a blank page

This morning, I decided that even though I had no idea what I would write, I would log in and write. When I sign in, a rather dull page comes up that should probably interest me more--a page with stats and data. The only thing I ever look at is "pageviews today" and each time the number surprises me. I have no idea why. Today, this morning, at 8:14am, the number was 10, which blew me away. Silly, I know. I wonder who they could be; are they all people I know, or are they strangers who have stumbled upon my words? If they just stumbled by, will they look for me again? Do they feel like eavesdroppers, or do they want to get to know me? And really, does it matter? If nothing else, the number of pageviews gives me something to daydream about.

Today, though, when I glanced across that page, wondering what else I'm supposed to be getting out of this data, I saw that I had a draft saved. I wondered what on earth I could have written and not posted. When I opened and read it, I remembered writing it. I don't remember the circumstances, but the thoughts, the synthesis is so pertinent. Yesterday, I heard something that made me think about zebras and stripes, immediately decided that saying doesn't always apply, and put it in the back of my mind. Then I found this old post.

So today I'm thinking that zebras are just zebras, but character can be strengthened. The difference between yesterday's quick thought about stripes, and today's realization is one of superficiality. This old post is so related to my friendship post--true, honest-to-goodness friendship is not at all superficial; it's based on far more than just chatter, and is, above all else, a gift to be cherished, nurtured, admired. Yesterday, I thanked a friend for being herself. I told her I had never fully appreciated her, or her friendship. And she told me she just lives the way she believes she should. I want to be more like her. She, and so many other wonderful people I know, have so much true character.

Recently, due to some emotional events--both highs and lows--I've been finding myself thinking about character; what it means, where it comes from, who I've known who has it. I've discovered a common theme...the people I've learned the most from, with regard to character, have felt like a lifelong part of my life from the moment we met.


Not in the same way as those people who seem to be able to read my mind when I met them, and have a million things in common with me, and draw me in like a super-magnet--most of those friendships turn out to be fairly superficial, lose luster, and fizzle out in a cloud of "what the heck happened here?" This is a different kind of "I like him/her; I want to get to know him/her better." I had noticed this difference before, but had never really thought about it much, but with the recent events in our lives, I rather suddenly realized one evening what the difference is......


This kind of comfortable, easy meeting is based on being true to oneself. The reason these people are so easy to be around is that they are honest-to-goodness real deal people. But not in the way that they don't care about others, or are preoccupied in any way with themselves. In fact, it's the opposite: the people I'm talking about have a clear vision of their place in the world, realize that that space really is a tiny part of the whole, but believe wholeheartedly that every single piece of the whole is important, necessary, and  amazing in it's own way.


I admire those who are true to themselves. Particularly, those who are true to themselves now, but are perfectly willing to tell about when they weren't, and how it cost them--and yet don't sound as though their goal is to impress or preach. Rather, what I've observed is that they are willing to tell their stories in order to express their wonder and gratitude for the opportunity to grow.

with a little help

Sometimes, what we need most in life is to know who our friends are. And sometimes, the realization is surprising, to say the least. In the past few weeks, I have learned that real, true friends never judge the decisions we make, even if we are feeling judgemental of ourselves. I've learned that sometimes friendship and the love that comes with it can come from the least expected place. And I've learned that sometimes, someone we thought had surprised us with friendship, really is the chameleon we originally thought.

I've also learned that the truest friends will not necessarily ask or even need to know what's going on, but might just be there, heart and soul, as a distraction, if that's all you need. Distance, as I've always known, matters little in true friendship, but it sure makes shoulder-leaning tough.

Perhaps I shouldn't be too surprised. I have a litmus test right here inside me. A few years ago, I graduated from college as our son was Confirmed. In planning the party, I found myself so excited for my friends to meet my friends. I kept saying to myself, "Oh, she will really like her! They will be so much fun together!" Then I realized, my best friends, the ones I can share my ups and downs with, are pieces of me. Yes, they have wildly varied interests, occupations, lifestyles--but deep inside each of my friends lies a small piece of who I am, just as I lie inside them.

Recently, I've been going through a rough patch. Some people have noticed in my demeanor or my Facebook posts. Some have heard, one way or another. Some have reached out, and some have simply called to chat about nothing. I am truly blessed by the love and understanding with which I have been showered. For a time, I couldn't even breathe, and didn't know where to turn, but with each word I spoke to a friend, I was reassured, calmed, uplifted.

I'm not publishing these thoughts because I want or need to be inundated with inquiries. If I want or need to tell you, I will, in good time. Rather, I needed to share these thoughts because you need to know there is someone who will listen. Someone who will understand. Probably multiple someones--but unless the words are spoken aloud, the darkness could consume you. It almost did me, until I reached out, hard as it was, to someone I was afraid to lose.

Thank you to my friends, many of whom really do not know what I've been going through, but that I know are there, because I know I would be there for them. In a heartbeat.

on a day like today

Some days I miss you more than others. And often, on those days, I also feel guilt for not truly appreciating you when you were here. I mean, I did appreciate you, but I probably should have told you more often, called you more often. Talked with you about nothing more often. Then I wonder: how often could possibly have been often enough to make up for now?

I know you are there, watching, as part of the night sky--in the stars and the moon.......but I do wonder at times where I am to find you in the daylight. In the times when I am supposed to be cleaning the house, making the bed, brushing my teeth. It's not just you I miss; it's what you represent. A safe haven when I'm scared, angry, confused. Never did you make me tell you what was on my mind, good or bad. We would, and could, talk about anything else to distract, clarify, connect. How many years? How many yesterdays? How many heartaches, headaches?

What I need now, what I crave at this moment, is to hear you tell me, yet again, about the day I climbed into your lap and told you that I didn't ever want to grow up, and you replying that I would always be your little girl, no matter what. No matter what.

No matter what.

You taught me strength, and you probably didn't even know it. Strength of character, forgiveness and love. Honestly, there are some times when I wish I didn't have that strength, but, again, thanks to you, I recognize those times as moments of weakness. And then I recall the lessons in humor and lightness of spirit. That is where I find my true self; my true strength.

I find myself missing you today, because I know I'm not the only one missing you. Look in on me, please, but focus your attention on who needs it most. I'm strong. And I'll find some lightness in today, I know I will.

No matter what.

on the fence

This morning, I have an interview. It's been a while since I've been interviewed for a job--more recently, I've been the interviewer, and I really enjoy that position at the table. This, not so much. And for a number of reasons, first of which is that I really do love my current jobs. Okay, so the summer one gets to me, but I love most of the people I work with, I love the work that I do there, I love my staff, it's mostly the commute and the fact that it's seasonal.

Mostly, I wish life, the world, the times were different, and that I had made, or been guided to make, different decisions in my life. But only sometimes. Whenever I think that, I look around myself and see where I am. I have four great kids, two nutty dogs, a house that I love (for all its faults!), two jobs that, in all honesty, offer me supreme flexibility for the aforementioned, and a husband who is walking this road with me. I am lucky, blessed, fortunate. My life is far from perfect, and lately more like novella than I find comfortable, but it is my life.

Why do I have this interview, then? Because sometimes it's more important to "have." With Jonathan heading off to college, and Henry following suit in just two years, we have different needs than we had before. I'm still struggling with it: a full-time job for the stability, or keep what I have and find a part-time evening job for flexibility? And would that really offer flexibility? What about my kids? That's always the biggest question: what about my kids?

Yesterday, vocations came up. Above all else, I am a Momma. It is more than just motherhood--I have long known it is my vocation. It was not a "choice" that I wanted to be a Mom when I grew up; it was a calling. I don't know why. Ours is not to question why, to paraphrase Tennyson, right? My duty, though, is to nurture. Perhaps that's why I'm a pretty good manager. Certainly, that is why I am unsure and nervous today. I don't know if this is the right thing to do; or, really, what is the right thing to do.

So I will do what I know. I will follow the interview advice of a dear friend, and be myself, and be honest about what I am looking for. What I am needing. And we'll take it from there. Wish me luck...

when I grow up

Last night, as I watched a portion of the London Olympic Opening Ceremonies, I cried. I missed the beginning, and only came in at the dream sequence. At work, we had been talking about the Beijing ceremonies, and we agreed that nothing could top them. (I remember I cried then, too.) London's, in my humble opinion, were pretty darn cool. They were not China, but I don't think they were trying to be--they were trying to be London.

What impressed me, what moved me to tears--as always--was the heart, soul and skill displayed. Each of the children played their role, nurses were recruited to show their pride in who they are through dance and pantomime. The villains came! And Mary Poppins saved the day. Through it all, there were dance steps, formations, facial expressions, costume and set changes coordinated with hundreds of thousands of individuals, all working toward a common goal. And a goal that not everyone understands the importance of--a performance.

Performance art is misunderstood. Some of it is really weird. But sometimes it can carry you away as much as a painting, a sculpture, a book. I'm a little biased, I know. I was a performer; I am still a performer at heart, although these days my performances tend to be a bit more personal and on a different scale. (And no one pays to see them, or I'd be rich!) A part of me wonders if some of the comments I've seen about the Ceremonies being "weird" were related to the earlier parts I didn't see, or to something else. The commentary was too much for me, but I didn't have program notes to read first, so I know it was necessary, and there were times when I would have been completely lost without those voices, but Bob Costas, with all due respect, is a sports guy. A dance or performance commentator may have sounded less, well, like Bob Costas. (I love his voice, don't get me wrong, but he really does remind me of The Wide World of Sports for reasons I cannot explain.) On the other hand, performance people can get a little more wrapped up in what they are seeing......

Which brings me back to my own tears, and the tugging at my heartstrings. I miss that atmosphere. I miss that anticipation of a cue, and the proximity of other bodies dancing the same dance. Once or twice I picked up a flubbed step, a missed turn (also amazing, considering how many people were performing!) and was so impressed that the person who made the mistake, as well as those around them, were smiling away. Clearly they acknowledged the mistake, but the show must go on, and it was FUN!! I miss being at performances, and watching them live, watching them come to life. I go to our school plays and concerts, but I miss the dream of seeing a performance every week, every month, of being part of the energy.

The goal, as I understand it, was for the London Ceremonies to reflect the personality of London, and of Great Britain. All I know of either is what I've heard in history class, so of course parts of it struck me as odd; just as a performance trying to depict my own personality and history would seem odd to anyone who doesn't know me. The key is acceptance with an open mind. Once you meet me and get to know me a little bit, you can make the choice whether I am 'weird' or not, but don't skip the 'get to know me' part. Anyone who has the guts to be completely themselves when first being introduced will probably seem pretty darn weird.

I admire that.

nature's music

I have felt like a cannon ball for some time. Thick and heavy, unyielding, and yet pushed to do, act, be. I haven't been writing, running, dancing, sewing because I have felt crammed into the barrel of the cannon. Stuck in a long dark tunnel, with occasional noises around me, a circle of light ahead, and waiting for the big boom.

Now I'm left with a headache.

Recently, little by little, I have given up myself. I stopped dancing. I sewed less and less. With those things, I told myself it was because I was now running and doing yoga, and something had to give. But I realize I have not even played music in the background of my life. My CD collection, while not huge, is pretty diverse, and there has always been something on as the soundtrack for my day. Again, I told myself it was because my job did not allow me to play music--or even muzak--so I just got out of the habit.

Turns out, all of it was just falling away. For no real reason.

This morning, I woke to the low rumbling of thunder. Not the crashing, crazy storm kind, but the refreshing summer storm kind. Both the thunder and the rain were so gentle, the windows could stay open. The lightening more a glimmer than a flash. I let the sounds wash my mind clean.

I still have the headache. I still hope today is better than yesterday. But today starts my search for the old me. The me I like the best. I don't know if I will go back to the things I used to do, or if I will find something new, but I'm not rolling to the back of the cannon, waiting for the fuse. I'm going to be the confetti that comes out of the circus cannon.

Yes, that's me. Confetti.

bucket list

In no particular order, except how I thought of them....

1. Live/vacation on a houseboat

2. Get a motorcycle license and take a roadtrip

3. Study flying. If only to understand how it works. I would love to fly myself/my family on vacation, though, instead of driving sometime

4. Live in a three room cottage, with everything I could possibly need.

5. Publish something

6. Sell a photo.

7. Visit somewhere "unreachable" and actually not be reached.

8. Revisit the Kona coast

9. Win something (not specific enough for a Bucket List, I know, but it would be a first)

10. Bike wine country

11. Visit Washington State

12. Have an office. With a door and wall space and an organized desk and chairs for office visitors

13. Visit another continent