Somebody Else's to them, whomever they may be.

Somebody Else's to them, whomever they may be.
How I feel after throwing a party...

Thanks for the visit!! :)

Saturday, July 31, 2010

July 31, 2010...A Day of Chocolate, Rain & Clarity

My day began from peaceful slumber and indulgence from the one I love the most.

Thank you my love for the decadent Saturday morning: breakfast in bed and the movie Chocolat. :)


Then a friend despaired and fussed that she wanted Out. Out! OUT! Of her house but lamented that she had no money and no one to go out with. I thought "Pshaw! Live! Be!" and so I told her the following, which really is good counsel for any one of us...

Just get in the car and drive--somewhere local you've always wanted to see or to one of the parks. Take a book and if you have a couple of dollars stop and get a drink or some cookies or a treat. Take a notebook and sit. In a park and write some thoughts down. Blast the radio--sing along. $0 to few dollars. Go breathe in the wild air and live.


I always want to open up a Chocolaterie after I watch the movie Chocolat. In fact chocolate has been on my mind since going out on Thursday with my grandma and sister, two fellow chocolate adventurers and connoisseurs. 

Chocolate rooted and related words are just fun to say, especially if you put a little twist of flair into it. Go ahead--say it out loud...with gusto and delight. 




I know, I know... Ridiculous and silly but so what? It's fun, and in order to truly be cut free from the fray, sometimes you've just got to let go of the fuddy duddy and just be joyful and let your inner child out for a minute or 25.

I bate being called or even referencing "Chocoholic" it just sounds so boringly adult and negative and it's just not my thing. As a caveat to that statement--dont get your panties in a twist if its your kind of word--embrace it--own it--make it yours. No offense meant its just not for me. To me it makes it sound like you can't control yourself and are going to end up naked rolling around in it in public. Maybe appealing to some, but public nudity, chocolate covered or not, is not for me. So I am no chocoholic..but I certainly am a chocolate lover. :D

I love chocolate covered caramel, turtles, petit fours, truffles, cherry cordials, chocolate covered bing cherries, chocolate dipped strawberries, chocolate chips, chocolate cheesecake (particularly the Black Tie Mousse Cake from The Olive Garden) and I could go on.

Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, even the prejudiced against white chocolate. Peanut butter and chocolate, chocolate covered nuts, chocolate dipped toffee, honey and many delicious delectables to try and to enjoy.

In fact I was at a wedding reception for my cousin and his darling and winsome wife, in 1992 was it?, and it was there that we had the most AMAZING injected and chocolate dipped strawberries. To this day they remain, hands down, one of the most decadent strawberry experiences of my life. And I thank them heartily for it. :D 

Now despite my fabulous list of deliciousness and delight---I really am not a maniac about it...I've just liked it for a really long time. 

From the time I was a little kid and we got the chocolate Easter bunnies that you'd bite the ears off of, or the hollow chocolate turkeys at Thanksgiving that my grandparents would send, or the gold coins that you might be lucky enough to get or the See's box of candies during the holidays or on special occasions, I was convinced it was a definite perk to being a human with taste buds. Of course when we lived in Brazil, at Easter we had huge hollow chocolate eggs, filled with Bon Bons, candies and little toys all wrapped in beautiful, brightly colored, delightfully crinkly cellophane. 

With this lifelong love affair that has never done me wrong, aside perhaps a tummy ache at Halloween or at Christmas time due to enthusiastic overindulgence...why would I ever turn away? Chances are even the orneriest and strictest of vegans finds a way to their secret chocolate fix no matter how refined and purged their standards may require, so as you may know from personal experience, most of us will find away.

So, no doubt about it--I am a connoisseur, though no snob, of this tantalizing treat. I relish it, I celebrate it and rarely do I ever reject it. 

Viva le Chocolat!


I then felt a random bolt of pure joy during the course of the day and felt inclined to not down this surprising moment of clarity...I've been somewhat muddled more often than not this year. And these were my thoughts...

I feel the lightness of my life returning. It is like I am on the cusp of an answer to the questions I have been a long time asking. 

All of the things I love, all of the things I want and all of the things I need, seem to slowly be converging. I do not have the final picture--I do not even have the proof--or the sketch, but I feel it swirling around me. This is a time of change.


Then came the rain...

After being enveloped and embraced, after wrapping my arms around my favorite neck and kissing hotly on the stairs, after passion-induced butterflies in my stomach, I said "Goodbye" and I came out of my air conditioned house to thick summer air and stormy clouds against a partially blue sky. It was fantastic.

As I pulled out of the driveway the clouds cracked open and water came pouring down. I could vaguely smell rain through the air conditioning vents in the car and I thought "This is crap." and I rolled down my window and I flung my arm out the window, cranked the Silversun Pickups and went on my way.

I could smell the hot asphalt, scorched by the sun and now drenched and steaming from the summer rain. I could smell the dirt in the fields and corn and wet hay and water. Huge drops pounded my windshield and zipped and stung along my skin. My arm goosebumped with the change of temperature as the wind whipped across my wet flesh. Drops came in volume dripping through the open window and down onto my jeans, but I didn't care. In fact I was the opposite of caring and hoped for more.

Why do we run from rain and wind and sun? Always running and hiding from it? Not for me right now. Not for me this summer. Not this year. I want to dance in it. I want wet shoes and tanned skin. I want sweat down my back and between my breasts. I want wet, sun bleached hair, drenched by the rain. I want joy in this planet, on this earth.

It's possible the person in the car behind me thought I was a lunatic to have my arm waving and riding the wind and the rain out of an open car window, but I didn't care, because I was in a beautiful sensory overload. 

My ears, my nose, my eyes, my skin, my mind--all of them throwing information into my brain for a supremely stellar moment of existence. I am alive and I can feel it and smell it, hear it, see it and know it. If this is a dream well then it is electric and vibrant and I wonder what could I possibly wake up to if life is not this?

I waited for the rain to start falling and then took the longer way into the store just to smell it, be enveloped by it, get rained on and to enjoy it.

Let your blood pound in its vibrance. Breathe deeply taking in all the scents around you. Let your heart pound so hard you feel you will pass out. Open your eyes to colors and textures. Touch. Smell. Hear. Taste. Look. 

See and hear all of those common things that you overlook because they are always there. See them again with new eyes. 

Be a Phoenix from the flame, bursting forth out of ash and doubt, flinging your wings wide, neck stretched out and head thrown back calling out the joy of your life's song. Be! Exist!

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Ad Patres...To the Fathers

July 17th, Saturday

Today started out well and happy, but now not so great. I watched my grandmother as a stroke hit her. Rushed her to the hospital and am now in the ICU. Pretty wired out, but we are here together and we will see how it goes.

It was a crazy topsy-turvy day today and I want to make sure I get all of my thoughts and feelings down. Life and death situations are not my favorite, but they merit reflecting on because you can learn a lot about yourself from how you handle...or don't handle...them.

Today was going to be a fun day. Everyone is here for Pete's wedding (two days ago) and today we are getting together for breakfast at Dave & Kelly's and then it's off to the water park for lots of swimming, sunshine and fun...or so I thought at the beginning of the day. I was really looking forward to it because this was going to be an awesome event. It was going to be like old times, all of the brothers and sisters together, only with their various offspring and spouses, and we were going to reconnect.

After breakfast everyone got ready and started heading over to the water park. I was one of the last to go as I was going to take my mom and my grandma. Grace (my sister) had taken her out earlier that morning to get a bathing suit, because after the last trip to the water park she decided that she really did want to go swimming no matter how old she was. I hurried and put on my suit and my sundress, flip flops on, and out the door. I wanted to get all of the gear in the car. Towels, water bottles, sunscreen...everybody's bags and sundries...sunhats and etc. My mom was walking out of the house towards me, helping my grandma along. She is almost 90...89 for now, and 90 in October, so technically she is almost done with her 90th year on the planet.

As I looked up and at them, I noticed my grandmother was having a hard time walking and was shuffling quite a bit. At the same time my mom paused to look down at her and we both noticed that her facial muscles were spasming and pulling to the side. Immediately we both knew something was very wrong. I quickly walked to them and almost simultaneously my mom and I both said---"Something is wrong!" Briefly, while digesting it all, we thought to take her in the house. I called for my sister-in-law, and as she came out she said "She's having a stroke!" Which confirmed what my mind, in those milliseconds, was trying to convey to itself.

We turned her around and hurried her down to my car, helped her in and we were off like a shot. The moments were surreal and time ticked slowly, yet I knew they were rushing by at the same time. I kept looking over at her. She sat so quietly. The twitching in her face had stopped, but she did not look well at all. I wondered if this was it. If she was going to leave us all behind for the great unknown.

As I was driving, slalom maneuvering through traffic, like an expert skier who is racing to the bottom around newbie skiers who have no concept of what is going on behind them, I kept trying to talk to her. I spoke in English and no response. Then in Portuguese and she looked at me and tried to smile but could not do it. I put my hand on her hand and squoze it and spoke kindly, what I hoped was assuringly in Portuguese to her trying to instill in her, and in myself, that everything would be ok.

Out of all of these split seconds and few minutes I realized that the farmers had shown up to sow seeds of panic. I felt sick and hot and freaked out and in an overwhelming rush my face flushed and my eyes sprung tears. I thought "No possible way am I breaking down right now." And I shoved that panic down to the ground like a school bully. I was having none of it. There was no time for it and it would only blur my contacts and I needed to see to drive.

Over the small hill, the hospital looms up, we are almost there. I am not relieved but continue on my race to get her there.

She continues to fade in and out, dozing, startling and opening her eyes. I am trying not to jostle her. I notice she doesn't have a seatbelt on but there is nothing to be done about it now. I am not stopping--we are almost there.

I pull straight into the front driveway of the Emergency Room. I figure if now is not the time for it then there is no other time that anyone should be pulling up and parking. There is a medical staff person talking to someone in the car parked there in front of me. I hustle out, my flip flops flapping and race for a wheelchair. I know instinctively that she will not be able to walk. I open her car door, and reach in to help her out, not realizing at first that I will be bearing her whole weight as she really cannot get out by herself. I take her legs and gently place them on the ground, then I pick her up underneath her fragile old lady arms and I lift her out. She looks at me and I can see that she wants to help me but does not know how. I know she is trapped in her mind and probably very frightened.

I call out for help from the medical guy and he rushes over. He helps to get her in the chair as I explain briefly what has happened and what I know and that I think she has had a stroke. Lastly I give him her name and ask if I should come in with her or go park my car. He tells me to park and come on in. They have enough to go off of until I get in there.

I park my car, get out, open the trunk and grab a t-shirt, I pull it on over my dress, feeling awkward and underdressed. I don't know why, but even though I had on my bathing suit and my dress I felt somehow naked, to prying eyes. It was not a comfortable sensation. I grab my bag and slam the trunk shut and with flip flops flapping again run into the building.

When I come in they usher me straight back to the room she is in. She is already hooked up to, what looks like, 5 different machines, they are drawing blood, flashing her eyes with light, and typing. Their questions come at me like bullets, but miraculously I have almost all of the answers. I don't understand though, how if she was here just 3 weeks ago with a similar scare that they don't have the answers to some of their questions in their database. A point of ridiculousness that I will ponder on at a later time.

I feel calm and naked. I want to put on pants and tennis shoes. I can't imagine how it must be for her, as they are starting to disrobe her. They take off her shoes and throw them in the corner--this makes me mad. They are silly little pool shoes, but they are hers and they should show some respect. At the same time, I find it ridiculous that I am mad about little plastic jelly shoes being thrown in a corner. Is it because I feel out of control? Is it because I feel protective of her? Is it because I know this is routine to them, this is their job, this is what they do, but that for us it is so intensely personal because it is her life and she is ours?

She looks so small and frail and fair on that huge bed. I wonder if she is cold and ask if she can have a blanket or not yet. She has no words and I must speak for her, at least all of the things that I know. She keeps looking at me. I hold her hand and tell her that they are taking good care of her and doing all that they can for her. I tell her that these are competent people and that they will take care of her. I avoid telling her that everything will be o.k. because I don't know if that is true and I don't want to lie to her because this all looks really bad. I speak to her in Portuguese because it is in private and I can console her and they are not a part of it, with all of their needles and vials and machines. I tell her I love her and I smooth back her white hair.

I am hoping that they won't cut her new bathing suit. I am hoping that she will be able to use it again. I wish that we were at the pool and that none of this had happened. I wonder if she will die. I wonder if my dad is somewhere here in the room as his mother is going through all of this. I wish I were anywhere but here. I am glad that I am the one that drove her here and that I am here for her. I am 40 years old and I want my mom.

They say that they must take her away to do a CT scan. They ask me if they should give her some "Clot Buster" medicine, that it is time sensitive and must be done quickly. There is no question in my mind and I say "Of course!"

They roll her away, there are a few more questions, and then I am alone in the room. It is quiet. The curtain is open. My bag and her shoes are on the floor. Her glasses are on the sink. I fold her skirt and her bathing suit. I pick up her shoes. I look around and wonder how my day came to this place and why.

My mom, my sister-in-law and my grandpa arrive. Now it is all a waiting game. I feel calm and wired all at the same time. I feel relieved that my mom is here. Somehow if she is here everything will be o.k. I realize that no matter how old you are you are never too old to need your mom and that my mom is always a comfort to me when I feel things spiraling out of control.

They bring her back and they take vial after vial of her blood. It has been two hours since the stroke. She is talking now. First in Latvian to my grandfather, then in Portuguese to me, and finally her English is back. I am very happy about this because maybe now she won't die, at least not yet. They tell us that she has more tests and that she will be admitted into the ICU (Intensive Care Unit) and that she will be there at least overnight. I am glad for it. I am glad that they will be keeping her and taking care of her.

They get her settled and come for us in the waiting room. They tell us all of the rules and what you can and cannot do. They usher us back. We go past room after room after room, full of whooshing machines, beeping and labored breathing. There is a lot of whispering and quiet talking. I avoid looking in the rooms past their curtains. How awful is your life, how poorly off are you that you need to be in Intensive Care...and as bad and horrible as whatever it is that happened to you, you don't need strangers peering and peeking into your business. I keep my eyes straight ahead of me.

We visit with her, and she takes a turn for the worse. She can't speak again and they are running more tests. My mom looks very distressed and calls my brothers. After, she asks me if I can feel my dad there. I can, and I tell her so, but I don't really want to talk about it just yet. Is he here to take her away? Is he here as a comforter? Is he here to see her even though it is not quite her time yet? I wish I could see him, just once. I wish I could see his face again. I wish I could see his big ol' beard, and his twinkling eyes. I wish. I wish. I wish.

I comfort and console myself with memories and quiet words within my own mind. I look at her and I know that I love her and that she has been good to me. She has been a good grandma and she has given me so much. She's not perfect, but then who is? I watch her, and I want her to be well, I want her to be at peace. I know that if she dies that I will be sad and that I will miss her, but I also know that I don't want her to suffer or to hold on to this life unnecessarily. If it is her time to go, then so be it. I am at peace though melancholic.

My other siblings get the children settled with the babysitter and come over to the hospital. I am happy to see their faces, though sorry for the circumstance. I realize how much I love them and am so glad that I have the siblings that I have. I can't believe that we are all adults now, with our own families. I miss them, even the ones who live close by. I wish we could all be together more often. This is the first time in almost 10 years that we have been able to all be together. All 6 of us. That is too long to be parted. We are independent creatures and we do what we must, but it would be better if we were together more often. It would be better for our families and for us.

They have a few minutes to visit with my grandma and then it is time for the rotation of the nurse's and we are all shooed out for two hours. We decide to go to the hospital cafeteria for dinner and to relax for a little bit. My husband meets us there as well. After dinner some go home to tend to tired children and some of us stay put and head out to Barnes & Noble for a brief reprieve and a few magazines. Then it is back to the hospital.

At the end of the night, after everyone has wandered home, I am the last one to leave. It has been a long day and I am tired, but strangely not ready to go just yet. The lights are dimmed and she has stabilized to a degree. They only come in every 30 minutes instead of every 15. She is resting, and is actually sleeping. I pull up a chair to her bed, and put my hand over the railing to hold hers. Her eyes flutter open and I am sorry for that. She looks at me and smiles and says "Oh, my little Tracy I love you. Go home, it's o.k." My mind smiles and I tell her not to worry, I'll be leaving soon, I just wanted to stay a few more minutes. She closes her eyes, with one more whisper of "My little Tracy."

I look around the room, and reflect on this day. When I woke up, I had no inkling that it would end up here. After a few more minutes of peace and quiet, except for the beeping of her heart monitor, I decide it is time to go. I let go of her hand as gently as possible so as not to disturb her and I quietly get up and leave.

The ICU is quiet and dark, most visitors have left. I take the elevator down to the main floor, walk quickly through the dark and creepy hallways that feel like zombies are on the verge of attacking and I walk out to my car. I look over at the waterfall feature and notice that there is a woman in a hospital gown sitting on the ledge. She has rolled her saline bag holder outside with her and is sitting there with an open laptop. I briefly wonder why she is there, but am also glad that she is having a peaceful moment at the end of a day in the hospital for whatever reason it is that keeps her here instead of pleasantly at home.

The night is balmy and warm and sings of summer. There are a few stars out but the giant yellow moon is bright and hangs low in the sky, obscuring many of them with its greater light. I get in my car, roll down the windows, pick a song, and drive off into the night. I am glad to be going home.

Monday, July 12, 2010

California Road Trippin'...a few days caught in texts and Facebook blurbs

California Road Trippin'
June 25, 2010

Kristin and I have not stopped talking...except when we were sleeping in a parking lot on the side of the freeway next to The Liberty Bus...well...sleeping in the car in the parking lot and etc. I am so happy right now. Best friend + road trip + beach + talking & laughing = happy girl. :D


Screaming, giddy, singing of Happy birthday 40 year old Tracy and Kristin! Happy Birthday to us!!!!!


Today is the best Friday of my life!! I am sitting on the beach, toes in sand, damp from ocean water, talking to my best friend and holy snappity crack two dolphins swim past us, no lie!! Ah! Ah! A huge pelican just flew past and God rays are shining through the clouds!


"Dolphins are the unicorns of the ocean."--Beloved

June 26, 2010

Last night I fell asleep to the sound of ocean waves crashing on the shore in the inky black of a late night. It was too perfect and felt like it must have been a dream. When I woke up this morning to sea breezes and the sounds of water yet again, I found that it was no dream but was here and it was true.


Lunching ocean-side at a delightful little joint called Proud Marys. Fresh Fish Tacos and Homemade Clam Chowder is my lunch order.


Watching the surfers finish out their day.

In Costa Mesa/Newport in the middle of the coastal night life listening to cosmo club music, on the way to a late dinner after swimming. I love you! :D

June 27, 2010

Is on a boat going out to sea to look at whales and dolphins.


Saw the great Blue Leviathan and it was beauty to her eyes. I even got whale spray on me! :D


One of the greatest roadtrips of all time. Whales, Dolphins and Sea Lions--oh my!! Back to life, back to reality. One last bit of sand and sea as we leave town via the Pacific Coast Highway.


Beemer. Beemer. Mercedes. Audi. Porsche. Beemer. Jaguar.
The parking lot for Trader Joe's in Crystal Cove.


We just drove by the Ferrari dealership on Pacific Coast Highway.

10:30 pm Death Valley: 95 Degrees. It's a full-mooned night in the desert. The glass of my window is warm to the touch. Cannot imagine riding through here on a horse or in a wagon. I am thankful for engines and air conditioners. It is a beautiful night.


100 degrees. I know...amazing.


There is no water in the air. Hello desert night with your quiet wind, chirping crickets, the strong smell of sagebrush and one very large, full, beautiful, yellow moon. The stars are out kids and it's a gorgeous desert night.

June 28, 2010

Watched the sunset and twilight come on over the ocean yesterday and today at 85 mph watched dawn peek its pretty eyes over vast granite mountains, blackly sillouetted with sherbet oranges and pinks.

This Electric Blue Existence

July 2nd, 2010

Just saw Eclipse and loved it. Stellar soundtrack that I will now need to acquire. I loved the books and have loved the movies. There is just something so passionate and vibrant and human that it taps into within me.

I know it's fiction and make believe and over the top melodrama in it's portrayal of feelings. But isn't that how we feel sometimes as humans? Over the top and overcome, melodramatic and weighted like the only thing that matters are these times, these feelings, these emotions?

If you cannot understand it, then you miss out. If your world is so narrow to only include reality than you have lost something extraordinary in the translation and you are not more for your seriousness and groundedness, but rather less for lacking the vision and creativity, the beauty of feeling starlight even if you can't touch it.

What is it within me, when I feel others and hear music and words, that explodes my heart and merges it, crushes it, with my soul into a vibrant nebula of swirling colors and tears and laughter and pushes me to a height so high that I lose my breath within me?

Do others feel this way? Do they see what I see? Do they hear what I hear? Do they feel the universe and God within them in the things that move them? Do other people ever feel so insanely intense like their heart is about to supernova?

If they do, why don't they speak of it? There is no shame in being who you are. There is no shame in passion, emotion and feeling. Logic and reason can marry with passion and emotion, and the balance of the union is extraordinary. With control there is great freedom. There is the freedom to abandon yourself completely without being burned up and falling back down to earth like Icarus and his melted dreams of feathers.

Sometimes my feelings are so electric and vibrant that I don't know how I survive them and how this flesh, this blood and this bone contain it all.

Some things are not meant for thinking and reasoning. Some things are meant only for feeling and for imagining the great "What If?"

Myth, fable and legend come from real life imagined, learned from and expounded upon. They come from reality uncoiled and flying.

17 Minutes and A Love Story

From the California Trip. My first morning there.


For the past 17 minutes I have sat here on this balcony with my giant, multi-colored striped beach blanket across my legs, toes peeping out, propped up on this white railing.

My body is facing--across this baby courtyard and across the street--the grand sister that is the Pacific Ocean. My heart is at peace. There is a sea breeze, cool in temperature, and overcast skies. The ocean is green--the green of one of those old 7-Up bottles, that broken and tossed amongst sand and rock and aged with salt water, has now become sea glass.

The waves crash. They lulled me to sleep, filled my dreams and then woke me up again today. That I am here feels like a dream in and of itself.

My heart is a full to overflowing perfect circle of peace. There is no end or beginning and what I was missing yesterday has been filled by today.

This visage before me has been with me from infancy.

I am a Watergirl.

To not have it aches and to be with it is a salve.

Originally, I thought the ocean would be mine forever. I set my feet upon that path. But, life and choices in their conspiratory ways, combined their forces against me and I was carried away from the great blue sea and its life-giving force and sequestered high away in towering mountains in the beautiful high desert.

There is beauty all around me in this place--in these mountains. Green finery of pine and cottonwood and locust. There is the unyielding gray and black of monstrous granite and in the cascading rivers of shale. There is the red of Indian Paintbrush and in the cheerful red and yellow faces of Indian Blanket flowers. There is purple and pink and yellow in the tops of the long-stemmed Columbine. There is beauty and joy in the tweetings of Robins, Sparrows, Finches, Blackbirds, Mockingbirds and the sweet cooing of gray-breasted doves. If I am lucky and it is a very good day I will see tiny quail with their quivering head feathers, running and jumping and hear the cacophony that is a pheasants call.

In this wild west place that is now my home I have seen bear and fox, deer, elk and moose. My eyes and my heart have been opened to a completely new beauty and experience.

I have walked in clear-as-glass glacial icy pools of electric blue and green. The water so clear you almost have to touch to know that it is there. I have hiked through creeks and rivers that have frozen my toes with their not-yet-warmed-by-the-sun winters snow run-off. I have been swimming in mountain lakes so deep that legend says they have no bottom--and I have tucked my feet in close to me as I try to swim, just to make sure that the rumor of a monster of the deep that might nibble on my toes, is not true...because a monster of the deep would not chomp me whole, but would only nibble on my's logic and reason with me--all day--every day! ;)

I have made this beautiful place my home. Independence brought me here and deep love and passion with a soul with Cornflower blue eyes secured me to it.

We laughed together when he said that he had caught himself a mermaid and that a swimming pool would be in order because everyone knows that a mermaid needs water in which to submerge herself.

He has called me his Angel, his Mermaid, his Artist, his Sparkle. He has called me his Eternal Love, his Joy, his Beauty Girl and he has told me that I have brought him peace. He has said that, through my eyes, I have opened whole new worlds to him that he never would have known. He has said that through me, through my heart, that he understands how God loves humankind.

This soul that I love, this soul that is the owner of these beautiful Cornflower blue eyes, amazes me. He is strong, gruff, all logic and reason, math-loving, brilliant and always pushing the limits on truth, with enormous expectations on humanity that they fail on a regular basis ('s true honey, you know it...) he is philosophical and pensive, funny, witty and clever, and of depths immeasurable. With his influence and his security he has given me a liberty and freedom that I could have never imagined. He protects me and comforts me but also pushes me to fly higher and to be stronger than I could have imagined on my own. He wants me to be me, even if he doesn't quite understand why I think and feel and love humans the way I do. He *sees* who I am and I *see* who he is.

He is true and I am a better woman--a stronger woman--because of knowing him. Just as I have opened up a new world to him, he has opened up a new world to me.

Some paths are sure and certain and full of focus and determination. My path has been full of plans, of passion in the moment, replete with unexpected changes and compromises. This journey of almost 20 years has marched through bramble-bushed paths and through electric blue skies, and even though sometimes I wish I had made better choices with some things, I would not trade it out.

This life is mine. It is rich in love, in friendship, in color, in texture and there is so much more of it to go. I'll keep the beauty and the battle scars, they are mine, and I earned them all.

Breathe Deep This Joyful Day!!

June 26th, 2010

Backstory--I went to California in the very end of June with one of my dearest friends, Kristin. She was turning 40 and had to have her "toes in the sand looking at the ocean." I concurred. We formed a pact and made a plan and made this wish of hers happen.

To me, the ocean is life. It is the balm of Gilead for my soul. I wrote the following shortly after arriving at our beach front hotel where we had a balcony that overlooked the Pacific Coast Highway and then a very small parking lot, a narrow beautiful beach and the great vast ocean that stretched on and on and on.


Breathe deep this joyful day--this amazing moment--this perfection that your life is in this instant!
There is no other thought except the air that I breathe, filled with salt and water, and the vision my eyes see that does not betray my brain. It is no lie--but it is my beloved ocean.
The breeze that ruffles the palms and plays across my face lifting tendrils of my hair is pure joy to me.
This ocean, this place--the sand, the sun, the waves crashing on the shore--it is home and I have been away.
Right now, at this very moment in my life, there are no reservations that my favorite quote is alive and electric--in and out of my heart, coursing through my blood and racing all around me in its truth--

"Live in the Sunshine--

Swim in the Sea--

Drink the Wild Air!"