There’s an innocence to topless sunbathing in the midst of a Pandemic. 

Something akin to an ancient and timeless malaise has shrouded our days, so one will do almost anything to feel hopeful and alive again. 

Unencumbered by clothing, I greet the Sun.  “Hello, Sweet Friend.  I’ve missed you.  Kiss me?”  And, He does, without hesitation or reservation. 

Hot breath on my neck, he presses his warmth into my chest and I surrender, promising…”I’ll never make you wait this long again.”

I sit so quietly I can hear my own heart beating.  A steady, rhythmic drum of undefined purpose.  A simple insistence on existence.  

I tell Her, “I’m finally ready to listen.”

I’m learning to love this liminal space and all it has uncovered. The quiet longings that still surface just beyond existential dread. 

It is there, in this presence of body and alertness of spirit that I now imbibe - knowing that my perception has always been my reality. 

Is it now that I begin to perceive differently?  More acutely? 

Isn’t it always in the throes of pleasure that we make our most flowery and embellished of promises? 

“From this moment forward….and always...always...”

So, I ask, “Will you, Sweet Sun, promise to forgive me when I forget to greet you?”

And, “Precious Heart, can you vow to keep speaking, even when I distractedly chide, ‘Not now’..”

Time and again, 

I promise to return to Openness, because of your Devotion. 

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.

It’s hard to remember what life was like before Jack, but lately, I’ve been thinking about the turn of events that led me to him + I’ve decided to tell that story, here.

Back in 2008, when I lived in Houston, I started daydreaming about maybe getting a dog + poking around online. The Alvin Animal Shelter placed Craigslist ads weekly on Mondays, featuring their “Dog of the Week”.  I’d half-heartedly monitored their updates for months, telling myself (and anyone who’d listen) if I ever saw a Golden Retriever come up for adoption, I’d give them a call.  She’d need to be full-grown, potty trained, well-behaved with soft blonde hair and even softer eyes. She’d motivate me to run by bringing me her leash at the same time each day and share my popcorn with me on movie nights.  She’d be gentle, kind, loving + soft. She’d listen to me. (Like, really listen to me.)  And, afterwards, most importantly, she wouldn’t leave or make me sleep alone.

 “I’ll just know her when I see her,” I told my boyfriend-at-the-time, who’d roll his eyes at my “Lassie fantasy”.  He seemed to delight in reminding me that “dogs are a lot of work.” In hindsight, he was probably planning an exit for the very day I brought home another bitch for him to manage.

I’d even gone so far as to visit the exclusively-for-Golden-Retrievers rescue, figuring I’d increase my chances of finding my girl if I worked directly with a non-profit who specialized in the breed.  The Golden Retriever Rescue was a red bricked suburban dream. At this no-kill shelter, each dog had its own bed, was bathed regularly and were doled out treats in perpetuity. After a brief interview and a walk through the sleeping quarters, I was matched with a 3-year old named Cali who was playing in the backyard.  Brandishing a leash to “get acquainted away from the others,” I clipped it onto Cali’s collar just inside the gate. The moment the gate was opened, Cali spastically lunged for freedom and proceeded to “walk” me around the block as I trailed along behind shamelessly attempting to “assert dominance”.  My then-boyfriend’s words burned in my chest. “Dogs need an Alpha, not a Beta, Hillary..”  

As we humped around the block awkwardly, not at all the picture of my fantasy, I decided he was probably right and returned to surrender the leash, asking the kind ladies for “some time to think it over”.  (Spoken like a true Beta: too conflict averse to tell the painful truth which was; I was, in fact, too much of a doormat to be a dog mom, according to my boyfriend.)

But, fantasy is an intoxicating drug + I continued to indulge in the weekly search, however privately.  Most weren’t retrievers, which made it easy, but something about the last Dog of the Week had caught my eye.  “Max” was photographed seated in the passenger seat of a car, wearing a bright red collar around his monochromatic neck + seemingly smiling.  Not at all my type. More of a Coppertone commercial kind of dog, but for some reason, on that morning: He was cute enough to call about.  

“Hi, my name’s Hillary.  I’m calling about the Dog of the Week, Max.  He’s pretty cute. I could probably come and see him this Saturday.  Is he still available?.”

“He is, but not for much longer.  Max is set to be put down today because he’s been here a while.  That’s why we advertised him last week. If you want to see him, you need to get here by 2pm.” 

I wondered about all the other past Dogs of the Week. Had they found homes?  Something told me they probably weren’t all being awarded treats in perpetuity and sleeping on cushy dog beds from Marshall’s.  I guess that’s reserved for the pretty blonde bitches of the world.  

“Well, don’t put him down, YET,” I stammered, “I’m on my way.”

I made the trip one hour south to Alvin in record time + walked into an aluminum barn of a shelter sweltering in the Texas sun.  The lobby smelled of fear (veterinary medicine and piss). After signing some papers saying something about not suing even if I was attacked, the attendant buzzed us into a chain link maze of concrete floors and mystery puddles.  The cages held sad wimpers, empty eyes, depressed heaps, multiple mystery puddles and more than one broken looking heart. I felt sick, anxious and inept.  

One spectacularly large Pit mix along the first row barked so loudly when I looked at him it landed like a punch in the stomach.  “BOOF.” I don’t speak dog, but I knew what that meant...he wants the fuck out of this place. As we passed by his barks grew more urgent and non-stop.  “BOW-WOWOWOWOWOWOW” he cried to me. “Ah-WOOO” the older, silver faced hound next to him replied. This resulted in the entire cavernous barn erupting in a chorus of howls.  Each lonely dog calling for his pack. The sound rattled through me, shaking something loose. I wanted to cry. I shuddered, half ready to run through there and open every single kennel, myself.  

Max’s crude cage was towards the back since he’d been there the longest. He sat quietly in his familiar red collar and looked up knowingly through soulful, calm eyes, almost as if he’d accepted his fate.  He silently glanced in my direction, but clearly didn’t seem to expect us to stay for long. The attendant fashioned a cheap nylon rope into a choke collar and slipped it over his neck, but Max didn’t flinch or move until the attendant jerked him to attention.  “Alright, buddy, let’s go.”   

Max seemed a little big to be a Jack Russell Terrier, as advertised.  He had a funny shape: long body, short legs, elfin ears. More Corgi than Terrier if you asked me.  But, then again, what do I know about dogs? I asked where Max had come from and why he was there, “We found him roaming the streets of Alvin.  Somebody called in so we went out and picked him up.” 

In the Lobby, the attendant asked, “You two want to go around the block or something?”  I agreed that sounded like a good idea, so we made our way outside. Once we were alone, I stopped, unsure of which way to go, looking for some sort of markers / indicators of where to return, shortly.  I feared Max would take off running like all the others and drag me through some unfamiliar neighborhood before I had the chance to get my bearings. While I pondered, Max plopped his black and white spotted hind end down and looked up at me as if to say, “You know, honestly, I’m cool if we chill right here.”  

I exhaled, thankful to have a moment to think.

Establishing eye contact I mustered all the Alpha confidence I could.  “Alright, Buddy, listen. We’re going to walk around the block together + if you listen to me and walk real good on the leash, you get to go home with me, okay?  But, if you are an asshole and pull me by the leash or don’t listen to me, I’m gonna have to leave you here. Do you understand?” He blinked, I shrugged + decided we’d go right.  

At the first corner, Max stopped and looked up, telepathically saying, “Which way now, Boss?”  I smiled. “Let’s go through this light and then make a right, sound good?” He obliged. As we cleared the second block, we made our turn without hesitation.  Now we were hitting a stride.  

I noticed his pace quickened to keep up with mine, but not once did he step in front of me or pull.  He stayed beside me, matching my stride and glancing up from time to time to see if I was watching him.  Of course I was. His gait was almost horselike in the rear. A trot, by most standards. I laughed at the way his little black booty bounced humorously, while his tail stood proud.  The further we walked away from that place, the more pep he got in his step. The white tip of his tail seemed to wave, cheerfully. “You’re doing so good on the leash, Max.”

By the second turn, I’d already made up my mind, so I asked him as we continued back towards the shelter, “Do you wanna go home with me?”  His lockstep pacekeeping my only indicator of a “yes”, I decided we’d silently agreed. My heart soared as we floated back. I was determined to break Max out of that scary place, once and for all.  

________

“You did what?” my then-boyfriend chided.

“I adopted him today,” I proudly stated.  “They called him Max at the pound.”

“Jesus, Hillary.  That has got to be the ugliest damn dog I’ve ever seen.  What’s he good for? Just look at him, his legs are even too short for his body.” 

 “But, I think he may be part Corgi, that’s why.”  

“Right, because Rat Terriers regularly breed with Corgis three times their size.”

“Well, I don’t know.  I think he’s cute... and besides, you’re twice my size...”

“Touché, Hillary James. TOO-SHAY.”  (My boyfriend slapped my ass, half jokingly, half serious.  After all, he was the Alpha in this house and I had clearly not been obedient.)

________

I don’t remember a lot about the first night, save finding a couple of Tupperware dishes for water + food and searching online for the nearest Veterinary Clinic where I could have him checked out and maybe get some of those flea + tick pills.  I settled on Atascazoo because they were super close and took walk-ins. I decided we’d go first thing in the morning.

Max peed himself as soon as we got to the doors of Atascazoo and you could smell the Vet Clinic.  He locked up outside and refused to take another step. “Oh, buddy...I’m not gonna leave you here. We just gotta go inside and get you a couple of things you’ll need.”  That didn’t seem to matter. He wasn’t gonna take one more step. So, I scooped him up in my arms and carried him inside. The Veterinary Assistant who checked us in escorted us back to a private room to wait.  Max paced the floor, looking for exits. When the Doctor arrived, she informed me we’d need to run some standard blood tests first. She and her assistant drew blood and stool samples quickly and said we’d have the results in about 10 minutes, because they do all the testing in-house.

A few minutes later, the doctor returned.  “I’m sorry to tell you, your new friend Max has an advanced case of heart worms.  I’m surprised they didn’t tell you at the Shelter. Without treatment, he’ll die within the year, but even with treatment, I can’t guarantee he’ll live more than a couple of years.  There’s a lot of risk with heart worms.” My heart sank as I learned the treatment would cost close to $1k and require me caging him and “keeping him calm” for several weeks as he passed the dying worms and recovered.  Even if his heart survived the ordeal of being overtaken by parasitic worms, he could die of essentially a blood clot of dead worm gunk as the medicine killed them off. This was NOT what I had in mind when I’d been dreaming of a blonde retriever.  Why do I always get myself into compromised messes like this?

“I think I can cover that with my credit card,” I worried aloud.

“In that case, I think we can do the treatment for $600, Ms. Self.”

And, with that, we decided to fight to give Max a few more, better days.  Albeit caged and calm, but better: I hoped.

When we got home that day, I toted in the collapsible crate I’d purchased for his heart worm treatment and studied the bottle of horse-sized pills I was to administer over the next 2 weeks.  I covered an old pillow in beach towels, attempting to feather Max’s nest the best way I knew how. I couldn’t believe I had to keep him caged nearly all day for the next month in order to prevent his heart rate from picking up.  His only respite would be the four bathroom breaks I’d be allowed to give him each day.

Googling “how to administer pills to dogs” I was horrified to see owners prying open jaws and thrusting pills down the backs of their throats like they were inserting a suppository into a rectum.  

“But, dogs have teeth...and feelings...I can’t do this,” I stammered out loud.  

“Can’t do what?” my then-boyfriend, returning from his workout, interjected.

“I can’t shove a pill down Max’s throat.”

“Sure you can...if you’re Alpha.”

I sighed in exasperation, “This isn’t funny, Babe.  The dog’s got worms. He’ll die if we don’t give him his medicine + he probably won’t last more than two years, anyway, according to the vet.”

“Ha! We?” he laughed.  “YOU picked a real winner didn’t you?”

Tail tucked between my legs, I grabbed Max’s leash, wanting to create as much protective distance as I could between my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s ridiculous mouth and Max’s understanding eyes.  

__________

Outside, Max poked around following his nose + I took the opportunity to talk to him.  “Do you like the name ‘Max’, Max?” He stopped and looked up at me. He clearly knew and answered to that name.  

“I don’t know, Max.  I think maybe we ought to change your name to signify your new life, you know?  Like a clean break from the past. What do you say?” Nothing.

“What about Duke? I always liked those old Westerns and you strike me to be a pretty well traveled guy, like a cool Cowboy”  Max resumed sniffing, seemingly unimpressed.

“How about Charlie?  I could call you Chuck.  Like the Peanuts gang.” He hiked his leg as I continued thinking...squat Corgi body or not, he did have the coloring of a Jack Russell…

“Jacques?  How about Jacques?  You struck me as the French Adventurer type with your red collar…”. Still nothing.

“How about Jack?”  Jack looked up.  

“That’s close enough to Max, isn’t it?”  His tail wagged.

Alright, buddy, that’s it!  From here on out we are gonna call you “Jack”. 

Little did I know then, that this little guy would turn out to be the love of my life. Back then, I just truly didn’t know Jack.

I still do recess, guys!  It's just I don't always document it - nor do I practice it so "religiously" anymore.

Instead, I can say that for the past 10 years, practicing recess has helped me to learn to be more spontaneous ,organically, and to allow more play into my life at all times.

Work and play don't have to be separate and you don't have to feel guilty for taking 30 minutes out of the day to do something that makes you feel joy.  

My goal here is not to deliver some perfectly polished performance.  My goal is to have fun, to share and to inspire.  

I'd like to do more of that here - more often - so feel free to join me.  :)

Here's tonight's "recess" - practicing a cover of "Everything is Free" by Gillian Welch.

https://youtu.be/8IW7dJDiyNQ

The shortest woman in the congregation approached me after services.  Her shock of blonde hair knotted on top of her head was the only indication she was making a move through the crowd.  Bounding over chairs as the rest of the large congregation waited patiently to file out of the auditorium, she made a beeline directly towards me.  I was waiting patiently for my row to file out when she approached with her blonde topknot and wide smile to make her introduction.  “I hope you’re open to things like this,” she said.  “I am being given a message from your angels.  Would you like to hear what they have to say?”  Proudly being a new-agey Californian, I replied curiously, “Of course.”

“Well, I just feel like you’re supposed to be up on that podium,” she said.  “Your have a story to tell and we’re supposed to hear it.  You’ve been gifted with an experience that will help to heal people.  It will help so many.  I don’t know exactly what your story is, but I just feel like you’re supposed to tell it.  Does that make any sense to you?”  I couldn’t speak, but my subconscious was nodding furiously.  “Yes, ma’am.  That does make sense.  Thank you for telling me.” 

With that, she gave me a hug and stepped away.  The congregation had dispersed, but I stood there for a moment with the realization of what had just happened hanging heavily overhead.  I knew exactly the story that I was supposed to tell, but it was not something I felt others would be receptive to hearing.  Perplexed, I exited the auditorium and made my way towards my car.  I wondered to myself, “God, is that you?  Do you seriously do things like that now?”  My mother would tell me to beware of false prophets, but I had to wonder, “Of all the people at the 11am service – why did that sweet woman pick me?”  

And, so, with that - a tiny seed was planted. This nudge I needed from the universe to get back to writing and sharing on this little blog of mine was squarely delivered months ago, but I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

I certainly have been gifted with a diverse set of experiences and a deep longing to share those stories in a search for meaning.  If they'll help to heal others the way this sweet, little blonde messenger said, then: Amen.

With the fresh calendar page of January 2017 quickly filling up, much has been on my heart and mind.  I want to know that I'm living a life with purpose and meaning packed in between all of the flurry of activities. I've been searching my heart and my mind for what that purpose could be for years now.  Could it really be as simple as sharing my stories?

I drove myself to the beach tonight just in time for sunset.  I sat looking out at the cotton candy colored clouds as they melted into the horizon and I thought - you can do this, Hillary.  You can try to share, again.  

You see, sharing your personal stories can be scary.  It opens you to a vulnerability that is akin to nakedness - and if that nakedness leads to rejection, then you'd better have a pretty thick skin or some broad / sloped shoulders so you can brush it off.  

I can't claim to have either of those - but, what I do have is a heart that longs for connection.  And, if experience has told me anything - you aren't going to find that connection or that meaning in isolation.

So, here's to sharing our stories and opening ourselves to new connections, healing transformations and miraculous discoveries.  

I used to pity "Weekend Warriors".  Because I worked from home and had a group of friends who were active every day of the week.  I never thought I'd be one of "them".  I always thought that I'd just intrinsically get outside into the sun and have recess regardless of where I was or who I was with.

I was wrong.

Since moving to LA six months ago, I haven't been surfing, yet - unless you count the internet.  I go to work and come home exhausted after 6pm.  I don't have a group of friends waiting at the boat dock for me to hop on-board and I don't have any buddies going to catch a set before or after work (at least, not yet).  

So, it's no wonder I've been feeling so blue.  I only average about 4 hours of sunlight a week, now.  

I got up Saturday morning and I cried.  I cried for all the friends and the memories we've made to this point.  I cried because I didn't have anyone here to meet up with or go play with - not even on the weekends.  I cried because I fear that part of my life has passed - and I don't want it to be that way.

Then, I put on my big girl panties - (okay, I really put on my bikini) and I went to the beach with my dog, Jack.  We walked the boardwalk - we got some sun - we even made friends with a homeless man named Puck.  Jack and I sat and talked with Puck for over an hour.  And, Puck said to me, "You look at that Ocean like it's a long lost lover....why?"  And, I told him the truth.  I told him how I used to surf and wakeboard and how I haven't been in the ocean for over 6 months.  And, once again - I was crying.  

He said, "Well, that's an easy fix...get out there!"

He's right.

Just because I don't have people calling me - doesn't mean I have to put my life on hold and wait for when they do.  I can do things to make myself happy - right now.

When I started this web-site - it was to encourage everyone to take at least 30 minutes a day to have "recess" - and at the time that was a really simple thing for me to do.

Now, I'm married and moved to a new town - and well....I probably don't have to tell you that before last Saturday - I don't know when the last time was that I had recess.

So, here I am : looking at the life I am currently living and I'm finding it lacking.

What it is lacking is my own attention to fun, laughter and JOY.  So, I'm writing this as a confessional - to admit that I haven't been taking care of me - and to share with you that I no longer want to live this "weekend warrior" lifestyle.  It may mean that I have to sacrifice some sleep.  It may mean that I have to do it alone, again - but, the truth is - I need to re-claim some fun for myself.

I need an extended recess - and I need to remember to observe it daily.

So, here's to putting yourself out there. 

Here's to setting goals and to making time for yourself.  

Feel free to hold me accountable. 

I'm sad.  Often.

I suppose you could say that I have lived my entire life with a broken heart.

And, that has handicapped me.

It has cost me relationships.

It has cost me happiness.

It continues to oppress me.

The best I seem to be able to do is have "days".

Days where I don't cry.

Days where I go outside to see the sun.

Days where I try to get past the ache in my heart.

But, it's always waiting for me.

And, I seem to always default back to the pain.

I'm tired of being tired.

I'm sad that I'm always so sad.

I need a friend.

I need love.

I need affection.

But, you can't be a bundle of needs with nothing left to give.

That'll cause people to run.

And, so I hide it.  My pain.  My sadness.  My ache.

And, I own it.

It becomes me.

And, I must say...it's a contstant.

It never lets me down.  

It just robs me of everything else.

From Out the Cave
by Joyce Sutphen

When you have been
at war with yourself
for so many years that
you have forgotten why,
when you have been driving
for hours and only
gradually begin to realize
that you have lost the way,
when you have cut
hastily into the fabric,
when you have signed
papers in distraction,
when it has been centuries
since you watched the sun set
or the rain fall, and the clouds,
drifting overhead, pass as flat
as anything on a postcard;
when, in the midst of these
everyday nightmares, you
understand that you could
wake up,
you could turn
and go back
to the last thing you
remember doing
with your whole heart:
that passionate kiss,
the brilliant drop of love
rolling along the tongue of a green leaf,
then you wake,
you stumble from your cave,
blinking in the sun,
naming every shadow
as it slips.

I've been thinking a lot about the connections we all share - that same life that lights up each of our eyes and fills our lungs with breath.

I've been contemplating how lifetimes of love and experience can be shared between people in a few moments or years - that's why you can be young, but feel so old.

Death or disconnection is such a powerful, spiritually altering experience.

Experience, then change, can leave YOU changed.  It doesn't matter if the change is sudden or not.  (Death vs a slowly dying relationship.)

When I really tune in to what my heart is FEELING - it is a resounding pain for the people who I've loved and since lost.  This can be a living person, too.  Moving away from friends, family, certain lifestyles - it's all being mourned, right now.  I need some wisdom from the conversations we used to have.  I'm fearful I'll never know a connection like that again.  

I live in a beautiful city - with a wonderful husband & our cat & dog.  I understand that I have much to be grateful for, right now.  I do love being here and I do NOT want to discount how much I enjoy being here...

I'm just saying.  I miss my friends in Texas, OK & Miami.  I miss my Nana.  My Grandma Banks.  Reed.

The list could go on... 

So - lately I've been trying to focus on the connection I shared with all of them - and how it is still present in my life, now.  For instance, when a U2 or Depeche Mode song comes on the radio - I'm going to smile and dance in my seat and think about Reed.  And, that helps me to make new friends or it enhances the beauty of this new scenery.  I feel like he's in the passenger seat - playing keyboard on the dashboard - and pointing out things as we pass through this Southern California scene.  I am beginning to recognize that when another person lights up and begins to sing along with Bono - they share something kindred with me & with Reed...and, so the Connection continues.

Sometimes, I'll just sit quietly and send my thoughts strongly and intently toward a person - or toward the greater conscousness (God).  And, I'll be grateful - just so, so grateful - that I got to know that person.  My friend taught me to do that when you miss a person.  And, it has helped me so much.

I know it's a rambler - but, I think that's exactly where I'm supposed to be right now...rambling along in the present and recongizing the Connection.

It's our first Christmas in California and I am really excited.  The Beach Boys and Barbara Streisand used to sing about Sunny Southern California at Christmas-time, but now I really feel like I'm gaining a perspective.  We'll get to experience the early fall like weather here - before we descend into Oklahoma's true winter weather.  Ah, but for one more week, we can do a California Christmas - shorts, sunglasses and all.

We've been slow to start, in the Banks/Barney Household, this Christmas. Our cup of spirit doth not overfloweth, this year.  We have overwhelming reasons to be happy - I guess it's just human nature sometimes to push those reasons aside and fixate on the things that hurt.  Like losing a loved one.  Especially at Christmas - it brings back so many memories and you can't help but wish  you could see your sweet person's face once more.  Hear their voice.  Give them a hug.  I know how this feels, to an extent.  But, I also know that I do not have the type of perspective some of my family members have - who have experienced a loss so recently - and daily I am amazed at their spirit - their faith - their good cheer.  If they can smile - I've got a reason to smile.  While I may feel blue or lonely now and again - I just have to remember to make a different choice.  Then, I just choose to be happy in this moment - right now.

So, last night Trafton had to work.  Trafton works most nights - and my friends here all have families with small children or live in a different time zone so I can't call them -  so until I make some new friends - I have to get creative with my nighttime activities.   

Last night, I did just that.  Jack (my dog) and I cruised up and down the residential streets  of Santa Monica and Culver City and looked at the Christmas Lights.  

When I was little, my Mom & Dad used to pile us into the Buick Stationwagon to drive to Elk City to see the lights - and we'd also drive around the neighborhoods in Cordell, Elk & Clinton.  We'd play Christmas Music Cassette tapes (my favorite was the Muppetts) - Heather's favorite was Barbara Streisand - we all had our favorites, really - and, we'd just sing along as father kept the car creeping through the neighborhoods at 8mph. We'd sing, we'd "ooh!" and "aaah!" over animated lawn figurines - or beautiful old cars parked out front with a garland or wreath adorning them.  I like how we had enough time to really take in the tableau - the entire scene - and we'd have conversations about what we were seeing together - and we'd come up with ideas or ways to do more things in our own yard the next year.  It was always fun - a sure fire way to get those Holiday Sentiments a'flowing.

It always seemed to propel me into my bed for sweet dreams and a great morning the next day, talking to the other kids at school about who's yard was the coolest, brightest or most creative.

I loved that ritual that my family observed as a child, so last night I took Jackie Bear while Trafton was at work and we piled into my Tahoe.  We had the seat heaters cranked up to "Hi" and the windows down, sunroof open - letting the cigarette smoke billow out as we listened to Ghostland Observatory's "BODY SHOP".  I cannot help but dance in my seat when I'm driving and that song comes on.

It's so fun to see the California Homes all streamlined and eco-focused, wrapped in lights and garland.  I love seeing the palm trees adorned in bright lights.  That's a treat I've enjoyed both in LA and Miami Beach.  Tropical Christmases have their charms.  

Cruisin' California Mission: A Success

I came home laughing, loving life - and energized to wrap those gifts I've been putting off for so long.

Sometimes I think we forget how easy it is to do something for ourselves, that we'll genuinely enjoy.  We blow ourselves off and get to doing the "business" of the day.  Not Cool.  You don't skip recess, buddies.  You just don't.

Now, crank up that Ghostland tune and dance your ass off.  Seriously, right now.  

"Wax it. Grind it. Work it. Ride it."

So far, I'm digging this California-style of Christmas.  :)

Jack is finding a spot to cozy up under the tree.

I just love this time of year.  I always have.  As a child, I played my Christmas records, year round, because they made me happy.  That earned me the nickname "Christmas Queen" from my family.  It's a title I still happily claim.  There's not another time of year that makes me happier or brings more joy to my heart.  There's just something so beautiful about how Christmas brings out the best in all of us.  The warmth and kindness that so often gets pushed aside in other times of the year.

I think a lot about Baby Jesus.  How innocent and tiny he was.  And, how he was born into this world as a Saviour to us all.  God humbled himself in such a way - as to clothe himself in flesh and blood and come to our world to show each and every one of us how to conduct ourselves on this planet Earth.  He came to set an example - and to offer us salvation.  He believed in humanity enough to allow himself to be vulnerable.  A tiny baby born into the crudest of nurserys. 

My sisters now have children of their own, and Christmas has taken on new meaning for us.  As I hold these sweet babies, I look deep into their eyes - seeking to see a spark of their soul.  I realize how fragile and precious life is - and I am amazed that God chose to come in the form of a babe.  Who would've thought that the star maker would allow himself to be laid in a manger - and clothed in rags?

I thank God for Christmas - and for the tenderness it brings out in each of us. 

I pray that God blesses you - this day - and every day.  And, I pray that we all remember the sweetness and the vulnerability that God chose to bring himself into our world.  May we all cherish and protect that tenderness in one another.  For, that's one of the loveliest things about living.

I spent my Thanksgiving vacation driving to see my family in Oklahoma - and Janis Joplin accompanied me the entire way. This particular version of "Ball & Chain' has always been my favorite - because of the speech she gives at the end.

I've utilized her way of thinking to get me through a few different tough situations - when I wanted someone who I couldn't have. She taught me to relish the moments you do have - rather than cry about the ones you don't.



Preach it, Janis:

And I want someone that could tell me, tell me why

Just because I got to want your love

Honey, just because I got to need, need, need your love

I said I don't understand, honey, but I wanna chance to try

Try, try, try, try try try try

Honey when everybody in the world wants the same damn thing

When everybody in the world will need the same lonely thing

When I wanna work for your love, daddy.

When I wanna try for your love, daddy.

I don't understand how come you're gone, man.

I don't understand why half the world is still crying, man, when the other half of the world is still crying too, man, I can't get it together.

If you got a cat for one day, man I mean, if you, say, say, if you want a cat for 365 days, right you ain't got him for 365 days, you got him for one day, man. well I tell you that one day, better be your life, man. because, you know, you can say, oh man, you can cry about the other 364, man, but you're gonna lose that one day, man, and that's all you've got. you gotta call that Love, man. that's what it is, man. if you got it today you don't want it tomorrow, man, cause you don't need it, cause as a matter of fact, as we discovered in the train, tomorrow never happens, man. it's all the same fucking day, man.

So you gotta, when you wanna hold him, You gotta hold him like it's the last minute in your life, baby.

I've received feedback that it's hard (impossible!) to hear my guitar on my videos.

Exactly!

Because I'm just teaching myself how to do this stuff.  And, it ain't great.  It's safe to say I am not ready for my guitar solo, yet.

But, I recorded my first video with a guitar pick.  And, if anyone could give me the gumption to do it, it was my Nana Self.  So, this one's for her.

I've had a couple of crappy YouTube remarks.  One person just straight up wrote "Yikes!" on one of my videos.  Did I delete that comment?

Yes!

Did I delete the video?

No.

Another person told me that someone told them they were "embarassed for me" and said, "What is she DOing posting those videos?" 

What am I doing?  Why am I doing these videos?

Because I want show myself (and you) that I can do this - I can play the guitar. 

More than, that...

I can relax. 

Be chill.

Take a Breather.

Have my recess.

So, there's another video out there for the world, of me hacking away at my guitar. 

And, well - it's gonna be louder, now - 'cause I busted out my flimsy Jesus pick.

PS.

Any constructive feedback is welcome - since really need to start taking lessons.

I know it, you know it...we can be open about it.  ;)

I've played a lot of dress up.

Boo! Bees!

Coookie & Medusa!

And, I've traveled for my friend Jocelyn's wedding.  We went to Las Vegas for her bachelorette party (nope, no pictures of that trip, folks) and then I traveled to Austin last weekend for the big wedding.  (Which was LITERALLY the perfect wedding of all time.)

I walked home alone that night hailing a taxi in my bridesmaid dress in downtown Austin - and I was thinking just how awake I felt.  How alive - and fully on my own.  It was a rush of a realization - I'm still not certain it has settled into my brain, though. 

One of the dearest friends of mine drove for hours to see me and he took me to a Gospel Brunch at "Hill's Dinner" - on South Congress in Austin.  I had the Migas for $4 and it was delicious.  They served their water and tea in large jars and everything was family style and friendly.  The music was a fun addition to our morning coffee chat.

Hill's Diner - Sunday Gospel Brunch - Austin, TX (SoCo)

Why's it feel so fancy and fun to see your nickname on a big sign?  I don't know...but, I like it!

Imagine how "The Seekers" feel!

Photo Courtesy of: http://thenewgay.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/american_splendor_fondo.jpg

I just bought the dual anthology of American Splendor and More American Splendor and read nearly all of it on my flight home from TX to FL.  The dude next to me commented on it for me - and bought me a glass of wine - so that was cool.  And, I found myself laughing out loud several times.  Usually the macabre times, you know me.  But, there were plenty of those.  And, I suppose why I kept turning the pages.  There was a realization coming around the corner....and I just knew it.

I highly recommend reading the comics - or at least go to see American Splendor The Movie.

It's subtle good stuff.  And, it leaves yu shaking your head grinning - and relating.

Give it a look.  Lemme know what you think!

Thoughts on love are thoughts worth thinking.  Even if they differ in philosophy or opinion.  I believe they al speak to the vast power of love.  Check it out:

"Maybe a guy could fall instantly in love, but I doubt it. I think love creeps over you like a warm feeling on a clear blue fall day. This person is in your thoughts most of the time-all of the time actually. You see her when you close your eyes, when you look off into the distance, when you pause from what you are doing and take adeep breath. You remember how her fingers felt when they touched you. The loved one becomes a part of you, the most important part. At least it is that way with me when I think of you."  - Stephen Koontz

"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies." -Aristotle

"True Love is to see forever in his eyes." -Me, Aged 16

"Love is a dog from hell..." -Bukowski

I've been defining my love on a few different scales - trying to see how it weighs out.  Lemme know if you've got any feedback.  ;)

"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."

George Eliot

I love fall - it seems to always arrive with such thunder and fanfare.  The leaves remind us to celebrate colorfully as we change.  Growing doesn't have to be painful.  Sometimes it's nice to shed your foliage - and just lay yourself bare.  It is at that time that you're most ready for a new beginning.

Happy Fall, my friends.

I finally took a vacation!

2 weeks off from work to go home and see my family in Oklahoma.  I have three older sisters - and all three of them were expecting babies near the first of July - so I scheduled time to be home for all the arrivals.  Turns out 2 of the 3 babies came early - so they were already ready and waiting when I arrived in OK.

I am now a very proud Auntie of four amazing children.

First, meet Will.  He's already a globetrotter at 22 months - having lived in TX, OK, KY, and now TN.  His Daddy is in the Coast Guard - so they get to see a lot of the world.  As you can tell - he totally inherited my sense of style.  I just love this lil' Dude.

Next, I'd like you to meet Makayla.  She was born mid-June - and is currently giving Alvin the Chipmunk some serious competition for cutest chipmunk cheeks.  She's cuddly, she's sweet - and she lives entirely too far away from me:

Then, there's Ike.  Ike only listens to Beatles lullabies - and he loves to check out new sights and new sounds.  He's very alert - always listening and looking.  He was born on "The Day of the Performer" - (same day as Prince) - and I can tell, already - he's got an ear for good music.  I like to think he got some of that from me...

Last, but certainly not least, Ace decided to make his earthly debut.  He is very active, always kicking his feet and lifting his head to check things out.  He decided to pee on me, to mark his territory, I guess - when I was helping to change his diaper.  I have to say...I was surprisingly chill about this.  I mean...I'm not going to say it was cute...but, I will say, I'm gonna give him heck about it when he grows up.

If I thought I knew what it felt like to be home-sick BEFORE these little guys decided to join the family - I was wrong.  Because my missing home is like TEN times more, now that these little guys are here.  I just want to hold 'em - and be the auntie that squeezes their sweet lil' cheeks.  (There's no shame in my game, guys.)

It just so happened, that while I was home - it was the Cordell High School All-School reunion - which means I did get to see a few of my favorite folks from my not so glorious days in h.s.  That was a ton of fun.  The biggest head-trip for me was seeing the niece of my high-school boyfriend/first love.  She looks so much like him - cute as a button.  I've already started teaching her to appreciate the finer things in life, like FIJI - Meet LuLu:

All in all - it was an amazing two weeks.

I plan to spoil every one of these Sweeties.

And, if you're curious if seeing all of these babies has given me baby fever - no.  I think witnessing my three sisters' deal with diapers, feeding and zero-sleep has been the best birth-control I've ever heard of.

I think I get the best of both worlds - I can play with 'em, spoil 'em - then send them home to their mommies.  :) For now, I'm very happy and content being an Auntie.

*Image provided to me by my sister, Heidi.

I've returned to work from a 2-week vacation that took me from Texas to Oklahoma, then back to Florida.

Both of my older sisters had their first children in July - and my step-sister had her first daughter - so I jokingly referred to my trip home as "Babypalooza" - but, it seriously was a baby filled two weeks - and I loved every moment of it!

Since returning to Florida from two blissful weeks of snuggling my nephews and laughing at their funny little baby babbles - I've been smacked in the face with a $#!t load of work that was "due yesterday".  To say I'm "behind in my work" is an understatement.

Here's to praying that I can grasp ahold of some of the psychological and spiritual things that were developing for me over those 2 weeks - and that I can somehow grapple my work life into a managable balance.

I need balance.  I need something that reminds me that I'm a part of something more.  

So, even though it's Saturday - and I'm back in Miami Beach - I'm working today.  Because maybe then I can get ahead.  And, at some point, I'll develop that balance that everyone keeps talking about.

I hope the next time I write it's much more colorful and meaningful - but, for today - I'm blah...

Recess, anyone?  Maybe tomorrow...

My little sister, Haley, asked me to cover Miranda Lambert's "House That Built Me".  I told her I thought it'd be too difficult for me to play - with my limited guitar skills.  Turns out - I only had to learn 2 new chords!  I learned it two nights ago - and yesterday morning, I allowed myself 30 minutes to practice - then record.

Hope you enjoy! 

Lissie amazes me.

My friend and musical muse, Julia, introduced me to her song "In Sleep" - and I cried the first time I heard it.

She's self-taught, with honey blonde hair and a whisky kissed voice - and I've NEEDED to hear something like this for some time, now.  Her lyrics speak for me.

I know you've heard "Bad Romance" more times than you've probably ever needed to - but, her cover of the song is so worth the over-exposure to the song, once more.  She's pretty much my freakin' favorite performer of the moment - and, I don't want to rush into anything here - but, I think she could be a long-time love of mine.  ;)

I particularly like this quick overview of where she's at now - and where's she's poised to go.

Maybe Perez will have her out to his SXSW party, next year - and I can see her perform live.

Here's my rendition of her song "In Sleep".