"Life is a fact" - Breakfast at Tiffany's

After an exciting seafood dinner at The Boiling Crab, I brought in the new year watching Breakfast at Tiffany's.  The first and only other time I'd watched it I didn't give it a chance but now I see why it is a cult favorite.  I never realized until now that Fred/Paul was a prostitute who had published one book years prior to meeting Holly Golightly, and hadn't found his muse until they met.  If you haven't seen it, check it out. I hear it's a classic.
So The Boiling Crab was an interesting mess.  Literally.  We ordered a dozen raw oysters, two pounds of snow crab legs, gumbo, and a pound of shrimp, all swimming in separate bags of messy, greasy sauce & seasoning - garlic flavored, lemon pepper flavored, and "The Whole Shebang" flavored.  My hands were an absolute mess when I finished, but I managed to keep my clothes out of it, thankfully.

I was very comfortable and content when 2012 finally arrived, in pajama's fresh from the dryer, clean sheets and pillow cases on my bed, fluffy pillows, and a chilled bottle of apple cider on my nite stand.  Oh, and a few Ghirardelli peppermint chocolate squares to go with it.  It was the perfect way to say goodbye to the year and begin anew.  

Not-so-great Gatsby’s

So another eager candidate joined The Dating Game. We’ll call him ‘Lanky guy’. He’s 39, 6’4, slim, an educator of special needs children, lives about 10 minutes away from me in the hood section of my city, is into holistic medicine, went to school in DC (he keeps mentioning that), no children, weird sense of humor, likes camping and hiking, collects records, calls himself a DJ but he doesn’t do any dj’ing and I’m not sure he ever did, he says he only likes rap music, and that’s all I knew as of Monday night. After our initial conversation in which he did the majority of the talking about everything under the moon, before I hung up he said he’d be thinking about me. That made me pause. He asked me to call him when I could. I said I’d call him after work the following day. He asked what time I got off. I told him that I should be home by 5pm. When the clock struck 7pm, and I hadn’t called him, he called me. This is after sending me two emails and a text message earlier in the day. Anxious, huh? Now, as per usual, I was slightly optimistic yet still cautious, wondering what was wrong with him. As it turns out, his issues are: he’s 39, which isn’t really an issue except he’s never been in a relationship that lasted longer than 1 year. He’s still single, no children, no prospects, has done practically nothing with his life, has lots of debt, is terribly indecisive, has “man baggage” (his ex-girlfriend wouldn’t commit after 5 years of booty calls and he couldn’t understand why) he’s lonely, sad, and is looking to be saved by marriage. Oh, and he seemed to freak out when I told him that I was once in a long-term relationship that produced a now 17 year old, college-bound son. I have no idea why that last tidbit seems to turn older men off. Do they feel threatened? Do they think it ruins their chances of procreating with me, as if I’m tarnished goods, as if their boys can still swim and are still healthy? I don’t get it and find it quite delusional and presumptuous. My nest will be empty in less than a year and will remain that way because my uterus has been placed in retirement. Now, whenever I tell them that little whammy, for some reason they’re not entirely turned off. They behave as if I’m joking and that they have the power to force my girl out of retirement. Silly birds, haven’t they heard of birth control? And the nerve of them assuming that I’d even let them anywhere near her. Men and their enormous egos are the bane of the entire world. So never mind who I am and what I dream about, he can’t see me for admiring himself. Forget what I’ve done and what I’m working on, it’s inconsequential to what I look like and what he imagines me being to him. The morning after our very first conversation where, remember, he did most of the talking about himself, he seemed giddy with excitement over the prospect of developing a relationship with me, someone he knew absolutely nothing about aside from what I looked and sounded like and the way I interacted with him on the telephone. (Kind of reminded me of the crazy 'Marry me' guy who asked me to marry him three times in one month after meeting.) He said “I’ll be thinking about you” with a giggle and a smile in his voice, before I promised him that I’d call him after work. But from the moment that I told him about my long term relationship, which I’ve now been out of for many years, and my teenage son, I could hear the enthusiasm draining from his voice. I could tell by his conversation that his excitement had waned, lol. Funny how that happens. I think he’s the third guy I’ve dated so far to do this. The other two were ‘African guy’ and ‘Skeevy Club guy,’ who happened to have two young children of his own. So if it’s not one thing, it’s a few others. Thankfully, I’ve weeded through them rather quickly and didn’t waste a lot of precious time. What I do waste time doing, however, is longing. Part of me wants to harden my heart and no longer care so that I can get on with other things without distraction, but I know that to live without romantic love is not living a full life. It is almost tortuous wondering and waiting and wanting. I throw myself into projects and for a while I am sufficiently distracted, but never for long. Maybe one of these days I will get better at distracting myself and forget what it feels like to be in a relationship. I don’t know whether that’d be good or awful. One thing I can say is that I do thoroughly enjoy living alone and having the freedom to do whatever I please. I don’t want to change that. When Lanky guy wanted me to call him back, it felt like a nagging chore. I knew I’d promised to call him but I really didn’t feel like it. There were at least 5 other things I wanted to do instead of talk to him. That should have been my cue that I wasn’t that into him and would be wasting my time trying to make something out of nothing. Maybe if I keep that in mind for next time, I’ll weed through guys quicker. Welp, the good thing is I’m learning a lot about myself. This is growth :)

Love; I miss it.  I dream about it all the time, day and night. Last night I dreamt that the artist guy was dating a friend of mines. I really have to stay off Facebook before going to bed. In the dream, he was dating her but it wasn’t clear that he actually liked her. It seemed more like an arrangement of some sort and she paid for everything while he seemed indifferent about the whole affair. Towards the end of the dream I was racing to the salon for my hair appointment with the hope that me having a fancy new hairdo might get his attention and turn him back my way. As if he ever really was digging me in the first place. Dreams are so silly.  Well, mine are at least.  Anyway, I miss romance and intimacy and, honestly, I miss the idea of sex more than I do the actual act. Where sex is concerned, it’s been my experience that my fantasies are often much better than my realities.  I’d say my sex life over the past 20 years has been 45% wow.  But my fantasies? WOW! I have one hell of an imagination!  It’s the intimacy of sex that makes it great, not so much the physical act, in my opinion.  

So yeah, I'm missing love again.  This poem by one of my favorite authors sums it up perfectly:

“Love entered in my heart one day 
A sad, unwelcome guest. 
But when it begged that it might stay 
I let it stay and rest 

It broke my nights with sorrowing 
It filled my heart with fears 
And, when my soul was prone to sing, 
It filled my eyes with tears. 

But...now that it has gone its way, 
I miss the dear ole pain. 
And, sometimes, in the night I pray 
That Love might come again.” 
― J. California Cooper

When I pulled into my driveway last night, I saw a baby possum run into my backyard. since that crazy windstorm about a week ago, I haven't had the time or energy to really clean my yard the way I should, and so now it seems I have some unwanted neighbors - a family of possums. Yuck. There are leaves, tree branches and other debris all over the neighborhood, still, and I'm worried that if the city doesn't come and pick it all up soon, even more rodents will move in. I cringe at the thought. Time, I wish I could buy it. I wish I could manage it better. It's more valuable than money. If I had more time I would be in much better physical shape, which would presumably give me more energy to do all of my chores as well as the things I want to do for recreation, and I'd complain less about not being able to fit everything in. I'd be less stressed and there wouldn't be a family of possums in my backyard.

The meaning of Christmas

Every year around this time I hear the belly aching, the complaints, the bah-humbugs about Christmas and how commercialized it has become, and I wonder why so many otherwise smart people allow others to dictate what this holiday means to them. (Not too long ago, I had a case of the bah-humbugs myself) Christmas means different things to different people, obviously. As for me and mine, gifts have never outshined our love for one another. Every year we watch the decorations go up around town, put up some of our own at home, revel in the warm spirits all around, and get excited about coming together as a family to celebrate our love for one another and the blessings the year has bestowed upon us. Not many make it to the end of the year, or feel they have much to celebrate. But if you have breath in your lungs, it is my humble opinion that you, too, have something worth celebrating - the hope for better days, the chance to live the life you’ve always dreamed of, or one even better than you’ve imagined, for starters. Yes, family and love and life should be celebrated all year long, theoretically, but how many of us in this day and age regularly take the time out of our hustle and bustle lifestyles to stop and celebrate our families and friends and the love we share? How often do we stop and spend an entire day together, and sometimes an entire month, giving thanks for our blessings, safety, and fortunes? And where’s the harm in doing it in December? It’s a huge celebration of life and love. For some it’s the celebration of the life and love of Christ, but for many, whether they know it or not, it is the celebration of our own lives and loved ones. And if you’re at all religious you’ve likely heard that Christ loved us so much he died for us to live. And even if you aren’t religious at all, you’d have to have a pretty cold heart not to feel the joy and hope in the hearts of your fellow man, woman, and child during Christmastime. It’s infectious, love is. So resist the urge to be an Ebenezer Scrooge and give in to love, and give a little shout about your life and hope, and the lives and well-being of others. It bodes no one well to focus on negativity when positivity moves you forward, lifts you up, and benefits us all. Christmas is the one time of year when everyone has an excuse to be good and giving ;) And if you don’t have a family in the traditional sense to spend it with, create your own. Serve in a soup kitchen, give to the less fortunate, volunteer, invite friends over or invite yourself to a friends’ house. If you know me, meaning we’ve at least spoken at length before, consider this your invitation to spend Christmas with me and my family. I promise, there will be no shortage of entertainment and love, lol.

One of the best Christmases of my life was spent in Hawaii with my son in 2009.  It was just the two of us, no tree, no gifts, just us and it was absolutely great. Then we flew home and ended up spending Christmas day at my ex’s sisters house with all of his siblings, nieces, and nephew's, both of his parents, and a handful of cousins.  Still no gifts, just good food, laughter and love.

What’s wrong with him?

It’s sad that these days the first question that enters my mind when I’m attracted to a man is “what’s wrong with him?” There’s always something but will it be something I can live with or that I have to live without? The last three guys I was attracted to all had problems I couldn’t bring myself to ignore. One smokes weed, can’t spell, is passionately Christian, yet doesn’t attend church (how the… hell? Lol), still lives with his mother, thinks he has haters, and believes that the US is being run by the UK, among other things. Another one is a patsy for his older brother, thinks way too highly of himself because he went to FAMU, said he’d never listen to another MJ song or support the Jackson family again because Conrad Murray was “wrongfully” charged with his death, claims that there are black people and “n*ggas” and that he is the former, said JLo is “officially” putting her career before a man because she performed at the last awards show (huh?), and is basically an idiot who doesn’t know he’s an idiot. A third one is a highly judgmental, issue-laden, passive-aggressive, stalker asshole (hi! :)). Island boy is a homophobe, doesn’t go down, said vagina reminds him of the predator unmasked, doesn’t see anything wrong with having lots of children that a) he is not in a position to take care of financially, b) all have different mothers, and c) he does not live with or see regularly. He is also cheap, and a huge liar. I could go on but it doesn’t get any better. All signs are pointing towards me being single and sexless for a long time. One of my good friends has been single and sexless for over 28 years. She just recently landed her first boyfriend ever and is ecstatic. Talk about patience and holding strong to your convictions! She inspires me and I’m thrilled for her but the pessimist in me is still leery. She knows I love her though so I’ll gladly be the one of us that worries while she basks in the joy of couple-dom. Meanwhile, I’m sewing, attending classes, working on my house, traveling, paying for Netflix and Direct TV, and hanging out with platonic friends and family, hoping that someday soon I can live with somebody’s imperfections. And honestly, I’d settle for two out of the four above losers as non-live-in boyfriends :( Which two? Does it really even matter? Le sigh.

I’m in a really good mood today.  I generally don’t like to post when I’m not feeling so great, which has been often lately, hence me not posting as much as I have in the past.  But recently, my spirits have been up.  I feel light and airy, lol.  I’m not worried about anything, even though I still have many of the same challenges (fighting that ticket in Malibu, issues with my ex, etc.) that I had before my current disposition.  I think it stems from the great time that I had with my family on Thanksgiving.  Everyone is still talking about it and we’re all closer than ever.  My niece, the one who is usually surly, has been unseasonably sweet.  She answers her phone now when we call, lol, and drove my mom and little cousins all around town two days in a row.  My cousin called just to check on me the other day.  And the “little ones” can’t stop talking about the fun they had with “Tee Tee”/my mom and I shopping and going out to eat on Friday.  Everyone is on a cloud except my trifling cousin (the mermaid) who didn’t join us.  She spent the holiday with her recently-released-from-prison, boyfriend, and prior to, spent a lot of time berating her son for the crime of simply breathing.  She does this all the time.  This time, though, it was enough for all of us to just write her off as a nutcase, and move on with our lives, for his sake (poor thing) and our sanity.  That broad definitely aint working with a full deck.  Anyway, last night I had a dream that solidified for me that I am finally and completely over my ex.  In the past, when we were togehter I had dreams where he would behave as his usual asshole self and I would plead with him to stop so that we could be in love again, then I’d wake up sad.  But last night during part of my wacky dream (and it was wacky, no doubt, but that’s another post) he showed up and tried to get huff and tough with my cousin, T-man, who turned and asked me “Do you still love this n*gga?” and I replied “Hell no! Do what you got to do” so T proceeded to whoop his ass.  I told you the dream was wacky.  Anyway, I awoke feeling no way about it at all.  I just acknowledged it and proceeded with my day.  That’s a sign of progress!  I’ve come a very long way and now I feel like I can really move forward with my life. 

Thanksgiving Day Dance Off

The last few years we had been estranged.  One person wasn't speaking to the other then someone chose sides while everybody had an opinion and an attitude about someone else's business, or someone else's doings, and other unimportant-in-the-grand-scheme of things, stuff.  But this year we all came together and it was clear that we all truly missed each other.  I know I did.  We met up in Carson at my cousins house and ate, drank, laughed, and loved on one another.  The twins must have kissed my face a hundred times.  Then we pulled names for a Secret Santa gift exchange.  Above and below is crappy video footage of just a little of the fun we had (my camera SUCKS! It kept running out of memory so it wouldn't record for more than seconds).  The kids were battle dancing and my mama served 'em, but, alas, my camera was acting finicky at that point so I only have to share what is posted here.  Hope you enjoy watching my relatives having fun :)

I got my heart from my mama

I'm abnormally compassionate, lol. For instance, years ago m ex talked major shit to me about a vehicle that he was driving, which was in my name. So when we broke up (while still living together) I kindly asked him what he wanted to do about the truck. He popped off at the mouth real tough-like and told me to "sell it, then, Val! I don't give a fuck!" so I calmly placed an ad in the penny saver asking for just what was owed on it, and sure enough they were beating my door down for the sale. I invited one couple over for a test drive and they showed up while my ex was sprawled on the couch watching the game. Oh, the look on his face was priceless. So I told the people I'd let them know in a couple of days if I still wanted to sell it. My ex is proud as shit though, so despite me trying to reason with him to reconsider and just switch the truck over to his name, he refused. So, I sold it. And I was actually sad about it. Sad that my ex was such a stupid asshole. Damn shame. Then he had the nerve to never forgive me for it. Wtf, right? That wouldn't be the last time his pride fucked him up, either.
Anyway, so remember island boy and how I hadn't heard from him in about 6 months until about a week ago? Well, he called me again last night while I was in the throws of an exciting texting session (yeah, I be having those :)) and he left me the most pitiful voicemail. At first he hesitated like he wasn't going to leave a message and just hang up. And then suddenly he started whining about me not calling him back like I allegedly said I would, and "are you mad? Ya could tell me." and some ol other rigamoro I could barely understand because of that damn accent. So I mentioned it to my mother, who I mention at least 80% of the happenings of my life to, and she said "aw, just call and explain it to him." so I rolled my eyes, felt a little bit guilty, and called to break it to him, and now he's begging to be my friend. WTF FOR? Why?!?! He lives in Las Vegas, I could see if he lived even remotely close to me, then I'd be more open to it. But where's my motivation here? Where the benefit in being friends? I've come to realize he's not really even funny, I was just lusting. What do we have to talk about that I give a damn about? I can't come up with one thing. Am I being mean? Wouldn't it have been nicer to just ignore him? I mean, it's been 6 gotdamn months. I've more than moved on. Ugh. And it seemed the more that I resisted the idea of us being friends, the more he pleaded that we should be. I got a whole sermon on how he'd always be cool with me and I should feel the same about him. Yeah, yeah, yeah dude, whatever. So then came the passive aggressive boyfriend questions "did your man get mad when I called? Is that why you didn't pick up?"
"you called me when I was asleep, that's why i didn't pick up"
"but what about the second time I called, were you trying to play it off like you didn't know the number?"
"nah, because I DIDN'T know the number"
Then he gave me a sermon on kismet and how it was meant for us to meet that night in Vegas. I did a whole lot of eye rolling and then said I needed to rest up for a full day tomorrow because I'm fighting a cold, which is partially true. I am fighting a cold.
But now what? I won't call, I wonder how long it will take for his persistence to wear off. I don't have it in me to just tell him to kick rocks.

Church today

So I went to church today and I feel like I wasted an entire day. I love my family but I keep forgetting that I hate dealing with them. I told my mother last night before bed that if we leave my house at 9:30 am, we'd make it to church in L.A. by 10am. She didn't believe me. She hasn't driven a car in over 30 years but she still doubted me. So she got up at 7am and yelled at me for not waking her up earlier. I rolled back over to try to go back to sleep and ten minutes later my phone rang. It was my step father. Then 15 minutes after that, my cousin called. My mom spoke to both of them and after she hung up, she told me they'd meet us at church. Cool, whatever. I gave up the fight to sleep and decided to get dressed. We made it to L.A. at 9:30. We'd planned to go to the 10am service. As soon as I got off the freeway, she says to me "We have to pick Tony up!" HUHN?! "I thought he was meeting us there!?"
"Oh," she says, "no, he needs a ride."
This is the kind of shit that annoys the hell out of me. Don't spring stuff on me at the last minute. Ugh! So I make a detour to her house, in the opposite direction of church, and we pick him up. Then she says "call Nicky and tell her we're getting on the freeway." So I do. Nicky says "okay" and 10 minutes later, we arrived at church. Early, just like I told her, lol. Smh.
Throughout the whole service all of us kept looking towards the door for Nicky to show up. She's always late so it didn't occur to me until about 30 minutes in that she might've wanted to be picked up. Never mind the fact that she lives 5 minutes away from the church and has a gotdamn car herself. If she can use you in any capacity and save herself some gas and effort, she will. Thats how she is. Then my mom begins to yell at my stepdad for making room for yet another woman in our already crammed pew. My son is mad dogging everyone because he doesn't want to be there, and every time we're told to bow our heads and pray, my mother nudges me to point out something stupid. "Look at Barney over there in all that purple," she says referring to a woman in a purple hat with purple feathers and a purple cape. Then, every time the choir starts singing, she quickly finds the song lyrics in her book, nudges me and points them out to me because I'm not singing along. I used to leave church feeling refreshed and smiling, thoughtful and energized. But today all I wanted to do was drive home and start my day over after a nap. It wasn't our usual priest giving the sermon today. It was some Jamaican man that, for some reason, I couldn't believe was a priest :( so it took real effort for me to focus on his word and not his accent/nationality. And I can't decide if it was just me and my prejudice or if he was all over the place with his message, not making any real points. He began to talk about the virtues of a good wife, which I was dreading but was open-minded about. Then he asked women to tell him what they wanted in a husband, then he asked the married men to tell him what made them want to marry their wives, and then he started talking about being greedy and selfish and shopping for things we don't need, and he finished with forgiveness. Somehow, though, I was able to pull a couple of good things out of it, thank God. What I was really disappointed about was that they didn't sing my favorite church song and they've changed things so much since I was last there. I don't know if I'll ever be back. In my older age, I've found that I don't care for change in tradition so much. More on that some other time though. My takeout dinner is here.

So after 6 months, island boy decided to call me. I wish he would've kept stepping, though. So I told him I was busy (I was)and he asked me to call him back. I didn't and don't plan to. I mean, for what? His number been up. The thing is, I suspect that he couldn't handle me not giving a damn...whether he gave a damn or not. Funny.
I got a raise today :) so I posted a blurb about it on that social networking site and of all of my 100+ "friends" only 3 could even pretend to give a damn. Who does it hurt to click "Like"? And this is why my friendship circle is so incredibly exclusive.
I wore a "kiss my ass" dress today and surprised myself with how fucking HOT I looked in it. I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror at work and did a double take. My thoughts: GotDAMN! Look at ME! I had curves I didn't even know I had, hips, ass, and that belt squeezing my waist so tight accentuated it all. I got so many compliments, I don't know why I never wear that thing. Yes, I do, I'm too modest and prefer comfort. I never was a ham. But today I strutted my stuff around that hospital until 4 o'clock, when that belt began to feel like an anaconda around my waist, lol.

Sometimes you annoy me.

Sometimes it bothers me that you stalk my blog but never say anything to me. Don't have your way with my words and then leave me cold and empty, without so much as a "hello." Slam, bam, "thank you, ma'am." That's what it feels like. But I'm sort of glad that you come back time and time again and read whatever's on my mind and that I decide to share. I just wish I knew where this relationship was going, you know? I just wish you'd give me a sign, some feedback. Until then I suppose I will continue to pull the blanket up to my chin after you leave, and wonder what it is that keeps you coming back but never sharing.

I don't believe I'm ugly. I don't think I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, either. I believe that looks only matter to the person they matter to. One Halloween, about 6 or 7 years ago, I went to a party with my cousin and, while standing in line, I discovered this guy who seemed absolutely smitten wit me. I wore an ankle-length Chinese cheongsam, blue with gold and pink detail, buttoned up to the neck, and flat shoes. My long hair was in a bun with chopsticks sticking out of it. He was a sheik. While standing in line he stared at me, but it wasn't a confused looking stare, it seemed to be an intrigued stare. He chatted me up about everything, literally, and I became intrigued. Once inside the party, he found me sitting with my cousins wallflower friend and he sat and chatted me up some more. I discovered that he was one of the party-giver's/hosts.  He bought us drinks and finally asked for my phone number. I gave it to him, utterly intrigued by this man who seemed captivated by me. For no other reason than that he was so open and captivated, I was interested. Then, as the night progressed, feeling confident and lovely, I saw a guy dressed as a mail carrier and he was just my type. I tend to gravitate towards a certain look and he had it. So I smiled at him and he frowned at me. Ha. I didn't give up so easily though, the sheik had given me a bit of bravery and self confidence. I felt like a live wire. So when the mailman came outside and stood right next to me smoking a cigarette, I took it as a sign, I tried to strike up a conversation. He looked at me with disgust, though. Not at all like the sheik had stared at me. He damn sure didn't see what the sheik saw. So, deflated a bit at having struck out, I shrugged it off, albeit a little perplexed because I didn't know then what I know now, and went to check on my cousins wallflower friend. She wanted to go home and asked me to walk her to her car, so I did. And on my walk back to the party, a guy hanging from a moving vehicle yelled out at me "CONEECHEEWAH!" I laughed and when I'd finally made my way back to the party, he introduced himself to me. We danced, he made me laugh some more, he was fun, so I wrote my number down on a napkin for him (this was all an experiment folks) and then I turned around and looked directly into the sheiks eyes. Whoops! This time, he didn't look happy. He never said anything about it, he just took my hand and lead me out to the patio where the mailman had rejected me. Feeling confident and playful, I wrapped his arms around my waist from behind me, and we walked outside as a unit. Shortly after that, we heard a bit of commotion going on inside the party. It sounded like someone was fighting. I was naturally concerned, but the sheik didn't seem phased at all. He acted like he hadn't heard the yelling and screaming and kept trying to turn my attention back to him. Then, suddenly, my Blackinese suitor, the guy I'd written my number on a napkin for, came running directly past me with a bloody face. He looked absolutely terrified as he hopped the wall behind me and fled. I was absolutely terrified, ready to find my cousin and do the same, lol. But, just like that, the bouncers went back inside and the party resumed as though nothing had happened. The sheik looked at me with a devilish smirk on his face this time and proceeded to tell me about his wives in Morocco and how it's customary in his culture for a man to have multiple wives. I don't really think I have to tell you that after that night, I had no plans of ever speaking to that man again. But it's interesting to me how beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I've been complimented in the best ways based on my appearance, and rejected based on it as well. Que sera sera?

I want to give up. I am so stressed right now and jaded about everything, i just dont give a damn. I'm hanging on by a thread. I haven't cleaned up in a week, you should see my kitchen :( my hair is a mess, I'm not even motivated enough to care about my health. I didn't cook dinner last night. Instead I ordered spicy seafood fried rice and loafed around the house in bummy clothing for most of the day. I told myself that I'd get up early and go for a run or a walk today. It's 10:20am and I'm still in bed. This sucks. I hate this feeling, like I'm helpless, like I can't win for losing. And to be honest, I haven't really lost much. I'm just frustrated that I'm not moving forward at the pace I want to move at. I hope this is just pms, because then it will be over in a week or two. I need to go walk. I'm going to force myself to get out and walk. I could use the endorphins.

++++

Trying to stay positive but it's difficult with so many worrisome things going on. I'm on the cusp of a huge change and I'm feeling both antsy and stressed about it. I need and welcome this change but it's hard for me to rest not knowing just when and how things will come about. My only resort is to hold on to my faith, in God as well as in myself, and know that all of the great things that have occurred to me in my life were preceded by worry and stress but everything turned out well in the end. Stress and worry are taxes paid that may never come due, right? It'll be okay.

Bored

And impatient. I've cleaned the house, washed the car, flipped through 4 magazines, and watched DIY network and the Food network. But what I'd rather be doing is talking to someone interesting, laughing, flirting, and maybe even a little snuggling. I need somewhere to get dressed up and go to. I have a new jacket and a beautiful, sexy new handbag I want to rock. But here I sit, in bed, munching on junk food, flipping through magazines and watching T.V. ugh. Sara Lee makes sweet potato pie. Did you know that? I bought one the other day and I can't wait to try it. My hopes aren't high though. Sara Lee is generally wack at everything except pound cake. The grocery stores usually have an abundance of pumpkin pies for sale this time of year so imagine my surprise when I saw Sara Lees sweet potato pie in my grocers freezer :) I make at least 4 pies every year from scratch so I only bought this one to illustrate the need for more and better options, lol. I hate anything made out of a pumpkin, except jack o'lanterns so I used to get irrationally angry whenever I'd see a shitload of pumpkin pies at the grocery store, yet not one made of sweet potatoes. who the hell did they think was going to buy all of those nasty ass pumpkin pies?
Anyway, I am booooored. I have nothing to write about, obviously, nowhere to be, and nothing (I want) to do.

Are there exceptions? Define true love. I dare you.

Have you ever had someone that you KNOW loves you say something so Earth shattering that you're left speechless? So...cruel that you're left bewildered because you KNOW they love your dirty drawers? That happened to me recently. A few days ago, to be precise. And I was floored. It was like someone removed the plug and drained me of every last drop of glee I had. So for those three days I walked around questioning everything and feeling like a gray blob. According to my mom, love is absolute, but I'm not so sure. I sort of think there's wiggle room. While evaluating HER love for me, I found that there are no true signs of whether or not someone loves you because nobody's perfect. I've had my (many) moments with my mother over the years, enough to make you wonder about us, but I'm certain she loves me. Even when she put me out of her house over chicken. But that's a dirty tale I'd rather not rehash, lol. Anyway, aren't there exceptions? Like, people saying things out of anger. Things they really don't mean, but they hurt the other party, nevertheless? I mean, they say if you love someone you'd never purposely hurt them, right? I, for one, know that's not exactly true. I've purposely hurt people I love. But it was because they had already hurt me! Whether they realized it not, I guess. Or it could've been a misunderstanding. What if someone who you believe loves you accidentally hurt you? Would you forgive them, knowing that they didn't truly mean to cause you pain? Or do you believe in absolutes, like my mother? That there is a true definition of love without any room for error. I'm rambling again but that's what this blog is for, so if you're reading and you're a grammar nazi suck it up. Love isn't perfect, apparently. The verdict is that loves as complicated as it's been rumored to be. As a matter of fact, I think love is a stone cold, rotten-assed bitch. But I can't live without her, unfortunately. I don't think I'd want to live without her.

I bought some white converse today and put them on when I left the store. They're dirty already. Damn.
The sleep study went well. I don't have apnea but I do have a breathing obstruction akin to SIDS. I have to go see an ear, nose, and throat specialist. I may need my tonsils removed (ICE CREAM!) The tech said this is common in young teens and kids. I slept good as hell last night, too, despite the 5,000 wires protruding from my neck, chest, skull, and legs. I think I need some blackout curtains.
The weekend really needs to be three days. If Obama makes that happen, I'll believe in him again and give him my vote.
I knew I should've squashed that spider in the bathroom. He damn near ate me alive, the little bastard. I got calamine lotion all over my legs and they still itch. Ugh.
F*ck what you heard, Bob's Big Boy has the biggest burgers in L.A. And way less expensive than Johnny "punk ass frontin on the shakes" Rockets.
Rick Ross' seizure reminded me that I need to work out and lay off bad foods. Tomorrow.
It's too late to do anything about today or yesterday :)
Good night.

What’s up with me?

Well, next week I officially become a seamstress. I have a pillow making class lined up that I’m excited about. Next weekend I will begin my Halloween festivities, accompanied by The Boy, The Dude, and some friends at Universal. I’m still battling the City of Malibu over that expired tags ticket (I aint going DOWN without a fight!). I have successfully organized my back porch (OMG, it’s beautiful), and, as you probably know, I bought the Razzle Dazzle and am pleased with my decision. I’m broke as hell but all is well. Oh, and I have a sleep study on Friday that will hopefully enable me to sleep through the night, uninterrupted. Apparently, I tend to stop breathing while asleep, which isn’t good for my heart, obviously, and keeps me tired during my work day unless I take an afternoon nap. I’m tired of being tired so if I have to wear a C-pap mask, so be it, I will. I tried on my mom’s last weekend and I’m pretty sure I could live with one. She says she sleeps like a rock with it on and wakes up like Spongebob. I want to wake up like Spongebob, too. Shit, who wouldn’t?

UPDATE!

I am entirely too excited about this new car. I can see that it won't be long before I start saying "Ginger, who?" I drove The Boy and his friend to get something to eat and I was flossing like shit, lol. Had the music on blast and was accelerating like I had no good goddamn sense. I picked up 'Ol Dude and we went to Best Buy and Pei Wei and I didn't want to stop driving. I had forgotten what it felt like and how much fun driving a cute, fast, new car is. It's safe to say that I am pleased with my purchase.

RIP Ginger :(

My trusty car of 11 years, Ginger, has seen her last hoorah. Last weekend her transmission started slipping and by Monday the “check engine” light was on and the slipping was getting progressively worse. To fix her I’d have to shell out roughly 3k. She’s also due for another timing belt soon, which is about 1.5k. So, since she’s clearly circling the drain I decided not to invest any more money into her. I’m getting a new car.
I found a sweet deal on a Volkswagen for a 36 month lease with maintenance and 24-hour road side assistance included, so I’m taking it. Today I will test drive the base model and then I’ll test out the “razzle dazzle” model to see which is the better fit for me and my needs. Everyone is telling me to just get the base model, which is $40 cheaper than the razzle dazzle model, and be done with it since I’m “not a racecar driver.” But I’m very apprehensive about that because I am a race car driver. They just haven’t accepted it yet. Ginger, God bless her, had 130hp and one time I had to drive her up a long hill in Altadena to pick up my boy, and she wheezed and huffed the whole way. It was frustrating and embarrassing and I vowed to never buy another un-souped up ride again. And this base model, less-expensive-by-$40 VW is only 115hp. That's less than what old "Gingy" had.  However, the razzle dazzle version has 170hp :) so I am seriously leaning towards getting the razzle dazzle one for that reason alone. I couldn’t care less about the other so-called luxury features of the car, especially the “leatherette” seating. I’d much rather have cloth covered seats. Anyway, since I got approved for both cars I’m going down there after work to test-drive them both and see which one I like best, just to be fair. And as for Ginger…well, I am torn about her fate. My boy’s dad says he’ll fix the transmission and glam it up so The Boy can drive it next year. My co-worker says I should just sell the parts and be done with it. Dissect my boo!? I’d feel like I’m putting down a pet or a trusty comrade, but it does seem like the best and most practical bet. My boy has his nose turned up and is being a typical, unrealistic teenager thinking he’s going to get a brand new muscle car right off the lot. HAAA HAAAA!  He hasn’t realized yet that he’s broke and unemployed. So if he doesn’t come around soon and warm up to the idea of driving ol' Ginger, I’ll have to make up my mind about what to do with her. I can’t just let her sit in my driveway indefinitely, slowly going to waste.  She has brand new brakes and tires.

Every month it's something

Last month I was leaving the company picnic way out at Zuma Beach and found a ticket for expired tags on my car.  Only my tags aren't expired. I paid them up back in May.  So I called the City of Malibu and I mailed in my dispute letter WITH a copy of my registration, which shows that my tags were paid for and received, and these fuckers denied my claim, telling me that I have to pay or request a court date.  I'm requesting a court date. This is some bullshit and they know it.  It's totally unfair to have me drive all the way to Irvine, which is an hour away to dispute expired tags when THEY KNOW my tags are up to date.  As if the city of Malibu isn't filthy rich enough! I hate the law.
And on top of that, my car is making some strange wheezing sound and my transmission is slipping.  ARGH!!!  I just want to kick over a table and smack the shit out of somebody.  Preferably that cop who wrote me the ticket.  Bastard ass slew footed motherfucker!!
Oh and my boy went to the Royal Ball.  I took pics as fast as I could because he and his friend wanted to get dressed at his friends' house, hence the label still on his jacket sleeve.

The Ball

Tomorrow my son is going to his first formal event, a ball, and he doesn't want to wear a jacket. Argh! His gripe is the shoulder pads. He says his shoulders are broad enough already, smh. Teenagers, I swear they'll drive you nuts if you let them. For homecoming he told me he just wants to wear a shirt, tie and vest with his slacks and I'm doing everything I can to ensure that he doesn't look ridiculous and that I like the pictures because thats oh so important to mother's - the pictures. We can look proudly at the pictures, at the extension of ourselves all decked out and on his way to a ball/homecoming/prom. Its a milestone, it's our only reward until they leave the nest and make something of themselves. The other night his girlfriend was apparently tripping on Facebook and he was distraught over it. I hated the idea of my child having his heart broken but I have to admit, I was more worried about him not having a date to all of these high school events. He's going to have his heart broken, regardless. That's par for the course. Thats life and I won't keep him from it. He's had girlfriends in the past so he knows what it's like to break up. But he's never been to a ball or prom and he HAS to have a date for these events, lol. for my pictures! :) I haven't told him this, of course. He thinks it's weird that I'm insisting that he get dressed here and not at his friends' house like he wants to, because I want to be a part of this, I want to take pictures. I'm just being a mom. I deserve my pictures, lol.

C'est si bon, part deux

I don’t know a lick of French but I love singing “C’est si bon” by Eartha Kitt.  Well, I take that back, I do know a few words/phrases in French but not enough to understand everything that I’m saying whenever I sing that song.  The other day I was singing it, ad libs and all, in the car with my mom and son.  My mom joined in because she can appreciate the fun of singing in French, whether you know what you’re saying or not.  She used to love singing Lady Marmalade back in the day until she found out that what she was saying was kind of perverted, lol (“do you want to go to bed with me tonight?”).  But my teenage son was annoyed.  He thought we sounded like fools (we probably did) and could not appreciate the joy of the song or us butchering its lyrics. Tough luck for him, being a surly, kill-joy teenager, because we carried on with glee and enthusiasm despite his sighs and pleas of “Oh my GAWD! Stop!”  Sometimes it sucks being a teenager.  Anyway,  unlike my mom singing LaBelle’s perverted hit 70s tune, I know what C’est si bon means.  I downloaded the lyrics in English a while back after repeatedly playing it on my iPod, so I have at least a clue, lol.  It really is so good :)

here's the version my mom and I sang/sing ;)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2BTcSD-YYc&feature=related

here's her singing it live. Man, she was gorgeous!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5WVkl_f7_E

and here are the lyrics in English:

It's so good,
Just wandering around,
Arm in arm, arm in arm,
And Singing songs.
It's so good,
To whisper sweet words - ,
Little nothings,
But little nothing that can be
said again and again.
Seeing our love-struck expression
The passers-by in the street envy us.
It's so good,
To see shining in her eyes
A marvelous promise
That sends shivers up and down my spine.
They're so good
These little thrills
That are worth more than a million
It's so very, very good.
It's Good - Yes, It's good
The passers-by in the street -
Arm in arm, arm in arm -
Singing songs -
What a marvelous promise

Uummm - It's good.
I'm looking for a millionaire
With big Cadillac cars
Mink coats - jewels
As big as your fist - you know?

It's good
This little feeling -

Perhaps someone with a little yacht, no?
Aahhh it's good -
it's good - so good-
You know I'm waiting for
someone who can give me
plenty of loot.
Tonight? - Tomorrow?- Next Week?
Dosen't matter when.
Uummm - It's so good - so good
It will be very crazy, no?
It's very good!

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things” © Henry Miller

So here I am, and at this point in my life I think I know enough about living to spend the rest of my days being happy. I know what love is, I’ve experienced it in many forms and I’ve given it as well. I know what ignites my spirit and how to obtain that. I know who loves me and who doesn’t. I know who suits me and who doesn’t ;) I am content with who I am and who I am becoming and that, dear friends, is truly a blessing – to know. Not to wonder, not to guess, but to know within your heart. But knowing and doing are two separate things, lol. While I know what to do and full well who I am, that doesn’t mean that I always do what I should or that I don’t sometimes forget myself. I procrastinate, I sometimes lose focus and fall off the wagon, but ultimately I get back up and continue on in the direction that suits me. It’s not a race, after all. I’ll get there. *We’ll get there. We are moving slowly, as we should, actually. Last night’s dinner was the first in a long time. It was truly like starting over, which will be a bit challenging but necessary. After all we’ve been through, we needed a fresh start, with past sins erased and new lessons learned. Our whirlwind romance from 1992, about 20 years ago, is a blur. The feelings we felt then can hardly be recalled in their original form but they’re still there. A lot has happened since then but I do know now that he does love me and I love him.  And that is enough. I know that we are both human and both capable of making mistakes. It’s never too late and you’re never too old to enjoy and improve your lot in life.

“Love who loves you.” Now I finally understand what my grandmother meant by that. She didn’t mean that we should settle for unhappiness or force ourselves to do something that we don’t want to do, or love someone we don't want to love. She meant that we should appreciate and recognize who’s most important in our lives, to choose wisely, when we're ready to choose love and not chase after the trivial and meaningless, suffering. For the longest time, I was fighting with that sentiment because I didn’t understand it. But hindsight is truly 20/20. I have clarity now. I needed time to live (some more), learn (some more), compare and contrast, and space to roam and I spent the last three years doing that, in addition to all my 30+years of living and learning. I’m happy with where I have arrived.

More on how I'm feeling

405 Friday's :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aNohMBC2Zo

I'm jamming on the one *tee hee hee

It's a 2 post kind of day :)

I totally crack myself up

Every once in a while I’ll have a senior moment, like trying to remember who slayed Goliath. I initially said Samson. Then a little while later I thought to myself “hmm. That’s not right…Samson was the long haired fellow in love with Delilah…” After a while, I stopped worrying about it and let it go.  Eventually, though, I realized that it was actually David who pummeled Goliath. But hey, I was close.  At least they’re both biblical characters and not totally unrelated. No harm, no foul, right?  Nobody’s perfect.  And that’s my tendency. I’ll run with whatever instantly comes to mind, even if I’m not entirely sure, and then when I think about it later and realize my error, I laugh at myself.  If I can, I correct the error and all is great! If not, oh well.  All will still be great.  I do whatever’s possible and move right along with life.  I just hope I don’t end up with Alzheimer’s disease when I’m around 80 or so.  The only possibly good thing about that might be that I’ll be blissfully unaware of whatever ugly memories that might otherwise plague me.

I was reading in a magazine that your mind state controls your destiny.  Great expectations yield great results (keep chugging on past those road blocks! And make sure to enjoy the trip!).  Optimism keeps us moving forward rather than to the nearest high-rise ledge. If you’re pessimistic you will never make progress in life simply because you’ll constantly be standing in your own way, unable to move forward and reach alternative realities. Can you imagine where we’d be if our ancestors stayed dwelling in their caves, afraid to live?  Back in Africa, hungry and dusty as hell, that’s where!  Thank God they ventured out on hope and faith and didn’t view anything as either good or bad.  It is what it is (my mothers’ all-time favorite saying) 

Anything is possible if you can imagine it so.  The mind is a powerful thing and hope and faith are strong motivators that are beneficial to your health and overall survival. It makes sense, right?  If you believe in a positive outcome you are more likely to do what’s necessary to make it so.  Like taking your vitamins, eating well, exercising, working harder, and saving more money – all of which are recipes for better health and prosperity, which in turn reduce stress and increase happiness.  And we should all know that a dose of happiness in the absence of brooding sadness can cure us of some of the worst maladies.  Of course, let’s not get crazy and be too overly optimistic though, having completely unrealistic expectations, like being able to actually fly ;) that’ll kill you.  So do everything within moderation and reason, folks.  Yes, we will all inevitably die but why waste time focusing on the end of your journey when there’s potentially so much wonderful road ahead?  Go forth and flourish!  Don’t be a cave man/woman dreaming of better days.  Try things, make mistakes, laugh at yourself, and try again.  That’s called living. 

Check out this inspiring article about laughter as a cure

http://health.howstuffworks.com/mental-health/human-nature/happiness/laughter-cure-illness.htm

And if you want more, read this:

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-second-noble-truth/201012/the-four-part-cure-happiness

I’m going to sew!

I ordered my sewing machine the other day so there is no more half-stepping allowed! I have to put it to use and not let it collect dust. But more importantly, I have to use it so that I don’t waste my money! I’m so excited. It’s going to be the main focus of my free time for the next few months. As soon as I get home from work I’m whipping it out (heh heh) and creating stuff. Or, at the very least, I will be learning from the mistakes that I will surely make. Ha! All of the ideas in my head are just screaming to come to life. “Make me!” they’re yelling. So I shall. I shall go forth and make stuff.

I had a great afternoon yesterday. Came home to a clean house, organized it some more for added peace of mind, watched two great episodes of G. Garvin (gosh, I love him) and Design Star (Meg totally deserved to win. I can’t wait to watch her show), colored in my sketches, downloaded some inspiration from the internet, and started a scrap book of ideas with magazine clippings. Tonight I have class but tomorrow I plan to continue my sketches and clippings and reading up on how to print them. This weekend I’ll be heading to Universal with my mom, my boy and Rhyann (hopefully) and then on Sunday, I’ll check out the fabric store for more ideas.

I realize that it’s going to take some work to repair things with The Ex. We’ve both done a lot of damage to each other but I think our bond was strong - strong enough to survive a few catastrophes. We’ll see. I’m moving patiently, hopeful, yet bracing myself for whatever the outcome may be. I’m fully aware of our past together and how it could very well shape our future. If anything, I’d like to at least be on good terms with him again. I’ll settle for that. I think he might be open to that.

December is the next great meteor shower and I aim to see this one. I totally spaced and missed the Perseids one in August when I returned from Costa Rica. But I’m going to catch the Geminids one, if I have to do it from my backyard alone. But the plan is to gather a few close loved ones for a home cooked meal and camaraderie and then sit outside somewhere that’s super dark (we may have to drive far out for this) and watch the meteors shoot by. The show is expected to begin around 9 or 10pm with approximately 50 meteors per hour. I’m going to have my wishes ready for wishing.

Done with Kermit

I’ve decided not to date anymore. The last 3 frogs I’ve had the displeasure of sharing time with were creeps and weirdo’s so, I’m calling it quits. Yeah, I’m good. It would have to be a REALLY REALLLLLLY cool and awesome guy for me to agree to another date. The guys I’ve been meeting are making my ex look like a dream boat in comparison! Smh. They are skeevy, and grimey, dumb and conniving. After my last date ordered a shit load of sushi, despite me telling him I was fine with just my two rolls, he put the bill in my face as if to say that I owe him. I mean, he literally held it up within inches of my face after I’d already acknowledged seeing the heart that our waitress had circled the total with (I’m sure she did it because we were clearly on a date and she works for tips). Anyway, I felt so uncomfortable. And throughout dinner whenever he wasn’t bragging about his lifestyle, he kept talking about “doing your homework” on a person and Googling them to get their personal information. That’s when I realized that he had my first and last name because of the stupid caller id on my cellphone and could easily look me up. Ugh. My freaking address was online (I’ve since requested to have it removed)! When the date ended, he wanted me to kiss him and I declined. I haven’t heard from him since, which was a week ago, and I haven’t called. I suspected during our conversation that he got turned off the minute that I told him I have a 16 year old son. The look on his face said it all. I certainly hope I’m right because I don’t want the hassle of telling him I’m not interested. He creeped me out and I don’t trust him. This whole ordeal reminded me of how much I enjoy being single, without the hassle and stress of another person invading your space. Maybe I’ll get a dog for companionship, lol. But seriously, I have been thinking about adopting a pit bull. I love those dogs and my boy does too.

Unfaithful

There are so many women who turn their heads and close their eyes while the man they’re devoted to shows them no devotion. He cheats, he wanders, he does not care as she does, he is faithless, cannot be counted on, should not be in possession of anyone’s heart because he is too careless. Yet these women make-believe they are safe and sound in his hands, the same hands that betray them, and would rip their hearts out as mindlessly as blinking. *She opts to play the Cinderella role even when her reality is stark and grave, naked and nowhere near secure. I saw the wickedness in his eyes when he ignored her call in favor of a conversation with me, a kiss from me and all of my attention at 3am. It was like a thrill passed over him knowing that he was being and could be, because she allowed him to be, callous with her heart. No remorse or guilt was visible, whatsoever. He had license to do whatever he chose. “She knows not to bother me,” he said over dinner. “She’s okay (with me cheating) as long as it’s not in her face.” So he chose not to consider her feelings. He acted like she had none. Now, he didn’t possess my heart in any capacity. I had no respect for him, no faith in his humanity, no desire to trade places with her. His flesh, for that moment, his attention for that time being, was my only concern where he was concerned. I pitied her. My guess is she stays because she wants love at any cost. She pretends that she is loved, that he is in her life because he loves her, unconditionally, as she does him. But there’s always a condition or ten with men like that. He stays because she loves him unconditionally. Who would so quickly dismiss their own personal idiot? She has a good job, she makes it possible for him to live the type of lifestyle he enjoys living, she is convenient, she makes things easy, she turns her head when he cheats and closes her eyes and pretends that he is devoted to her, while he stays out late with me. “She doesn’t have anybody out here but me. Her family aint here and she only has a couple of friends that she hangs out with every once in a while,” he told me. So she’s all his, to do with (or without) as he pleases. I guess she was sitting at home while he was having dinner with me.

Despite his many flaws and his lack of love and respect for her, she loves him, I presume. Or maybe she’s in love with the idea of him. She is extremely vulnerable, putting her faith in such a man. If what he told me was true.  He is a liar, after all. Although none of that was really my concern. It is men like him that make me burn the fairytales carved into my mind. I have no esteem for any man who lies for sport and cheats, like a snake slithering in low grass during the high noon, he is obvious and wicked. He is so arrogant that he doesn’t realize he is ridiculous and, more often than not, a target himself. He thinks he’s getting over, that only he knows what devilment he is up to. Sort of like a child playing a game of hide ‘n seek with his eyes closed yet he is standing in plain sight. Just because you cannot see me does not mean that you can’t be seen. Women know – the ones you’re cheating with, as well as the ones who turn their heads and close their eyes as you lie and cheat on them. We know. We’re just better at putting on the charade.  For our own sake, we pretend we are blind – I got what I wanted out of him, easily, and she’s getting to pretend that she is loved by him. That is, until the pain of his carelessness builds up and she snaps – out of her fairytale and on him. Then he’ll call her crazy. As if he is exempt from responsibility.
If I had a nickel for every attached man who approached me with a wolf ticket, I’d be rich…partly from selling him his own ticket.
I once indulged a cheating man out of boredom, lust, intrigue, and simply because I knew I could. I made no promises to anyone I didn’t know and was only true to myself. I haven’t done it since and I don’t plan to ever do it again. It wasn’t much fun. But I don’t regret it at all.

Just a few things...

Since I'm pecking away on an iPad.

Very relaxing day
No pressure, no stress, nowhere to rush off to or be, so I just rolled over, smiled up at the ceiling and took a deep... breath. Today I repurposed some things around the house, had a few eureka moments, made a batch of delicious deviled eggs so that my imitation crab meat wouldn't go bad, ate about 6 of said eggs, returned some shoes to Aldo in the mall, bought a new lipstick, had lunch in the food court, did some early Christmas shopping in the mall (as well as around the house, :D) and found my New Years Eve dress on sale For $15 - a metallic little Kenneth Cole number. Now I'm back home, watching the remains of the day sink down behind my neighbors' house, about to watch a movie.

He needs more than I can give
It's clear to me now that someone I know and care about is nowhere near strong enough to cope with difficulties on his own, and I'm nowhere near equipped to handle him on my own, what with my regular old human powers and such. He needs a super SUPER duper woman with the strength and courage of ten lionesses to handle his weight. It's more than I can bear and, although I used to think I could save him, I now realize that we'd both sink and I'd likely be the one to drown if I tried. He worries me a bit.

I can see the future and it's bright
But just last night I admit I was worried. I couldn't see anything but darkness. I'm no longer 21. I'm starting to look my age, even, lol. Well, actually, I'm just starting to no longer fight looking my age. I'm growing old gracefully and I still look good for a woman in her 30s. I lead a much better life now than I did when I was 21, that's for sure. My preferred social scene these days is a meal with good friends, going to see a play, calling my mom, a jazz concert in the park, game night at someones house, making ice cream with my ice cream maker, or chilling in my backyard with a good book or O magazine in the hammock. I'm happy living a slow-paced, artificial stimulant-free, simple life.

I had a talk with my ex last night. I think he's beginning not to hate me, which is good. It truly is a thin line.

I bought season passes to Universal Studios last month. I'm thinking about using them for the first time this month. We'll see.

Now that I've unplugged, I feel so much more productive and happy. The nonsense has been
eliminated.

Letting peace be my guide - Unplugging

Yesterday was my first truly stressful day since before my vacation began on July 29th. The day officially ended for me at 8pm, and by 9pm, I was in bed asleep. But, as with most highly stressful days, I didn’t sleep well last night. I had way too much on my mind so I was restless, tossing and turning, and hot. So, at around 5am rather than lie there and continue to struggle with sleeping (I actually woke up at 3am, but I tried to go back to sleep), I decided to get a jump start on my day. I put on a load of laundry, washed the dishes, took a shower, got dressed, made breakfast, paid a couple of bills, folded and put away some laundry, went to the gas station, drove my son to school, and made it to work ten minutes earlier than usual. This was in an effort to combat potential stress brought on by missing a few hours’ sleep, rushing to work, and panic about being unprepared for my day. Usually, on mornings when I wake up before 6:15am, I lie in bed and fret about lack of sleep and time escaping me. And that is always a bad start to a day. I get up groggy after having lost the fight with sleep, can’t find anything to wear so I end up looking like a vagabond as well as feeling like one, make it to work later than usual, and, inevitably, my boss rides every last nerve I have left, as he did yesterday. This time, though, I decided not to fight things and let peace be my guide. And to continue this peace, I’m unplugging myself from the internet for a while and decompressing. People online can be toxic, miserable, egotistical little trolls. If you say something like “the sky is blue, such a pretty day” you are guaranteed to receive angry backlash from a myriad of hateful people just looking for an argument and dying to insult you. They will insist that the sky is not blue, it is periwinkle, or gray, or turquoise, or that anyone who is concerned with the sky must be an idiot, and who in their right mind would think a blue sky is pretty anyway…etc., etc. It’s usually the women who do it the most, although many men are bitches, too. It means a lot to them to be able to get online and attempt to derail a person’s day, and they spend all day long trying to do it, day in and day out. It used to be that you could exchange ideas, learn and teach one another. But now it’s all high school and cliquish, and those who were miserable and insecure back then, are reliving their misery and insecurity on message boards all around the internet now. I encounter enough catty, insecure, bitches in my regular day-to-day that I don’t have to engage, I definitely don’t need to add more.

Then you have the nosey Alice Kravitz types who “befriend” you on that social networking site, only to nose and to boast and brag about their so-called lives, when most of their time is spent online boasting and bragging, which leads you to wonder just how much living they’re actually doing. Or who they think they’re fooling. Someone I know and hang out with from time to time is attached to her phone and that network. Her phone beeps every time someone says anything on that site, and she checks it each and every time. While hanging out with her, she is constantly checking and updating her status, apparently seeking validation and approval, and desperately needing attention. As if anyone truly cares. It’s pointless. Those who actually know and care for me can reach me without the help of that network. So, I am logging off, removing myself, and remaining blissfully unaware of whatever issues those people have going on. It’s neither important nor beneficial and I have more important things to concern myself with; I’m breaking bad habits and focusing on what makes me happiest.

I’m Related to Mermaids

My cousin and her children have OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder, if you don’t know) and they don’t realize it. My cousin is a clean freak. Her apartment, children and body are immaculately clean. Good, in theory, right? Nobody likes the opposite of clean. However, her obsession with cleanliness is causing problems and she, her children, and my mother are in denial about it.
For instance, her daughter came to my house to visit me a few months back, sometime during spring break, and within two days she’d taken 6, 30 minute-long showers. A bit excessive, right? Here’s how she did it: she’d wake up in the morning and right after breakfast she’d take a long, luxurious shower. Then we’d leave the house and go to say, Target or the mall, and she’d come back to my house and take another shower. And then, right after dinner at around 7 or 8pm, she’d take yet another long shower. She’d repeat this pattern the following day. Over the course of two days, that was 6 showers at 30-40 minutes a piece. So, naturally, I was concerned since I own my home and have to pay my own water bill. But yeah, she won’t be coming back to visit until she gets her cleanliness issues rectified. Anyway, just the other day my mother calls me like she does every day, and her gossip for the day was how my cousins landlord had called her to complain about her water bill being too high. The first thing my cousin and my mother think is that my cousin’s nosey neighbor is “hating” on her and called the landlord to complain about my cousins oldest daughter, who is 25, moving back in. Um, that is ridiculous and I let my mother know that. Even though her neighbor is a fat, nosey, hating, busy body, logic would dictate that her water bill just might be too high, considering everyone in her family bathes all day and night for 30-40 minutes at a time like they’re part fish. And there are 4 people in that household – her and her three offspring. Well, my mother thinks I’m wrong. She thinks my cousin’s neighbor is blabbing to the landlord about her daughter moving back in. I think my mother and cousin just want to complain about my cousin’s neighbor. It’s pretty idiotic. Here you have a house full of mermaids and you think it’s odd that the landlord is calling to complain about too much water usage? Come on, now! So not only am I related to Mermaids, I have a couple of wacky hens on my family tree.
Oh, and my cousin also itches uncontrollably and complains that her skin is too dry. She’s taking some over-the-counter meds for it but refuses to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe her skin is giving her problems because she has OCD and spends too much time bathing herself.

Building a Life

After a big break up, it's hard work gathering up all the pieces of your life that are yours and leaving behind what was. I met my ex when I was just 16 years old and from that day forward he was an integral part of my life. I grew to love his family very dearly, even watched children grow up and go to college and start families of their own. In the meantime, the life I'd fashioned became ours and no longer just mines. I was in it, he was in it, our families were sprinkled in there, too. And all of my childhood bonds had fallen by the wayside. Then, more than a decade later, we broke up and I was unrecognizable. Not entirely, of course, but it took some getting used to. I had to rebuild just about everything. My routines, my expectations, my social life. Outside of my mother, he was my closest friend. And the other friendships that were still standing weren't very strong. One day I wrote out a list of my friends and it didn't sit well with me. I wasn't confident in the bonds between me and anyone, many of them were fair weather, fickle, "see you once a year or so" friendships. So I set out to build new, lasting, stronger friendships, and thus far I believe I have about 3. We don't have ten years under our belts yet but we're getting there. We're building. I just have to be patient and faithful. Making friends as an adult is much different than it is as a kid.
And then there's dating. I wasn't quite sure what I was getting into with that, lol. I've learned a whole lot and it's been very interesting. Finding someone to be my +1 has been like searching for a needle in a haystack. Either there is no chemistry between us, one of us likes the other but the feeling isn't mutual, or we're a perfect match except he's already taken. Or he lives in another state. I don't fall to pieces over it though. It took me way too long to put myself back together after The Ex. I just know that this, too, is going to take some time and patience, and diligent effort on my part. Social relationships are complex. Rebuilding a life from the ground up takes patience and I'm focused. It can get scary at times, wondering what the future will bring or how long it will take to bring what I need, or who I'll be when when it finally gets here. I want to love again and be loved. I want close, strong bonds with other human beings. I'm up for the challenge. I have the rest of my life.
The way I envision things, I will be happy with my +1, a bit older but wiser, living a relaxed lifestyle where we are the center of our worlds. We'll have plenty of personal interests that we can share with one another, plenty of friends who love us, we'll travel, we'll try new things, we'll teach each other, and learn and grow old together. That'd be a happy ending. But whether it goes that way or not, I won't die an unlived life. Even though these are my plans, they are peripheral. I'm still busy living, thankfully.

Back at square one (with spoilers)

Ugh! I might as well just stay here since I inevitably end up at this very spot time and time again. This evening my ex's sister invited me to a posh movie theater with cushy recliners and waiters bringing me free food and dessert all night, to see the movie "One Day," and it was the most realistic and depressing love story I'd ever seen. It wasn't fake romance, the kind of the love that many many movies have portrayed where the couple ends up together and everything is perfect in the end. Nope, not at all. It was sad and pathetic and realistic. The kind of real life love story we go to the movies to escape. I'm glad this was free and, were it not for the cushy recliners and the delicious free food (God, that lemonade was to die for) I'd be pissed that I wasted an evening watching that movie. And what's worse is, Anne Hathaway's character did exactly what so many women I know do - she led a miserable life, pining over a man who was living his up until he couldn't live it up any longer and had nothing left but baggage and nowhere else to turn...so he settled down with her, the woman he'd loved all along but never more than he'd loved himself. And then she gets hit by a bus. And she dies.
When the movie ended my ex's sister and my 26 year old niece and I could only sigh at one another and relate. Men are stupid and we love them anyway, like idiots. Why does love have to be so complicated?
I'm rambling, it's late, and I believe I'm being lied to, once again. I'm always skeptical but I'm usually right. I wish I weren't though. Guess I'll grab a blanket and get cozy over here at square one. Looks like I'll be here a while.
Good night.

“So go work on your house...

…and forget about it.” © Under the Tuscan Sun

That’s exactly what I aim to do – work on the house, and anything else that needs working on, and forget about it. “It” being my love life. I’ve dwelled on it long enough, don’t you think? And I’ve come to realize that there is no point in dwelling any longer, especially when there’s so much work that needs to be done and happiness that needs to be had. So this past weekend my step father came by to work on my yard. It was beginning to look like I’d begun a game of Jumanji back there and a lion would appear out of the foliage at any moment. And while he was back there I made him a sandwich, sliced up an orange, and then sat down to put together my hammock stand. It was truly exciting. I’m not kidding. I cannot wait until it’s sitting in my backyard and I climb into it and read a book or flip through a magazine. I have so many books on my shelf I’ve yet to read.

After I’d put the hammock stand together I wrote out a list of things I’d like to do to the house in the order I’d like to do them. Or, the order that made the most sense to me:


- Pour a concrete foundation behind the garage (bbq central)

- Paint front porch (it’s faded glory blues)

- Install new front door (curb appeal)

- Expand and remodel the kitchen (the heart of the home and the bane of my existence due to its size)

- Expand and remodel the bathroom (why not?)

- Paint the house (makes sense if I’m going to expand the back of it)

- Fence the house (the rugrats next door need no more access to my lawn)

These are mostly big ticket items, yes, but I plan to work as slowly and as comfortably as my money will allow. And in the meantime, I have other things, “inside” things, to work on. I’m budgeting fiercely and I’ve set a goal to save 10k by next summer. This is also Miles’ senior year of high school and he’s playing varsity football, which means he’ll need lots of cash for uniforms, homecoming, prom, pictures, yearbook, and whatever rigamoro the kids are being told they need these days. Then there’s my little side project, the little seedling as I’ve come to call it, that I am hoping to build into a Big Deal. I’m still mapping that out and it is also slowly coming to fruition. Labors of love, these are. But while I’m working on all of this and focusing on the things that I’d like to see grow for the better, I’m beginning to really like someone. The caveat is that he lives in another state. Womp womp. On the bright side, his living so far away forces me to accept that it is very unlikely that we will ever be in a position to be a couple, so whenever my mind begins to veer towards thoughts of possible dating and romance, I quickly snap out of it. These things just aren’t possible to do with hundreds of miles between us, so there’s no need in fantasizing. It’s quite unfortunate though because I do like him enough. But I have to accept what is real and logical. I am a grown woman, after all. So while I enjoy the times that he and I talk (the other day for an hour) or text, I don’t invest too much into it and I take it for what it is – a very lovely distraction. Although, the optimist in me refuses to let go of the idea that anything is truly possible, and that life is stranger than any fiction as well as any reality that I’ve cooked up and consumed, so while I lay outside in my new hammock, reading and daydreaming, I will certainly dream of him and the possibilities of him and I…however fleetingly and unrealistic they are, of course.

My Trip

(**This took me about an hour to write and load the pictures so please excuse any grammar mistakes and what not you might find if you decide to read it all. And this isn’t even the entire trip! Just a summary
of main events)

The afternoon sun slants through the clouds, every flower is in bloom. A variety of insects scurry about on the ground and through the moist, humid air, a rainbow of butterflies float by – blue ones, especially, which are the most popular, orange ones, white ones, and green. There is the color green everywhere. As I step out of the Mitsubishi SUV, a canopy of ruby and forest green trees of different kinds, palms and ferns and plants I’ve never seen before, crouch together above my head, fine grass and moss rest beneath my feet, and all around me bugs are buzzing. I am in Atenas, Costa Rica.

Costa Rica is rolling hills full of life – human, plant, and animal. Chickens, goats, and stray dogs meander alongside the windy roads we traversed to get to our various destinations, driving over bridges and rivers, past fields of pineapple, coffee beans, rice, sugar cane and other agricultural exports. Cows, bulls, and horses were often spotted grazing behind fences. Thick vegetation abounds. There are only two seasons in Costa Rica – winter and summer, Patty’s father explained to me as we drove along. Winter is in June, July, August and September and is typically humid, between 75 and 90 degrees, depending on what part of the country you’re in. So you can imagine what summer must be like in December, January, February, and March. I was grateful we chose to visit during the winter.

Our flight was late but after roughly 10 hours of traveling from start to finish, with a delay in L.A. and a stop in Houston, we finally arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica where my friend Patty and her parents picked us up. We drove to the nearby town of Atenas, where Patty's great aunt and uncle live. Juan V (short for Juan Vicente and usually heard as “Wonbee”) and his cheerful wife who Patty says reminds her of Mrs. Claus, live in a house that “Mrs. Claus’s” parents built more than 70 years ago. It’s a modest home on a large piece of land which is shared by their adult son and daughter, living in three separate peach colored houses. All of the homes are situated behind a concrete wall and a solid metal gate that opens from the street to a tiny bridge, built by Patty's uncle. The sweet smell of cast fruit (pronounced "cahst"), permeates the air there, and ninja bunnies hop around the jungly landscape. Ariel, Patty's 9 year old cousin, calls his bunnies "ninjas" because of the way they hop high into the air before smashing into one another in battle. The newborn bunnies were tucked safely away in a makeshift cage that sits atop a pole to protect them from ground predators. They sniffed our hands and gently nibbled our fingers through the cage feeder opening.

Where everybody knows your name…and how to find you
In town, everybody knows everybody. The homes and businesses in Costa Rica have no addresses. I’m not kidding. The mailman locates you by using coordinates and landmarks (i.e., “Go 100 kilometers north from the bank, 500 meters east...next to the hair salon…”). They were advertising and selling GPS systems but I’m not at all sure how they’d work and I didn’t get a chance to ask. But everyone seemed to know just where they were going, including Patty’s dad who drove us all over the place. It was as though he knew Costa Rica like the back of his hand.
The radio station played Return of the Mac a lot, but mostly they played a mix of reggae/reggaeton (in both English and Spanish), American/English rap, and songs in Spanish. Lots of people get around on bikes. Mausoleums at the cemeteries are above ground. Sort of like New Orleans, they don't bury their dead because of the rain. (In N.O., the land is too low to bury without hitting water, I’m told). There is a lady who goes around creating art on rocks. She paints beautiful landscapes on random rocks alongside the roads there. We drove around looking for them like we were on an Easter egg hunt. Many of the homes have tin roofs, and are made of concrete, sitting flat on the ground without a foundation. And tile. Carpet is out, tile flooring is in style in Costa Rica. Everywhere we dined, Patty and her mom ordered fresh cast juice and Miles and I ordered pina (pineapple juice). Freshly squeezed fruit juices aren’t hard to come by and were quite the treat for us, but the locals prefer sodas (ie, "eSprite").

Cool memories:
• Flying over islands and other unidentified land masses
• Watching novellas with shirtless, grave digging men (lol. Miles couldn’t understand why they had to be shirtless digging a grave at night. So Patty explained to him that it was to please the soap-opera watching audience – mainly women. Sort of like how unrealistic it is that busty, teenaged girls sit around pillow fighting in furry lingerie and panties for hours on end to entertain an audience of men. That doesn’t happen but lots of men like to watch it on T.V., nevertheless)
• Ariel and Miles playing Halo, so excited and happy about life
• Iguanas everywhere

• The water pressure in Juan Jose’s (Juan “Ho’s”) house dictates temperature in the shower. A blast, and it’s cold water you get. A trickle and it’s warm. Worst shower experience ever. I later learned by watching House Hunters International, that it’s called a “suicide shower” because it could electrocute you if you’re not careful :( Supposedly, they’re common in Central America.

A Simple Kind of Life
Not just a life of practicality, Patty's aunt and uncle seem to tie their lives to the land their house was built on, the beautiful oasis sanctuary that her aunt’s family had claimed and maintained for decades, secluded from the rigor of the small town behind a wall and a gate. They clearly don’t need many worldly things to find pleasure in their lives. Once a week they take painting lessons on the veranda of their home with a local painter who visits them. And they’re getting pretty good! The day we returned from La Fortuna (I’ll get to that adventure in a bit) they were all on the veranda painting beautiful landscapes that appeared to be coming alive before our eyes. They don’t sit in front of the television or the computer for long hours at a time every day, nor do they spend all of their time and money in shopping malls on materialistic crap. They go to work every day, paint in their spare time, and eat well and read the paper over a home cooked breakfast every morning, and entertain visiting family members and friends with jokes and stories from the old days. No rush, no fuss, no stress, just living. Making life.

As we sat outside listening to Juan V tell us funny stories about his days as a mannish alter boy, the black and white spotted dog, Oreo, strolled from person to person happily wagging his bushy tail, nudging his soft wet nose in palms and being petted and rubbed with affection. The ninja bunnies stealthily hopped about in the garden, being as mischievous as bunnies could be.

Barcelo Tambor – the all-inclusive resort
On our second day in Costa Rica, we got up early and had breakfast outside with Juan V and his wife. Black beans and rice, scrambled eggs, and bread with homemade guava jam, coffee (of course, it’s a staple in Costa Rica and what it’s most popular for) orange juice, and cast juice. Belly’s full, we packed up the Mitsubishi and set off to catch the ferry headed to Tambor Beach in Puntarenas (meaning “point”).

On our way through the city, it rained, making the drive feel so serene mixed with the bright green tapestry along the way. And even though there was overcast and no sunshine when we boarded the ferry, the humidity was thick enough to choke on. As though there was a big humidifier plugged in somewhere emitting steamy moisture into the air. I stood on the top deck, bare shoulders, legs, chest and neck clammy with sweat, then suddenly it would start to rain again; fat drops of warm water that blended in with my sweat. And, as suddenly as it would start to rain, it would stop. Then like clockwork, a breeze would sweep through and cool us down just a taste. A breeze so soft it was like the last drop of cool water in a cup, just barely satisfying, a tease, causing me to silently pray for more. Then, maybe, if we were lucky, a more substantial breeze would blow through, relaxing the senses a bit. When we exited the ferry in the Mitsubishi SUV, maneuvering around potholes up and down windy roads, we drove over several rivers and creeks whose banks were snuggled tightly against lush vegetation. It was a breathtaking sight but a difficult one to capture with my camera while in a moving vehicle, unfortunately.

Me vs the Sea – It was a draw?

Finally checked in and resting in our room at the resort, we could hear the waves crashing from the lanai, which really made me smile. I grabbed my book and headed out to the lanai to read in a hammock. But, after a few seconds, decided to take it down to a chaise lounge on the beach where I could hear and see the beauty of the coast in surround sound stereo. Laying on the beach in a lounge chair, letting the breeze tousle my already wind-swept hair while day dreaming of pirate ships drifting in on waves (along with logs and other debris loosened from the recent rains. That was the only bad part – murky water), coming to rest on the beach and hide. Maybe even bury some treasure. It was a sweet fantasy. Then, out of the corner of my eye I spotted Patty’s parents in bathing suits. “Go and get your suit and get in!” her dad waved to me. I wasn’t quite ready to get in, though, so I smiled and passively told him “Nah. Maybe later.” But he was relentless, he must’ve said “Go and get your suit and get in!” at least ten times until I finally gave up my weak ass fight and went back to my room to change into my bikini and drag Miles along with me. Miles ended up loving the ocean more than I’d expected. In no time at all he was far out there with Patty and her dad, jumping over waves. The beach at Barcelo Tambor is quite peculiar in that it doesn't slope. You can walk out for miles and the water will remain at waist or chest level, depending on your height; flat land, the same depth miles from the shoreline. Our first day in the ocean was great. It was warm and the dark brown sand beneath our feet was soft.

I ended up having a good time, too. But on the second day, the ocean had swelled up a bit. The waves were taller and angrier and had pulled many rocks from the shore, so our steps on the second day were no longer cushioned by soft brown sand. Instead, we were stepping on a fierce combination of sand and awfully hard rocks. But mostly rocks. I jumped over a wave to keep my hea

d above water and landed painfully on a bevy of rocks. My old feet and knees were done after that. So I moved over a bit, and then a bit more, but I couldn’t find a spot where there were no rocks. And as each wave built up, it would suck me in, drawing me into its belly. That is how people get swept away, I figured. It must have taken me almost fifteen minutes just to get out of that water and back on dry land. And I wasn’t even far out there like the rest of them! I was just feet away from the shoreline. What an awfully funny sight it must have been, watching me fall and stumble on rocks in my bikini, crawling and being knocked around by the oceans fist. At one point, I couldn’t even stand up. Wave after wave just clobbered me. When I finally made it out, I fixed my hair and headed for the pool and a daiquiri. I’d had more than enough of the ocean. Thankfully, no pictures exist of this debacle.

Patty's mom, Alicia, told me there are several types of beaches in Costa Rica. Manuel Antonio beach has soft white sand, Playa Conchal (meaning “shell”) is made up of billions of crushed seashells, another (I forget the name) has black sand and clear water. I wished I could see them all but there wasn't enough time.

“Oh, Moto…”

On our second day there, Patty, Miles and I went horseback riding. Moto, my attitudinal horse, started out the gate trying to bite any other horse that got too close to him. I mean, it was hot and sticky out there and flies were abundant so I understood his annoyance, but he worried me a bit. He seemed to be on autopilot, doing what he wanted to do or what he was taught to do by whoever broke his spirit and turned him into a slave horse. I’d pull the reigns the way Juan, our guide had told me to (tug right if you want to go left, tug left if you want to go right, and pull back if you want to stop, kick if you want to go faster) and Moto would still veer to the side of the trail to stop and nibble on plants or keep whatever pace he wanted to keep. I decided that as long as we kept with the group, we were good and that I wasn’t going to be the boss of him. He probably needed a break, poor thing.

When we’d made it to the beach, he kept looking back at me as he trotted along. Probably making sure it was me on his back after our brief discussion at the top of the mountain. I had looked him in the eye and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, sensing that he was not at all pleased to be going out that day, probably on his tenth or so run. I rubbed his neck and mane and thanked him for his trouble in getting me up the muddy mountain without throwing me off his back, because he could have easily pitched me down the mountain side as we traipsed up through that knee-deep mud, over protruding tree roots, through high, scratchy weeds and along a narrow cliff where a rocky stream flowed below. I held on tight for dear life, then. When we finally reached the summit of the mountain to take in a panoramic view of Tambor, we were greeted by the sounds of a howler monkey who wouldn't reveal itself for a photo op. It just kept taunting us with its cranky-sounding howl, probably for being on its turf. By the time our two hour ride was up I was thanking God for Henry Ford and the invention of the automobile. I don’t know how cowboys and cowgirls did it; my inner thighs were so sore.

As we wound down for bed that night, I loved the drumming of the rain falling on our patio mixed with the acoustics of the waves crashing onto the beach.

La Romeria – The Pilgrimage to La Negrita, our reason for being there
We checked out of Barcelo Tambor at 1130am and began our quick trek back to Atenas to pick up more luggage, and then on to San Jose, where Patty's grandmother lives and where we were meeting the rest of her family for the pilgrimage to pay homage to the Virgen de Los Angeles, the black Madonna, in the church in Cartago. We made a quick pit stop for lunch at Las Cazuelas de mi Tierra. Delicious food! Handmade tortillas, rice, beans, chicken, plantains, salad, and freshly squeezed juice! I could eat that meal every day for lunch for a month and not complain.

Our pilgrimage began at 630pm from Patty’s grandmothers house in San Jose, and ended at 1110pm, close to 5 hours later at the old church in Cartago. My knees hurt from bending with every step, my shoulder blades hurt, my back hurt from climbing up hill, my hips hurt, and, of course, my feet hurt, but they hurt the least of all, ironically. Thousands of people started walking days before us, and many thousands walked for days after us. By the time we had finally reached the church and stood in the crowd to enter the church, my body gave out. 10 minutes after reaching the church I stopped moving after 5 consecutive hours of steady movement, and I couldn’t go any farther. I needed to sit down and rest. To LIE down and rest. I was with Patty and Miles and Patty’s uncle, Carlos, standing in the crowd at the foot of the church, about 50 feet away from its entrance, being shoved and squished by dozens of people when, suddenly, I couldn’t hear out of my left ear. I began to feel extremely hot and my head started to spin, my knees were buckling, and my breathing became shallow. I used all the strength that I could muster and yelled over the loud music to Patty, Miles, and Carlos that I couldn't make it. "You're not going inside?!" Patty yelled back to me, sounding perplexed. "I can't" I replied. I had come all that way, from California to Houston to Costa Rica, and then by foot from San Jose to Cartago, and my body would not allow me to stand up any longer or go any further. I pushed my way back through the crowd in frantic search of somewhere to sit before I collapsed. People would not budge to let me through, no one wanted to give up even an inch of space as they all crowded to get into the church so I had to force my way out. Then, at last, I found an empty seat on the steps next to a bunch of other people and I sat down to rest. But I desperately needed to lie down. So I rested my head in my hand and my stomach started to swirl and tighten up. And thats when I began to vomit water and little pieces of rice. Thankfully, my last meal had been at 2pm and was long ago digested. Save for a few kernels of rice. It was my luck that I happened to be sitting directly beneath Patty's cousin, Jose Mario and his dad, Juan Mario. They flagged down two Red Cross workers who took my blood pleasure, which was 110/70 (normal by then, after I had vomited), and my pulse. I declined their offer to be carried to the infirmary. Then the two Mario’s helped me up from the steps and lead me by the hand through the enormous crowd, down a few blocks and to Patty's fathers’ SUV where I could lay down. But no sooner had I began to doze off did Miles come frantically knocking on the window to see about me. Jose Mario had called Carlos, who was with Miles and Patty at the church, to tell them that I was sick. Carlos told Patty and Patty told Miles, aka "Owen," who loves his mama (see: Throw Mama from the Train, starring Billy Crystal and Danny DeVito). At 16 years old, he'd made the pilgrimage, gone inside the historic old church, saw "La Negrita" face to face, and prayed. I was so proud of him. He'd witnessed a piece of religious history that is more than 400 years old. What an experience!

My not going inside the church was indeed a disappointment, but I had made the long pilgrimage and my heart had good intentions, so I was also proud of myself for having walked for five hours straight, up hills and down hills, alongside thousands of people with the intent to pay my respects and show my faith. I think I succeeded in doing that. And I brought my kid along and he did it, too. It was definitely an experience I will never forget.
(see pictures of us walking at the top of this post)

La Fortuna de San Carlos – the active Arenal Volcano

By day 6, August 3rd, Patty and I were pretty tired and sore from the pilgrimage to Cartago. All I could think about was getting a massage for my aching legs because it hurt to walk. The hotel even offered a “tired leg” massage. Instead, though, we all soaked in the Tabacón thermal hot springs pool at our hotel in La Fortuna. And it was pure bliss! Pura Vida! You could see the steam rising off the warm water as we floated around in the pool sipping on pineapples filled with pina coladas. It rained on us the first night we got in the pool, so we got both a shower and a warm bath. The soft, naturally heated, sulfur-infused water from the volcano is tunneled from a spring near the volcano, into a pool and cooled just enough for people to stand it the heat. It was just what we needed to relax and sooth our tired muscles. In fact, the water worked so well that the following day Patty and I hiked down 180 stairs into a forest near the volcano to reach a waterfall!

The waterfall stood 220 feet tall and came down hard and loud, creating waves that pushed swimmers away. And for good reason because you could get sucked in and drown if you get too close. We got in its pool and rinsed off our sweat from the humid hike. It was slippery, though, with all the moss covered rocks so we had to be extremely careful.

Oh, and according to the local newspaper, Will Smith was in town visiting La Fortuna around the same time we were there. He was looking for a location to film a movie with the director of the Sixth Sense.
(Newspaper photo of Will also up above)

Hasta luego - Going home, after 7.5 days
Periodically, black clouds would gather overhead and threaten rain. A few times they made good on those threats, other times they cried wolf and moved on to someplace else. But mostly we had great weather during our stay. On our final day we met up for the last time on the veranda for breakfast. Stepping off the side of Juan V’s porch I am surrounded by flora and fauna; luscious greenery everywhere you look. And, of course bugs. I left Costa Rica with my share of itchy bites the size of quarters. I also left Costa Rica smarter than I arrived. I practiced and learned a bit of Spanish, though my biggest regret is that I didn’t know more before I arrived so that I could better understand and communicate with my gracious hosts. But I also learned that we, humankind, are much more connected to nature than we think. We’re not only connected, we ARE nature. I knew this, to an extent, of course. But having grown up surrounded by so little of it in a city chock full of brick and mortar, where the nearest glimpse of nature is at a bug-sanitized park, I had forgotten that we aren't necessarily separate from it. We are it. And everything, every single unnatural thing that we do to nature, to our environment, we do to ourselves. So now my resolve to recycle and save water and waste less has increased.
In Costa Rica, I felt more American than I have ever felt while living my American life. I felt ignorant and ashamed of the things I'd never experienced for myself but had only read about or seen on T.V. and thought because I’d seen it on TV or read about it somewhere that I knew enough. Now I truly understand the importance of traveling and expanding your worldview beyond the television set. You see so much more, the view isn’t edited by whoever is feeding it to you through your television set. It’s first-hand. I’m glad that my son got to see that the world is much too immense to think that it resides in our respective "backyards," and to think that we've seen all there is to see by simply watching TV. During our flight, he looked out the window and marveled at the real-life “globe” and geography lesson we got from seeing all the land masses below. We have to remember that what happens on the rest of this gigantic blue marble does, indeed, affect us. And we are polluting the world. I saw the influence American’s have on other cultures for the first time and I shook my head at the stain my culture is leaving on other cultures. Every time Patty ordered cast juice at a restaurant, the server would look at her strangely and one of them even asked her, in so many words, why she didn’t want “e-Sprite.” As though soda is a treat and a novelty. It's good that you can only find cast fruit in Costa Rica. I hope it remains that way - special and unique. In this world, the whole is far more important than the sum of its parts. Unfortunately, I can't change the whole world; I can only work on fixing what’s in my backyard, and what’s in front of me. But every little bit adds up and counts.

"I'm talking abt u enjoying the things God gave you. The things God put on this earth to be enjoyed: silks, satins, good food, beautiful, real scenery with beautiful sunrises and sunsets...and remember, u are for yourself to enjoy, as well as others. Live, child, live. Lift those worries off your mouth and smile."

"Oh, aunt Tante. U make life sound wonderful"

That is what u have to do; make life. And we need to get up and get started on making this day a good one. Now. "

(Excerpt from J California Coopers book 'Life is Short but Wide')