A few of my days...

The year in review: 2011

2012-01-01T19:28:00.000-08:00

What did you do this year that you have never done before:

Annalise Emerick releases her EP, Starry Eyed

Drove to Denver and back a million times, worked with little kids who have had big losses, acquired pet rats and named them, earned a graduate degree, took a licensing test and got three new letters after my name, hiked up a 14er, watched my girl release her first EP, wore cowboy boots with a dress (twice) and saw lots of new places.

What about your 2011 resolutions? Did you keep them?
I don't remember them, so the answer is likely "no." Sorry.

Deaths: None.

Births: Annalise's childhood friend Maddie had a gorgeous baby girl and my friends Greg and James adopted little Davis!

Weddings: My brother married his new bride and brought us all more joy and fun. It was such an exceptional, small, effortless and magical wedding that I blogged about it and I only blogged about 4 times last year. This wedding got me, good. And, with this wedding, I got an exceptionally awesome 4 year old niece. Bonus!

Molly the Rat loves kids

What about travel?
Local only except for Christmas. I did see some magical places locally, but not as many as I did last year.

What would you like to have in 2012 that you wish you'd had more of in 2011?
More time with friends, more authenticity regarding myself, assistance with home/yard things and social interactions.Travel and adventure, bravery and more poise in situations where I'm being asked for my opinions and thoughts.

What dates from 2011 will you never forget? Why?
June 6th when I graduated and learned I won an award for a paper I wrote (Animal Assisted Interventions with Youth Experiencing Traumatic Grief).
September 11th, and not for the anniversary of the WTC bombings, for reasons that will remain unblogged.

Biggest achievement of the year?
Trusting the process in my work with kids and getting better at allowing for awkward silences. Completing my MSW, and all of those papers and bibliographies. Staying positive as much as possible.

Biggest failure?
Giving up authenticity when it's easier to let things slide. Trying to hard to make things "work" and trying to hard in general. Putting on that helper mode to the point where it annoys even me. This is how we learn, right?

Best thing you bought?
A wireless ipod/radio system so I can listen to my ipod music in the house and a coffee maker that grinds and brews.

Whose behavior do you applaud?
My daughter for her bravery, talent and determination. She got it done and she's still getting it done. In the Top Ten Singer/Songwriter list when her EP was released on iTunes. All of this is great, but more so, she's kind and loving. My friends and coworkers who put up with me being busy and gone a lot during the academic part of the year and their support as I finished. This meant everything to me.

Whose behavior appalled you?
Let's just say that anger is the mind killer and people should not let their minds be killed.

What did you get really, really, really excited about?
I started my first official Social Work position at GVCO. I'm the Social Worker for a brand new housing program for Veterans. It's been a start up, create it as I go process, (my favorite kind!) I took my licensing test and when I passed, dorky me hugged the poor guy who worked at the testing place. Now that I have my license, I can now do some private work on the side to keep working on my counseling chops. I was very excited to have Abbot join the family, he is a former seeing eye dog, who now works as my social worker/counselor partner. He's a natural, of course.

What song will always remind you of 2011?
My girl's tune, This Love Won't Break Your Heart.

Anything else you would like to add?
Like every year, this one wasn't easy, though there were sweet moments. I am privileged to do the work that I do and lucky that I love it while I'm doing it. My work got me through the year and led the effort for an overdue aha! about boundaries, authenticity, honesty and being in the moment. I get it now. Thank you 2011 for ramming that into my consciousness so well that I will not forget it. I said goodbye to a very sweet relationship that I learned much from and will always feel glad to have experienced. As the year ends, my house, which I thought would be way too big for me, is now full, thanks to three dogs, two rats and assorted visitors and friends. This makes me happy.
2011 was an archaeological dig. I learned what I love, what I don't love, what I want in my day to day and what won't work in my day to day. I found some hidden treasures and a lot of dust. 2012 will be a year to put these discoveries into practice.

Bounding over Boundaries

2011-11-15T22:09:00.000-08:00

The topic of my life for the past...3 months has been Boundaries, their meaning, use and abuse. Mine have been fuzzy and flexible, unclear and ripe for invasion. I have not protected them, not by a ginormous wall like the one they are building in Texas, nor by a stern glance or turn of phrase, nor by even shoring them up with mud and bricks.
Nope, I have been allowing them to get tattered, torn and shredded with indecision, ineffective materials such as excuses and a thousand chances.
Why?
Well, I've been busy, new job, post graduate school transitions, training my dog, cleaning my house, washing my hair.

But, the truth is, Boundaries have always been a second thought for me. I'm a chance giving fool, the one who would have her hand raised first to volunteer, the one who always and I mean always wants to make food for sick friends. (I'll continue to do this, for friends.)

But that's changing. I'm practicing my boundaries.
It's a must.

My work, the work I worked so hard to be able to do and do well, requires me to be present and available for people who do not have to give back to me. The work requires me to be sometimes pulled in and drawn in and wanting to join the pain and tears in the person next to me.

But, a girl can't do that all the time, full time or even part time and stay sane. Instead, we must dole out our energy, our empathy always present, doesn't have to become a joining. Not only is this dangerous, it's also disrespectful. People must walk their very own walk.
I walk mine.
You walk yours.

So, when I say, no, enough, not gonna happen, if I don't believe what I'm saying I may as well be saying, yes, certainly, well, okay.

But now, no means no. No. No. No.

Got that?

weddings

2011-07-23T13:59:00.000-07:00

My brother's wedding stirred me up a bit.

I know marriage is not a cake walk and it's not a solution or a way to happiness, it is just one of the ways to couple up. Still, the dresses and wine and flowers and toasts have an impact that catches me unaware and then there am tearing up as people declare their love of and desire to protect each other, forever.

Though we know this acceptance and love is tested and we know that it is sometimes extended conditionally, the idea of it, draws me in like a Monarch to milkweed.

smiling

2011-07-20T04:20:00.000-07:00

I cannot smile in photographs. I look like I'm posing or unnatural or stiff...is that what I really look like? How do I get over this? Why is this haunting thing from my youth about looking "right" still coming through in photographs? How do I slay this beastie?
Today I will practice not smiling in photographs, not "thinking of something funny" and just being where and who I am in the moment.
that is a start.

Missing the boat, yet enjoying the trip.

2011-07-17T16:07:00.000-07:00

My brother is getting married to a wonderful girl. Together they are creating a new family, knitting together their lives, their daughters, their stuff, their hopes, fears, pasts and futures. I'm happy for them.

I was divorced ages ago and while there have been opportunities for marriage, none of these made me want to willingly walk down an aisle to yoke my life with another. I was already sweetly yoked with my daughter and I was for a long time, a bit terrified of marriage.

Marriage felt like a trap to me. Even as I said my vows, I was realizing that I was in the wrong place. Instead of being there in that place with all of those people, I should be on a ship, sailing to Europe or Africa. I had, metaphorically and literally, missed this boat.

I had a lot of friends who were married. As a single mom, a young one at that, I was often the one who watched the kids of these older, stable, married couples when they went to marriage counseling. That happened more than a few times. I realized that I was probably happier than them.This happiness may not have been solely due to my single status, but it certainly wasn't in spite of it. I was told I should be sad about a single mom, even a bit ashamed, it was, after all, due to a divorce. Why was I happy? Where was my shame?

It was suggested, often that I find a man to raise my daughter with, and that I should think about having more children. I didn't understand. My daughter was and is amazing and I never wanted more children because there was barely enough time to be there for and enjoy her.

The thing is: Once a person realizes, fully, that they have choices, they begin making them.

The relationship I'm in now is teaching me new things. It's teaching me to embrace the unexpected and the unpredictable. It's teaching me that love can be offered openly and without a list of things I need to change. I can depend on love and I don't have to become legally yoked to feel committed. I'm always loyal, but I haven't always felt fully committed. A man who can stand by while you freak out over your own fear and then offer to make some coffee, and can step up to meet you halfway is the one you can sail on that boat with without making a permanent stop in legal land.

I am probably not making much sense. But in the politics of marriage, I'm happy to see people marrying because they truly love each other. At the same time, it makes absolutely no sense that you can only do this is you are heterosexual and my gay and lesbian friends cannot, yet, legally marry.

I am very happy that married or unmarried, I will feel equally accepted, shameless and groovy and I celebrate this, because it is a pretty wonderful realization.

on titanium rods, or, Does anyone blog anymore?

2011-07-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

I used to "blog" almost every day. It was a way to anonymously (for a time, anyway), get my writing done, the kind of writing that helped me begin to figure things out a bit. I blogged about my work with the homeless, my work in film, my life and times and even my titanium rod. The blog at one time had over 340 weekly visitors. These visitors included, and I'm guessing here, friends, family, stalking exes, old friends I hadn't seen in ages, other filmmakers and people who happened to google "titanium rod" and get a hit on my blog.
I blogged about my dog Keni and how hard it was to lose him and about my grandmother and how hard it was to lose her. I blogged about my daughter and how cool she is. I blogged about the car wreck and surgeries and, yes, that titanium rod that still holds my left arm together. I blogged about my travels and about the move to Colorado and for a tiny bit of time, in spurts, I blogged about graduate school, until I realized I had no time to blog while writing research papers and reading about theories and thinking about people.
(All of this is in my blog history, which has turned out to be quite handy and helpful).

So, now I have graduated. I am no longer working, much anyway, as a freelance writer and photographer. I am starting career number 93, actually, it's just number 7 and I'm living less on the edge and more time is available to think and ponder and write about it.

So I am going to blog again. You can stop by if you want, but I will not be offended if you choose not to. I am going to blog about anything and everything, just to do it. I don't think there will be much on titanium rods, but I do think there will be a few posts that reference that time.

here goes...

What's your calling?

2011-01-17T22:50:00.000-08:00

The snow began falling near Edwards and by the time I reached the Vail summit, I, along with all the other folks driving west to east on I-70, had slowed to about 30 miles per hour A drive which usually takes between 3.5 and 4 hours, took 7 hours. S-e-v-e-n.

My 7 hour commute to graduate school on MLK day, was made so I could attend one 8 a.m. class and a meeting with my Independent Study professor the next morning. I must be dedicated, or crazy, or neither.

I'm not from Colorado, so when I first thought about driving from the most west city in the state across the Rocky Mountains to the big city of Denver once a week, to go to graduate school, I thought nothing of it. I never thought about moving to Denver. I liked the smaller community of Grand Junction and decided to figure out a way to stay there and still go to school in Denver. Driving over once a week was my solution.

Any time I told a Colorado native about my school commute, they pretty much always said something like: "Driving to Denver, every week? Even in the winter? Really? Every week?? This would be followed by something like, "Can't you go to school part time or online or just move to Denver?"

I just smiled and reassured them, "Yes, that's the plan. It's only for two years and only during the quarters and I get summer's off and I love the mountains, remember I come from the flat lowlands of Texas." As for going part time or online, no thanks, I wanted to be there in person and I wanted to get it done sooner rather than later.

Thankfully, I had no idea what I was getting in to. Once again, my proclivity to just do what I thought I needed to do, took over, allowing me to bypass any worry and concern about weather and snow and other drivers and icy roads. This has played out in other areas of my life, too. When I started running, I signed up for a marathon, for example. I've made peace with the fact that I'm someone who decides to do something and does it. It's how I roll.

I did take practical measures. I traded my Honda Civic for a Suburu and I bought it some good tires. I got a library car and preordered a few books on tape. I got a little ice chest for travel snacks. I even got a doggie seat belt for my collie pup, Phil.

And most of the time, it was just fine. The roads were fine. The other drivers were mostly fine. It worked.

Then there are days like today.
Days when I have time to think about how an MSW degree is one of the most credentialed degrees a person can get so they can do really hard work for very little pay. One that requires further testing and supervision hours to get licensed. One that requires a lot of writing of papers and digesting of theories and where you are so busy with school and field practice that there is no time to earn any real money.

I thought about that on my drive today. I pondered it, wrestled it down and stared it in the face.

Here's what happened.

I remembered why I'm here. I came the circuitous route to social work. I had some some really cool jobs. I was promoted and given more responsibility. I managed teams and shipped products. I stayed up all night to finesse a book edit or to sit with software developers as we figured out what to do about some big product issue. I made films and got people to invest money in them, I rubbed elbows with people and tried to be cool enough. I traveled around the country promoting films and talking them up and talking to people and again, trying to be the right kind of cool.

It wore me out.

And yet, when I worked at the little homeless day shelter in Austin, and I came home exhausted and spent, I still had some life in me. I still wanted to go back. I still wanted to understand how to do the work more fully, more evenly, and to learn how to be with people authentically. It felt easy to me. It was hard work, but it wasn't hard to do the work. Does that make sense? When a mentally ill client screamed at me, I could calm him down easily. When a crack addicted kid picked me out to be his friend, I was game. I felt at home in that world and I felt cool enough. Always.

But I knew there were things I didn't know. I also knew there were things I didn't know I didn't know. Things like theories and policy and legal issues and research and while I thought I was a multiculturally aware person, having lived a pretty interesting life and been to a lot of places, I wasn't as culturally cool as I thought I was. I also didn't really "get" boundaries and self care.

I am almost done.

Here's what I have left to do:
17 more round trips from Grand Junction to Denver (approx 480 miles)
10-12 papers left to write
Complete 1 big research project
Get Philleas' Canine Good Citizenship Certification and Therapy Dog certification
Drink about 33 more triple shot Americanos (1 for each day of class)
Listen to about 20 more Books on Tape
Read many more books and articles, so many I cannot estimate the page count.

Then I'll be done.
I'll have an MSW degree. I'll be a Licensed Social Worker and one day a Licensed Clinical Social Worker.

getting to know you...

2011-01-10T19:27:00.000-08:00

So, the mice are finally starting to settle in and run on their wheel and gaze at me when I stop by their aquarium and peek in on them. They have a space about 100 times larger than the tiny space they shared with a large group of other feeder mice at the pet store.
Slowly they have been venturing out and exploring. We have created a little ladder for them to crawl up, and given them boxes to shred and make little nests and cozy spaces for naps.
They have had supervised romps on old towels. I'm totally falling for the little guys.
What I didn't expect...is to learn that they seem to have quite unique personalities. There's a bold one, a tiny fast one and one who seems to eat all day long (which according to the mouse web sites is not to be encouraged).
Another thing I didn't expect...though they are very small and quiet, it makes me feel good to know that they are making a home in my home. They were bred to be fed to snakes, a practice/cycle I despise for many reasons and were picked quite randomly (they had a special something...), and I really meant to get girl mice, but here they are and I get an unexpectedly warm gooey feeling when I watch them wash their little faces and run marathons on their wheel.
I did not expect this...

three please!

2011-01-08T19:13:00.000-08:00

I have some new little pets. Tiny pets, tiny and quiet and shell shocked. It all started when I told my boyfriend that I wanted to get a rescued rat from the Denver Dumb Friends League to explore training a rat and find out if one would really be good for some of the therapeutic work I want to do (phew, run on sentence). He suggested I think about mice instead. They are, he argued, smaller, cheaper and just as smart as rats, they are sort of "starter rats."
I thought about it...short life spans and according to my research as smart as rats, which are as smart as dogs which are pretty smart, but not as smart as pigs.
So, I made a dare. If I find a cage/acquarium at Goodwill for cheap, and if he agrees to clean the cage whenever it needs cleaning and mouse sit for me when I'm out of town, I will, with his assistance get a mouse. My boyfriend does not live with me, he's in the same neighborhood and lives just around the corner, an arrangement that I recommend (especially when it snows and he can easily dash over to shovel my sidewalk or when I go to school in Denver and he can come over and feed my little dog, Cowgirl).
Now, I have three mice living in the middle, tiny, room that didn't really have a purpose. They are set up in a large acquarium, on a table so they are up high and they are artistically arranged. We found them at a locally owned pet store in the feeder mouse bin.
They are here now. They do not smell. We have fed them all kinds of things: blueberries, lettuce, crackers, birdseed, cereal. I know, it's not a good thing.
I have let them run around on my lap on a towel.

Settling in...

2011-01-01T07:51:00.000-08:00

This is a post about how not quite a year, but more than six months after really and truly settling in Grand Junction, Colorado (and I use the word settling in the purest since as in getting settled, moving in, and making a place for myself), I am beginning to feel at home.
And, it wasn't just buying a house that did it. Buying a house is kind of unsettling, actually. The economy is down, I'm officially only kind of employed, I'm in school. Yet, when you sell a house in one town and you have dogs and you start trying to rent a house in a new town, you come up with some creative ways to be a homeowner again.
Animals, dogs, have always been my primary motivation for home ownership. Dogs make me feel at home and landlords tend to disallow them completely, or charge crazy amounts of unrefundable money for any "damages" that only a very bad dog would cause. My dogs are good dogs.
When I move into a house, I move in slowly. I unpack in stages. First the essentials are unpacked and put into what I call their "first draft" location. They are moved around as it makes sense and as you learn where you want to keep your hair brush, spatula, forks, etc. I hang and rehang pictures and paintings, they may grace a few walls before I decide where they should be long term. Once things are mostly unpacked, the rooms start taking on their own sense of purpose. The kitchen has an obvious purpose, but the spare room, the hallway, I want to walk through them and know that I keep my magazines in that corner and the lamp I love that my daughter made when she was in elementary school is over there. Does this make sense?
That is starting to happen in my new house. I have sort of mastered the garage, too and the little storage nook between the basement and the main part of the house. I found a place to put the Christmas decorations and the birthday candles and packing tape.
The dogs are settling in, too. Cowgirl did this quickly, she knows her home is my home. Phil, who is only beginning to realize that he truly lives with me forever, took a little while before he found his favorite napping spot.

Road Closed...

2010-11-17T07:29:00.000-08:00

We finished the quarter! We finished the quarter! I actually pulled an allnighter. Seriously, I was up until almost 6 a.m. putting the final, final tweaks on a paper and presentation.
What can I say, it's just my way.

After class, we headed back across the mountain...and got about 30 minutes down I-70 and the road was closed.

This was a sign.

A sign to turn around.

So, I head home this morning, after my final trip over the mountain for 2010. After completing all the work and classes for my my 4th quarter of graduate school. There are two quarters left.
Two!
We have this!

Phil loves snow and he has now learned a new word, "car window."

If you're still out there...

2010-10-29T21:33:00.000-07:00

It's been ages...and here I am again, recommitting to blogging. If anyone is out there...
I'm officially in week 7 of my 3rd of 4 10-week quarters. Phil is now either 9 or 10 months old, depending on who you ask.
He was the top of his class in beginning obedience class.
We are now in intermediate classes and the competition is just a bit stiffer. There are older dogs there, older, calmer dogs with owners who aren't working full time and going to grad school.
pshaw.
I'm enjoying the heck out of my new internship at the Child & Teen Center. Sometimes, actually quite often, I wonder how I could have possibly landed where I have landed. I have always, throughout my life worked with people who I could learn from. (Except for my first job, where I learned primarily from my self.)
At the Child & Teen Center, I have thus far, worked with kids who have huge, big losses, developmental delays, or whose parents, family members or dear friends are seriously ill.
It makes me realize how soft I've had it, and I don't think many could call my life, "soft." Nonetheless, when you hear a child tell about how much he/she misses his parent, friend, sibling, how hi/she no longer feels safe in the world, how they feel both sad and happy at the same time sometimes and then how they just want to roll down a hill or run through a stretch of green, everything feels more hopeful. You start to understand how loss is not only a big part of life, it's impossible to escape it. So, we mourn, we cry, we paint and draw pictures, we cry and we feel terrible and then, we roll down a hill and laugh with our friends.
It's simple. At least for kids.

As for Phil...he is a great dog and during our most recent trip to Denver, we drove through treacherous ice and snow and Phil just sat in the back seat, strapped in with his seat belt and patiently trusted that I would somehow get us to Denver. I did.

Phil's current list of words:
Sit.
Down.
Stay.
Paw.
Other Paw.
Heel.
Wait.
Leave it.
Watch me.
Target.
and
Come on, Boy!

We're making big progress !

First day

2010-09-13T20:14:00.000-07:00

As Phil sleeps the sleep of the innocent young pup who just had his first big car ride and first day at doggy day care, I wish I had a photo to post showing how cute he looks, or let's just say, how official and cute he looks in his Ruff Rider seatbelt. He did not get car sick, thanks to the vet, and he seemed to sort of like looking out the window at mountains. I know I felt safer having him in the back seat, watching me, pondering his destiny, trusting me with it.
I felt like I was dialing it in at class today. After a night of dreaming that I was late for class, I left later than planned and arrived in Denver in record time but within in 10 minutes of class after dropping Phil off for his play day and driving to DU and finding parking.
My new pad is sweet. It's in a swanky 'hood and we have to have an access code to get in. There are lots of dogs in the condo, cute ones, so Phil will have some new buddies in Big D.
As for me, I'm happy to start classes again because this year I'm taking the real hard core courses. One whole class focused on Cognitive Therapy and two on Family Therapies and one that will take me all the way to Kenya. I am also looking forward to my internship with hospice again. I think Phil and I will make a great team working with the kids. I'm looking forward to it.
It turns out that most people prefer to work with adults, rather than kids. I like them both, but I love the refreshing honesty of a kid, the lack of or at least lessened pretense, the truth telling before it becomes brave to just tell the truth.
Working with kids makes me feel more honest and truthful myself.

A picture tomorrow, I promise.

Now we'll sleep. In the morning, we'll wake up and head out for a bagel and coffee and some training time before we head back to school and day care again. Life is unpredictably sweet.

In the mean time, my brilliant, talented daughter, begins her post college life in Nashville, going through challenges, and showing how resourceful and independent she is, yet still willing to ask for help and provide it when asked. She's a good one!

Making As

2010-08-18T20:28:00.000-07:00

Phil is resting. His little paws are curling up and he has his skinny little collie legs spread out so that he's about 5 feet long. He's tired.
He aced obedience class.
The king of the sit stay and the watch me and the leave it.
He ruled the day.
Just the other day I was wondering if we could make it through his puppyhood and still be good friends. We will be good friends and partners. I know that now.
Something is shifting and we are learning.

Today I also realized that I'm happy to be on the clinical track. While I enjoy "helping people," I want to do it on a deeper level than I can if I'm just supplying food and housing. I want to do that, but I also want to work on the deeper, darker, hidden complexities of humankind. I want to understand that we all have dark sides and fears and some of us can just hide it a bit better.

If I could remember that every single day, I would do much better in traffic situations.

things catch up with us

2010-08-13T18:34:00.000-07:00

The things, or people, to whom we say "no," "goodbye," "thanks but no thanks," or even,
"leave me the heck alone," should disappear like vapor into our past. They are part of who we became, perhaps, but they should not be part of our now, not anymore.
But that's not how it works.
Today, in an email, I learned of how someone from my "past" is doing. It's not good. It involves bad decisions, tents, poor financial management and drugs. Not that I care about this person, or that they are part of my world, my life, my worries or my days. It's jut that their emotional and physical health, which I learned long ago, were not things I could have any impact upon, effect someone who I do care about and who is a part of my world, life, worries, hopes, fears and days.
We all at times wish the worst for our exes. There is that brief, "I hope he never finds anyone as cool as me," stage, don't tell me you don't know what that is...
Then you move on, realize how lucky you are to be light of foot, free, and not with someone who makes you nervous, or who you can't trust, or who isn't as smart and cool as you and you forget about them.
You go on. You live your life. You change and grow and have experiences and adventures they will never know about.
You forget about them.
Then, one day you hear they have met with a terrible, challenging fate...and you revisit and rethink and wonder what led you to their door in the first place and if that is still in you and if it is, what to do about it now?
You know you can't and do not want to help them, you don't even pity them, knowing that life is a series of decisions and choices and you've made yours and they haven't been easy, and yet here you are, you love where you are, and mostly who you are.
They can't touch you, now.
But you wish they would just dissipate...is that so wrong?

summer school...no jade on me

2010-08-08T19:47:00.000-07:00

Finished my one and only summer class. Four days, two papers, me and my typical dopamine induced flurry of writing the night before. My intervention case plan included rats, dogs and horses and housing assistance and counseling. You know, a pilot program.

I've come to realize that the good thing about coming to professional social work after a few careers that kept me hopping is that I'm not a bit jaded, not even a tiny bit. No jade on me.

That is the good thing about the work.

Not so sure if it's good about school, but I think it might be...

Here's the thing. My presentation was out of the box, full blown, pilot, for a population that no one cares much about. Failed women...women who lose custody of their babies, known in society as druggies, loose women, pitiable, homeless mostly, sleep arounds..

Sorry society but these ladies are just as deserving of a little attention as anyone else is.

Everyone else's presentation stuck to a safer area, dogs and the elderly was big, as was dogs and schoolkids.

I agree with both.

But I want to go further.

No jade on me.

We'll see what grade I get for my caseplan which was called "confidently presented" and in a nice framework, but had no cute photos of little puppies held by old folks (which I love by the way.)

Rats and Full Grown Dogs

2010-08-02T20:25:00.000-07:00

At my first summer course, "Integration of Animals into Therapeutic Settings," I met a wide array of service animals. There were well trained and bubbly Labradors, Timber and Samantha, Rocky, an impressive, full sized collie, and three female rats, Rosie, Ruby and Thelma.

Rats as service animals? You might ask.

Yes. Indeed.

Rats work with people who have no presumptions about where to find connection, people who, perhaps, were castoffs themselves. Rats have the long tail which, if you focus on it, can seem a bit disturbing, but they more than make up for this with their cute little faces and winning personalities.

What animal assisted therapy is: Goal directed interventions where an animal meets specific training criteria and is used as an integral part of the treatment process as directed and delivered by a professional human service provider.

Basically, the therapy operates on the belief that by using animals as a tool in therapy, we can begin to help people heal, learn new ways of thinking, change their core beliefs, and have a happier existence, all the while learning what it feels like to have an animal accept and love you as you are.

Its powerful stuff.

When I got home, I took Phil for a long walk. We came up on a group of kids playing with a parachute outside as part of a Sunday School class. Phil was immediately surrounded. We sat and he seemed to smile at the kids, happy to know them, see them, be seen by them. He didn't want to leave them.

Whenever we go for walks, at least 2 people, but usually more, comment on his beauty and his sweet little happy walk. He wants to connect. My role will be to help him learn how to be the best dog he can be so he can do the work he was born to do. When we got home from our walk, which took us all the way across town and back so we could pick up Cowgirl and bring her home with us, both dogs were muddy. Cowgirl was happy about this, Phil was not.

It's a collie thing.

So I took them to Petco for a bath, where the groomers remembered them both and knocked quite a bit of money off the price just because it was Phil and Cowgirl.

This was important, because, the other thing I did when I got home was begin to get Phil equipped. He (and Cowgirl) will now use seat belts in the car, Phil will have a new gentle leader and his very own toothbrush.

Phil is also signed up for obedience classes starting this week. The first class is Wednesday night and I'm supposed to bring a list of things I love about Phil, things I want him to learn and my goals for the class. I already know what Im going to say.

Right now, I am working on ideas for an assisted intervention (AAI) that can used with women who lose custody of their children, with the goal of helping them learn to create relationships with others and themselves, begin to see themselves as valuable and lovable and gain the confidence to seek custody of their child, or begin a new phase of their life based on cognitive beliefs that will help them be happy, independent and ready to take on the world. It's a tall order, but I believe, necessary. The cycle I see for many women who are homeless or in poverty is a painful one of hope (new relationship), fear (having a baby to seal it), hope (baby is coming), loss (baby is taken away just after birth), and abandonment (they go home alone). I think there is a place for the lessons animals have to teach us here, I'm not sure what it is, but I have four days to come up with some possibilities...
Onward.

what dogs know and remember

2010-07-28T18:11:00.000-07:00

what dogs know and remember
love
forgive
accept

what dogs know and forget
don't bark at the mailman
the neighbor dog can't get us
a loud noise won't get you either.

what people know and forget
love
forgive
accept

what people know and remember
dogs love us anway

Our daily routine - buckets of rain

2010-07-21T07:01:00.000-07:00

Here is how we start the day on Ouray Avenue.

Phil wakes up in his puppy like way, making little noises that sound like a mix between a sigh and a whimper. He is very long when he is all stretched out and he likes to roll onto his back and wriggle a bit before sitting upright. Usually in the mornings, he is on "his" bed, which he shares with Cowgirl, because everything in the house is shared with Cowgirl. She doles out the dog privileges. (I am working on being a better alpha presence, but Cowgirl is a tough one and she still does everything I ask of her.)

Phil and I get up and go to the kitchen. We make coffee and throw the Kong or the monkey around a bit.
Then it's time for a walk, which we try to do before Cowgirl wakes up.
We walk for about half an hour, then it's time for breakfast.

I'm telling you all of this because this morning, the routine was usurped by rain. Welcome, cooling, wet and slippery, rain, so much of it, that walking seems overwrought. Instead, we will sit and watch the rain fall until it's time for me to get ready for work.

The air smells fresh and sweet, result of a propitious blend of mint, basil and olive trees out in the yard and all through the neighborhood.

The question of the day is whether Phil should go with me to class in two weekends, or go to a Denver area doggie day care. If he goes to class, he does have to settle down and behave for about 8 hours. That's a lot to ask for a 7 month old puppy, even if he's brilliant and beautiful.

New post...new theme

2010-07-18T07:42:00.000-07:00

I used to blog daily and some of you used to read my musings. Lately, well, actually, for the past many months, I haven't blogged. I've wanted to write, but found my time spent writing papers on theory and the occasional magazine article. Thus is my new life as a graduate student, freelance writer, filmmaking teacher, intern and resident of the western slope of Colorado.
I needed a new purpose in my blog.
I found one.
His name is Phil. Meet Phil.

.
Some background on Phil: He's from Kansas where he was released to a shelter by some well meaning person who found him, thinking he would be picked up by a loving family. When no one showed up to claim, and without any official Collie papers, Phil was soon set for death row, I mean, euthanasia. Pet overpopulation is hard core, an increasing problem across the country. Few exceptions are made. And yet, some dogs get lucky, dogs like Phil. Phil was rescued from early death by Pueblo Collie Rescue and sent to a foster home where he learned to be a pretty good puppy. I found his picture while browsing the web. I've been looking for a dog to work with as part of my Animal Assisted Therapy certificate in my master's program.
The dog had to be social, intelligent, confident, trainable and beautiful. A hard to find combination. Not knowing Phil at all, I drove over 500 miles round trip to pick him up based on the ravings of his foster parent. It was a gut thing, I just knew he was supposed to be my dog, much like my daughter once knew that Keni was supposed to be her dog.
They adopted Phil, then known as Donny, to me. (Had they known he would get completely lost less than two weeks later for 5 whole hours, they may have changed their minds, but that is yet another whole different, longish story.)

For a month now, Phil and I have been training, walking, running, and getting to know each other. Cowgirl, my 10 year old terrier mix extraordinaire is also getting to know Phil. (This will be covered in a later post, as I have no time for politics right now.)

Phil's full name is Philleas Fogg, after the character from Around the World in 80 Days, who travels around, racing, but never loses his cool or forgets to be kind.
This name fits a dog with a very long nose who is a bit of a goofball, a dog like Phil.

Background on me: I was accepted into the MSW program at the Univ. of Denver last year. I decided to go based on their scholarship offer, the program and again, a gut feeling. I had moved to a little town on the western slope of the Rockies to regain my soul after dashing it about on the rocks a bit back in Texas, and I did find it again. Running the trails of the monument, watching the light change from gold to blue to pink at sunset, living in a small, kind, funny community, has been a big soul healer.
I didn't want to leave.
So, I make a 500 mile round trip commute to Denver once a week during the quarters, to take my classes, so I can live and work in my new town. I have an amazing internship at the local nonprofit hospice, which I could go on about for days, but this is about Phil, and I have friends and a sweetheart and now, thank you God, a home of my own again. I have landed in clover, sweet, green, fresh clover.
Over the next few months, I'll chronicle my path from second year GSSW (Graduate School of Social Work) student with a collie pup, to fully trained Social Worker who can counsel, problem solve and advocate with the best of them, and Phil's path from exuberant joy and curiosity to fully trained doggie therapist who behaves himself and promotes healing.
I promise.
I'll be here, blogging weekly or even biweekly sometimes. It's the story of what you do after, what is next, and how you create a life when your life has already been pretty darn interesting.
My daughter is raised, my careers have been good ones, my dishes all match and I still love the pilgrim soul in me, this next bit of life should be pretty fabulous.

becoming the person without as much to do...

2010-06-03T20:13:00.000-07:00

It' s not as hard as I thought it would be. My mind is always creating a to do list, I just have to remember that I'm not that person anymore, at least for a few months. I'm the person who gets to ponder and tweak and putter and just eat yogurt and read books, if I want.
What i will do with my free time:
Waste it a bit.
Spend it a bit.
Be in the moment, a bit.
Try to be thankful enough to deserve it.
Shop at thrift stores.
Cook.
Garden.
Write and write and write and write and write.
Play with my boyfriend.
Play with my dog.
Make wishes.
Travel.
Day trips.
Unpack and sort and store things.

For many months, every weekend has been about proving that I'm smart enough for grad school. I have scoured papers for typos and grammar slip ups, tried to be a "rigorous thinker", rolled my eyes when other students were worried about what the teacher wanted and wrote what I wanted to. I learned I'm fine, I'm smart enough, I'm where I belong.

it's time for some blogging

2010-06-03T19:55:00.001-07:00

It's summer, school is out and there is much to think and talk about. Watch this space.

Second Quarter, First Day, or Two

2010-01-07T05:06:00.000-08:00

It would be accurate to say that the boom is off the rose. I still love the rose, it's pretty and smells nice, but it's not so new and I'm kind of used to it.

I'm talking about school.
The classes are good so far, but they aren't making me excited.
I know, I know, it's just the first day, of the second quarter.
And, there's that little thing about me, and about how I tend to get distracted sometimes or curious about something else, which is why I had almost three majors in undergrad.

It's still what I want to do and where I want to be. I'm still doing it my way, but not getting crazy.

I'm up early, class starts at 8 a.m., then I'll hang out around the SW kitchen area and try to see some old class friends, then I'll head back over the mountain passes to home.

And that's something, believe it or not, that I still haven't gotten tired of. The mountain passes....covered in snow, the horizon, blue-white and glowing. I only drive in daylight now, after my little incident with the dead Elk, yet I drive, aware, watching, listening to books on tape.

It's still very very good...and in 10 weeks I'll get to take my first Animal Assist class.

Onward to learn about macro theory. I do love the big picture.

Welcome 2010

2010-01-02T05:19:00.001-08:00

2009 was a year of years. It was a year of firsts and lasts, should haves, could haves, might haves and dids. It was a year of wish I'd done this sooner, worried about that less and gone more with my heart and less with my brain. Thankfully it was a year, at least for me, of safety and only minor dramas and tragedies.

Lessons learned would include, go with the flow, go with the heart, don't hang on and don't let go, but not in that order.

There were disappoints in people, myself and others. People who betrayed trusts, people who seemed too interested in what I could do for them and people who said one thing, did another. Thankfully I've experienced these things before so the disappoints felt more like interactions with human nature than personal slights.

I moved last year, settling things in Austin and moving or selling what I do and don't
need to bring most of the right things with me to my new land. I don't miss where I'm not anymore, I was more than ready for a change of scenery. I found a way to do what I love without being leached of all energy and resources. I found a way to make art, take photos when I want to. I have found a way to enjoy film and visual storytelling and teaching without giving up to the beast of what other people want. Mostly, I'm done with that what other people want/need thing.

Blessings:

Family is healthy and happy. Communication is easy rifts are healed, differences, ignored. Healthy, happy, those are big, juicy blessings. Lesson learned: accept self and others on an as is, no returns, life is short basis.
Going to school is fun, field work is funner. I get a glimpse in the lives of people and their families who are traveling through the scary unknown geography of death and dying. I have a window into their lives and hearts. It's an honor, and it's amazing. I'm an A student and my teachers love me. Lesson learned: Do it.
A good man. He's not who I expected, not at all. It's better. He's a regular guy with an irregular heart and the soul of an artist. He's a Luddite, he doesn't text or email which means he thinks about what he says before he says it. He isn't rich or poor, he's cute and handsome and thin and wiry. Honest, loyal and mostly easy and best of all he adores and respects me. Don't know or care if it will last "forever", it's on now, like Donkey Kong. Lesson learned: Expect the unexpected.
Good friends. New friends, old friends, new old friends. Friends who challenge me to open up, be more compassionate, be more humble. I have a room mate which has been, despite occasional frustrations, pretty wonderful. I have a few new good dogs in my life, too. Lesson learned: one is silver and the other gold, all are encrusted with diamonds.
I'm healthy and fit. I've been a size 2-4 for over a year. Size doesn't matter, it's just that I'm stroner and mostly lean. I don't watch what I eat. I exercise as I can. I'm not a regular runner anymore, but will be again when it's not so darn cold. I love boot camps and hard core work outs. I love testing my limits. I love healthy good and the occasional day of too much chips and salsa and an extra turnover. Lesson leaned: Moderation, awareness, nutritional density and will.

Resolutions: The Four Agreements, especially the second one. Have fun. Stay grateful. Trust that intuition.

Rancho Utopia

2009-12-08T23:36:00.000-08:00

I am at Rancho Utopia in Montrose, Colorado, the amazing home of friends. It truly is a Utopia, especially on a snowy night, when a girl's plane is late, and roads are icy and she's still an hour from home and it's almost midnight.

What a good day.

Today, I got to sit in on Ace's voice lesson and meet her voice teacher and accompanist. She'd already proven to me in her performance in Christmas at Belmont, that she's taken her talent to new heights, as well as her vocal range.

This was more intimate, a humble little rehearsal room. Instead of a black dress and tons of makeup and fancy hair, my girl had on sweats and glasses and a headband. She looked about 10 years old. She looked like the kid who always sang around the house for me.

But while she looks young, she sings like a person who's had some life and loss and heartbreak. I heard her pieces for her vocal jury. The last one she sang, had me completely teared up to the point where I couldn't even speak. All three, teacher, accompanist, and Ace, looked at me and I just had to wave them off, and catch my breath. The song was difficult, but I didn't know that, I was just caught up in the lyrics and the singing of it. Her teacher told her that was the first time she'd heard Ace sing it without thinking of how hard it is, instead, she was just singing it, then she pointed at me and said, "see, what you did?" I was on my second or third Kleenex by then.

We ate lunch at a Greek restaurant, felafel's and salad and took our time heading back to get me packed up and off to the airport. It was a sad farewell, but it was time to go.

At the airport, I learned my plane had been delayed for about 3 hours, so I set up my little traveling office and got to work. We were even later and it looked like I would miss my flight from Denver to Montrose, but when I deplaned I was told I had 5 minutes and could probably make it.

I ran and ran and ran and got there just as the agent was closing the doors.
Then I ran down two flights of stairs and down a long hallway and then out a door to the icy tarmac to our plane which was covered in ice. It was an icy trek out to the plane where I joined about 7 others to wait for takeoff.

The crew was amazing, cheerful, even let me off the plane to go use the ladies room when I realized how long we might be there. Another chance for a little run. When I came back the stewardess had brought me an armful of mini pretzels. She'd heard me say how hungry I was.

We landed in Montrose. My car was covered in snow, but as always she started up right away and my windows were soon defrosted, and the car was warm. I drove slowly over the back roads to my Tim and Sandy's mecca, Rancho Utopia. When I arrived, the lights were on and Sandy was there to open the garage door for me and settle me in.

Yes, it's been a long day, and not what I'd planned, but still a very fine day, better than I could have planned. Someone up there must have my back because I am one lucky human.

i used to think...

2009-12-07T21:01:00.000-08:00

I used to think that I needed someone to experience these moments with me.

I'm talking about when I'm sitting in an audience of lots of random strangers and I'm watching my very own daughter perform. There's a hush, a wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, there she is....then she sings, or plays or both, and people are quiet, listening.

Myself, my heart stops, my breath stops, time stops, it's that moment, when I realize I don't need someone there to go "wow, that's great" to make it great. It just, is. Great. A moment in time.

Years ago, these moments made me feel lonely and sad because I wanted someone to take us out for pizza afterwards and go "damn look how cool we are." Now, I know that making snacks and drinking wine and having slivers of chocolate afterwards while we're a bit giddy and a lot happy are enough. Knowing that you're here because I am feels momentous and lucky. The happiest accident.

I used to feel lonely when I was proud. Now I feel connected, me and that audience of mostly strangers, we'll celebrate you together.

A chill in the air

2009-12-02T10:51:00.000-08:00

The first moments after she passed, I walked past her room and there it was, a chill in the air.

A chill, definite and bone tingling, unexplainable by heating vents and duct systems. Yet, when the cleaning lady met me in the door where I stood, she said, it's not unusual, often she feels a hand on her shoulder when she cleans a room where someone has died.

Peaceful, absolutely.
Pain free, yes.

Still, a transition, and the chill is the dust left in the wake, the spin of the wheels, the tread marks of the life that left us to go...someplace else.

Hospice work is for the faint of heart. It is perfect for those of us who think too much. It is right for anyone who can see that we are all more than our bodies and hair style and clothing selections. Underneath all of that is what some call our essence, others call our soul, and what I call, the funky juice of our lives. The memories, desires, worries, they don't live there, this part is all living, present presence.
At least, that's what I think.

I mean...that's what I know because I felt in when I walked past, the chill, still tingling, expanded in the air it left behind like the softest snowy, dust of a life.

here there and back again

2009-11-01T06:59:00.000-08:00

Part 1 - Honda in the Snow.

It was only last week, early, that I drove over the mountains to the big city, chasing the snow storm. My little Honda, content in the right lane, slowly climbed elevation to reach and crest a mountain pass that was noted by the flashing highway signs as having "icy conditions." Phew.

Once in Denver, we made our way to my Denver place, a bedroom I stay in once a week while I'm attending classes. Snow was threatening, much of it.
I got to work, bought some wine, crawled up on my simple bed and got to reading about history and multiculturalism while I put the finishing touches on a 10-page essay.
Phew.

The next morning, I woke up, as usual. I looked out the window. My car was missing under 10 inches of snow, some flakes, some drifts. Snow was still falling outside in that white, wet, cold land that yesterday had been so different. All day I stayed in that house with my roomie and her visiting boyfriend. The interloper, that was me. We ate pancakes and finished off all of the coffee. I shared my honeycrisp apples. Classes were cancelled. ADD set in, and focusing was futile. I made it out for a few hours to get more coffee. Coffee. Yes. Coffee. Then sleep.

The next morning, more snow, more snow, more snow. Classes were cancelled but my flight to Nashville was on. I left early. The house, that is. Down the front steps to where my Honda was packed solid in the snow, an avalanche was waiting to happen. I opened and closed doors and trunk, and big drifts of snow fell. But wait, there was more. Using my ice scraper as a "shovel", I dug the little car out. Snow was up to its little canckles. Snow was hugging it's little tail pipe and bumpers. Snow, snow, snow.
I drove it up and back, and up and back and dug some more.
Finally, we slid away from the edge of the street where there was traction and slush and off we went.

Being who I am, I do not let a little weather stop me. I do not, did not, as yet believe that it could stop me. I respect ice and snow, but I will not be one that stays behind in the storm when a plane is waiting to take me to Nashville. I drove to the little train station, the DINK, the little public transport option. No parking overnight.
I didn't think about it, just drove to the highway and slowly merged onto the icy road with all the other folks who are like me, a little to confident for their own good.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for them, many of them drive ginormous cars and they like to go fast. I once again settled into granny gear and plodded on my way, slowly and surely, the turtle would emerge in once piece, as the story goes.

And we did. We made it across flyovers and through exits and down roads where police lights flashed and other drivers, the "hares" amongst us, were stuck together, fender to door. We plodded on. 10 miles to the airport, 9, 8, another big collision, this one all cop cars, a big PoPo wreck. I waved virtually and traveled on to the extended stay parking lot where I found the very last spot, unloaded my car and made my way to the the little place where we wait to be picked up.
I waited and waited.

I saw movement in another kiosk and headed over, the snow blowing wet and cold, my coat an snow boots back on the other side of the valley, I pulled up my hoodie and trekked over to find a group of cold people waiting. They motioned me to the heater and we waited together...and waited and finally a bus arrived.

Warm again, we unfolded into the bus, sat and rubbed our hands and were delivered at the airport...where I began my second journey....

coming soon in Part 2: Southwest Airlines - they do their best.

Apologies Dear Readers

2009-10-24T16:45:00.000-07:00

I know many of you read this blog. According to Google Analytics, either there are people reading my blog, or spam trolls on it, pretty regularly from the same locales.

I know it's been sparse and that is because my life has been rich and full and there have been ample writing opps out in the real, as opposed to the virtual, world. There is a lot of life happening happening right now. In fact, the Bird Man just walked past my house, sparking off a big dog bark session...sigh.
At any rate, I don't have time to blog so much anymore, even on holidays...or days off.
I'm living and doing.
Grad school is taking a chunk of time and I'm willing to give time to that.
The man takes a bit, too, again, mutual.
Then there's driving to Denver once a week...8 hours.
And sleeping.
And not exercising...that is going to change very very soon.

I appreciate you all and I hope you check this space often. As soon as my first quarter of school is out, I will be back.
Truly.
xoxo

October, Rocktober

2009-10-01T19:45:00.001-07:00

What I love about October,
Honeycrisp apples
my birthday
Halloween candy (but not so much Halloween)
cool mornings
cool evenings
a nip in the air
boot weather
crispy brown leaves underfoot
orange, red and yellow leaves still dangling off tree branches
the dogs are crazy
and I am too.

What I love about school
my teachers
my school friends
notebooks
pens
writing papers
staying up late cause I'm too into it to go to sleep
the people are nice
the guy at the starbucks in avon calls me 'love'

teacher's pet - teacher's pet - teacher's pet

2009-09-24T19:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I brought an apple to class...
No, I didn't.
But the teachers do like me. I'm inquisitive, which means, of course, that I like to talk and ask questions. I love to raise my hand!

Seriously.
We're talking about things that matter...justice and injustice and neutrality and why and where and how and starting where they are where we are and why are we there.

I get a twinkle.
The teacher's love the kid with the twinkle.

Oh,
and
Yes, I do sit on the front row...most of the time.

Internship: Day 1

2009-09-21T18:49:00.000-07:00

The number one rule for Social Work is to protect the dignity of your client. We also fight injustice. We are the superheroes of the world, at least for the people who can't speak for themselves. Negotiating, mediating, advocating, and sometimes pontificating, we are in the midst of it all.
Like the character I created in a screenplay, we are the underdogs who fight for the little guys. Everyday brings a new set of problems to solve and grace to experience.
Today I met three people who would have been left behind, forgotten, the gleam gone from their eyes, their dustball scattered to the winds. All three are old, ill and have few resources. One is cantankerous and spikey, one is silent and confused, one is still and yet sharp as a tack with a twinkle in her eye. She uses words that I love, like copacetic.
Today I learned a little bit more about why I'm doing this. I get to be autonomous, I don't have to be cool, I get to use my gut. I get paid. I do work that matters, not just to someone who wants my work and time, this matters to the world.
Damn I'm lucky.
And my writing and shooting, richer and more interesting.

first day of school

2009-09-16T19:13:00.000-07:00

They are hard, first days.
I drove four hours from Grand Junction. The dreaded long drive from the valley and over the mountain. The very long drive through forests of Aspens just turning gold and caverns and lakes.
It's not so bad. I stopped once to eat a pb&j and I listened to a book on tape all the way there.
In Denver, the cars are serious and fast and hard core. I am not. I have forgotten how to "do" traffic. And that's okay. I have decided that I will be a slower right lane person and I'll happily let the stressed out pricks go on their merry way.

I arrived in Denver and I got lost. No surprise there, eh?
I found my way, as I always do, eventually. I arrived in the parking garage and parked and headed to find my room. The class had been moved but a helpful Graduate Asst showed me they way.

I was tired and bleary eyed and you all know that makes me talky. So, I didn't maintain a cool kid quiet demeanor. Oh no. I jumped right in.
You know why?
I love school.
I love the exchange of minds and ideas.
As we did introductions and as one young Coed after another told the story of how they just graduated or just couldn't find the right job after college, I waited my turn.
I told them of my English degree, my daughter, my travels, my 3 or 4 careers, my work with the homeless and my commute.

Yeah, this time around, I am one of the "alternative" kids. The ones who are wiser and more lived in. Not in a bad way, not like the kids who drank too much and tried to get everyone to smoke clove cigarettes. I'm the one who has lived a full, rich life and as I related it, I felt pretty proud of myself. And, not proud in a bad way. Proud in a "yes, I belong here" way.

I am dog tired and bleary eyed and headed for my Denver home and bed.
This co-ed is tired.

streets of dirt and the scent of silver

2009-09-06T12:04:00.000-07:00

This weekend we headed down to Silverton, and Durango, leaving the high desert valley for the mountains. It's not far, but with two mountain passes between here and there, it takes time, four hours, approximately counting stops in between for coffee and book hunting and looking.

Durango was bustling with bikers, harleys, I mean, Harleys, were everywhere. Their drivers were too, usually with a handlebar mustache, a few tattoos and a lady with a long braid and a black leather jacket. Bikers look mean, but they are nice. They hide behind the leather and the engine, but they must love riding through a mountain pass in the open air, and they must love the smell of cedar and river and sage, so I know they must be nice.

We ate our picnic lunch at the train station, home to two 100+ year old steam engines that go back and forth between Silverton and Durango a few times a day. I think I rode that train when I was little, I need to check on that, but I want to ride it again now. So does my traveling companion.

We headed out of Durango after a stop at the city park where I chatted with a sweet old man who was out for a walk. He wore shorts and knee braces and had two walking sticks and a canister of oxygen strapped to his back and tubed up to his nose, but he looked more vivacious and happy than many walkers I've seen half his age. (Take note of that...) He told me he'd heard a bear 'back that aways' and warned me to listen for it. I didn't check out the bear, I was more interested in an older man with health problems who still loved the feel of cool air on his legs enough to go for a walk with two walking sticks and a canister of oxygen.

I love people.

We headed out of Durango and into Silverton where we planned to meet up with some friends for a bit and have dinner. The Casey Jones engine, the oldest of the two steam engines had just rolled into town and was heading to the water and coal station just down the track. It rolled away and we followed it, down the track, stopping along the way to watch a Silvertonian feed his three huskies and admire a home made out of a caboose. The train engine was filled with water and coal. More people came by to watch this happen.

What is it about trains? What is it about 100+ year old trains with a name like Casey Jones or Franklin? I think part of it is that this train has been traversing the mountain path, over narrow rails for over 100 years. It's history, it's engineering, it's science and math and natural sciences and religion all together. It's not magic, it's authentic, metal and iron and steam and coal and imagination, real stuff.
We were hungry, and that's when I knew that a man who will wait on a dirt road while we watch a train being filled with water and coal for longer than we thought, who is hungry but hasn't complained about being hungry one time, will watch this with me, with a twinkle in his eye, neither of us daring to leave unless we miss the train steaming up to move on down the track again, it a darn good fit for me.

We had dinner at a Cantina, good, inexpensive Mexican food. It rained. The streets were muddy and the sky was pink and gray and blue, all twilight and mountains. It was still raining a bit and it was cold but we had sweaters and we had our stories and with these we headed to the car and on to home.

a strong core

2009-08-27T07:44:00.000-07:00

A strong core is important. Having a strong core affects your posture, the way you carry yourself and keeps you strong and injury free.
When you encounter rough terrain, a mud puddle, a banana peel, a strong core will keep you on track.

That's just the physical core.

Yes, this is metaphor.

I sold my house. Yipee. And yet, the day it all came down, I got weepy and crabby and sad. It's not just the grieving of a past time, past life. It was also the negotiating, the hassles over whether I should pay for termite treatments on the detached garage that didn't have termites. It was thinking about the new a/c and heater I'd just bought and the beautiful hard wood floors and it was negotiating with someone who wanted a great deal, for which I can't fault them.
Yet, a line had to be drawn in the sand.
And, I drew it and it took me down.

Still, when the ground shook and the hard stuff got to me and I was lacking sleep, my core was breaking down. What did I know? Want? How far could they push me anyway? Don't they know what a fabulous deal they are getting? This house is where my kid grew up and my dogs lived and where I planted and pruned and cared for it's bones lovingly. This house is surrounded by amazing neighbors. So, shut the hell up about termite treatments for bugs that don't exist and buy it or don't.

After a night of talking and thinking and sleeping. I wake up feeling different.
Today, I'll sign papers that I feel pretty good about. No one leaves a negotiation feeling like they got the best deal. We both got a fine deal.

I changed almost everything about my life over the past year. I weeded out what wasn't working. I pruned out people who happily slurped up my energy and learned how to nourish relationships with folks who gave back. I started focusing on my own art and writing again. I stopped caring if people liked me or not, so much. I took better care of Stacy.

Today, after a little photo assignment. I'll come home and turn off the phone and the computer and make art. I will compile photos to give to someone who wants to do a photo show on gallery night. I'll emerge this evening, thank you very much.

Strong core work out, today.

where have you been?

2009-08-24T08:31:00.000-07:00

I've been having a busy summer and not blogging.
Obviously.
I've also been selling my house, moving, having fun.
Taught my first film camp here in the valley and it was big fun. Taught a week with Michelle Voss in Austin, again, big fun.

Starting school in about a week at which time this blog, may get a brand new title:
Grad School for the Returning Coed.

In the mean time, here's a few things I learned and relearned over the past year.

1. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Meaning - be who you are, be real, don't pretend. Let it shine, shine shine, that little light of mine (yours.)
2. Be careful where you put that energy. Don't assume because you put in the time on something that the time/effort will be returned, don't assume that because you are there to push someone else's dream into the world they will do the same for you.
3. Put yourself first. This is not selfish. This is living your life. This means sleep, exercise, nutrition and surrounding yourself with people who love you who you love, too.
4. Have at least one pet, but no more than three.
5. Take care of loose ends. Don't leave the cats behind, pay your bills on time, say thanks and say "no". When the ends are really really loose, tie them up one last time and leave 'em alone, cause you are likely to trip over them.
6. Love is free. You don't have to earn it, work for it, curl your hair for it or dress up for it. When you find it, bammo whammo, enjoy it. Oh, and don't think you know what love looks like. Most happy couples are a bit odd and offcenter, be one of them, being younger, older, richer, poorer, fitter, sloppier, then your love, doesn't matter a bit. All that matters is that they make you happy and adore you and respect you and you make each other laugh.
7. It is not too much to ask to be loved as is.
8. Whatever you think inhibits you, will. Do I need to explain? I've met people with one leg who took long walks and relished in their own movement and people with two fine legs who were convince that cellulite kept them from finding love.
9. When you run or ride your bike, or do any kind of exercise, occasionally pretend you are 10 years old and racing the neighbor kid.
10. You do not know how long you'll be here. Every day that you wake up counts.

Now a story:
There's a man around town that everyone calls the "Bird Man". He pushed around a big wheeled trash can full of bird seed and stale bread. He wears sweaters even in the summer. His long gray hair is always neatly combed. He is quiet and keeps to himself. Every single day he pushes his big wheelie trashcan around town and feeds the birds. The birds always show up to meet him.

Apparently, years and years ago his wife and baby daughter died in a car wreck. They were hit by a drunk driver. He retreated into his sadness and lost his job, his home, his credit cards. Grief took him down. The birds, they lift him back up again, everyday.

You could call him a weak, broken man. You could call him a man who found a way to feel like he matters again. He matters to those birds and he matters to this community. He reminds us to be compassionate to the smallest creatures and to each other.

Sometimes I leave birdseed out for him on my porch. When I come home and he's picked it up, I feel like I just heard a good sermon. He goes by "Bird Man, " his name is "Ed."

that was close...

2009-07-22T11:00:00.001-07:00

The days of summer as slipping away. Mine are full: hot runs in the late afternoon, meetings, planning for school, having fun, enjoying time and freedom and wasting both sometimes.

It looks like I'll be doing my fieldwork internship at Hospice. This thrills me and I'll be working with some amazing people.

So, I'm selling my cute little Rosedale cottage and for some reason people want me to give it away. Which I will not do for obvious reasons, it's a darn bargain as is and it ain't no fire sale.

Right now, I'm feeling an art rush coming on, and I've been busy all a.m. following up on film camp and now I want to glue things on paper. Later, I'll meet up with a friend who works at hospice and even later, I'll meet up with my sweet man again.

It's a sweet, short summer.

I love Harpers Weekly

2009-07-14T08:12:00.000-07:00

Last week was a rough one:

A Florida man was arrested after killing a prostitute and asking his fifth-grade son to help him get rid of the body. Britney Spears was upset to learn that there are no unicorns in New Zealand. Michael Jackson was to be buried without his brain.

A truck bomb in Afghanistan killed 25 people, most of them civilians. Seven Christian churches were bombed in three days in Iraq, and U.S drones, likely using Hellfire missiles, blew up another 50 people in Pakistan.

The Aral Sea continued to shrink. Two men who kissed at a Chico's Tacos in El Paso, Texas, were ejected by guards for "faggot stuff," and more than 60
day-camp children were kicked out of a suburban Philadelphia swim club because of their blackness. "There was concern," said the club president in a statement, "that a lot of kids would change the complexion... of the club." A 75-year-old woman beat a fawn to death with a shovel in Euclid, Ohio, and three Georgia policemen were
in trouble for Tasing their waffle-house waiter for laughs.

An explosion at a beef jerky plant in June was expected to cause a national Slim Jim shortage. Wookey Hole in Somerset, England, was looking to hire a full-time witch to live in its caves. A teenager in New York City fell down a manhole while writing a text message.

Osama bin Laden's son Omar said that his father killed his puppies to test chemical weapons, and a Swedish man was found with enough Zyklon-B to kill 42,000 people.

Wisconsin scientists, after a 20-year study into caloric restriction, confirmed that hungry monkeys live longer; German scientists found that pigs can catch swine
flu from humans. Researchers studying Senegalese villagers found that fathers will spend more time with children who look like them, and SpongeBob was turning ten. An analysis of 38 nun brains showed that people with greater language skills as teenagers are less likely to exhibit symptoms of Alzheimer's, researchers in North Carolina found that people who build castles in the sand are at a greater risk
of diarrhea, and scientists in San Diego made a robot head study itself in a mirror until it learned to smile.

-- Paul Ford
Harper's Weekly

the rare july blog...

2009-07-12T21:25:00.000-07:00

I am blogging so little these days...
True, I'm busy. We just put the August issue of the magazine to bed, I'm settling in, prepping for grad school, being part of a fun new relationship, running, writing. The move west has given me a bigger, more expansive life, much like the view from my favorite new running trail.
We had a rainy day and I hankered for a run, so off I went. The trail was muddy, I expected that. I didn't expect the running water over the path. Nor, did I expect it to be so deep. So, Cowgirl and I went to another trail, we still had to wade a bit, but it wasn't so deep. We took the uphill trail, and at the top...was a rainbow. A double rainbow, with little puffy white clouds at each end and a gray one at the crest.
As often happens to me on this trail, I had to stop for a moment and just take it all in. The air smelled of sage and juniper. Earlier in the day, the boy and I had planned a walk in the wild flowers, but were rained out, so we found some rocks to sit on instead, rocks that gave us a view that I can't even begin to describe. When it began to rain, we just sat in it and got a little chilled and damp.

Back to the trail. It was so quiet, the air smelled sweet and there were a few cars in the lot, so I know others were there, but either they were on a far trail, or they too were slowed and quieted by the rain and the rainbow. It felt like the ancients were watching us, a kind, yet slightly edgy feeling.

The week had been nuts. Standing firm on my home that's for sale, trying to remember how it felt to be a buyer, how hard it was, all I learned from that and being strong enough to say no when it felt right. I also remembered the fun/fear of making big decisions solo and the surety of knowing that I can trust myself, even though I might be wrong, life is usually pretty forgiving.

We had a block party on our street last night. All the neighbors were out. The adults enjoyed four kegs of PBR and the kids shared their giant big wheels. I raced them, the kids and I won, but I pretended to lose, cause kids, they should win big wheel races. We were up late, sitting on our front porch with neighbors and friends and drinking beer and wine and feeding tuna fish to a tiny kitten who wandered up (who later found a real home) and feeling very much at home in our street, on our porch, and in our house.

My first week back in a few words...

2009-07-05T18:58:00.000-07:00

comings, goings, love, life, despair, hope.

I'll translate.

I left Texas a bit sad yet that eased the closer I got to my new home and, so excited, I drove my rented Uhaul fast as the wind, but got in late and came home to an empty house yet I soon had a visitor and I soon picked up my happy dog, and then began unpacking and unloading and getting situated and reconnecting and then my housemate got home and we caught up over pancakes and today my beau and I hiked up mount Garfield even though it was probably too hot for it, yet it was so very worth it because of all we saw and how beautiful the world looks from way up there and how fun it is to climb over rocks and when we came back down I was covered with dust and while brushing myself off, noticed a prairie dog hole covered over with a big spider web upon which struggled a very much alive grasshopper and a just about to pounce black widow spider, so I said, "I can't stand to see that" and he took a tiny rock and freed the grasshopper from the web and pulled the frays of web from his little grasshopper legs and we watched the little guy hop away...then we got in the car and drove home.

And the postsecrets are up...

Uhaulin

2009-06-28T00:58:00.001-07:00

Didn't leave Austin until noon in my pretty 10 foot Uhaul. I loaded it solo, mostly, needed it that way so I could sort and cull some more as I went. My judgment isn't usually so great when I'm sorting and culling, now I'm more "western."
I cull easily, but still find myself keeping things I perhaps, will never ever use.

I drove to Fort Worth, for a Mexican Inn Pralines hand off, then on to Granbury, to unload something, load other things and hand out with my parents for a bit. It's always a bit hard to leave. That doesn' mean I'm not happy in my new location and life, it's just hard to leave. I won't miss Austin traffic, the prices, the busyness, the parking, the condos, the condos, the condos and the other condos. I will miss folks, though.

The week was a blur of film camp and dinners and drinks with friends. A good blur, a sweaty, hot blur. I loved swimming in Barton Springs with Dacia after my run in the heat. I loved visiting with Nisha and Kavi and Laura and Lori and family. I loved hanging with my buddy Dennis, who has been a friend since the day we moved in next door to each other. We bought our houses within a week of each other. I loved seeing my other neighbors the ones who now have two cats that used to be mine. So many good people I've known and will continue to know.

In Junciton, there is a busy week ahead. Work, unpacking and celebrating the birthday of someone I'm pretty keen on. It's good to have things to look forward to. I love my work and I love unpacking, even though I'm a "slow nester" and I love that my good friend has a birthday and I get to help him celebrate.

I arrived in Anarillo. Was determined to get here tonight and I sort of made it: 1:30 a.m. The hotels were booking up due to a freak rainstorm that left the city partially flooded and closed a few highways for a bit. I arrived after that, which is a very good thing and which makes leaving late seem somehow planned.
'
So far this trip, that I'm calling the "almost have it all in one place" trip has been all about rolling with the flow, slowing down enough to see people even when it isn't convenient, making a suspenseful horror film with some talented young filmmakers, driving a brand new (practically) Uhaul, getting to Amarillo late than planned but at a pretty darn good time.

Austin = Hot

2009-06-25T06:09:00.000-07:00

In Austin for four days and temps are climbing steadily. 105 yesterday, a record. 105 and it's not even July.

Film camp has been bun and exhausting. I guess it's the girl energy, all over the map, all over the place, unfocused and a bit crazy like teen hormones. It's tiring, I'm telling you. Still, I leave with a smile on my face and a keen awareness that I don't like being "the producer." You know, the one how gets everyone on the same damn page and has to say, "let's get to work." I want someone else to do that. I can do it, and do it quite well, that's for sure. Don't like it though. It's not for this girl.

I'm a creator who produces. Feels right.

So, last night I went for my first Texas run in ages. It was almost 8 p.m. and it was 100 degress. Seriously. I ran for about 2.5 miles, coiuld have gone further, even though the shallow breathing due to the warm, steamy air made it challenging. I wanted to get back though, for my night swim at Barton Springs.

My cousin's wife, who I call my cousin, Dacia picked me up and we headed to the springs around 8:30. The springs are free after 9 and it's an Austin tradition, once the temps climb to swim there at night for an hour.

The water is cold. 68 degrees, and it's a long, slow, walk for me to get into that frigid water. Once I'm in, it's terrific, amazing, cooling, fabulous. Healing? Maybe?
It was pretty darn nice.

Did somethign else I don't usually do...stopped at P.Terry's and got a burger and fries with Dacia. Slept like a baby.

Could I live in Austin again? Nope. Don't want to. It's too full of traffic and people and condos. Not for me.
Visits are perfect.

My house, next door is empty, mostly, and people are looking at it almost daily. It will sell soon.

off to Film Camp Day 4 - We have some more shooting to do!

What would you do for a free plane ticket?

2009-06-20T15:31:00.000-07:00

I have a layover in Denver on the way to Austin. I arrived in Denver at 11. I leave at 7. That's a long time, 8 hours from landing to take off.

The ticket was free. Frequent Flyer. Wish they had awards for longest waiter. I would get a lot of points!

Last time I went to Austin, I drove for two days straight and I arrived feeling like I'd been on a big adventure (which I had). This time, I think I will just be weary.

But I'm NOT complaining.

I'm observing my fellow humans at the airport.

There is the newly minted married couple sitting a seat apart from each other. She scarfs down McDonald french fries and a coke while he looks ahead, stoic. She puts on her headphones and plays with her IPod while he looks ahead stoic. How do I know they are recently married? I can just tell.

There's the mean lady who yells at her kid and another who eats her kid's sandwich. I'm not kidding.

There's the cute family with three young ones and happy parents, rare and wonderful to see them.

I did find the very very best place to hang out here. It's a restaurant with good food and very reasonable prices and drinks if you want them. And wifi and tables near power outlets. I stayed there for let's see....4 hours and they were very nice to me the entire time. I left because I wanted to leave, they didn't give me any funny looks or anything.

Right now, I'm at my terminal. I'm longing for a good walk around, but I'm carrying my XL1 and bag (15lbs) on one shoulder and my other bag with computer and camera and stuff on the other shoulder (10 pounds). It's a lot after a while.

Luckily yesterday I ran hard and strong on my favorite tabeguache trail. I was hot and I was sweaty. (It's rare to sweat here, you have to run fast or you dry as you sweat and miss the benefit of a good sweat, sorry if that sounds gross, it's just true.)

I'll get to Austin tonight. Dennis will pick me up. Tomorrow we'll hang out. Maybe we'll go swim and bike and run and stuff. I want to shop, too and talk and hangout. And, it's possible, it looks good that I might, maybe, possibly have an offer on my house. (hopeful grin)

I'll correspond later when I'm back in Texas, where my story continues to unfold.

This is the truth

2009-06-16T08:16:00.000-07:00

Every week I receive Harper's Weekly index of news. Much of the news is new to me, it includes breif tidbits of stories that may not be on the front page. Since I don't read the paper every day or watch much television, I read it eagerly and every week there are one or two bits of information that make me sit down and stare into the distance and ponder life, the universe and magical thinking.

Here a few news items that did this to me this week:

Johanna Ganthaler, a woman who missed the May 31 Air France flight that crashed into the Atlantic Ocean and killed all aboard, died in a car accident.

Nurses in the Czech Republic were receiving free breast implants and liposuction as signing bonuses. "It helps to improve the morale," explained a
clinic manager, "of both our employees and our patients."

A 16-year-old boy in California was running for city council, and a 14-year-old boy in Germany was hit by a meteorite.

California scientists studying guppies found that evolution can take place in as little as eight years.
-- compiled by Genevieve Smith

peeking in windows

2009-06-15T06:15:00.000-07:00

I'm verklempt (not really, I just love that word), I've been dilly dallying, going to the farmer's market, wandering around town looking in windows, cutting roses from the rose bushes that fill the back and side yards of my new place. I will post photos soon and I mean it this time.

I've been doing horrible stacks of paperwork, unpacking, chasing after a puppy, and yesterday for the first time in ages, I took myself and Cowgirl on a grueling, fabulous 6 mile trail run. The trail is rocky, mostly uphill, and it was hot and the wind was fierce and strong. My sandy shoes and salty skin and red face got me a clear mind, open heart, and big grin. Can't help but feeling like I'm 10 years old on the trail. It's my secret fountain of youthful joy.

I'm off to Texas again on Saturday for a week of film camp and final packing. The following Saturday I'll head back to Colorado, this time in a Uhaul truck, the small one, thank goodness. I've been looking for books I can listen to on tape during the drive and today, thanks to the Writer's Almanac, I discovered someone whose work I cannot wait to read.

Today is the 74th birthday of advertising exec-turned-writer, Ilene Beckerman. She began her writing career at the age of 60, and became a published author almost by accident. She had written and illustrated a book for her five children. She said: "My purpose was to say things to my children one doesn't have the time to say. I wanted them to know I wasn't always their mother. I was a girl, I had best friends, we did stupid things together. I was on a bus with my friend once eating dog bones so people would look at us. I wanted them to know."

She took her finished book to the ad agency she owned and used the machines to make a dozen photocopies. She put them in big red binders, with illustrations she'd sketched in plastic sheet protectors, and handed them out to her children and a few close friends. Then, the cousin of a friend sent one of the binders to Algonquin Books. The publisher called her about publishing it and Beckerman said that they offered her "an advance that had a comma in it. I think I fainted."

From the Writer's Almanac:

The book was Love, Loss, and What I Wore, published in 1995. It's the story of her life growing up in Manhattan in the 1930s, '40s, and '50s, and it's accompanied by drawings of the clothes that she was wearing during that time. She insists that clothing plays an integral part in many women's memories, that they can recall important events or distinct spans of their lives by what they were wearing at the time. When the book came out, bookstores were not sure whether to market it as memoir or fashion. It has now sold more than 100,000 copies.
Beckerman insists that clothes are the least important part of her book, which she considers a memoir. The book contains advice and aphorisms from her grandmother, who raised her, such as, "If you have to stand on your head to make somebody happy, all you can expect is a big headache." And, "It's better to be alone than with someone who makes you feel lonely." And, "You never know what goes on behind closed doors, even Miss America can have hemorrhoids." And, "If beauty brought happiness, Elizabeth Taylor wouldn't have needed so many husbands."

Her other books include: What We Do for Love (1997), Makeovers at the Beauty Counter of Happiness (2005) — containing unsent letters to Marilyn Monroe, Mother Teresa, Audrey Hepburn, Sarah Jessica Parker, and her own 11-year-old granddaughter — and Mother of the Bride (2000). She said, "Childbirth was a lot easier than being the mother of the bride."

I'm off to Amazon to look for some of these on tape.

Happy Monday!

mid week...

2009-06-10T09:09:00.001-07:00

Feel good in my skin these days, I'm rested and ready for the next few weeks which will involve interviews, unpacking, a trip back to Texas to teach at Femme Film camp, and then I'll drive a moving truck back to Grand Junction and arrive in time to teach a week of film camp here in Grand Junction.

Femme Film Girl's Filmmaking Camp is in it's second year. The creation of Michelle Voss who started the program last year, bringing to life something she'd been dreaming of for more than a few years. I taught last year as well and look forward to working with the girls again. Whether mentoring at UTFI or teaching the advanced filmmaking classes or spring break camps, or girls camps, I love working the kids and finding my style in helping them bring their stories out. It's not really teaching, it's really just being the bigger kid in a group of kids.

I've been interviewing for field internships for my graduate program. I've talked to Hospice and one of the hospitals and next week I'll meet with the local women's shelter. My curiosity is stirred by all of the newness and on the emphasis on working with people who are in big transitions, possibly some of the biggest of their lives.

In other news, life is sailing right along. The puppy is growing, the house is showing signs of looking like a real home, the kid is back in Nashville, it's all flowing along downstream. I'm enjoying this time immensely. Even when I try to make things hard they just aren't hard, so instead I'm just rolling along.

Just a Wednesday morning, sitting here at my little thrift store desk, looking out the window, mind full of things I can do and make and be in the world.

back in the run

2009-06-07T13:20:00.000-07:00

I'm back...rested, relaxed, unpacked (mostly) and moving forward. It took awhile to rest up from the week in Austin. It was a week of labor, sweat, letting go, socializing and not enough time for everything and figuring out what I really needed to bring back on this trip.

I left a few things and will get them on the flip trip, in a few weeks.

Cowgirl brought something back with her...fleas. They don't really have them here in the dry high desert, so we know they are imports. They won't last long and in fact, are on their way the big flea circus in the sky as I type.

Life is good.
Getting settled, sorting through paperwork.
Making friends, enjoying a new relationship, having interviews, putting things in motion for what's next.

I'm also running again. Running is just 1 million trillion times more fun than an exercise class. Even if I only go for 30 minutes, it's better for heart and soul than anything else. I love it. I'm back, I'm a runner.

back in Colorado...

2009-06-03T08:29:00.000-07:00

My house is looks different, the one in Austin, I mean.
The Miles Davis quotes once painted on the walls of Ace's room are painted over. The yard looks better than it ever has, thanks to Mr. Flores. In the garage boxes are neatly stacked against the walls. The front porch has been power washed and in the best news ever, the cats are being cared for and taken in by my next door neighbors.

So, when things are supposed to happen, they happen easily.
And, why did I ever have the idea of moving my couch, even if it comes apart, across the country?

Fred and I made quite a caravan. My Honda Civic Hybrid was packed to the rafters with boxes, and Cowgirl's bed barely fit into the front seat, where she perched, at times looking out the window and at times resting and at times, staring at me quizzically.
Fred's red pickup was also packed and covered with a water resistant tarp which, we hope, protected things through rain storms in west Texas and ice storms in Colorado. Twice, no three times, we lost and found each other. The last 60 mile stretch of a 1200 mile trip is always the longest.

I arrived home to the open arms of friends, a brand new puppy housemate, Bertie, and a boyfriend who was very happy to see me. Lucky girl.

This morning I'll start unloading and continue catching up on things and put the next issue of the magazine to bed. this week I'll interview for field internships - very excited about that.

Update: my friend who was seriously injured in the car wreck remains in critical condition, but he's still with us. His son has been released.

a week of archaeology

2009-05-30T19:58:00.001-07:00

I haven't been digging through ancient burial lands, I've been digging through my stuff and finding pieces of my life, lying about, tucked in boxes, stuffed in pockets, laying about like a coaster everyone forgets to use. (hey i like that metaphor...)

This week in Austin has been geez, crazy, messy, cool, fun, fast.

My house is almost ready for viewing. There is much more cleaning to be done. I'm driving a Ford pickup loaded to the gills with stuff. Still, how nice that everything I own can fit in one pickup truck. (that's not really true, some stuff is being sent to a barn for later perusal, but most of it can fit in one pickup truck.)

Mary's wedding today and all of us on my row cried big tears when we saw our dear happy friend glowing and radiant. The wedding was beautiful and I saw many old dear friends and people who are important to me and have made my life better. Some of us ladies even got up and did a karaoke tune (My Girl) just to do it and we got a rousing round of applause. We even started a conga line. It was fun.

Fun is underrated. Fun makes life beautiful.

An old friend was hit by a drunk driver on Tuesday and he and his son are in critical condition. Apparently it doesn't look good for Tommy, but I'm going to keep saying he's recovering until I have reason to believe otherwise. I believe people go when they are ready and maybe he isn't .

I don't understand drunk drivers and drunk drivers probably don't understand me. I don't need alcohol to make me happy or calm me down, I drink it for the taste, because I love good wine. I don't understand driving a car into someone's car at 6p.m. on a school night. I don't understand how a person could drink vodka in the parking lot after work and then just go drive around and run into cars until you send a grown man and an 8 year old boy to the hospital.

I think there are points in a life when a person is open to being different and feeling differently and operating their life differently. That's the only time to catch them and we have to act fast. Maybe that's why I want to work with kids. I also think that when people are losing a loved one, they need someone to talk to and that's why I want to work in a hospital. Then there are people who are dying and making the biggest transition and that fascinates me.

A week of archaeology. Friends and food and stories and stuff and packing and extra large trash bags and a garage full of crazy things and an attic full of surprises. That was my week here in Texas.

travelin again...

2009-05-24T06:51:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning, later than planned, but at just the right time, Cowgirl and I drove East to Texas. We're now in Amarillo. Not sure how we got this far, sheer determination and a desire to not stay in a town called, Dumas, I think.

The week will be full of stuff, moving it, selling it, packing it, sorting it and people I want to see and reconnect with.

Before I left there was a nice dinner at the new place, cooked by my new housemate. (Housemates who love to cook are the best!) We had each of our sweet shy boyfriends there and another good friend and ate and talked and drank too much wine. The next morning, went out to breakfast then just dawdled around, got the oil changed, and didn't get out of town until 11:20.

The drive out of Colorado was gorgeous. There was a bit of rain, but no storms, which gave the sky a deep hazy blue cast and created a few rainbows that peeked out at me above the mountains. The drive through the black canyon is something I'll never get tired of and now that I've driven this road a few times, I am starting to remember the little landmarks along the way. The stretch from New Mexico to Amarillo is still the most vacant, silent, desolate patch, but it's only about an hour long and oddly enough, they get great NPR reception there. Not sure why.

Onward!

bring on the biscuits!

2009-05-22T11:23:00.001-07:00

I'm writing an article on diner culture...so I have to do research...and I have fallen in love with biscuits, again. Nothing like fresh from the oven, white flour and butter, baked to a golden-melt-in-your-mouth goodness. This has taken me to a critical mass level on white flour carbs, so I'm gonna substitute a side of fruit for the hash browns at my next diner meal.

In other news, we had our first two SOLD OUT, gotta-get-more-chairs, screening at ReelTime. The film was Wild Horse Redemption, about the prisoners who train wild mustangs rounded up from herds on the BLM land. It is a gorgeous, inspiring film and I got really happy watching people respond to a film I fell in love with a couple of years ago.

I'm also getting closer to finding a field internship. This may be my big come-uppance to think I'm up for this, but I will learn and I love a challenge. It would be an honor to work with people during one of their big transitions, so I'm looking at internships where I can work with troubled youth, folks in trauma or people in hospice care.

Off to Texas tomorrow a.m. Much to do there, pack and sell and move and transfer belongings and cats.

this is not a tiny thing

2009-05-18T12:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was lifting a desk that I purchased at a Thrift Store in Fruita, Colorado and moving it to my car. The desk, solid maple, cost me $15. The woman at the thrift store remarked, "You sure are strong for such a tiny thing." I looked up at her, quizzically, and she repeated, "You're awful strong for being so tiny."

I've been hearing this quite a lot lately:

"You're so tiny."
"You're such a little thing."
"You're skinny, why do you exercise?"

This is not a tiny thing.

For most of my life, I felt fat. I felt so fat that even when I wasn't fat, I felt huge and awkward and like I had a big tire around my belly. I was at war with my body and I hated that it wasn't thin and trim. If it had been thin and trim, love and life would have been so much easier, so I thought.

A friend told me smoking would make me lose weight, so I bought cigarettes. I took drugstore diet pills that left me numbed out and made everything taste like metal. I kept a log of every calorie I consumed in my head and reviewed it all day long. I struggled with eating disorders. Many days I ate less than 500 calories a day.

I hated that everyone seemed to care so much more about the size of my ass than the size of my heart or the state of my mental health, and yet, I thought they were right. Our culture is harsh to young women. Unless we are the right size, we aren't seen as lovable or intelligent or capable, we're just fatties who can't control ourselves and have no pride.

I'm not sure when it happened but thankfully one day, I had an epiphany. My epiphany was that life is too short to worry about calories and dress sizes. I started believing that it really was true that loving yourself didn't mean you were selfish, it meant you were grateful. I make the decision to love myself, just as I am, every single day.

My body, for all the hate I've put on it, has never let me down. Bones have been crushed and replaced and repaired and patched. Pieces of my right hip are in my left arm. Nerves have been severed and stunned only to grow again and reconnect and blaze new trails to the muscles they feed. I've run 2 and a half marathons, logged countless miles across trails, pastures, city streets and country roads and put my body through it's paces in bootcamps and body pump classes, because these things make me happy.

I love the muscles that have developed in my legs as much as I love the places that jiggle. I love my snugger belly as much as I love the stretchmarks and pouch from growing a healthy 8lb baby. I love my scars. I love the bruises that are currently all over my legs from moving and biking and running and falling down.

I wish I'd figured this all out a long time ago because it's not a tiny thing. It's a big one.

Life in Chapters

2009-05-15T10:36:00.000-07:00

Last night, I'm riding my bike along the river and the air is cool and scented with the sweet smell of the Russian Olive trees along the path, little cotton tails dart across the path in front of me, behind me, the Colorado Monument glows in the dusky light of sunset, and before me, mere blocks away, a Ferris Wheel lights up in the small town I call home.

Across the planet, on the other side of the world, it is morning and my daughter is waking up somewhere brand new to her. She's in Japan, traveling, on her way to the next destination, just sipping tea, maybe.

And, I think...I think about how my life is a series of chapters in a suspenseful, adventure-laden tale. Each chapter a well plotted short story, with it's own beginning, it's own twisty, character driven middle and it's very own, and often open-ended, ending.

I'm in a new one. As usual, I'm slightly surprised to be here but, and maybe for the the first time in a long time, I don't want to read ahead. This is much better than anything I could have made up or imagined.

That isn't to say, it's all making sense and it's all easy and perfect, not at all. It is, however, incredibly beautiful and interesting to be where I am, living this life. It's one of the best things in the world to watch Ace move forward in her life.

I guess what I'm saying is that this chapter is gonna be damn fine read.

Belated Mother's Day post and travel across the world

2009-05-12T07:44:00.000-07:00

Annalise leaves for Japan tomorrow.

Japan, yes, Japan, opposite side of the planet, Japan.
Off she'll go with her little bag and her passport and her classmates, without a hug from me, her Mom. When she called and said, "Can you get to Nashville tomorrow?" I thought about going, checking a last minute flight, seeing what was possible. We'd already decided that this time she could head out alone, she was capable, and our schedules are crazy. But, the truth is, I don't need to see her to see her off. I feel close to that girl where ever she is. As I told her, where ever you go, you're right here (me patting my heart).

Her life is wide open to her and I want her to venture forth unafraid, with her wisdom and smarts and her big brown eyes and hearty laugh. Her naivete will come in handy, too.

Annalise has seen me blot my tears with paper towels more than once. She's seen me at my weakest moments, when work and life and love got to me and she's seen me stand up again and carry on. I think I've taught her the importance of self reliance, good friends, honesty and thrift. She knows how to make a meal out of what's in the fridge and she knows the trick of assuming you belong wherever you are. She knows how to make good coffee, too.

The best thing she taught me is that the most amazing gift anyone can give you is their belief in your potential. When you are faced with the biggest challenges, knowing that there's someone who doesn't doubt your ability to figure it all out, makes all the difference. Especially when it's a saucy kid with big brown eyes and a confident little swagger who does mad tricks on her big wheel.

Happy Mother's Day!

awake is the new sleep

2009-05-07T21:29:00.000-07:00

We are settling into our home. The dogs are bonding. Michelle and I are finding out we are swell housemates. After living on my own for years and then with Kay and Kim, I really like having someone to talk to and sip wine on the front porch with and talk about life with.
There are roses in our backyard. We are only blocks from downtown. People wave at us and a best of all, there's a grey cat that lives in our yard and likes Cowgirl's dog food.

Oh, Cowgirl...she has taken over Bertha's bed. If we don't watch her, she'll be lording it over all of us before long.

God Bless my little dog. When I was unloading my car the other day, she jumped in it and refused to leave it. My car, our car, actually, is her place of safety and refuge, she knows where the car goes, I go. She's pretty remarkable for such a funny little dog.

Tomorrow I'll go to the downtown Art and Jazz festival with my boyfriend. Oh yeah, Stacy has a new boyfriend, and he's pretty sweet.

There is still much to do, but I'm taking it slow and easy. Toward the end of May, I'll head to Austin and visit my friends, clean out my house and go to a wedding. I'll have a estate sale and then load up two trucks, one will head west to Colorado and one will head east to Nashville.

I like where I'm at and where I'm heading and all is well in Ace's world, too.
Gratitude!

moving in....the air mattress wars...

2009-05-06T08:36:00.000-07:00

First, let me say I'm happy to have an air mattress at all. I put off buying a real one thinking I could get my perfectly fine mattress from Texas in three weeks. After one night on the air mattress, I logged into overstock.com and ordered me a fine new temperpedic soft foam queen mattress with two pillows and free shipping.
A girl needs her sleep.
A girl needs dreams that don't involve floating on a plank in the ocean.
A girl needs a bed that doesn't groan and sound like plastic wrap every time she moves.

The new bed will arrive this morning.

Other than that, the house is amazing. The yard is beautiful, the house is spacious, especially without any furniture, and Cowgirl is getting along really well with Bertha, her new doggy BFF. Anytime anyone from the old place comes over, Cowgirl gives them the "oh my gosh, it's been so long, I thought I'd never see you again!" whine. (Those of you who know her, know what I'm talking about, and know that it's sincere.) My housemate works for the BLM and spends her days hiking with Rangers and she's really nice.

Next up, travel to Texas, move things out for Annalise, clean, clean clean, pack pack, pack, put house on the market, go to a friend's wedding, drive back to Colorado.
Annalise leaves for Japan in about a week. (!)
We are so lucky, the two of us. Not only do we have full, rich lives, we are both happy and have learned to shrug away disappointment.

If only, I could shrug away this knot in my back from the air mattress. Still, I'm not complaining, it's no hardship to be here where I am, it's a blessing, the whole messy, wonderful transition from here to there and there to here and here to there and back.

Photos to come.

it's spring...it's all good, yes, all of it

2009-04-28T08:11:00.000-07:00

Wash your hands frequently. Be careful with your money. Be nice to your boss and your coworkers. Smile and floss and settle in for spring. Life will get us one way or the other anyway, might as well not spend it with brows furrowed in worry (which will actually compromise your immune system).

This weekend I move into a real house, me and Cowgirl and our two housemates, Bertha, the ancient Labrador and her owner. The home is a lovely, spacious, Victorian, near friends and coffee shops, just a few blocks from downtown and just a short ride from the trail I love. Cowgirl will have windows and a backyard to rule, I mean, roam. There are wood floors and there is big front porch. I only have about four things to move, so that will be easy, too. I'll go to Austin and collect the other 20 things I own in May, until then, the house will be a bit empty, which is just fine with me.

It is spring time and I'm having spring, here. Tulips are blooming in almost every one's yard. I was up on the Mesa yesterday, working on a story and the grapevines are covered in buds. As for me, I am learning what it's like again to feel butterflies, and that's pretty wonderful.

It is also the birthday of Harper Lee, who wrote one perfect novel, To Kill a Mockingbird.

She wrote, "Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."

I received this poem today in my email from the Writer's Almanac and wanted to share:

That Time of Year
by Philip Appleman

So April's here, with all these soggy showers,
Making us almost long for March again,
As every twiglet makes a play for flowers
And every hack for miles picks up a pen,
Girls all playing hankypank, not soccer,
The smell of oozing sap all over town,
Teenage boys completely off their rocker,
And rutting rabbits diddling farmer Brown.

We're in for it now, nothing to be done:
Loving's what we wanted, what we got.
At least we're going to have a little fun—
With any luck, we're going to have a lot.
Thirty days hath April: seize the day!
Don't trust to luck for darling buds in May.

"That Time of Year" by Philip Appleman, from Karma, Dharma, Pudding & Pie. © Quantuck Lane Press, 2009.

monkey mind

2009-04-24T08:51:00.000-07:00

Annalise is going to Japan in two weeks...what am i going to do about the cats... should I keep the dresser...should i just rent a van... what about the film series? am I doing this solo for real..the articles will not write themselves... I wish I could just sell my house with my cats in it...what do I do about all the stuff in the attic? do i need to paint my house? who do I think I am anyway? i am not pompous... why do people make easy fun things so stupid and hard... I don't want to be the one who always takes care of things anymore... I want other people to do what they say they are going to do...yeah right...I hope I like Denver...it's all good... Annalise is going to be zipping around Japan on a high speed train...are there a LOT of earthquakes in Japan...are most men emotionally broken by age 40 or are they just scared...should I keep the fiesta ware...should I drive or fly...do I need a checkup?

The ramblings of an overactive mind. It' like having a sprained ankle, because with a sprained ankle you still have to move around and take care of things, but you are moving slow and it hurts and the swelling is a problem.

Meditation is a bit of a challenge for me. I am not of the 'quiet mind' tribe. So, I'll step up my activity level a bit, eat right, try to listen better and talk less...but what I wish the people in my life would understand is that yes, I'm a high functioning person, but this is still a time of stress with undercurrents of anxiety and even 'good old dependable Stace' may get unpredictable and giddy in the coming months.

just sayin'

i'ts muddy, but there is a puddle on top with a clear spot when the sun hits it...

2009-04-21T11:31:00.000-07:00

That's how I'm describing my little transition time. There has been much going on...and I don't mean only the do this and then do that kind of thing.

Seriously people, this transition has some logistical aspects, but for the most part, it's also been a transition of how Stacy Lynne goes about her life, what I will and won't be a part of, what I do and don't want to do, and how I do and don't want to live, and who I do and don't want to hang out with. It's all up been on the table. Honest. And, what's come out of it is a fine, fine thing.

It looks like Cowgirl and I may (hopefully will, cross your fingers) moving into a charming restored Victorian home with Michelle, a cool lady who works for the BLM and her dog, Bertha, who is an ancient, wise yellow Labrador that Cowgirl likes to sit next to. It's funny, I'll take a picture.

I will have my own room, my very own bathtub, a corner of the parlor for writing and art making and I'll share a real stove to cook on and a backyard full of rose bushes. Cowgirl and Bertha will enjoy walks around town and to the park which is less than a block away. I will dust off my bike and get myself a pack I can ride around with on my bike for my Macbook. And in June-ish, when I have much of my stuff from Austin and Michelle has much of her stuff from storage in the house, we'll have a gathering which will spill out onto the wrap around front porch and into the Rosy backyard. Mostly, I'm just looking forward to having home cooked meals and bubble baths again.

In the mean time, I must also trek to Austin and get stuff packed and get stuff ready to sell and hand off some JOB stuff to Kat for her turn with it and find a place in Denver for school nights and talk to people about things. I'm teaching two weeks of film camp, one in Austin, one here. I have screenings to do and field studies to arrange. I have trails to hike and conversations to enjoy. In addition, there are logistics, aplenty.

Here's what I'm going to to: I'm going to practice walking through it all with no stress, and with the awareness that it's all working out just as it is supposed to. The more I practice this, the better I will be at it. The better I am at it, the easier life gets. I'll just take care of things, no fretting or fussing. I will be an example to myself and when things get thorny, I'll go for a long run, drink some red wine and sit outside and look at the Bookcliffs and all will be well again. Life's just like that.

My biggest wish now is that the person who buys my house wants to keep my cats as part of the deal.

sunshine

2009-04-20T10:50:00.000-07:00

After a week of rain and chill we have sunshine, the kind you need your sunscreen for, the kind that sits on your shoulders and warms your back and gives you a feeling of sonorous agility. I learned that description this weekend and I think it fits.
I think I've found a place to hang my hat. An amazing place, actually with a porch and a yard and near downtown.
Gotta go put on some sunscreen. I'm going to enjoy running in shorts and tanktops again.

Nine years ago...

2009-04-16T13:24:00.000-07:00

I forgot about the anniversary, until Ace sent me an early morning text message. On this date, 9 years ago, we were spun around and rolled across the 290 five times before landing upside down in our red, 2-door, Explorer on the other side of the highway.
People arrived, looked in our windows at us, saw we were alive, helped us crawl out, called for help, put us in an ambulance and sent us off to the emergency room. I can still see the faces of the people who knelt around me on the grass, the guys in their fatigues, the two nurses who looked terrified. I remember I told them not to be so worried that I would be fine.
I knew then that we would be fine, I'm not sure how or why I knew that, but I did know it.

After a few rough weeks and then follow up surgeries and physical therapy and scarring, we both got to acceptance, which is a wonderful place. Acceptance is what it's all about. It's knowing that you aren't defined by what happens to you, instead you define yourself by how you proceed through this crazy, scary, wonderful adventure that we're all taking part in.

You can focus on what happens to you, the injustices of the world, the unfairness, the horror, the things you want to do over and the things you don't want to forgive. In the end, in spite of it all, it seems that life knows more than I do and that my job isn't to worry about why things happen, my job is to live through the good things and the bad things and accept them and learn from them. My job is simple: live my life and love my life.

Because of that wreck 9 years ago, there is little that I take for granted and there is a deep well of compassion that has served me well many times. I can forgive more easily, others and myself, because I don't think we have time for grudges and slights and bad feelings. We're all fellow travelers, we all have crosses to bear and unexpected blessings. The trick, I think, is to greet everything that comes our way as if we chose it, moment by moment. This makes it easier to love and easier to forgive and easier to give thanks, even for our losses.

Today, be brave, tell someone you love them, forgive, move on, say thanks and hug a stranger, or at least give them a big, warm toothy grin.

it's very good unless we're talking about the pirate kid

2009-04-14T10:06:00.000-07:00

My mind is quietening just a bit. I still have a lot in front of me, don't get me wrong, yet I see it all shaping up, making sense and moving along.

I'm closer to finding a place of my own.
I've been assured I can stay where I am as long as I need to.
I get that teenage feeling these days, the one Neko Case sings about.

My life is good, sweet, fine and so,

I've been thinking about trouble on the high seas and the 14 year old pirate who was taken into custody, the only survivor of the recent kidnapping/hijacking attempt. He doesn't fit my image of an evil pirate, this kid from a desperate, war torn, leaderless country.

Easter Respite

2009-04-12T06:44:00.000-07:00

I have a lot on my mind these days. In the next few months:

I will move into my own Colorado digs.
I will sell my Texas house.
I will sell stuff, buy stuff and move stuff around.
My daughter will move into an apartment in Nashville.
My daughter will go to Japan for three weeks and come home.
I will teach film camps in Austin and Grand Junction.
I will get my own room in Denver for school next fall.
I will visit Denver for orientation and register for classes.
I will figure out what to do about my cats and hope that they can stay on their much loved front porch when I sell my house.
By next September, I will have a place in Grand Junction, a semi-place in Denver, a field assignment and a class schedule.

This list is always in my head these days. On Easter weekend, I'm not sweating the small stuff, and it's all small stuff. Instead, I'm focusing on the here, the now and the true. I'm eating cupcakes, guilt free. I'm going on long walks and taking deep breaths. My cats would approve.

I miss my cats.

Something to think about:
On April 11, 1945, American troops entered Buchenwald concentration camp where around 56,000 prisoners died. One of the inmates was a teenager named Elie Wiesel who went on to write more than 50 books and who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986.
Elie Weisel said:

The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.
The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference.
The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference.
And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.

Good, Good Friday

2009-04-10T07:20:00.000-07:00

I love Easter and it has nothing to do with chocolate bunnies and egg hunts, though they both add to the fun of the day. Easter, for me, is about starting over, not from scratch, but from where I'm at, right now. On Easter, life feels like a short, wonderful adventure and I feel the urge to forgive, forget, start over and say thanks.

Today, I'm also thinking about Capt. Richard Phillips, a true leader and hero.

Annalise arrived in the valley on Wednesday night. Her flight was late, but our friends waited for us to get back so we could all watch the results show of American Idol together. Ever since she arrived, I've been embarrassing her, starting with making friends with the woman at the airport who couldn't speak much English, but kept pretending to open the security door I was standing in front of and just last night when she said I flirted right in front of her. (I didn't.) We've been talking about pretty much everything: our love lives, our dream jobs, where we want to travel, and the big picture of our collective and personal futures. We also made coconut cupcakes.

Good Friday is the birthday for two of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott and Paul Theroux. Anne writes about writing and solo parenting and Paul writes about travel.

Anne Lamott said:

"If you are writing the clearest, truest words you can find and doing the best you can to understand and communicate, this will shine on paper like its own little lighthouse. Lighthouses don't go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining."

Paul Theroux said:

“Travel is a creative act. … The discoveries the traveler makes in broad daylight—the curious problems of the eye he solves—resemble those that thrill and sustain a novelist in his solitude.”

Today, Ace and I will be baking pies before heading out for a night hike in the Mica mines followed by a cookout.

Happy Good Friday - I hope yours is wonderful, too.

lucky's funeral

2009-04-06T10:39:00.001-07:00

As someone who once almost bought a replacement goldfish when "orange" died. (Who would have thought a goldfish from the fair would live over two years?) I related to this... and then there was "flurry."

life = sweet - taste it

2009-04-05T15:28:00.000-07:00

I had the most delicious chocolate creme filled eclair today. Life has been sweet, I wanted to taste something like I've been feeling.

Next week I have a couple of dinner dates and then Ace comes to town on Wednesday. Thursday we'll play catch up and on Friday we'll make Easter Eggs and go on a night hike with some friends. Saturday will be our Easter Sunday and then on Sunday afternoon she heads back to Nashville and I won't see the little punk until she gets back from Japan.

I'm very aware of how fleeting my time is. Not to sound morbid, it's just moving quickly and I am more aware than ever that I do not want to squander it. I may be going too much the other direction, but I've had enough of challenge and difficulty for awhile. This spring I want sweetness, I want clarity and I want to hold hands and walk down main street.

So, be where you're at right now, love it and enjoy it. If you aren't enjoying it, if it doesn't feel right, step away, take a break, and I promise you something will come in soon to take its place. Or, as my grandmother used to say, "doors open and doors close, just don't slam them shut".

that's not in the script...

2009-04-03T11:34:00.000-07:00

This is really hard to watch, so be ready if you push play.

spring is almost, sort of, kind of, here

2009-04-01T22:31:00.000-07:00

For the last two days, it's been snow, followed by sunny and bright. The snow comes and goes like rain in an Indian summer. Gentle fluffy flakes of it swirl around us as we walk downtown or to the post office, or meet friends for coffee. The outdoor patio at the local candy factory, Enstrom's, is a new hot spot. I like to grab an iced tea, or if it's snowing, a cappuccino and then I visit the sample area for bits of peanut butter Easter Eggs and dark chocolate toffee and peppermint bark. That can be lunch.

Spring is here, it's just not completely sure of itself yet.

The fruit orchards are beginning to bloom and the people who own them are up until the wee hours making sure the blooms and budding fruit are snugly wrapped up for the night in case there's a freeze.

There are new faces to smile back at and one in particular that I can't stop smiling at. There are trips to the river and bike rides and picnics during the day and chilly evening walks through downtown to a restaurant and good conversation over sushi and wine. There's the crazy idea that anything is possible, even the impractical and the ill advised, and the even crazier idea that the impractical and ill advised thing is likely the best thing.

my jimmy stewart day...

2009-03-31T08:28:00.000-07:00

Each month, when the new issue of the magazine is ready to go, I load my car with boxes, I pick up my binder of names and numbers and I bring the new issue of the magazine to each of the local downtown merchants in this little town and the two nearby little towns who sell it for us.

Selling a magazine that doesn't have an official distributor in tough economic times is a leap of faith for a small business. Grand Valley magazine is also a leap of faith. We don't cut corners. Each month we release a beautiful, 96-page glossy magazine with amazing art and photography and excellent writing. Each month we sell a few more copies and get a few more subscriptions and a few more advertisers. Each month it's a risk, one I"m happy to be a part of.

This month, our cover features a person, instead of a landscape. Sara is 7 years old. I spotted her at the gym where I was helping a photographer shoot the grown up boxers. I started taking pictures of her and then suggested he do the same and there she is this month, our cover girl. She was inspired by Rocky movies. When she saw the magazine with her picture on the cover, she was speechless and just nodded and grinned. (FYI: Her twin sister, who is all glitter makeup and pink ribbons, is an ice skater.)

Sure, I'm mainly a writer/photographer for the magazine. My official title is "photo editor." Still, on delivery day, or my "Jimmy Stewart day", it's all about catching up and collecting stories and saying hello.

The local history museum is closed on Mondays and they are a new location for us. When I showed up at the back door with my binder, the curator took one look at me asked if I was....wait for it....the health inspector. Now he knows who I am and I left with an invite to come back anytime, no ticket required.

I used to get a little nervous at the bike shop. It's where I met my first Colorado crush, the kind of crush where you don't know the person's name, but you love the little tattoo on the back of their knee and the way they walk around their bikes looking all cool and happy. Later when you run into them at the grocery store and on the running trail, you realize they are a regular person after all and the crush fades a bit into a nice little smush and you realize you've moved on, a bit. Now when I go in the bike store, we talk about why red bikes are the best and I get tips on trails to take as soon as the weather clears up a bit.

Gelato Junction is the only gelato shop, that I know of, on the western slope. As you can imagine, business is slow at a gelato shop in Colorado in the winter months. The slow time has given them time to play with the flavors a bit. Yesterday, I tried chocolate jalapeno, it was pretty great, better than sweet corn, which is much better than it sounds.

Last month, both the bike shop and the gelato shop sold their first copies of the magazine. For months they had the display, but nobody bought any. I'm taking this as proof that spring is almost here and the economy is starting to shift just a bit.

For several weeks, I occupied the back table at Coffee Muggers almost every afternoon. It was my office. I had to switch to another coffee shop recently because I knew too many people coming in and couldn't get any work done and didn't want to seem rude all the time. When I stopped in yesterday, to bring the new magazines, I was told that someone had left a prepaid cup of coffee for me. It's that kind of town, sweet.

At Alidas, I always get compliments from the farmer/owner and several samples of peaches and apricots dipped in white chocolate. (These are very good.)

Mostly, on my delivery days, I talk to people. It make me happy to make these connections, and get samples and share stories, it's just nice to know some of the people that make up a town.

There have been lots of sweet moments here lately. I'm enjoying spring in a place where you can feel the shift of the season in the weather, as well as in the people.

in spring

2009-03-29T00:49:00.001-07:00

In spring, the answer is always yes. According to my old friend Jim, the answer in any season is always yes. I think this means to welcome all of the life that comes your way. Welcome the easy, simple, sweet moments and the confusing, painful, challenging ones.
I can easily get behind this view that life is an adventure and we must detach from what we expect it to be and welcome all of it.

The challenge comes from those moments that hang somewhere in the middle. The ones that are sweet and easy, yet confusing and potentially painful. The ones that sneak up on us and bring us the thing we want in a package we hadn't expected.

Do we say, "yes" to those, too? Or, do we send them back and hope they come again in a tidier package?

I'm not sure.

I'm welcoming the challenge of figuring this out, I'm saying yes to the challenge as I scratch my head at the rest of it.

So, we grow up, we become more careful, sensible and predictable, we are less open. A friend jokes that we become more "realistic" as we get older, basing our idea of what is "real" on what seems "safe."

In my early youth, I thought nothing of trekking off into the unknown, in fact, I thrived on it. I was willing to make a fool of myself and unafraid of getting my heart broken or losing my way. I knew I would land on my feet and have new stories to tell about it.
At heart, I'm still like that. The challenge now is to remember that while being open to the unexpected makes me a little vulnerable, it also makes for new experiences, which I welcome and for which I'm ready.

So, yes, I think the answer is always, yes.

This spring, the daffodils are already up and blooming. It's light outside until 8p.m. and the sky changes color about 10 times between dusk and sunset leaving me plenty of time to enjoy all the season is bringing my way.

Happy Birthday Joseph Campbell

2009-03-25T23:43:00.000-07:00

Joseph Campbell went to see Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show at Madison Square Garden, when he was a boy and became fascinated with Native American mythology. He went to Columbia University, where he was a track and field star. He got a scholarship to study in Paris, and there he met Sylvia Beach, the owner of Shakespeare & Company bookstore. She introduced him to James Joyce's Ulysses, which she had published herself. He spent a year in Munich, and he became interested in Freud, Jung, Mann, Goethe, and Hinduism. He returned to America, and he said that he was "just in time for the Wall Street crash and a long season of no jobs." So he moved to a cabin in Woodstock, New York. He spent five years reading, splitting his time between New York and Carmel, California, where he became friends with John Steinbeck.
Joseph Campbell said, "Myths are public dreams, dreams are private myths."
And, "We must be willing to get rid of the life we planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."
-from The Writer's Almanac - Garrison Keillor

jumping off bridges in The Independent

2009-03-25T08:59:00.000-07:00

An article in the independent with a few quotes from me. The thing is, interviews tend to leave out the team factor. I always stress the fact that we had a team to pull off our self distribution, but people tend to leave that part out. It is, in fact, unquestionably, the most important aspect of filmmaking. So, here's my shout out to the Tiny Tigers: Kat, Leslie and Tracy (and me). That's what we called ourselves in our weekly meetings around my big oak dining table where we planned our strategy and took turns writing on the white board Kat absconded from her day job.

news

2009-03-24T22:52:00.001-07:00

In just a few hours it will be Wednesday and I've got three full days ahead of me and deadlines and photos to sort. It's the busy time again.

Next week, I'll do a screening of Trouble the Water for the local alternative high school, then head to Denver on Thursday for new student orientation on Friday.

And that's my news.

I'm going to graduate school. I was accepted into the University of Denver (DU) Graduate School of Social Work. They included a scholarship, which makes it even easier to say yes. (I know...almost everyone gets a scholarship...) My focus will be animal assisted therapy and youth/trauma and I have a lot of ideas on how to put that into practice. I'll take classes on Thursdays and Fridays and commute from Grand Junction once a week or as needed.

I have had plenty of jobs that required me to manage projects and teams and move logistical mountains and keep everyone happy and report in and ship the product on time and under budget, etc. It was good for me at the time, I just don’t want to do that anymore.

I always left the homeless shelter thoroughly exhausted and with a big smile on my face. There were good days and heartbreaking days and I could go on and on about the people I met and how inspiring they are, but the simple truth is, this kind of work makes me happy, I have a knack for it and there is a need for it. I need credentials and more training to do it in a bigger way.

I'll always write, that's a given.

Even if I never make another film, I'll teach film making and incorporate film into my life just as I am now. We can't help but bring all of our experience with us to each new endeavor.

It's time for bed. I have articles to write and pictures to take and people to meet. My bootcamp experiment continues tomorrow and my muscles are still sore from Monday and the classes last week. After this week, I'm going back to the trails.

If you take just a few minutes and watch this, you'll feel better about everything, I promise:

Ron Meets Chad Everett from How's Your News? on Vimeo.

spring is sliding in....

2009-03-23T10:17:00.000-07:00

Woke up late today, darn it! I slept longer than I've slept in weeks, I know I needed it, but I also wanted to get a super early start and 9 a.m. is slacker wake up time.

I can feel the shift to the new season and for me it will be yet another one of logistics and tasks and changes. I'm up to it, of course, still, I want to enjoy it, rather than get through it.

I've been doing bootcamp work outs at the gym rather than runs, mainly due to schedule and light and weather. The difference is pretty startling. There is new definition in my legs and my arms and my core. The classes are incredibly hard, but there's something about feeling physically taxed that I need right now. I get up, work at home, go to bootcamp, then head to one of my fave coffee shops and hunker down and write, sort, take care of business.

I'm currently without most of my possessions, and I'm wracking up experiences faster than I did when I was in my 20's, so I have to say that I could have saved them the trouble of creating a study like this: Experiences make us happier than possessions.

off to bootcamp...

sleepy

2009-03-22T19:23:00.000-07:00

Fun day. Thankful for my honda, my dog and places to go. I took my time, stopped often and looked for petroglyphs. Stayed off the main road there and back. After a little more research, I'll finish the story.

Much to do next week, including finalizing articles and working on a new project.

I got home in time to experience my first western Colorado dusty cold front. The wind was blowing hard, stirring up dust and rocks and making the sky orange and bringing the temperature down about 15 degrees.

Very sleepy tonight, will tuck in early.

can't sleep, up early, off to Moab

2009-03-22T06:37:00.001-07:00

I sure do need a roadtrip. Maybe I'll catch some pretty morning light and be grateful for the fact that I keep waking up so darn early.

I bet you would too...

2009-03-21T23:21:00.000-07:00

If you were at a party and had been unable to shake a wistful sadness that had been lingering for days and you did not want any birthday cake or beer or to discuss why or how or the bigger picture, and an attractive youngish man told you he thought you were beautiful and had been getting up the courage to tell you so all night and if he then kissed your hand and led you to the willow tree where he asked if he could kiss you, just once, and then once more, I bet you'd tell him "yes."

I did.

Tomorrow, I'll take my funny little dog on a road trip. We're taking the back road to Moab where we'll see petroglyphs, Castle Canyon and Fisher Peak before visiting the little bookstore and coffee shop and wandering around the bike shop. If I'm lucky, the funny store that sells crystals that is always closed, will be open, but if it's not, that's okay, too.

For the record, a bravely asked for kiss is just harmless enough to make a girl feel better, smile bigger and think more positively about just about everything and while earnest flattery won't get you anywhere, it might just get you a kiss or two under a willow tree. And, while the wistful sadness is likely to return, there's hope that it will have less of a punch.

saturday...

2009-03-21T11:31:00.000-07:00

It's sunny and beautiful outside, took cowgirl to the river and she took an early morning swim, it's spring and it's almost April and I can't wait for the next season to start so this one can truly be over and put to rest. I need a roadtrip, my soul needs adventure and my heart needs a vacation.
I wish I could go travelin with these guys.

The Mountain Climb from How's Your News? on Vimeo.

workin on a dream...

2009-03-19T22:41:00.000-07:00

We were all in the parking lot, talking about God, belief, dreams, physics and love, in the way you can talk about these things only on an early spring night when the air is cool and breezy and the stars are out. It was one of those accidental gatherings of people who you've always liked but haven't had a chance to talk with all at the same time. So we stayed late and when it was time to go, one left, then I hugged the other two and then found myself sitting in the grass, just me and the last one and his dog, talking some more.

Did I mention it was a cool, spring night?

I'd just come from the second screening of Trouble the Water. It's a hard film to watch, a film that stays with you, an "important" film. It's a sad film, with a lot of hope, perfect for early spring.
Our second audience left almost immediately, no discussion. Our first audience stayed and stayed, and wanted to talk and discuss. Different times and different folks creates a difference audience.

Before that, I'd been to an appointment, and before that, tried to bring in funds for our Reel Time series on air. I'm not so good at that. I'm more persuasive in person.

Before that, I'd been part of a screening of Before the Music Dies with a group from the local alternative high school. These are the kids who look a bit too tough and unflappable, to be so young. They hang their heads and wear their clothes purposefully and don't smile easily. Today, they listened, asked questions and talked about the music they love and they thanked me, which isn't easy for kids who like to pretend they are cynical, and they told me we had the best concession stand of any theatre. (It's true...)

So, it was just one Thursday, a Thursday I had decided would be a good one, a busy one, one where I would watch movies with people and talk about it and be thoroughly and happily tired at the end of the day.

Still, I didn't anticipate the end of the evening, petting the dog and talking about God and getting an invitation to dinner. I'm home now, the dog is fed, the wine is poured and Bruce Springsteen will be on the Daily Show in just a bit. I love Bruce's laugh, by the way. He sang Working on a Dream, and played his harmonica and gosh I wish I could just hang out with him and Patty over drinks some time...

Pretty sweet Thursday...

Thanks...

Elmo

2009-03-18T22:38:00.000-07:00

Driving home last night, I came to an intersection full of flashing lights, pacing police officers, flares and emergency vehicles. A car, a small one, was upside down, the driver's side door was 1/3 it's usual size.

I talked to an old friend on the phone yesterday, he told me the son of a friend of ours had tried to kill himself, he was fine now, but it almost worked. He's 18.

In my old neighborhood in Austin, a man barricaded himself in his house, threatening to kill himself and playing his music so loud all the neighbors came out of their houses. A swat team was there, trying to figure out what to do about it.

When I got to my little house, Cowgirl was so happy to see me she almost did a backflip. The sun had set over the river behind my place, the stars were out and for some reason, some crazy quirky stroke of luck, I'm able to look at them.

My body is sore from taking bootcamp classes at the gym and trying to keep up with the guys on the trail, but it makes me feel alive and it reminds me of what is most important to me these days and that is just moving forward, step by step, jumping over a puddle when I need to, stopping to look at the view sometimes, and staying grateful.

I do have good news, but it will have to wait, I've got a big day today. We're screening three films at the Radio Room, one is for a local alternative high school class. I love it when the kids talk about films. Looking forward to it.

Tonight was a reminder to drive slower, tell the kids they're okay and be nice to all my neighbors, because we just don't know how long we get to be here.

Watch this it will probably make you laugh:

legends and storytelling

2009-03-17T07:03:00.001-07:00

I'm not entirely certain about my official ancestry beyond the 6 generations of Texans. My grandfather, a storyteller and a historian with a tendency for embellishment, told me once that some of our relatives were from Ireland. According to him, they left during the potato famine and moved to Wales. This made us, he told me, "a little Welsh and a little Irish with a side of blarney." (My grandfather also had me convinced that some of the buttons on the dash of his VW bug would cause it to jump over fences. I argued the truth of this pretty often - to friends who didn't have grandfathers with specially equipped Volkswagons.)

My family is just enough Irish to be a bit short and sturdy in the legs. We're good peasant stock, and proudly so. In fact, if we discovered we came from royalty, it would be quite disappointing.

In honor of my supposed Irish ancestors, I decided to find out a little bit more about St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland and the reason we celebrate St. Patty's day.

First of all, he wasn't Irish. He was likely born in Scotland, England or northern Wales. When he was 16, he was captured by Irish raiders and sold as a slave in Ireland. His time as a slave led to his spiritual conversion.

I found the following in the History of Saint Patrick:

He ran away from his owner and travelled 200 miles to the coast. His initial request for free passage on a ship was turned down, but he prayed, and the sailors called him back. The ship on which he escaped was taking dogs to Gaul (France). At some point he returned to his family in Britain, then seems to have studied at the monastery of Lérins on the Côte d'Azur from 412 to 415. He received some training for the priesthood in either Britain or Gaul, possibly in Auxerre, including study of the Latin Bible, but his learning was not of a high standard, and he was to regret this always. He spent the next 15 years at Auxerre were he became a disciple of Saint Germanus of Auxerre and was possibly ordained about 417
...

It is said that in visions he heard voices in the wood of Focault or that he dreamed of Ireland and determined to return to the land of his slavery as a missionary. In that dream or vision he heard a cry from many people together "come back and walk once more among us," and he read a writing in which this cry was named 'the voice of the Irish.' (When Pope John Paul II went to Ireland in 1979, among his first words were that he, too, had heard the "voice of the Irish.")

He ordained priests, set up dioceses and founded monasteries. He was known to be a man of great faith with a passion for preaching the Gospel. He was very humble, and near the end of his life, he wrote, "I am Patrick, a sinner, the most unschooled and least of all the faithful, and utterly despised by many."

In the prayer-poem ‘The Deer's Cry’ or ‘St Patrick's Breastplate’, attributed to St Patrick, the saint turns himself and his companion Benén into wild deer . The enemies who wished to ambush them saw only a deer with a fawn. Here's a tiny bit of that poem:

I bind to myself today
The power of Heaven,
The light of the sun,
The brightness of the moon,
The splendor of fire,
The flashing of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of the sea,
The stability of the earth,
The compactness of rocks.

those very bad good days...

2009-03-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

Today was my cousin Jack's birthday. He's 9. He had a birthday party, but nobody came. This is hard enough for adults, for a 9-year old, I don't even want to think about how it must have felt. The invitations went out and people said they were coming, but they didn't.

The thing about Jack is that he's the tough one, with a heart as big as, or perhaps, bigger than the states of Texas and North Carolina combined. He's tough, and he's sweet (brilliant, cute, and perfect, if you ask me.)

I know how Jack felt.
I had a similar day.

People think I'm tough and resilient, too. And, they're right. Still, even the tough and resilient among us, like me and Jack, get a little tired of it. It would be nice to count on things sometimes, which might be possible if we didn't live on Earth, which is a planet of chaotic change and serious transitions.

Still, as we all know, or have come to learn, it's the times when you know what you want and you like where you're at and you put yourself out "there" with all of your frail human stupidity, that you are at your most resilient and your most vulnerable. And, while it sucks, it's also okay. It's kind of the point, really.

So, the rest of the story is that Jack's Mom called his church friends and soon the house was full of almost 20 9-year old kids enjoying a chocolate cake, 2 dozen cookies, 2 pans of brownies, and 12 kinds of ice cream toppings for sundaes.

As for me, I had a long talk with my cousin Sam and a few of my best friends and it was better than all of the above. I always feel better than I talk to my cousin Sam, especially when he's surrounded by some of his cute Marine buddies. It's just good for a girl's soul.

So, the point of this hard, very bad, good day is that most of us aren't made of non-stick Teflon, and to carry that very bad analogy a little further, it's better, most of the time, to get a little bit of the mess of life all over us than to avoid it. And, of course, it's always worth having the party even if nobody comes, because your friends will always show up. They may be late, but they'll be bearing gifts and pans of cupcakes and brownies.

And, tomorrow, I'll share some very good news.

time between

2009-03-12T09:02:00.000-07:00

I have been so busy this week!

That's a lie...
It's been a slow week for freelancer. It's a quirk of mine that I like to stay occupied, I like to have something to ponder, play with, work on, figure out or solve. When I don't, I get into trouble. So this week I was happy to get the taxes done, write the proposal and budget for film camp and just clean up my space. I know this time between projects is fleeting, I'll be busy again.

Bernie Madoff has been on my mind, too. I couldn't wrap my mind around how he could lie so well for so long to so many people. Did he sleep at night? Did he look people in the eye or did he keep to himself? Did he talk in his sleep? Did his wife know? Did people know and just not tell? Did he have help?
He seems almost relieved to go to jail. If only he could make things right again for all the people who trusted him with their retirement and education funds and budgets. He'll likely die in prison, but I think it would be better if he had to get a job, a hard, dirty job, and give all of the money toward paying people back. I know he'd never make a dent in what he owes, but that isn't possible anyway.

Tell Us Your Good News

2009-03-07T13:39:00.000-08:00

On Friday, Bryan Williams, anchor of the nightly news put out a special request for viewers to send him stories of good news. The response was overwhelming and will be featured every Friday on NBC Nightly News.

You can send in your own good news story here.

Here in Grand Junction, there are posters at most of the street corners with messages like, "Smile", "Stay Positive", "Be Happy!". They are written in crayon and marker on bright colored paper.

Bosque Brown - Phone Call - Live

2009-03-07T10:11:00.000-08:00

BOSQUE BROWN - "Phone Call" live from James M. Johnston on Vimeo.

James M. Johnston, posted this on his blog. He produced and shot this live performance of Bosque Brown's Phone Call. Mara's voice is beautiful and haunting as always.
More on the shoot.
Extra points to anyone who can guess how Bosque Brown got their name...

A new season.

2009-03-05T23:08:00.000-08:00

It's been warm and sunny here on the Western slope. The days are longer, too. Today, I didn't start my run until after 6, which was about 40 minutes too late, as we, the dogs and I, ran about a 1/4 mile in the near dark, arriving at the car just as the night bikers were heading out on the trails, head lamps glowing. Still, a week ago, it was dark by 6 pm.

Last year at this time, I was prepping to be on a SXSW panel and Kat and I were about to bid adieu to Storie Productions, and I was thinking about what to do next.

Here I am. I'm doing that thing I was going to do next.

People from Vermont are living in my house and taking care of my cats. I'm working for a magazine, applying to graduate school, running around this beautiful new terrain, figuring out things that I've never been able to figure out before, or at least getting closer.

My routine used to be more predictable. Now, I make it up almost every day. One of my favorite days is at the end of each month when I take the fresh new magazines around to the downtown stores. I feel like I'm in a Jimmy Stewart movie because here, conversation is connection. At every business, we catch up on our news, and at most of them, I leave with something: a piece of apricot fudge, a sample of gelato, a free cup of coffee, or an idea for a story. It's pretty sweet.

I've had a slow, between-assignments week, and as usual, I've been coming up with new things to do, but in a different way. I'm working up a proposal for a local film camp. I'm heading up to the Mesa to see the snow or to the trails and the monument, just to look around some more. I'm calling friends to catch up. And, every time I pass by a certain neighbor's house I'm thinking about the little audio project I want to do about them.

I even gave Cowgirl and Izzy baths today. Cowgirl chased a rabbit on one run last week and on another, tried to herd a gaggle of geese. She seemed a bit confused at first when they all flew away, but ran back proudly, wagging her tail and smelling of geese. Izzy got into something too, we aren't sure what, but she didn't smell right.

This weekend, I'll take a little road trip. I'm writing about the back road to Moab and on the way between here and there, I'll stay in a resort. This is my work. The back road to Moab is supposed to be breathtaking and stunning and something I'll never forget. I might even set some roadside insights along the way.

I know I've got it good right now.

It's very different, this new life. My work has always consisted of big jobs: move a mountain, ship a product no matter what, make it happen against the odds, on schedule, or better yet, ahead of schedule, for less money. My resume is full of big things I took on and took care of. I had big problems to solve and I liked solving them, it was fun.

I don't do that anymore. I don't haggle or prod or cajole or convince or stay up all night thinking about new ways to make something work that maybe shouldn't work.

It's downstream now. Things still get done and life still moves forward, steady and sure. Now, though, it's gentler, more patient and less full of noise and distractions.

It's not quite springtime here, but it feels like spring has already arrived.

Tender Mercies

2009-03-04T19:37:00.001-08:00

Horton Foote passed away in his sleep last night. He was 92 years old.

I saw him once from a distance. He introduced To Kill a Mockingbird at the Paramount Theatre in Austin. He was on my list of people I'd like to to take a walk with.

Horton Foote was a storyteller. He told stories about ordinary people, their fears, their losses and their redemption, which came through love, of course. His stories were set in the made up town of Harrison, Texas, based on the town of Wharton where he grew up.

Horton Foote married Lillian Vallish in 1945. They had four children. Lillian died in 1992.

“My first memory was of stories about the past — a past that, according to the storytellers, was superior in every way to the life then being lived,” Foote wrote in 1988. “It didn’t take me long, however, to understand that the present was all we had, for the past was gone and nothing could be done about it.”

the rest of the story

2009-03-01T08:22:00.001-08:00

All four of us were stuffed into our little green pinto or when we upgraded, some four door Pontiac or other, on a 14 hour trip from Texas to Alabama to visit my grandparents. The worst part would be the miles and miles of pine forest in East Texas, which my Mom loved, but to me just went on forever, pine tree after pine tree after pine tree, with no breaks in between. My Dad had his window down, so he could smoke. My brother and I would be in the back seat, staying within the imaginary boundary between our sides of the back seat, not fighting or glaring at each other, just sitting. I couldn't read in the car, nervous stomach, so I just looked out the window, which I liked, except for the pine forest part. My Dad tuned the radio to AM talk shows, country stations, the weather and the news, and sports. There was a bright spot on the radio sometimes, and that bright spot was Paul Harvey. When I heard his voice, I perked up, asked Dad to turn up the volume and listened to the rest of the story.

Paul Harvey wasn't perfect and as I grew up, I would see how different our views on almost everything were and are. He was still a fine storyteller and story finder. In the days before the web, he found stories by digging and earning the trust of strangers. I thank him for telling the stories that got me from Texas to Alabama with much to think about along the way.

good news friday

2009-02-27T23:10:00.001-08:00

Another week gone by, a crazy one. Last minute shuffles and details. Taxes and phone companies and organizations to talk with and about.

Tonight, I went to see Todd Snider, scored two, then three, press passes, using my winning smile and Grand Valley Magazine and KAFM connections. In truth, I wasn't that thrilled to be going after Mr. Snider didn't show up for his radio time today, but felt I needed to be there and my friend was really excited to be going. So, I went.

The opening act, a 21 year old country alt singer from Austin, Johnny Burk. He's very good. After a couple of songs, he brought out his backup singer who turned out to be a friend from Austin, Savannah Welch, on day 1 of her 10 day tour opening up for Mr. Snider. As they finished their last song, I snuck to the side of the stage and dipped behind the curtain as soon as they left.
Savannah saw me and we were in mid hug when the security guy came up and said, "I was about to throw you out, but it's all cool." Then he slunk away, smiling.

I haven't seen Savannah, who was a lead in jumping off bridges, since I met John Sayles, which was this time last year, I think. She was working at the Continental Club and brought me a free drink.

It's good when the world shrinks up a bit. I like it when the world seems small. I like that a lot.

In other news this week:

A man who ran into traffic to push three people, two of them elderly women, out of the way of a pickup, won't be getting a ticket for jaywalking after all.
Obama will get us out of Iraq in a little over a year.
Stacy figured out her five year-ish plan, sort of.

everything is amazing and nobody's happy

2009-02-25T11:00:00.000-08:00

My "real age" = 33

2009-02-24T12:01:00.000-08:00

That's what the web site said, anyway, and honestly, that's about how I feel sometimes, only freer and in better shape financially, physically and emotionally than I did at 33. Which tells you a little bit about my 33rd year. Actually, 33 was a great year, one of my favorites, as they all are.
At any rate, all the real age measures are your health habits, what you eat, how you exercise, how often you floss and how much you sleep.
I read an article today on how to live to 100.
They said the following:

Don't retire.
Floss every day.
Move around.
Eat a fiber rich cereal for breakfast.
Get at least six hours of sleep.
Consume whole foods, not supplements.
Be less neurotic.
Live like a Seventh Day Adventist
Be a creature of habit
Stay connected.

I'm fine with the 1, 2, 3, 6, 7 and 10.
I'm sort of okay with 4 and 5.
I think 8 would make 100 years seem like 200 years and 9 sounds a bit at cross purposes with 7.
but, that's just me.

Getting away...

2009-02-21T23:25:00.000-08:00

A few hours running in the snow, me in my snowshoes, cowgirl in her yellow rain jacket thingie from the petco clearance rack, was just what I needed.

Mesa Lakes is one of my favorite places to get away to. The lakes are frozen over until late spring, the air is fresh and a bit too cold, the snow is deep, and aspens and evergreens tower over everything. The snow is pristine except for the occasional tiny squirrel or bird track trailing though, or the larger tracks from bear, deer, or wolves.

On the trail Cowgirl and I met up with two LDS missionaries from Idado. They were almost finished with their second year of missionary-ing their way around America. They didn't have snowshoes, so they went as far as they could in their church shoes. Out on the trail there was no need for them to proselytize and no need for me to hide behind the door hoping they would go away. We were just out in the snow. They in their suits and ties and pressed shirts and me with my happy weirdo dog in her yellow rain jacket. The snowy mesa is a church of it's own, so we could just talk about how it felt to be away from home and how everyone should travel. It was pretty neat.

In the lodge I met a sweet man and his son who were eating post ice fishing/hiking cinnamon rolls. (The lodge has the biggest, fattest, buttery-est, homemade cinnamon rolls in the world. The little boy was trying whistling at cowgirl from his table but his whistle sounded more like humming, so, curious and polite, Cowgirl, just stared at him and wagged her tail. When we went over to say hi, they shared bits of their cinnamon rolls with her.

Cowgirl was a hit. Everyone who met her, asked me, and with a serious expression, like they really wanted to know the answer, "What kind of dog is he/she?" This always surprises me. It seems so obvious to me that she's not any kind of dog. So I tell them, " a good dog". And, she is.

I had a little collage mandala in an art show in a downtown gallery, that opened tonight. I'm not sure why I wanted to combine collages and mandalas, I just thought it would be a fun experiment. And, it was.

I don't feel less restless, and I didn't figure everything out that's making me a bit restless. I got some fresh air, stamped around in the snow with my dog, ate a real hamburger, met some nice people, and came back deciding to let everything sort itself out.

restless...

2009-02-19T21:49:00.000-08:00

Here on the western slope, life is different, slow, but not in the way you think of slow. Still, you must allow time, not for traffic, but for conversation.
I always prefer conversation to traffic.

I spent the week completing articles, doing paperwork, doing magazine work, and running less than I wanted to.

The Fruit Basket is a family run orchard and store on East Orchard Mesa. It's a beautiful area, all apple trees and strawberry fields an old men in old pickup trucks. They wanted to offer the magazine to their customers, so I gathered some up and drove over. I was welcomed with open arms and a full tour. When I left they told me, "you better not leave empty-handed!" and told me to pick out anything I wanted from the store. I haven't been told this in awhile and it was hard to decide between the sauces and salsas and dried fruit, some of it dipped in chocolate, I didn't want to take too long, so I picked up a homemade cherry/chocolate protein bar, which was very very tasty.

The week progressed along, with more Grand Junction moments like the one at Fruit Basket. The Reel Time screenings were great, two almost full houses, followed by discussions. I met the boxers and took some photos. I met friends, new ones, out for drinks and dinner. It was a good week.

Still, there is a certain restlessness that I can't quite put my finger on. I don't know if I just need a really really long, exhausting run or if this is something else. Maybe I'm wanting to commit and settle? Maybe I'm tired of being kind of here and there?

It's Saturday morning. I've found a 5 mile snowshoe trail I can take through the Mesa and that's where I'm going in just a few hours. I need to see some snow, some pristine wilderness, breath some air that is almost too cold. I'll bring my little dog, just the two of us. It's one of those weeks, I guess.

The Rattlesnake, The Tomahawk and one little girl...

2009-02-16T22:59:00.000-08:00

Today I struggled with deadlines. I'm behind, as usual, returning phone calls, correcting copy, and on top of it, I'm the Photo Editor. The Photo Editor has to make sure all the photos come in, are taken, are taken in the correct resolution and have proper releases. Releases are important.

Today my work took me to a boxing gym.

Watching Rocky movies inspired one boxer. She's 8 years old, and practices everyday, though right now, there's no one she can box with. All the other boxers are teenage boys. Still, she's at the gym every time it's open. When the gym isn't open, she practices at home. Her coach is an older gentleman who was a boxing champ in his youth. He's really not sure about girls boxing, but he says, if they're gonna show up, he's gonna coach. She doesn't have a boxing name, yet, but I think she's leaning towards, "Rocky."

I also met "The Tomahawk", a tall, lanky, bouncy young man who showed me the move that got him his name. He jumps up and lunges his right arm down in a punch, like a Tomahawk.

"The Rattlesnake" is fast, he bounced around the rink, practicing punches, coiling up like a snake and then punching the air. Even shadowboxing, he looked tough. He said he smiles when an opponent hits him, to freak them out a bit. So far, his nose has been broken 4 times, his hand has been broken twice. Still, he loves it, and he has won a few belts.

The photo shoot went well. Boxers like to pose, especially when you tell them to "look fierce." Still, I think it would have been interesting to shoot them trying to look diplomatic, or telling them to put their dukes down and smile. That wasn't the plan, though, not today.
If I were a boxer, I think my fighting name might be "Tricky Rabbit." I'm not much of a fighter, I like to talk things through and if someone throws a punch at me, I'm gonna run or hide or trick 'em.

soggy cornflakes

2009-02-16T10:17:00.000-08:00

What I like about being a quasi landlord is that I am attracting nice people who need a place to stay, like my stuff and will feed Tux and Nara.

What I don't like is hiring someone to tidy up the leaves and fix the sink who instead does a complete redo on the yard, leaves 60 bags of leaves in the back, doesn't fix the sink and doesn't return my phone calls. Oh and he's already been paid. It's hard for me to be hard core with people and when I called this particular cornflake yard guy, my messages were assertive, yet kind and left a bit of the possibility that he just forgot...or something. After never receiving a reply to my message, I am looking for my inner Guido, or just need to let it go so I'm not so mad at him. I hate being mad at people, it keeps me from sleeping.

Still, if we can't have it all, I guess it's better to have nice people in the house and soggy cornflakey people do the work on it. And, as this has been the only seriously frustrating moment with this moving/renting/relocation, I guess it's not really so bad.

valentine secrets are up....

2009-02-15T00:59:00.001-08:00

Here are two of them and here are the rest. Enjoy!

blurry is fine with me...

2009-02-13T07:06:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a good day: I turned work in, made progress, washed dishes.
I saw the Bird Man and gave him some wild bird seed.

I sent in my final materials for graduate school and I'm still not 100% sure it's the next thing for me. My five year plan is a bit blurry right now. If I go to graduate school, if they accept me and I accept them, it's a two day a week commitment, Thursdays and Fridays, for four quarters. I can commute to Denver, via Frontier Airlines, so I can stay in the little town I've become so fond of. It's possible and doable, I'm just not certain. I'm at peace with this. I was the one with the plane ticket in my hand and my bags unpacked. Since I travel light, I could get ready in an instant. When the plane comes, I'm on it, unless I'm not.

The preparation for something new, possible and next will sometimes get us ready for something we didn't anticipate. Sort of like when I filled out my 20-page application for the Peace Corps as soon as my plane from London landed in Dallas. I didn't go, still, I had detailed the history of my life so far and I liked what I read. My adventures were elsewhere, but feeling ready to travel to Africa and live in a tent prepped me for what really happened next.

This is not unlike love and romance, which I have to talk about because the grocery stores are full of pink balloons and bad chocolate and people look kind of worried. This means it is almost Valentine's Day.

I'm not a fan of Valentine's Day. I am a fan of love and I'm not sure how I feel about romance.

Those of us, and I count many in my club on this one, who haven't been with one single person forever, have as much to say about love as those who have been with one single person forever.
So on this Hallmark holiday, remember that love has left it's mark on all of us. Good people have broken us with love and we've broken good people with love. The heartbreaking moments haven't killed us and are no reason to allow yourself to get cynical, especially when planes are crashing and the economy is crumbling and we're not sure what's next. It's okay.

Tomorrow is also National Ferris Wheel Day. Ferris Wheels aren't fun, not at first, not for me, anyway. I have to be coaxed into the little metal cage. I especially don't like the time just after I crawl inside my little cage and lower my safety bar because that's when my cage begins the slow, shaky, perilous ascent to the top so everyone else can get in their little cage. I really don't like it when my cage swings around while it's parked midway to the top, or even more terrifying at the very top. It's not until the Carney flips the switch and turns the music on and my cage begins to move with all the other cages up and and around and down again, that it seems worth the ride. That's when I can take a deep breath and enjoy the view and the lights and if it seems like the thing to do, hold hands with my friend who is in the cage with me. Just then, the Carney flips another switch and we begin the shaky, perilous trip back to the bottom. If you want, you can get back on. It's okay.

love this...

2009-02-12T07:53:00.000-08:00

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

puttin on a dress

2009-02-11T22:52:00.000-08:00

Today I wore a dress, for the second day in a row.
I wanted to, that's why.
It's been sunny and beautiful and clear here. The mountains are bright in the distance, the air smells fresh and I pulled on a dress, and left my jeans hanging there kind of forlorn and lonely.

Here's what happened:
I got a lot of looks, people gave me the old once-over, but they smiled when they did it.
I didn't open a single door for myself (that may be an exaggeration, I may have opened one door) because a a nearby man would hurry to open the door any time I got near one.

Men asked me how I was doing and did I need anything in places like the grocery store and when I was just walking downtown looking in windows or perusing the front page.
I was told I "sure looked pretty" and "You're a pretty lady" (direct quote, I promise.)

At the post office, a postal employee who was headed home after his shift, stopped where I was at the self mail station and asked me if I had everything I needed. When I told him I did actually need a few more labels, he smiled and dashed off to get them. It got a little creepy when he brought them back and said, "Well, I'm off for the day." I told him to have a good night and thanks again and he replied with "I like your outfit" and then just stood there. I got back to work on my envelopes, telling him "thanks" and "phew, gotta get these out, on a very big deadline. " (mostly true) No harm done, just kind of...unusual.

In a nutshell, the level of flirting in my normal day was noticeably higher.

I don't think it was the dresses.
I wasn't tarted up or anything.

I think it was the additional smiles, encouraging looks and small kindnesses directed my way which in turn made me smile more,
which made me feel better,
which made me look better.

We all look better when we're happier.

I'm still a tomboy at heart. Still, I've rediscovered the fun of changing things up a bit and stepping out a little differently.

I'm gonna continue this little accidental experiment, just to see what happens.

monday ain't so bad...

2009-02-09T17:23:00.000-08:00

My home boy Todd Snyder is coming to GJ. Sorry Merle, Todd wins this round. Look at that smile! In other musical news, I finished mixing Ace's concert tunes. It's pretty sweet.
Tomorrow, Gretchen and I will be on the air: KAFMradio.org, interviewing the director of Before the Music Dies, 12:30 Mountain Time. I don't promise to be brilliant, but I will be there...listen if you dare.