2018: Bring What You Got, See What You Get

Here's a motto I made up when watching a cooking a show I like "Family Style" with Chef Jeff.

Just decided it would be motto for 2018.

What are my goals:
Be more superficial.
NOT kidding.
Pursue pleasure.
Read books for fun.
Don't think so hard that it hurts your heart.
Don't imagine bullshit. There is plenty of bullshit in real life.
Eat more better foods.
Write more sentences like "eat more better foods."
Learn to cook.
Create a signature meal. I think spaghetti and meatballs.
Do Pilates and stretching so you're not constantly pulling muscles and getting injured. Like you did on Monday.

Read fun books.
Eat more good food.
Learn to cook food good.
Stretch/Pilates.

Zombie Dust

I hardly wrote last year. I decided it was dumb to write things that only I care about. I just now decided that was dumb to think it's dumb to write about things I care about.

Sometimes I felt like a zombie this year, not feeling, not getting excited, not remembering. Maybe it's because I wasn't taking the time to enjoy things a second time, here in journal form.

One of the goals of mindfulness to be aware of your surroundings and to accept what is happening. You don't always have to like what's happening, but learning to accept that it is happening can ward off anxiety and hopelessness. Writing down the little things that made you happy or made you think gives you a second and third time to either appreciate them or deal with them/understand them.

The truth is, I felt kind of rudderless in 2017, despite having many fantastic experiences and happy days. Lately I've wondered what it means. My friend who is about my age mentioned publicly that she wants to find her joy again in 2018, and it surprised me to learn that it had gone missing from her life. When I asked her about it, she said she had felt like a zombie the past few years. I have had similar feelings.

The strange thing about not feeling is that it actually feels pretty lousy.

Don't try to impress. Try to connect.
Go from shrinking violet to Fleur Sauvage.
Share to connect. Think why you don't want to share your story.

Top Three of '17

This is the Eighth year that I have been doing this tradition, which Larry brought to the relationship on our first New Year's Eve together, 2010. I had a fun party that night full of food, friends, wine, and sharing stories, poems, and "The Best Of" in a spare room that would later become The Beat Lounge.

Here are my Top 3 and some contenders

3. Christmas Eve Eve
2. Camping trip to Hocking Hills
1. Camping trip to America, the Beautiful/Weird!
     a. Driving into Two Medicine our first night in Montana, scoping out a campsite. That feeling that the area was magic.
     b. Night of the Indian Rodeo at the Blackfeet Indian Reservation--the breathtaking beautiful children collected on horses and ponies, riding bareback.
     c. Being shocked by the beauty of the Black Hills
     d. Yellowstone Lake
     e.  Our campsite on a cliff above Jackson Lake in Grand Tetons
     f.  Our stormy hike on Sand Cave trail at Teddy Roosevelt. The night of the rainbows and bison
     g.  Seeing a Grizzly bear in the Shoshone National Forest after not seeing any in three weeks
     h.  Staying at 70s lodge San-Suz-Ed outside of West Glacier


Contenders
--nature photography
--the owls at Eagle Creek-->intro to amateur birding
--Friday night sundowners at Eagle Creek with Larry
--Theater--saw many good shows this year, with Jersey Boys coming in at #1 favorite, followed by Motown and Kinky Boots. Locally, I liked Dance Kaleidoscope "Divas" and IRT "Boeing, Boeing" (a surprise as it really is a stupid play! ), Little Shop of Horrors starring our friend Tristan, and a local author show--
--Street Cat Named Bob and World According to Bob--two books on CD I had never heard of, just saw the first one sitting on a shelf in the library. I listened to each one twice, and they brought such joy to me that they stand out as positive things of the year
--Books--I stumbled upon great books this year. Round House, Broken (Wind River), You Don't Have to Say You Love Me, Kringle (! A book about Santa Claus!!!! ??? Yes, picked it up on a whim and loved it!)
--Women's March/Rally in January with Larry and Jodee!
--Started new career, permanent position with a company I've consulted for the previous 3.5 years. I was also offered a job with another firm at the same time and had to make my first "big girl" decision since graduation in 2000. It's not a dream job, but it's a good one. I enjoy going to the gym and to fitness classes on site. December, bad news, lay-offs. My boss and his boss both let go with 300 other people. More layoffs possible with another re-org. 

Screw You, Entire Town of Derby! Happy Christmas Eve-Eve

On Christmas Eve-Eve, I went back to Michigan for a few days. I was coming down with flu symptoms, was stressed out from the "re-org" at work, and was also really really nervous to see a brother I hadn't seen in nine years. When I was going through the divorce, it came out that he had been playing a sort of double agent between us--calling me to see how I was feeling, then reporting back to him and assuring him that the whole family was on "his side" and they sort of preferred him anyway. This hurt me very deeply, and I now have some trust issues with this brother.

I think it's safe to say I got myself worked up over nothing. I was afraid there would be a big fight, based on politics or sexism. I steeled myself to just leave the room anytime I felt sexist remarks coming on. Nothing of the sort happened. I think we all tried really hard.

Sometime I want to write about the fine line a woman walks as she faces such demeaning remarks. My number one priority was not to fight, so I chose conversation topics carefully.

It was brief visit, just Saturday through Tuesday. My flu worsened once I arrived, and I took naps and tried to avoid spreading germs.

On Saturday night, I was about to go to bed. I was worn out from stress and had the chills and a headache that wouldn't quit. My dad mentioned to my brother the holiday light display on the bluff in downtown St. Joe. I had always wanted to see the lights but never had due to the timing of my visits at Christmastime. I always have to work the day before and day after Christmas so I am usually there only a few days. My dad suddenly said, "Hey, wanna go now?" to Chuck and me. My mom was about to go to bed too but seemed happy about the spontaneous diversion.

It was freezing on the bluff above Lake Michigan. The wind was blowing hard. The brick streets and tiny shops and restaurants looked lonely. My dad decided to get out and walk under the lights and invited any takers. I hopped out, and Mom and my brother stayed in the car.

My dad turned into someone I'd never met. He said things, such as, "I think this is nice. I like walking with your mom here. The lights are pretty. There's usually music playing but it's late." It occurred to me, "I'm walking with my dad under Christmas lights. This is what normal people do. This is weird!"

When we got to the end of the bluff, Chuckie whipped around and picked us up, and on the way home, Dad decided that Chuckie needed to see what the old farm looks like now. 

The old farm. That's where I spent my childhood. My dad bought an old farm in 1975. I moved out in 88. They stayed there until 2006. The farm is a character in itself. I wrote a play about it in 2012 called "Junk Yard Dogs." 

A couple purchased it on a land contract. Several years later, they defaulted. They kinda destroyed the house with dogs. They stole a refrigerator. They were assholes.

A rich couple bought it the following year, and turned the land and barn into something out of a magazine. They never lived in the house, just rented it. The updated barns, pastures, paddock, and addition of  a pond (all for the couple's horses) has caused my dad to obsess over a milllion "coulda woulda shoulda-s." 

He seems to think we all hold this fascination of the farm's transformation and drive by it on the regular. We don't. Some of us live many states away, and yet the first thing he asks is, "Have you been by the farm lately?" Like, when? Would we make a special trip to come look at the farm? He thinks we must do this, otherwise why would he ask.

After trespassing, we drove back to their beautiful home where they have resided since 2006. It's a great house on a great ravine. Of course he constantly wants to get rid of it to go find another shitty farm or a depressing cabin on a lake--or rather "really nice mobile home" on a "really nice lake." Nope and Nope. 

It's rural. A few small businesses dot the road. Dad asked Chuckie to pull over in front of a storage unit place: "I haven't done this in a while."

He rolls down the window and starts shouting abuse in German at the storage facility.

"Chuck..." my mothers says, mildly yet absentmindedly scolding him.

Chuckie then rolls his down window. "Oh yeah?! Well screw you, Ballard Printing!" he yells to the business on the other side of the street.

Then I roll down my window, "Up yours, Boelcke heating and air conditioning!"

Then Chuckie, "Go to hell, Scott Berry Productions!"

Then me, "Suck it, Ace Hardware!"

"Eat shit and die! Hoffman Realty!"

"Sod off! Spot Not Car wash!:

Then Chuckie ties it up neatly: ""Screw You and the Horse you Came in On, Entire Burg of Derby."

That's so dumb that you have to live there for it to be funny.

After the Bizzaro world of walking under Christmas lights like normal human beings, shouting abuse at the small businesses of Stevensville on Christmas Eve-Eve all was right again. Now things feel normal!

Pretty soon my mom says, "Don't you know what Dad was doing back there?"

Silence. Confusion. Bafflement. (Bafflement is a word????)

"He was yelling at the people in the house behind the storage unit. They're the ones that wrecked the farm house."

Yes, because that makes sense. That's what you do. Yell at them in German from a moving car.

This is my Christmas and this is my family and this is normal!

Venice: a year ago

We took a plane to Rome. We rented through AirBnb in a neighborhood called San Giovanni. We stayed in a spacious apartment full of art and color and books and cooking fragrances and marble and sunlight. We had a balcony and strawberry plants and tomato plants and pepper plants. We took breakfast at a corner cafe, where I cried over my cappuccino every morning because it tasted so good.

We explored on foot and by Metro from sun-up til midnight, when the trains stopped running. We hired guides to take us through archaeological sites--crypts, chapels made of bones, ancient fortresses and palaces. We walked to the Vatican. We were greeted by soldiers with machine guns and tanks. Then we saw the mile long line of desperate souls, coin in hand, to go in and say a prayer. Pay to pray, I guess. It was a bit disgusting in my opinion. Then we encountered the homeless encampment. Outside the biggest church in the world. So much for faith, hope, and charity.

We hired one to show us haunted Rome. Acqua Tofana. My comeback. Watch. We walked along the Tiber one night, thinking it would be romantic. It smelled like piss and we almost got mugged. We ate gelato for lunch. We ate dinner in a tiny alley restaurant a block from our apartment. It was the best food I ever had. I loved Rome and also couldn't wait to leave to see what was next. Waiting in the train station sealed the deal--we loved Rome, but we also loved leaving Rome.

We took several trains to get to Cinque Terre. We had a tiny apartment in Corniglio, the smallest of the five towns. We ate breakfast in the cafe owned by our AirBnb host. Croissants and pastries and cappuccino. We picked up cheese/meat pastries from a sandwich shop, stuffed them in our back packs. We hiked through the mountains on a trail thousands of years old. We caught a train back when it got dark and a storm kicked up.

A few days later, we caught a series of trains to Venice. We switched trains three times. We went to Genoa. We ran ran across ten platforms, literally caught the train as it was leaving. It was packed. The bathroom door wouldn't latch. The train lurched. The train toilet water splashed up on Larry. He was also over trains and Rome.

We saw Venice shimmering in the distance. We almost started crying.

We had anAirBnb on a canal near a bridge. 300 years old. Walk inside, looks like a catalog for IKEA. This is the thing in Europe. Leave it old on the outside; inside ruin it with modern furnishings by IKEA. We got lost trying to find San Marco. We enjoyed being lost.
We had a romantic dinner outside on a quiet canal, red table cloth, candle-lit lanterns. Red wine, rich dessert. Flirtatious waiter. We passed a theater. Coming Soon: Merchant of Venice. Oh wouldn't that be wonderful?

We went to the Doges Palace. Saw the dungeon, the courtroom, the bridge of sighs, where women threw their dresses open for their lovers passing through to their doom, the weapons, the art, the courtyard.

We walked all of Venice day and night.

We loved it and loved leaving it. We loved boarding a luxury ship. Can't help it. Loved it.

More to come.

This was part of a larger painting that captivated me. The lion seemed so real.

Another Tragedy

Sunday night, a white man massacred 58 people and injured over 500 others in a fifteen-minute shooting spree in Las Vegas.

I'm tired of writing blogs on this topic.

Let it be known that the NRA can go fuck itself in the mouth.

Come Back to Me

I'm talking to me.

But see, I've been busy.

October and November 2016: visited five countries in Europe! By foot, by train, by plane, by ferry, by ship, by taxi. High rises in Rome, mountain-top perch in Cinque Terre, 500 year-old flat in Venice, a suite on a Viking cruise (Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, Montenegro, Greece)  a studio on a beach on an island in Greece, a room in Istanbul.

July 2017: Month long road trip called America the Beautiful but changed to America the Weird. 9 National Parks. 2 State parks. 10 states.

New job! Permanent position! Software Engineer. Loving the perks!

I must return here to remember it all.