Christmas Tradition

Every year I bake prezzies and wrap goodies while watching the 1979 cult classic "The Warriors." As Rod Stewart (disgustingly) crooned, "Tonight's the night!" In just a matter of days, I'll be home for the holidays to share a special tradition with my dad: hanging empty Bud cans on the tree when my mom's not looking. Oh, it's good to be old-fashioned at this time of  year!

Here's my photo 365. Someone classes up the holiday with Santa on the Shitter.

Day Dream Rock N Roll Believer

It's cold but it's not snowing. The sun came out for the first time in weeks today, just an hour so before it was due to set. It was time for Spinning class, but I skipped it to take my dog for an early winter's walk under a streaky grey, pink, and purple sky. I just felt like being outside! We walked about three miles, when it occurred to me to attempt to walk a thousand miles next year. That's less than three miles everyday. I realized I already do that. But for some reason, I felt like I want to track my miles next year. So I will.

I put my iPod on shuffle, and for some reason, I hit repeat when "Night Moves" came on. I imagined singing it as a duet at a tiny bar with a handsome guitar player with whom I'd had a romantic history. Then I played it again and kept that little rock fantasy going. Of course I pictured myself playing guitar and looking pretty tough, too, not some coiffed up glam girl. Just a tank top, some simple jewelry, some well worn and well fitting jeans, a big belt, motorcycle boots, and my Takemine...and not slung low, thank you very much. That would be my trademark. The rocker who holds her guitar up high like those folk singers from the Fifties did. But when the song is over, I'd un-sling it of course and take my bow and do a jig, never taking myself too seriously, and always being slightly more comfortable just this side of the spotlight.

Even as a kid that song got me. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I loved the background singers, his energy, and those quiet questioning parts of the song--"longing" I guess you'd call it. I didn't know the word longing then, but I did always lean in a bit when he was "waiting on the thunder." I would picture him sleeping in his bed, then bolting upright as if he had heard something. And then just...waiting, heart pounding. And the thunder never coming.

Now I know that he did not hear something. Chances are, he thought something, and sometimes thoughts can do that to us: shaking ourselves awake, asking ourselves "Did you hear that?" 

I've been keeping late nights lately, which are making my early mornings quite unbearable. What is keeping me up at night?

Thoughts!

Thoughts of possibility. 

Thoughts of happiness.

Thoughts of resolution.

Good things are keeping me up nights, and what a welcome change that is. I had a few years where it was just the opposite. Bad things. Worries. Regrets. Fears. Profound sadness. Sleepless nights and puffy-eyed mornings. I had a couple years of finally falling asleep easily as I fell into my own, on my own, after a pleasant day on my own. The thing I remember about those days was trying just a little too hard. That's okay. Fake it til you make it, baby. That had its own special feeling of hope. And the past couple of years, I've had the easy sleep that comes when you're in love and loved back. 

But lately, I'm awake. Not in a crisis state like in U2's "Wide Awake" awake. (Damn! I love that song!) Not in that "'I just finished the first draft of my script!' jubilation of accomplishment" awake.

No, this is a Hopeful Awake.

And I'm not sure I've ever been here before. 

Specifically, there is not one single thing that is giving me hope. Not one single thing on the horizon that keeps me moving, walking, staying the course.

I've not been feeling hopeless, so it's not like I've been searching for Hope.

I have been feeling a bit confused, however.

I think it's not hope. I think it goes a step further.

I think it's trust.

I have a trust that things are going to be pretty darned good for me, and that my life is going to look pretty darned good to me.

And I have absolutely no proof of this!

It makes me want to stay up all night and write and express myself. 

It makes me want to add to that list I wrote a couple of weeks ago--my 2013 journey list.

(I added the following while jamming out and living my Rock N Roll Dreams.)

• See Joan Jett in concert!!!!

And I think I'm going to attempt to write a good rock song, not a slow, sad song, which would come much more naturally to me. But a fun song. It might be about sad news, but it's going to be funny and upbeat.

Here's how I'm going to work on that.

I'm going to listen to more good rock and surround myself with those who would rock.

Leela James got me thinking this on my walk. Leela. Leela and her beautiful afro.

Gonna change the lyrics of "Layla" (Yes! I love that song too!)  to Leela.

Other things that kept me up all night. Last night I couldn't sleep, so I watched a movie on Netflix--one from the vault because "latest and greatest" has just never been in my repertoire. "Running with Scissors." It was a memoir, pretty good, and I loved the 70s stuff. I think there was one montage too many but at least they chose good songs--"Year of the Cat" and "Blinded by the Light." I didn't think it was great, but it does make me want to read the book.

Books. Books are also keeping me up late nights. I'm reading "Getting Stoned with the Savages," a travel narrative by J. Marteen Troost. 

Blogs. Blogs are keeping me up nights. I'm finding blogs I really like, even if they aren't really that good. They're just so honest and even mundane at times, but in them, I get to glimpse into real lives, and I love it so much. I love reading about someone's Sunday and how they went to church, even though I myself am a reasonably convinced agnostic. I love reading about the snowball fight they had with their kids, even though I don't have kids. I love reading about how they hate the potholes in their streets, and how they fell in a slush puddle on their way to the office. And I love it when the next thing I know, they are lighting their grill for the first time and having a cookout, and I can actually smell it and feel the excitement of the coming spring, that first time you stand out on your deck and it's not pitch black, and the buds are just starting peek out, and you have this whole dream of summer before you, just this close. 

And I get really tempted to write blogs like that, just little snapshots of every day life, all those days that accumulate to make our life.

So I'm going to start doing that, making it part of my Journey In Place. Sometimes my theme won't be so evident. Sometimes I will not attempt to say anything astounding.

Sometimes I will just tell the plain truth, in all its magnificence and irrelevance:

Today I went to the post office and mailed off my sister's (and my niece and nephews') presents, and it felt great to learn that it would make it there by Christmas. It was a slow day at work. I finally got migrated to the new email/IM system and casually chatted with some colleagues I haven't seen in a while, and remembered just how nice it is to get along with people at work and know just a little bit about their lives. I talked on the phone at length with a guy who wants to rent my performance/rehearsal space for a few days before an upcoming gig and just really enjoyed it! Just one of those people you get along with immediately. He's an engineer by day, and lives in a cabin in the woods, was once struck by lightning and loves rock n roll! I don't usually like cover bands, but this guy has a great bluesy voice. I think I might have made a  new friend, and he goes by the name "Shock," on account of the lightning incident. I talked on the phone with a friend whom I haven't seen in a while. I made lunch plans with another friend. I looked up some things about traveling to Alaska. I listened to some country music: Lady Antebellum. I took my dog on an early winter sundown walk instead of going to Spinning. Later I saw a pic of a woman with really fit legs and wondered if I should have Spun. Nope! I made grilled cheese (provolone and sharp cheddar) and roasted pepper and tomato soup for dinner. And I dreamed of playing rock n roll in a tiny bar with tiny twinkling lights and a lively crowd.

Today was  a good day. Doesn't seem like it would be one for the books, but I'm writing about it anyway. I can't wait for the good stuff. I might miss it if I keep deciding it's not good enough to write about. I feel the lightning, but I'm not waiting on that thunder.

A Walk in the Country

Earlier this summer, my partner and I were invited to his boss's house for a real Texas BBQ. Her dad was visiting and made a real Texas Brisket with delicious sauces and all the fixings. He would periodically check the buffet table, asking, "How we looking on groceries?" 

Our hostess is someone I admire even though we are very different. She's perfectly poised and a career climber who will surely shatter the glass ceiling. I could live in yoga pants and prefer to fly under the radar at work. I've got a sharp wit, which has endeared many to me, and she's got the wits to keep her thoughts to herself and to smile when she might feel saying something witty.

Perhaps it's her impeccable manners coupled with her warm hospitality and her slight Texas accent that make her so endearing. She grew up country, was homecoming queen (and sewed her own gowns, which I also admire because I've tried sewing), and went to Texas A&M. She married a country boy from Illinois who is a cattle and agriculture farmer. They're an interesting couple because she is liberal, and he is conservative. By day they live completely different lives, but somehow, somewhere, they find a middle, a common ground.

The party had an interesting cast. I'm not close friends with any of them, and at first I wondered if I would be the patient girlfriend-in-waiting, but I took the opportunity to observe the unusual cast of characters. There were scientists and sales people and their families, and there were farmers and migrant workers and their families. There were white people and Latino people, everyone sharing beer and food and enjoying the company and a fine summer evening in the country. Some people drove up in sports cars, some in SUVs, and most in trucks.

One middle-aged couple arrived on a tractor. He was wearing overalls with no shirt and driving with a Bud in one hand. When the tractor came to a stop, he jumped off, then held out his Bud-free hand to help his wife down. That little exchange made my heart jump a little bit. They didn't know anyone was watching them. They weren't trying to be romantic; they were just being themselves.

Now on this same night, there was another gathering happening, one that a year prior I would have been invited to, but for reasons that are becoming irrelevant in my life, I wasn't. I thought I would dwell on it a little bit, but it was impossible to dwell on where I wasn't, when I was somewhere quite nice. As I watched the children of white collars playing tag and catching fireflies with the children of no-collars, ate some delicious food specially prepared for guests, and talked with people I might not normally, a thought occurred to me.

Some of the "friends" I had been missing would snicker at these people. They would imitate them later, regaling fellow urbanites with cover-alls and tractor stories. In short, they would minimize them because they lead an agricultural as opposed to urban life. There's a strong chance they were Republican, thought Bud was good beer, and liked Kenny Chesney. Or maybe not. You just never really know about a person until you let them in.

I have country roots myself. My dad, who was an engineer, wanted nothing more in life than to be a farmer, and bought a small hobby farm when I was young, and I was often in the company of farmers and their families. I knew something else about these so-called bumpkins. These "bumpkins" might not have college degrees (although some do have agriculture degrees from universities, no small feat), might not espouse s liberal beliefs, but if you were ever stuck in a ditch in a snowstorm, it would be these guys who would help you out, no questions asked.And if some tragedy ever befell you, their wives would bring a huge meal to your door, no questions asked.

I'm always struck by how misinformed people who grew up solely urban or suburban are about country--and blue collar--people. They think they're dumb and ignorant, and have no idea how not only how intelligent but also resourceful a farmer must be. They have to know what to plant, how to plant it, how to keep their soil healthy, when to plant it, when to rotate it, when to pick it, how to store it, and how to sell it. They have to know how to buy high-tech equipment that costs several hundred thousand dollars (and have several hundred thousand dollars to pay for it). They have to know how to operate that high-tech equipment that costs several hundred thousand dollars. And they have to be able fix high-tech equipment that costs several hundred thousand dollars. If they have livestock, they have to know how to feed it, what to feed it, and how to care for it. They get up before dawn, work well into the night, and never have a day off.

While farmers were in close proximity when I was a child, I was steeply immersed in the opposite demo--daughters and sons of lawyers, pilots, doctors, and bankers, who lived in subdivisions with pools in the backyard,  had no chores, and never knew a day of really hard, dirty, sweaty work, and who would grow up to join sororities and fraternities.

I couldn't wait to get out of the country--and away from girls who seemed to have everything handed to them, no matter how much envied their lot in life growing up.

And get out I did! I had no money and no prospects and no financial backing from my parents, and wasn't about to take a student loan that I would be paying off until my forties. I think deep down, I was afraid to go to college. So instead I joined the military, and got sent to war, which still seemed less scary than fraternity parties. (And still does.) I traveled the world. I got out, and traveled more.

I had urban dreams for a long time but they never really came true, and I wonder if I actually didn't want them to come true. I live in a city of about a million people. It's not really big, but in some ways it is. It's certainly bigger than where I came from. (And side note, all those girls I envied so much, did go to college and sorority, then came right back to their small town and have never lived anywhere else their whole lives and call high school the best days of their lives. I no longer envy them!) I love San Francisco and Chicago and New York, but when it comes to actually living there, I stall, and maybe there's a reason for that. 

I've committed to staying where I am, growing where I am, taking a journey right here, and part of that journey is figuring myself out. Maybe I simply don't feel safe being too far away from people who would dig you out of a ditch or bring you fried chicken. Maybe they're the salt of the earth.

And this all leads me to a recent, in my opinion--shocking, turn of events:

I'm starting to like country music.

Because I promised honesty in this blog, I must be honest where this interest came from, even though part of my intellectual tendencies don't want me to admit it.

I happened to catch an episode of a famous show called "The Voice," one night and was drawn to the judge who is a country singer (Blake Shelton) and the country contestants. Even though I didn't necessarily like the music, I admired their talent and showmanship and moreover their ability to get people excited. There is really something there!  And I want a piece of it...as a writer, an actress, a person.

Okay the other thing is also television. My sister, whose word is as good as gospel to me, told me I would like the show "Nashville," because the music is incredible. I caught the show online, and was hooked immediately, and I will tell you that I absolutely love that show. I think the characters are compelling and the stories engrossing, but most of all, it's the music. The soundtrack was just released, and I bought a copy for my sister for Christmas.

Country music reminds me a bit of the blues. The content is sad but the lyrics are often funny, in fact hilarious. That's more in line with how I'd like to live my life--laughing through the tears whenever possible.

So I'm taking a walk in the country. Physically, spiritually, and now musically. I can't move to the country like I talked about in an earlier blog, but my boots are good for walking.

I'm going to document my Walk in the Country here, as part of my Journey in Place. I hope I can find some good songs and moments to share.

For starters, here's one my friend likes. She says it's a testament to her dating life. I'm not sure this one is right up my alley, but I'm opening myself to it and others. It doesn't hurt that Trace Adkins is easy on the eyes.

I asked her to recommend a good woman country singer and she sent me this: Miranda Lambert "Over You." This is more approaching my style!

But a walk in the country could use a decent pair of boots.

How about these?



"Buy a good pair of cowboy boots" is on my list, after all!

Still Steppin'!

Another unfinished blog about stuff I want to do.

I sense a recurring theme...write about my dreams but don't finish them or just keep repeating the same things. There's a lesson here: look at what you are repeating and
Lather, Rinse, and Repeat! 

I started this blog to chronicle my deliberate attempt to find new adventures on familiar terrain, but I've been traveling ever since I started it! (I actually started it in October but didn't post until the end of November because I couldn't think of an appropriate blog name.)

I've been to Michigan to see the lighthouses on Lake Michigan plus the wineries and breweries. (Funny, I spent the first 18 years of my life there and have never seen much north of the city I grew up in.)

I've been to Cleveland for my partner's birthday celebration to go to the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame (amazing! More to come on that!), see some of Cleveland's world class theater (really, they are third in the nation after NY and Chicago for live theater), check out the lighthouses of Lake Erie, and to partake in Cleveland's rich brewing history--beer! We did a detour on the way home to check out a newly instated national park--Cuyahoga Valley National Park, and of course, hit a winery.

We've just returned from a road trip and took impromptu detours to Mammoth Cave National Park, Birmingham, the Selma to Montgomery Freedom Trail, and ended up in Cape San Blas, Florida, for nine days.

But I'm back now, and I'm fighting off that post travel blues pity party. Instead of feeling sorry for myself that I had to come back to reality, I'm going to capture this trip in full travelogue (forthcoming) and bask in the memories and let those good vibes propel me into a good frame of mind for the coming dreary winter months.

My trips always seem to coincide with finding an amazing book that sets the tone for the journey. I read books all the time, but some books are special and stay with you, and sometimes even change your course.

"Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail" was a book I hated to see end. Some books leave you haunted a little bit, and I guess I've got a case of that haunting, that whisper, that spirit. The one that tells me "keep going." So I'm staying true to that spirit! I am still stepping out! Still steppin'!

Right now I have no concrete travel plans in my future. We are contemplating doing Glacier NP, Banff, and a (gasp) cruise to Alaska. Bear with me. It won't be a Royal Caribbean type cruise with tons of antics. We're going to find a small ship that caters to the backpacking crowd. Oh there are the adult cruises, but they are the luxury cruises, where the main event is the culinary flamboyance on board. (In all honesty, I do want to do a luxurious European river cruise someday.) Right now, I want a gritty cruise experience where the action takes place on land not on board. We're choosing the ship route because they say, unless you have a month or so, it's the best way to see Alaska. 

Alaska has never been a dream of mine. Nor has Glacier. And because of that, I'm all the more excited! We are going to take an Amtrak train, however, and seeing my own country by train (as I've done in England and Europe and Thailand) has always been a romantic dream of mine. I saw quite a bit of the country from the windows of Greyhound buses when I was in the Air Force, and always loved that even though it took sixteen hours to go a few hundred miles.

But that is another six months or year away, and I've got some living to do with the life I've created here, so I'm writing out some goals and ideas. And I'll keep adding to it as inspirations and notions and wild hairs come to me. 

Keeping myself accountable.

***********

I'm making limoncello from lemons. If I have to be back here, working everyday, then I'm gonna find that spark again. Gonna find things to do that excite me, not things that are supposed to be exciting.

I've got this feeling that the rest of 2012 and 2013 is going to be a different kind of year. My writing is not in hiatus, but I have nothing in production, which frees me up to create and write again. It also will leave a void in some ways, and I want to create new experiences for myself, and then maybe in 2014 go back to production schedule.I think it will always go without saying that Writing will be on my To-do list.

• Read more amazing books
• Go to more music events and write reviews for them in that other blog
• Go camping more often
• Attempt to walk to and from work when the weather gets warm just for the heck of it. (It's 14 miles each way.)
• Plant a garden
• See Lucinda Williams in concert
• Go to that indie music fest in Wisconsin and do the Woodstock thing
• Be super sneaky and happen to be biking near a certain big venue when big ticket names are here and just happen to have beer and food in my backpack
• Have more dinner parties
• Give more gifts to unsuspecting people
• Have my nieces and nephews down for a weekend
• Go to my friend's Hemingway party, which I miss every year
• Write my first song
• Bake holiday goodies for neighbors. (I bought all the ingredients today.)
• Host that performance party I've been talking about for a year
• Get back on stage as an actress
• Get to know my acquaintances better and turn them into friends
• Cook new, delicious dishes
• Take weekend road trips to nearby places
• Buy some cowboy boots
• Take a photo everyday

My journey of a thousand miles, one step at a time.
(My footprints on Cape San Blas!)