PF4


It's been killing me that I can't get these two in the same frame (for the most part). Yesterday though, the stars were aligned. Not only did Gingy place a few Scooby Doo licks on miss M's face, but she also granted her the highest form of flattery she can give: she tried to sit on her (wait! before you call authorities she wasn't trying to snuff her out). She tried to sit on her lap while Miss M was sitting on my lap. Though it might be hard to believe, my 85 lb. dog is a lap dog at heart and when she's ready to give you a ride it means she REALLY likes you. 

I'm so happy they have found their way. As they say in the movies...


"Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Keep On Rockin' Girl...

Anchorage - Michelle Shocked

I was so excited to have CP, SA, PA, and LA come out to visit and meet miss M. The last time I saw CP I was complaining about my pregnancy vericous veins. The last time I saw The Austins, LA was a month old, though we were fast friends I was pretty jazzed to get to catch up and get to know her all over again. We made a connection but, as always, Ginger stole into the hearts of our guests. Never ones to disappoint, we had a good weekend. It was fun to watch the girls play, to watch miss M taken by everything. I was taken by the chance to introduce my girl to two of my old college roomies; part of a group I spent many late nights with in Tucson.


We started things off by celebrating MH's new year at La Loma. I finally got the memo that hanging out with new and old friends is fun (as opposed to hording time with my out of town friends all for myself).

DE rockin' the Dora glasses while LA looks straight out of Top Gun
Saturday we found ourselves hiking Elk Meadow, a personal favorite. LA was a trooper and when M would have no more of her backpack, LA gladly hopped in to provide Mr. Maillet with a head massage while he carried her (until she crashed out from a long days work) I think this is where D cooked up his affinity with LA: after they left, all he could talk about was what a cute little lady she is. (M caught a ride in my dooting arms for a good chunk of the trek - I have to break this crush I have on the old girl and let other do some heavy lifting now and again).


Saturday night our SUPER COOL friends offered to cook curry dinner (strong-armed into it by one pushy hostess) and also wash our dirty bottles - GD it was a good night.


While that was going down, we took the chance to bathe those people under 3 feet. What a trip to bathe my girl while SA bathed LA (wasn't it just yesterday we were sitting in the black room at 812?!)
life is beautiful


Not to worry, we managed to laze away the days too. Still we fit in a motorcycle montage....

(it's all I can do not to post the series of photos of SA fastening CP's helmet on for her)

We fell victims to naps (not so much SA's naps but rather the girl's naps). It provided nice downtime before the BBQ D worked all day to make a raving success. Good thing he didn't leave it to me: we would all have been sitting around a presentation of chips and salsa, flank steak, and pizza rolls.

Dig Gingy stealing the show...
Monday morning came too fast. We thought Snooze was a good way to "go out".


Afterwards, a trip to the REI flagship seemed semi appropriate. We stopped to watch the happenings on the Platte before we left. 

It’s always good to get together and, though I like to try to roll out the red carpet, it’s also so easy to have old roomies visit. They just know how I look without a bra or any makeup. There’s just that amount less to worry about (and that’s a good amount). Time spent during the day is always fun or adventurous somehow but secretly I look forward to the nights. To the hours when the guys drift off, when the babies have long since gone down (and in my case, I’m staring down the barrel of waking up before I even get to sleep); I wouldn’t trade those late nights: those silly discussions or the serious ones, the laughter and the tears. It’s always so honest. The older I get, the magic of nights like that seem a little further out of reach. Oh yes, they still do happen, the music is still there to remind of what was and also how wonderful it is right at the very moment, but they aren't the every weekend, or random Tuesday nights, or the last day before Christmas break...  

... but they do still include bunions! haha

When I find myself surrounded by friends I’ve know for almost 17 years, I’m reminded that life whispers secrets about who we were, who we are, who we want to be, and who knows  what pieces of us. We get the chance to reminisce about the different memories we cradle and create new ones to add to the cache.

Put a Cork In It

We talk about doing projects all the time. Artsy projects: the ones that fall between housework and demo-ing something. Usually it seems like they are unreachable dreams lost in our "some day." That is until last week when one of those long term projects came together quite nicely.


It all started with a little wine. For years, D meticulously saved the corks from bottles we opened together and with friends (or the ones from Napa he opened alone, while I was pregnant, claiming they would go bad = grr...). These wines were both good (the pregnancy ones) and so so vintages. Sometimes it was all about the novelty of the bottle, but pretty much any cork made its way in to an over sized bottle that collected dust on a shelf. Every now and then someone would remember to write on the cork what we had done the night we drank it and who we had shared the bottle with, but most of the time we just blindly saved the corks from post party clean-up and added them to the heap.

The collection grew fairly big. It got to the point where that over sized bottle, a large patron bottle, and then some empty vases were filled with corks. I grew increasingly annoyed at the collection of dust bunnies. Finally D transitioned all the corks in to one bag (due to employee uprising on my part) and brought them downstairs to our storage room. Admittedly I became a disbeliever in the project's fruition. I would secretly toss out stray corks; it just felt like this great idea would join the others on the island of misfit projects.

Cut to two weeks ago: our neighbor left a frame in the alley when he moved out. It was worn, weathered wood - soft and full of texture. I immediately liked it and brought it in to our house. I figured I would find some cool photo to put in it. When I came home the next night I was faced with the bag full of corks strewn across the table. I had seen it out a few times and it was always a sight I met with dismay because I knew the project would never get done. BUT when I saw the piece of board D had trimmed down to fit in to the back of the "alley" frame; it all made sense. The worn wood fit perfectly with the corks. 


Later on D had achieved significant ground on our little project (which I now take half credit for even though it was really his brainchild for 3-4 years). I found him and miss M at work at our kitchen table, making sense of the puzzle ahead. D was doing most of the "heavy lifting" and miss M was inspecting a singular piece all for herself. He was halfway through the layout, it looked pretty good. We started talking about where we could hang it once he was done and everything was glued down. We realized there was more vertical wall space options than horizontal ones. It was at that point Mr. Maillet lost his steam.

Not to worry I picked it up the next day and turned most everything 90 degrees (...and brought a little balance to the piece). I got to spend time looking over the illustrations on the corks. Damn I wish I could remember some of the wines better and I wish we wrote on more of the corks. I'm sure a ton hit the trash that should be included in this piece but then again, there are so many others that made it: corks from our trip to Napa when I turned 30; from late nights with friends just here at home; from new years and other holidays; champagne celebrations, etc. All of it good. I'm talking years of memories here, and as D pointed out, a few thousand dollars in wine. 


I had the layout done by the time D got home from work. We sat that night on each side of the frame gluing each piece down. We joked about caulk and each other's glue capabilities. We sipped wine and tried to remember the ones we already had. It is a great memory in and of itself.

 

PF2

Photo Friday isn't a fine science. Heck, I missed "week two" of my commitment to posting more. So I'm trying to get back on track this week.

There were a lot of good photos from Easter but I must admit, this little series steals my heart. I asked my mom to take our picture and once she did she said, "Got it! But your heads might be cut off..."

I asked her to try again.
She got better with each try...

 Thanks mom :)

Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise

The Avett Brothers

I admire people who own their personalities and empower those around them by their sheer presence. They are truly advocates of self and they are the minority. There is a silent devastation in not liking self. I consider it an epidemic in our society which presents itself as a constant competition of consumption and unaccountability for social ineptitude.

I've always been an introvert. Nothing rings more true to me than the reality that the only constant is my thoughts. Thoughts that, for a long time, stifled who I was because they either were not positive and open or were not weighted with self respect. I'm the first to admit these thoughts are not always consistent but they are what I am constantly surrounded by. Sure I can be alone for days, but to truly feel comfortable with my own thoughts has been a lesson in acceptance as well as retraining. I liken it to being in shape; not eating the “junkfood” of negative thoughts - my own or other's.

It is easy for me to default to focusing on my weaknesses; on why I’m never “enough”. It took me a long time to get into a head space where I respected myself enough to act like it. It's a hard line to take because it forces me to identify how I am feeling and muster some integrity, rather than skirt the issue, when conflict arises.

Conflict has always made me nervous. I’m forever worried about the outcome, the explosion, the aftermath, and perhaps the fatality of, dare I say, being known as a $%#*. That's the bitch about asserting self, you have to embrace the person you truly are to do it. It might take a minute for the taste of the reality of "you" to settle on your tongue and even if you are okay with it, not everyone will be a fan.

Then again, nothing in life is perfect. Our relationships are constant challenges and even the close ones come with an ebb that sometimes leaves us feeling lonely. It's from that vein I've decided to let myself be "enough"; to hold true to my desires and not bend to someone else’s comfort zone.

Wouldn't it be surreal if we could all be our own biggest advocates? I wonder how it would affect our interactions with others or our notions of success in life?

Life is a Beautiful Bastard

I always remember something my bestie told me once, “happiness is a choice;” it certainly is. A few weeks ago I went to see a friend perform at The Improv. She is taking classes at the Yes Lab, where (as far as I understand it) they teach people how to say “yes” in the moment. I thought it was an interesting philosophy not only for humor but life in general. I had a conversation with her mother on the way over to the show. She was talking about how she lives in the moment. The woman is literally fighting to live and positivity seems to come easily for her. It’s so intrinsic to her personality. I wish it came easy to me but I fight tooth and nail for a good outlook.

Since loosing my dad and having Miss M, I have never been more aware of the sheer importance of this moment. For me, it is a constant lesson that life is too short and we should try to say "yes" as often as we can. I thought the concept was pounded in to my head last October but I'm finding it will be a lesson I learn it over and over again (every time I welcome it in like an old friend... who needs a drink).

For some reason, I can't bring myself to lament over death anymore, it just is what it is. If there is anything I am grateful for it's my new ability to catch myself during life moments and think about how I can enjoy whatever it is I'm participating in or if I can't enjoy it, how I can be constructive about growing from it.

Just the other day, I was thinking about how to teach Miss M that death is part of this whole gig. Without being overly morbid, I consider it an important lesson that might help her embrace the moments of her constantly evolving life and relationships (at least more than I was able to my first 34 years). Why does our society try to sweep death under the rug? We will all come to the end of our ride - that is the surest piece of this whole puzzle. Always it is too soon. Always there is one last story we want to hear, one last memory to be made; and then there are the millions that make the last ones so bittersweet. Truth be told: that is what makes life beautiful and bastardly (yes I'm making that up) at the same time; if it never changed, we would never evolve or think of it quite as fondly.