholic kid in me that liked the ritual of it. I eventually took it over completely, and Mom got to just sit and laugh about how fast I was. But this is how it went:

1. Assemble tree. I was lightning quick at this. This was the type of tree with a wooden pole in the center with color coded holes. Then the wire ends on the branches were painted with color so you knew what order to put them on. I tend to be a hands on type gal so as soon as I was old enough I pretty much took over the assembly process. And if anyone helped I felt like I was the supervisor... whether I really was or not I'm not sure."

2. Lights, multi-colored, non-flashing... flashing lights gave mom a headache and they give me one too.

3. Silver garland. Then it's ready for the real OCD treatment.

4. Angel on top.

5. My brother and I each had an ornament... silk bulbs. I'm not sure why they were "ours" other than mom said they were. Mine was pink and Bri's was blue. Those go on first.

6. Blue bulbs. Yup, the 40 year old blue bulbs were the next to hang. Those get evenly spaced around the tree.

7. Gingerbread men with our names on them.

8. Clear plastic angels.

9. Red strawberries.

10. Flashbulb (remember those!) covered in glitter that I made in Brownies. It hangs in a very specific spot on the tree in the front.

11. Weebles, tea cup, mini barbie, various other toys turned into ornaments... we hung them in the back. They made ugly ornaments, but mom liked having reminders of our childhood.

12. Everything else until the tree was literally bursting with stuff.

What's really funny is that if I go back through all my Xmas pictures over the years the tree looks the same every single year. It's kind of awesome really. :)

Shirtless, mustached celebrities with their dogs? Ooh Ooh! :)

Apparently this is supposed to impress me. 

Let me say, first and foremost, I am not one who finds Channing Tatum attractive. I kind of want to see 21 Jumpstreet because I have heard he is funny. But in general he just doesn't do anything at all for me in the "sexy" department. And really? A wifebeater? He gets to be the sexiest man alive and they give him a wifebeater? I kind of like that his shoulders are freckled. Still not sexy, but kind of different. Now, Channing lovers, don't hate me. I don't think anything badly of the man. It's just not my thing.

But to the point... I have posted this, not because of Channing and his come-hither look... no, I posted it because of the "Plus" text on this cover. If you can't read it let me spell it out for you:

"PLUS Affleck, Beckham, Gosling, and more! We've got 'em shirtless, mustached - and with their dogs!"

What... the... f*ck? Is this a bizarre bit of marketing to anyone but me? Is it possible a woman signed off on this or was in the creative process?

Personally I'm picturing a room full of douchey middle-aged dudes sitting around a conference room brainstorming... they've decided on old Tatum after probably hearing about all the girls nights out that happened over Magic Mike. Here's how I imagine the conversation:

"How can we get all these women to buy our magazine? What can we say to get them if they don't like the Magic Mike in his Magic Wifebeater?
 "Ooh... "shirtless?"
"Yes!"
"Wait... mustaches! Chicks love Magnum P.I!"
"Yes... mustaches! Perfect!"
"Wait... what about the sensitive hippie Peta loving old spinsters out there who don't like mustaches or bare chests?"
"I got it! DOGS!!!!"
"YESSSS!"

There we have it ladies... they've got out numbers.. dangle shirtless, mustached, dog-lovers in front of us and we're unable to control our magazine purchases? Just like I can't control being able to purchase a "Lady Bic" pen because it's pink.

I know it's hard... women are peculiar and complicated... and being our friends, significant others, and family can be difficult at times... I imagine marketing to us must seem like a ridiculously difficult task. But come on... "We've got 'em shirtless, mustached, and with their dogs?" It just sounds like really, really bad suburban porn.

I'm a fortunate one. And I'm thankful.

Thanks...

for having wonderful parents who always make me feel loved.
for my siblings who I do not see often enough, but they are not ever far from my thoughts.
for my friends who let me lean on them when I need it most.
for my sense of humor that carries me through more days than not.
for my ability to walk, run, dance, breathe, laugh, and move.
for my opportunity to teach at the gym which brings me so much joy.
for my freedom in life, my ability to make choices, for the possibilities in front of me.
for my dreams, and for my ability to pursue them.

The pre-lit tree was finally conquered!

Even at 40 years old good Christmas tree stories can happen. My good friend, A, got one of those pre-lit Christmas trees a few years back. It's nothing huge, but it's pretty. Well, the first year she asked me to help her set it up. We pulled the directions out with a handy diagram to show how to plug the thing together so it will light. Let me for the record state that I do not know what type of fancy meth was being used when this diagram was drawn... but this nonsensical thing had nothing to do with this tree. So after an hour of plugging crap here and there we finally managed to get the entire tree lit.

At the end of the season we got smart and labeled all of the plugs so we would know which ones went together the next year. So year two arrives and we are all smug and think we got this tree thing handled. Well, the tree quickly reminded us who was boss. Somehow we hadn't labeled the cord which was oddly placed and confusing as well. But that year the tree took probably less than 30 minutes to get going.

Well, this year I was over at A's and she says "while you're here... why don't we put the tree up." So she went and grabbed it. We dug through and found out blue tape labeled plugs, grabbed the cord which was also now labeled, and after less than 5 minutes we plugged it in and all the lights came on. We obviously made several whoop noises as we jumped up and down and double high-fived one another. It was a good day in Christmastown. :)

Santa secrets and beginnings of traditions

I can remember how I found out there was no Santa. And it was the least traumatic thing I have ever experienced. It went something like this. My brother comes running out of the house... it wasn't even Christmas... it may have been summer. I was probably around 5 years old, give or take a little. And this is what we said:

Him: "Hey, I've got a secret!"
Me: "What is it?"
Him: "Well, I can't tell you. It's a secret."
Me: "Well, can you give me a hint?"
Him: "You remember the thing about the Easter Bunny?"
Me: "What? Is there no Santa?"
Him: "Nope. No Santa."
Me: "Oh, okay."

And we commenced to playing.

A couple years later my brother and I decided that waking up early on Christmas morning kind of sucked. We Rogers like to sleep in! We also thought this might be a way to get to open presents earlier! So we suggested to mom and dad that we open presents on Christmas Eve... then we could all sleep in on Christmas morning. And my parents being pretty smart people decided this was a brilliant plan. And so our Christmas tradition was born. I mean, really, once you realize there is no Santa coming down the chimney you don't even have in a mobile home... what's the point of getting up so darned early! :)

Skyfall - A YGP review

Skyfall, the new James Bond flick, really kicked ass. I'm a pretty big Bond fan. I don't know if I've actually seen all of them... but thanks to all the 007 marathons on TV over the years it is definitely possible. If I've missed any it is probably some old Connery ones. And I think I saw the Lazenby Bond just once. I grew up with Roger Moore as my Bond, and yes, I know... he wasn't the best. But I liked his tongue-in-cheek quality. I was never a big Connery Bond fan... it was all terribly serious. And so many of the Bond films are just shitty towards women. Let's just say I was more than thrilled when Michelle Yeoh showed up as a Bond Girl... still one of the best Bond Girls of all time.

But onto Skyfall...

Bond and his Aston Martin

1. Not only have the Bond Girls graduated to Bond Women... there was far, far more eye candy for the ladies than for the men. There was almost no nudity of women... but Daniel Craig was shirtless a bunch of times... and damn... just damn. That is one fine man. And I mean that in the most feminine point of view kind of way. You see... it's not that he has some pretty face. It's his entire demeanor. It's the way he carries himself... whether walking across a room or kicking someone's ass.

2. Dude on dude action! Okay... not really... but there is a strange flirtation from the villain. This may have been kind of sexy if Javier Bardem wasn't reminding me of that dude from SNL (I'm good enough, and doggonit people like me)... Stuart Smalley I think. Really, Javier can be a very sexy man... but this look was not quite as bad, but almost, as the "No Country for Old Men" look from a few years back.

3. Old School Bond... this movie really does combine some of the old school feel of Bond with a new era. It doesn't take itself as seriously as Casino Royale (in an attempt to be more Bourne like), but it still feels new and fresh while paying homage to the history of Bond.

4. I won't say much more... I don't want to give any real spoilers here. But if you like Bond I'm not sure how you won't like this movie. :)

The life of a Xmas tree: Part 1

The silver tinsel tree! Before my time.

When Mom and Dad first got married they had an aluminum Xmas tree. They had blue silk-string covered balls on it. You didn't string lights on the tree. There was a plastic disc divided into 4 colors that rotated with a light behind it which projected the colors onto a tree. But this awesome sounding tree was not part of my life. It lives in my memory only because of the descriptions from Mom. For me Xmas was all about a green artificial tree purchased in 1970 at Target, 2 years before I was born. It was the Xmas tree of the Rogers family for over 40 years. I believe I will start telling some stories involving that Xmas tree during the holiday season.

I think the 1st year of the green tree I knew growing up.

 

My first clear memory of the tree was Xmas of 1976. I was 4 years old. We had moved to Dudley in September of '76. I remember waking up in the middle of the night on Xmas Eve... techncially Xmas morning... absolutely freezing. I remember laying on my stomach, pulling my blankets to my neck and putting my pillow on top of my head to keep warm. When I woke up in the morning Mom was sitting me up putting my coat and hat on me and telling me how our heat went out overnight. I can remember that mom picked me up and was carrying me to the kitchen... we had a gas stove so they had the stove on and the door open so that room was nice and warm... and as she carried me through the living room I saw the tree over her shoulder in the corner... and I remember from my vantage point I could only see one present... and I was wondering "Did Santa just bring us one present?" Nope... I didn't care about being cold at all.


Apparently my mom's brother came over and nearly set our house on fire with the kerosene heater... but I don't remember that. I remember playing with my toys (I got more than one present) with my brother in front of the tree. That tree seemed so big back then... I'd lay under it at night with the lights on and marvel at how tall it was... it was truly not that big a tree... but when you're 4 years old the world is large.

I'd be a weird mom

I suppose it's a good thing for any potential children I may have had in life that I'm not their mom. I mean, on one hand I think I'd be a good one... all about learning your own lessons, etc... but it may cross the line into apathy. You see I have not ever wanted to be a mom. My dear friend B, who has known me since age 14, once said to me "As long as I can remember I've wanted kids... and as long as I can remember you haven't." I didn't even know it was obvious back then. I may have thought I would have gotten married and had kids back then... it was what was "expected." I went through a very short lived period in my early 30s when my friends had cute kids around 2-3 years old when I thought "hmmm, do I want one?" Then I saw their kids hit 3-4 years old and my answer was a resounding "NO."

I have another dear friend, we will call her A, whose 9 year old daughter is in some advanced math thing where she brings home crazy hard math homework. So one day A starts telling me one of the problems they were trying to figure out... and my brain started to hurt... it felt like my brain was hurting, I tell you. And I stopped her mid-sentence and said "Just stop... I'm not thinking about this. I don't have homework. I won't do it." She said a little more about how crazy the problem was... and I said "Seriously A... I am not thinking about this. It hurts my brain." She laughed. I laughed. Heck, we still laugh about it. I told her if her kid can't figure out the work then she doesn't need to be in the class... so she, the mom, shouldn't have to worry about it. And in this way I may have been a great mom... or a really shitty one. I am pretty happy not ever finding out. :)

I do say I think my friends are all amazing moms... each with their own style. I don't know how, or why, they do it... but they seem to be doing a good job. :)

My rather girlie skill sets. :)

I have a couple of skills that I rarely use anymore, but I'd like to use more in the future. They were taught to me by my mom.

1. I know how to sew. I don't design anything, but I can follow a pattern like a mother f*cker. We had an old, avocado green sewing machine when I was growing up. It was the kind that folded down into a sewing cabinet that just looked like a piece of furniture otherwise. I was proud to know how to use it. There were no arrows on it directing you how to thread it like there are on my Kenmore. It also did not have a foot pedal. The sewing cabinet had a metal knee pedal, for lack of a better term, that you used to run the machine. Mom used to make clothes sometimes for herself, for us, even for my Barbies I think. I don't use the skill very often, though I have made lots of curtains over the years, and I can hem my own jeans. I'd like to make a costume or two in the future... just to test my skill, and feel like I made something. I really need to find my mom's electric scissors. I know that sounds useless... but OMG when you're cutting a big pattern they are the most awesome thing on earth.

Mother of all Blankets

2. I know how to crochet. Mom made a blanket of mine. It is wonderful... and wider than it should be. She made it for me while I was a Freshman in college... she laughed that it ended up being wider than she intended, and we affectionately named it "The Mother of All Blankets." I've made a number of baby blankets over the years. I made a blanket once in high school, and mom and I discovered that our crochet stitches (not sure if that's the proper term... stitches... but it'll do) were the same size. Most people can't pick up another person's crocheting and continue crocheting without it being noticeable where one person stopped and the other started. But mom and I could. I always thought that was pretty cool. I'd like to crochet again... I have a great pattern for a blanket, but I often feel like I don't have the time to do it. I don't sit in front of a TV for hours anymore, so it's hard to allocate time to just sit. But maybe it would do me some good... even if it's just an hour or two a week. It almost seems like it might be a kind of meditation to put on music, and just crochet.

3. I can cook. Okay... just kidding! My cooking style does actually come from my mom, though. The only vegetables I ate as a kid were called Del Monte. She had dinner on the table every night... but I know she wished you could just take a pill for dinner instead of deciding what to eat every night. I used to think "pot luck" dinner nights were so awesome! Now I see mom just didn't feel like cooking. :) I have to say when I do cook I do branch out a little more than she did... but my comfort foods tend to be a bit bland... old recipes passed down from a woman who didn't bother with spices. :)

So there you have it... a list of hobbies I feel like adding back into my life. I hope I can find the time. :)

Pink Linen, Sweet Tea, & Salt Water

In 1999 I took a creative writing class at Wake Tech. I wrote the following for an assignment. I always liked it. And since I've got a bit of writer's block I figured I'd dig it out and type it up. I still like it. :)

She was sitting at a table outside her favorite restaurant. It was not yet ten in the morning, and a cool breeze was blowing in from the water. Strands of hair kept streaming across her cheek. Between sips of tea she would push the hair behind her ears only to have it disobey at the next small gust of wind.

The air smelled fresh and clean and full of possibilities. As she smoothed the pale pink linen of her dress on he lap, she wondered exactly what the day before her might bring. She took another sip of her tea, enjoying the fact it contained far more sugar than she was used to, and then headed out of the restaurant towards the beach.

As she reached the sand she pulled her shoes off and dug her toes in deeply. "Why do we have to wear shoes anyway?" she wondered out loud. The next question she asked to no one in particular was, "I wonder how cold that water is." And with that she dropped her shoes and headed towards the ocean.

As her feet hit the water she said to the same no one with whom she'd been conversing, "Yep, it's pretty cold." But she just kept on walking until she was waist deep, then stopping for just a moment to enjoy the morning light dancing on the water. And then she just dove under.

She swam along the beach for a few minutes, tasting the water, and noticing how it actually thinking how it contained more salt than her tea contained sugar.

She emerged from the water wearing a pink linen dress that was no longer crisp but clinging to her. She did her best to straighten her skirt before heading up the beach in search of her shoes.

It's grumptastic!

It is very frustrating to be in a bad mood a lot. I truly am not that grumpy in my normal life. Okay... I am totally grumpy when I first wake up... always. And I am grumpy when I am hungry. But those are normal and acceptable times of grumpiness. I mean... give me a few minutes in the morning, and I'll be fine. Or feed me, and I'll be fine. But right now I get these insane waves of grumpiness, sadness, and irritability. And watch out if I happen to be hormonal. Oh, it is not a pretty sight.

What I sound like a lot right now. :)

But there is an upside to the hormonal grumpiness. If I can recognize it for what it is then I know it'll pass in a relatively short period of time. I just have to wait for a trigger to snap me out of it. I had the hormonal grumpy meet the undercurrent of stress grumpy yesterday. It was grumptastic, my friends!

The frustrating grumpiness is the one that follows me around a lot lately. It's what causes me to spew obscenities at motorists when I used to not react to stupid drivers in such a way. It's the voice that tells me to go crawl in bed for 2 hours after work instead of going to the gym. It's the one that agitates my friends (sorry to friends irritated by grumpy me!).

It really isn't my nature to be grumpy, you see. Life is unpredictable, though. And sometimes grumpiness gives you the force you need to push through the day. But I find it's important for me to recognize the grumpiness as a tool I am using and not a new normal. I plan on dropping the grumpy off at the door once it has served its purpose.

My mom always used to say that if she had the worst headache in the world at work no one would know because she wouldn't complain. She didn't want to "bring down the room" with her problems. One one hand I respect that. On the other hand it pisses me off completely. I may not need to weigh down a room with all my problems, but at the same time I don't think I need to sugarcoat everything to make others feel good. And the real reason it pisses me off is because I know she was sick much longer than we knew... but she took so damn long to complain about anything that it was too late. Maybe if she had said something early on, and not worried about bringing down the room, maybe she would still be here. So, with all respect to my mom, I can't follow her example in this instance. Things hurt... you should be able to say they hurt. It doesn't mean it's all I have to say, but once in a while it alleviates a little pain and maybe helps you find a way to fix the pain if you speak up.

No worries

I worry a lot. I think we all worry a lot. But in truth the things we worry about are often silly... even when they seem big. The simple fact of the matter is I am healthy. That is something not everyone can say. I may be having a bad day, a day full of hormones and mood swings, but when asked "Can you teach in the hot yoga room tonight?" I can say "Sure, no problem." This is a job where I have the privilege of using my body in a strong and healthy way for over an hour in a room that is over 100 degrees... and the only thing I need to worry about is drinking enough water. I am so very fortunate.

A friend of mine passed away today. She was a good soul, and she will be missed. She was sick for a long time. She physically was unable to do the things I take for granted. I'm not saying I don't have some things in life that deserve my attention, concern, and even worry. But at least I'm physically able to handle it. And I need to keep these things in perspective.

So tonight I will go to sleep and appreciate my health. I hope I can hold onto it for a while. I know I need to give it more attention. I'm worth it.

Coffee, Cocoa, and a Meteor Shower

Leonid Meteor Shower

About 11 years ago... I think it was 2001... I found out the Leonid meteor shower was on a November Saturday night/Sunday morning. It was going to be clear and visible here in North America with the best viewing times around 4am. I called my mom and told her about it. I wanted to get out of the city so I could view it, and since my folks don't live way out in BFE I figured that was a good choice. Well, mom was excited. She said she would get up with me and we'd watch it together.

So Sunday morning about 4am mom comes into the guest room and wakes me up. It sucks to get up that early... even for fun stuff. So I shuffled to the kitchen. Mom fixed herself some hot coffee. I fixed hot chocolate. And we headed out to the cold porch with our hot drinks and blankets to catch us some meteor action.

We sat down in the chairs and were chatting. We realized quickly that despite the middle of nowhere status of my parents house it may not be a great viewing spot. My folks place is up on a hill. And with all the leaves off the trees we have a great view of the lights from the runway at the air force base. So the sky wasn't exactly dark.

Since we couldn't see too well from the chairs we laid our blankets out on the porch, laid down and bundled up. After our eyes adjusted we did finally start to see some meteors. We laid there for a while talking and watching the sky. Finally we got too cold... cement will chill your bones in winter. We packed up and went back in. And I know I went the hell back to bed. :)

I don't remember what we talked about that night. I suppose it was nothing of consequence. But I always had a good time with mom. It was always easy. We don't get many people in the world who love us unconditionally. You have to cherish the ones who do. :)

My current life as a phoenix

Do you know the mythology of the phoenix? "It has a 500 to 1000 year life-cycle, near the end of which it builds itself a nest of twigs that then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix or phoenix egg arises, reborn anew to live again." I have a friend who views his life in this way... that on a number of occasions it seems as if one life destroys itself and a new life begins. I think about this often because for me right now I am going through this cycle for the first time.

My life as I have known it has been pretty much burning itself down. This burning life is the life where I have a deluded sense that I know what's around the corner. In truth none of us really know what's coming. We think we do. We have a plan. But you don't know from day to day what may happen to set you off that course. But there is a comfort in having that plan. So I have in front of me what feels like a fresh start filled with possibilities. It also feels scary and empty like a dark void looming. It feels like both things at the same time. I am doing my best to focus on the good.

I ask myself who do I want to be? What do I want to do? The reality is that any given moment in our lives holds the potential for reinvention. We can all become what we want to be... but we have to want it enough to disrupt the pattern of our lives and actually work for it. But when your life is burning to the ground, and you have no choice but to reinvent, then comes a real thought process... do I go back to the way I was... or do I find something else? Deep shit, right? :) 

I am talking about who do I want to be physically, mentally, and emotionally... not just one. And it's a complicated question. You get to a certain age and you start thinking about the end of your life. What will you regret? And the old saying is true... you don't regret the things you do, you regret the things you don't. A life filled with "what ifs" seems pretty depressing. 

I do look forward to life becoming a little less stressful. I look forward to finding a spot where I can actually make a plan. But I do hope I don't lose the idea that I can reinvent myself along the way if I want...even without the whole burning of the whole life. It seems a good way to live. :)

Yeah... I'm Meg Griffin



My Meg Griffin look!



I love winter. Truly I do. Not because I like to be cold, but because I like to be bundled up. My two absolute favorite articles of clothing are hoodies and toboggans. And I have to give those up in the summer months. If I won the lottery I would be like the Imelda Marcos of toboggans. I would have an entire wall devoted to them. Toboggans are my Linus' blanket. :) My newest toboggan is a little cheap pink one from Kmart. I look so much like Meg Griffin right now it is frightening. I want to go get a couple more in different colors... even Meg Griffin should have some variety.



Another reason I love winter? I actually like it when it gets dark early. I do know I am in the minority here. But there is just something cozy about it. Besides... me and the sun? We don't really get along all that well. The days getting shorter is also intertwined with the holiday season! And even though the actual holidays are tough now... still not used to mom being gone... I do love the season. Love the music and decorations and cold weather and dark evenings. :)

So in summary... if ever in doubt what to get me for Xmas... a toboggan is awesome... especially with a ball on top! I really like those with the animal faces on top and the ear flaps... but even I must admit I am about 30 years too old for those. ;)

I am the Anti-Wallflower. :)

I don't allow myself many regrets in life. There is no point. But there are a few things I wish I could have done differently. I do wish I'd had enough confidence at a younger age to just do things I wanted to do even if they scared me. The more you do things that scare you the less scary the next thing becomes... because you realize the anticipation is what's often the scariest.

When I was young... I don't know, maybe 9 or 10 years old... my brother was taking a drama class that was held at a local dance studio. One day my mom says to me in the most offhand, casual way "Would you want to take a dance class while we're there?" I swear to you my heart skipped a beat. There was truly nothing I wanted more. I'd always wanted to take dance classes. But in the same moment that my heart leapt it sank. And I pulled together the most non-chalant voice I could and said "Nah, that's okay." Those of you who have read early bits of this blog know that I was a fat kid. And I knew that if I took a dance class I'd have to wear a leotard in front of people. So I said no. And it broke my heart a little bit.

I lived my youth as a wallflower. But that's not really who I am inside. But it took me a long time to realize that I wasn't a wallflower. And I didn't have to stay in the background all the time.

And here I am 30 years later... and on a regular basis I put on skin tight yoga clothes (not a leotard... but not too far from it), climb on stage in front of a room full of people, put on a microphone, tell everyone to basically listen to me and watch me, and teach group fitness. I choose to be the anti-wallflower. And I don't even get nervous. That tells me it is where I am supposed to be. It is who I was meant to be. I wish I could go back and tell myself at the young age to just get over the fear or worry... if you want it, swallow the fear and do it. Simple as that. And instead of wondering where I'd be now if I had not been afraid back then... I spent my time wondering what lies ahead now that I have started ignoring fear and finding ways to do the things I want.

Early bird Xmas shopper

My mom was a great Christmas gift shopper. Now this does not mean that we always got huge gifts or everything we wanted. But mom started early and did lots of stuff online. She was often done with her shopping by mid-November. And I knew that if I saw things throughout the year that I liked, but might out of my price range, I'd email it to mom with a subject of "possible xmas present" and at Christmas a couple of those items would show up under the tree. I have missed this little tradition all year. I've spotted things here and there that would have been things I sent her in an email. Even last year after she died she had already started her shopping... Dad showed us the box of gifts and the list. And my sister and I sat and wrapped all the presents for everyone (not everyone had been purchased for yet... the girls had been, but the boys were tougher to shop for so mom hadn't figured them out yet). So at Xmas last year, even with mom gone I had gifts from her to open.

I have so many things she gave me over the years. One of the biggest stand outs is a shirt. It is now out of style and a bit small... but I won't get rid of it. For some reason, despite the fact Mom knew me very well, she could not pick out clothes for me. And oddly I couldn't pick stuff out for her. If we were shopping together we would pick something up that we genuinely thought the other person would like... and we would get a turned up nose at it. Well, one year Mom bought me a shirt. I opened it, held it up, looked across at her and smiled really big... and said "Mom! I actually like it! Oh my god!" And we laughed. It was a stand out Xmas present moment. Oh... and one year in college mom and dad wrapped up 2 boxes of Tide laundry detergent for me. Sounds lame... but a broke college student who buys the cheap no name detergent was very, very happy to get 2 boxes of Tide. :)

Politics & My 1st Vote

As hard as it is for me to believe now I grew up in a house where politics were not discussed. And I can honestly say it was blissful. Of course I did not realize how blissful it was at the time. You do truly only appreciate things when they are gone.

My mom would never tell any of us who got her votes. Dad didn't even get this information. She would tell me if I ever asked about which candidate she liked "Tracy, who you vote for is one of the only things in your entire life that you truly never have to tell anyone." And so it was her grand secret.

I remember I turned 18 in October of 1990 just before the November elections. Mom and Dad made sure I was registered to vote in time.

So we stood in line at Brogden Jr. High to vote. I went into the booth and pulled the curtain. It wasn't a presidential election and all I remember was flipping switches in the voting booth. I pulled the lever to open the curtain and as I spun out I see mom standing in the middle of the room with a camera taking my picture. People were watching and smiling... and I said "What are you doing?" And she said "Well how many people in the world have a picture of their first vote? You may be the only one!" And of course she laughed. It was a great moment in retrospect... but it was truly an awful picture. :)

Hair Boredom & the Cut or Color Cure

I often notice ways that I am like my mom. But there is one place we differ. Our hair. My mother wore the same hairstyle for her entire adult life. Well, she did have a few year spell in her 50s when she grew her hair out to a bob... she seemed to enjoy using barrettes and bows and such. I don't think Dad ever liked it. He liked it short like she'd always had it. And after a couple years she cut it off. She cut it herself (hairdressers inevitably cut it too short and exposed her ears which she HATED with the fire of 1,000 suns). And she colored it herself... but it pretty much always looked the same.

Now for me... I spent the first 18 years of my life very timid about my hair. I basically had straight hair with bangs in varying lengths. Once in 8th grade I had the regrettable mullet with partial perm (it was actually in style at the time... now it is not. I can't figure out why people still do it). And then in 9th grade I let some scissor happy bitch talk me into cutting my hair short... but she cut it so short it literally stood up on top. I mean... WTF? I cried for weeks until it grew enough to lay down flat. I vowed to never cut my hair again. And that lasted from 9th grade until 12th. Then I started getting the itch. I wanted to cut my hair like the chick from Wilson Phillips. And it took me 5 months to get up the courage to do it. Finally mom and I went to Sissy's with me clutching my picture of Chynna Phillips. Sissy was ecstatic! She loved big changes, and she loved me for wanting to do it. So I got my beautiful hair chopped. In school the next day all the girls loved it. And several boys said "I liked it better long." I thought the same thing then that I think now... you should have fucking said something when it was long. But no... not a word.

Let me jump to the present... the entire life story of me and my hair would take too long for one blog entry. I get bored with my hair. And I get bored pretty quickly. And I don't like to pay for a haircut unless it looks like a haircut. I don't do that "trim every 5 weeks" crap... I want drastic! So I'll grow it for a long time and then WHACK! And in the interim? I curb my boredom with hair color. I even occasionally contemplate having my hairdresser bleach it out to really, really blonde... just so I can gradually go back dark and have lots of different changes on the way.

I had an English teacher in high school... I can't even remember her name now. But she had short hair (and we shared Sissy the hairdresser). And she told me "It's just hair. It'll grow back." And I seriously live by that. :)

Seriously I want to chop it all off right now... but it's the beginning of winter... and dangit I don't want to be cold yet. :)

The Man with the Iron Fists - A YGP review

I saw the movie The Man with the Iron Fists today. You know, for a modern day Kung Fu movie it honestly wasn't half bad. Don't go expecting high end acting or anything. But it was honestly pretty cool. Now you must also know that I am a big action film fan. And I don't mind some blood and guts. So if these things bother you, then no, it's not the film for you. It was very bloody, though in a cartoon, Kung Fu flick kind of way. Here are my thoughts:

1. Russell Crowe is not typically an actor I love. I don't hate him or anything. But I don't generally think "Ooh, Russell Crowe... sexy!" But he is by far the best actor in this movie... and it shows. And quite honestly, and quite annoyingly, he proves that old, fat guys can be charming and sexy. Now... for all you old, fat guys out there... I am not insulting you. I am merely again reminded that I won't get to be an old, gray, fat woman and be considered sexy. So Russell swaggers his way through this film with a big gut, dressed in some cool steampunkish clothes, and is, at least to me, quite sexy. I was always quite happy when he was on the screen.

Old, fat, and sexy!

2. Lucy Liu is the shit. And how in the world is it that she isn't aging at all? I mean... she is just unbelievably cool, beautiful, and kick ass. I was really happy when she and her black clad posse of brothel babes started kicking ass. :) She's awesome.

Timeless and bad ass

3. Every time the bad guy "Silver Lion" was on the screen I kept screaming "Kaaaaahhhhhnnnn!" inside my head. Star Trek fans will get my meaning... I mean, the Lions hair in general was so very 80s... it was either Kahn or some big hair band video look. I get it... they were "lions" but... damn. :)

"Kaaahhhnnnn!!!"

"Kahn!"

This is what I heard in my head through the movie. :)

4. RZA of the Wu Tang Clan directed this and also starred as The Blacksmith aka The Man with the Iron Fists. I thought his directing style was decent for the genre. But the man needs to invest in some acting classes. It would be nice for an actual emotion to creep across his face once in a while. Maybe hang with Crowe for a bit. :)

Overall... good popcorn flick. Lots of violence and blood... some sex, though a surprising lack of nudity. Maybe to keep an R rating they had to pick one... blood spurts OR boobs... and they went with the blood.

So go see it if you dig Kung Fu! Not a bad way to spend the morning... though my candy sucked. Not all chocolate covered cookie dough brands are created equally. Mine was more like chocolate covered ass. :) But it was chocolate. So... yeah... I ate it. :)

Chocoholics Not So Anonymous

My name is Tracy. And I am a chocoholic. Laugh if you must, but it is true. I eat some form of chocolate every day. And I admit that during times of stress it is my vice and my comfort, unhealthy as that may be. It shows in my current state of pudge. :) When I was in college I actually got picked on by my friends for my chocolate consumption. Quite honestly I thought my friends were full of shit until one day I was at my parents house and went to get something out of the refrigerator. I looked on the counter and saw neatly lined up Oreos, Chips-a-hoy, and Hershey's chocolate syrup. In the freezer was chocolate ice cream. So yes... I inherited my chocoholism from my mother. I blame her... and thank her. :)

The Girl with the White Bow

Do you ever feel ugly? Or invisible? Or both... like you're invisible because you're ugly? Well, that sums up how I felt about myself growing up. I will be kind to myself, as a child, I won't say I was ugly... but looking back I did have some very, very awkward years. Mom knew I was shy as a child. And she knew my self-esteem was low. This was a story she told me many, many times over the years. I don't think she made it up, but I have no other sources to give you. All I can say is this is my retelling of what my Mom told me.

There was a little girl. She was poor. She was dressed in rags. Her hair was dirty. One day she was walking down the street and found a beautiful white bow on the ground. She picked it up, looked around and saw no one that it might belong to. She thought it was so beautiful. She ran to a store window and tied the bow in her hair and admired her reflection. She felt so beautiful. She turned and started walking down the street with her head held high. And every person she passed turned and looked at the beautiful, beaming girl. Little did she know the bow had fallen out after she had only taken a few steps.

This was my mother's way of telling me to hold my head high, that beauty was more than what you look like, and now as an adult I see it was her version of "confidence is sexy" but she told it in a way a child could understand.

So on days we feel less than pleased with our looks... fat day, hat hair day, big PMS pimple day... whatever the day... we need to remember to put on our white bows, hold our heads up, and we need to shine.

Cleaning House & The Platters

Saturday mornings of my childhood meant Mom cleaning the house. Mom was not a perfectionist with housework. She believed a house should be "lived in." We didn't have one of those fancy rooms where you couldn't put your feet on the couch cushions or on the coffee table in front of you. The house was kept generally straight and clean, but it wasn't spotless. And for better or worse she pretty much gave us kids our space in our rooms... Basically she would make me clean my room when, as she put it, it became a fire hazard. :) She figured it was my space. And if company came over, we closed the door. I figure it was also just simpler and less work on her part to let me have my clutter. And when I grew up I'd let clutter happen... until Saturday. Then, like her, I'd clean.

The funny thing is that this is one of the many ways her way of doing things became my way of doing things. If I'm in full cleaning mode I have to have music blasting, and I need to be left alone. I can get lost in what I'm doing... and I can enjoy it.

So most Saturday mornings I'd be sleeping late because I stayed up late watching whatever late night TV was on, probably catching Monty Python on PBS... and I would wake up to Mom cleaning. Now I don't mean the vacuum was loud or she was loud... No, Mom cleaning equaled music blasting through the house. We had an old stereo Dad had built with some amazing speakers... which I proudly own, though at the moment they serve as end tables. Mom would play one of 3 albums for her morning cleaning. It was either Barry Manilow, Wayne Newton, or The Platters. The Platters were Mom's favorite band. I will completely forget they exist and then hear them playing in a store, or somewhere random, and it literally stops me in my tracks. It's like comfort food for my soul. I just looked up "The Great Pretender" by The Platters on Youtube... and it takes me home. What I wouldn't give to hear it again on vinyl, complete with scratches, blasting through the house on my speakers. Perhaps someday.