Nothing and everything.

Nothing special happened today. It was just as hard to get up this morning as yesterday. Work was just as crazy as usual. Lunch with an old friend and working out after work were a little different, but nothing to write home (here) about. It rained a little, it was sunny for awhile, Grif and I had a good dinner, we played trains, read a book, tucked in, and fell asleep. It was a normal, simple, uneventful day.

Which is not to say it wasn't worth celebrating. Grif asked me in the car, how was your day, mommy? I laughed out loud -- how many times have I asked him that? And just today, he asked me for the first time -- and sounded so sincere, so interested in the answer that my heart was filled to overflowing. It was good, honey, how was yours? His answer -- it was good, mommy, thank you for asking. My cup runneth over.

So, thanks. Big, huge, full, full thanks. For my little boy, my husband, my health, my strength, my talent, my beauty, my life. Thanks for this wonderful, lovely, normal day. Nothing special happened and that's what made it so special. This day was everything. How was yours?

For me.

Friday the 13th? Bah. Granted, it was coooold here. And Grif and I (unfortunately) had to actually run out in the first really bitter weather we've had this winter, but that was more a case of bad timing than bad luck.

So what did happen today? Oh, not much. We played. We made old-fashioned strawberry pretzel salad (which in light of the good luck that came my way, I indulged in... heavily). We napped (translation, I got Grif to nap, a miracle of good luck in and of itself). And, my illustrious cookbook writer/cohort/friend informed me that we were on Amazon. Us. Our cookbook. Even more stunning, me. My name. Top billing. On Amazon. Right there for the whole world to see. And enjoy and appreciate and celebrate and read.

Now most of you might think this is silly (sort of like googling yourself), but I was struck. Still am, if my staccato writing here is any indication. I've been writing a book for awhile now, on and off (mostly off, in all truthfulness). I even wrote about that book here once, and I always knew (still know) that I would one day finish it, sell it, publish it, and then see it on the shelves of my favorite bookstore, and ultimately... on Amazon. The pinnacle. The ultimate. What I never imagined was that I would get there first as an editor. What I forgot to be specific about was that I wanted to get there at all -- and so seeing my name up there on that familiar Amazon template was akin to having all my dreams come true, even the ones I had forgotten about.

Deep in my heart, upfront in my head, ever-present in my soul, is the utter conviction that this is just the beginning. Both as editor and writer. As editor, another cookbook (dare I say, cookbooks?) with my name (and Kelly's and Court's) will find its way to that (official)(epic)(amazing) book-selling, book-reviewing, book-making site. And as a writer? Well, that too. I'm sure of it.

So thanks, friends. Thanks, Kelly and Courtney. Thanks to all my neighbors and friends and family and hubby and boy who helped me get here. And I'm not just talking about the cookbook on Amazon. I'm talking here, on Friday the 13th, with the biggest, most satisfied, Cheshire-Cat grin on my face. Thanks, universe. This day has been so, so good.

change is a comin'

Well, who knew, eh? Who knew that this day would finally, finally arrive? This day where the focus, the hope, the crux of all my dreams and desires from the past two years would unfold itself in one neat little package? For those of you following along, this is where I would obviously and convincingly say, "Well, I did. I knew it was coming." And though there were days when I lost patience (but never hope!), I believed this day would come. Truly. And yet, it's still so amazing to know that it is finally here....

Last week, I went to yoga. A mom's night out. No boys, no distractions. The decision just made and final that although I believe in long shots and miracles, my current place of employment simply had not been able to keep me -- the hours? the pay? doesn't matter -- the decision finally final and done. And although I was so very excited about my new part-time job (read it again, PART-TIME JOB...ok, now shout it to the rooftops), I had, in fact, been holding out more than a little bit of hope that my long shot of being able stay would come through. It did not. And frankly, I was more than a little disappointed. Ok, that's an understatement. I was sad. Supremely let down. Broken-hearted. Scared too at the thought of leaving this very comfortable place I had created for myself as writer, editor, brainstormer, concepter, valued employee, friend.....and that's when I realized that I had let myself lose sight of the most important part. That. My. Dream. Had. Finally. Fully. Absolutely. Perfectly. Come. TRUE!

So, yoga. Arriving in sadness made me angry. And those are two things that just don't belong there. At my hot yoga practice, I find it easy, natural even, to really be able to focus on and deliver the deep, deep breathing that is so critical to every yoga practice, but even more so when it's 110 degrees in your studio. And I always use two words to inhale and exhale throughout my practice there -- a mantra of sorts, depending on my mood. Usually some sort of reminder. Often a wish....any one of these my focus for the past year....Inhale (when?). Exhale (soon)....Inhale (peace). Exhale (hope)....Inhale (strength). Exhale (hope).

Last week, last Thursday, with my somewhat broken, fearful, anxious heart in hand, I lay there on my mat before class trying to relax and focus. And I suddenly realized how ungrateful I was, how my expectations had overshadowed the most important part -- that my wish, my dream, my want had come true. Entirely. How easy to forget in the mess of all the crazy details that had just that day worked themselves out. And now how critical it was to put them all aside and embrace, believe, remember what was truly, truly important.

Somewhat contrite, I put all that hurt and disappointment aside. I had just been handed the thing I wanted most in life -- a place to do what I enjoyed (writing and editing) and the amazing gift of two extra days to spend with both of my boys (without compromising too much of my overall funds). More time. More time with Grif. More time with Jim. More, more, more. Time, time, time. How amazing. And so I dedicated that practice to being uncompromisingly, totally overflowing with gratitude and joy. To thanking everyone who worked so hard to make this come true for me. To not just saying thanks, but fully feeling it. To being full to overflowing with joy and thanks. Fully reaping the rewards from the sheer amazingness of it all. To being overwhelmed at this amazing gift -- this gift that sometimes goes by the name of Grif, but so often is just my good, good life.

And so I inhaled (joy). And exhaled (thanks).

Repeat. Infinitely.

A Long Breath

Ok, so 2010 hasn't exactly been the stellar year I'd hoped for so far...in short, my work life (yes, my WORK life) has been so over-the-top, insanity-filled, really-crazy-busy-no-I-mean-really-crazy-busy that somehow January has nearly passed me by...not only without a new post here, but without even the time to READ the blogs that I usually (daily) enjoy.

I have, however, luckily made time recently (somehow) to get to yoga (one of my resolutions not just for the New Year, but for life in general). Two things, it's been ages since I've been...yes, I let the holidays (starting waaaay back in October with the boy's birthday) interfere in so many ways. I could blame it on my husband's crazy flying schedule, but I can think of at least five distinct times that I could have gone but either 1. chose not to due to laziness/grif time/jim time/steph time/laziness, or 2. I honestly did not think of it until it was too late...I'm blaming these on the holiday-induced sugar coma that I happily, willingly indulged in throughout.

So it had been awhile, and last Sunday, after my triumphant return to the hot yoga studio I love, I could definitely feel the missing time. My balance was off, my muscles sore and not at all accustomed to the poses I was forcing them to remember...but it was good. Yoga always is.

I went again last night -- after a horribly long, once-again-over-busy day at work, braving the insane rainstorm last night to get there, all of which made it so much more inviting to just stay at home and cuddle up on the couch instead of subjecting my body to the heat and sweat again...but I went anyway. And I swear it was hotter -- significantly so -- than any other class I'd been to. But somewhere in the middle, I think I may have crossed a road -- even with my month-plus absence -- for the first time, I felt my breath and my body push over a line I had not known existed. I was tired, drenched, somewhat defeated, but all of of sudden in the middle of Warrior II, I felt....powerful. Intensely, quietly, fiercely POWERFUL. I could almost feel my whole body vibrating with this strangely silent energy and control. And I reveled in it, felt it, took it all in...all with one long breath. And another....and another...

Afterward, standing in line at Chipotle to finish my eve with a healthy dinner (and yes I ordered healthy there!), looking in the glass at my reflection (which was still beet red, with soaked hair, and more than a little disheveled), I realized that I looked -- no, I felt -- taller. Yes, taller. Larger than life. Thinner even. I felt more.

I was totally exhausted afterward, mentally as well as physically. But in a good way -- a fulfilled way -- quite unlike the exhaustion that (I've let) work as of late drag me down into. And as I lay in bed that night, I lamented the fact that I'd let this blog -- this wonderful outlet -- go dormant for what seemed like much too long. And though this is not the entry I intended today, this is still nothing I truly have time for (here at work), this is much much longer than I wanted, it's here. Again. Finally. And I'm giving a good part of the credit to my yoga class last night. The rest goes to me, for getting there and doing it again. And for getting something even more than I planned out of it. Strength. Health. Presence. Peace. Rest. Breath. All of it oh so good.

Feeling the Season

Ok, once again, I stole -- err, borrowed -- a wee bit from Boho Girl (perhaps it would be better to say that she inspired me -- she does that a lot). She began her blog post today with the phrase, "Today I woke up really feeling the season." And suddenly, amidst a somewhat bad headache and millions of errands to do and cookies still to bake and work days left to get through, I realized with a smile that I was too. Really, truly, totally, fully feeling the Christmas spirit, cheer, joy, peace, happiness, vibe, christmasy-ness....

Something about this day has revved up my holiday engines and I'm excited about the week. Was it our family Christmas card that is finally finished (thanks to both friends DR & Kelly!) and one printing job away from being ready to send out? I can't wait to send this card out -- it so perfectly represents our year, and my hopes and dreams as a family...

Was it deciding last minute to buy gifts for the boy's daycare teachers and having my other friend Jen talk about having to return some ornaments whereupon I exclaimed, "Wait, this is perfect! I'll buy them from you!" -- saving us both an extra errand?

Was it joking with the police officers outside Macy's when I asked for directions? I got a wee bit confused and needed quick direction help -- they wanted to charge me $5 for the info. I stood my ground (all of us smiling) and pointed to the Salvation Army Kettle that I had just thrown a few bucks in and told them their "fee" was over there...

Was it the cold, crisp air? We got snow over the weekend, and it's cold out, but bundled up, it's not too cold, certainly not too cold to walk outside (instead of driving) for the lunch hour -- it's the first day of winter officially, and that feels just right for the holiday season today....

Was it making the obviously overworked post office clerk smile? I asked her how she was holding up, and she responded with a totally straight face, "Just another day in paradise." Which, of course, made us both look each other in the eye and totally crack up with real, genuine laughter...

Was it the guy at Chipotle who, in the midst of a seriously insane line of people, took the time to talk and joke and smile at EVERY person, wishing each and every customer (including me) with true exuberance and happiness in his voice (absolutely shining in his eyes), "You have a happy holiday!"...

Was it finding those very last two perfect gifts for two dear friends I wanted to thank? Walking by a certain store sparked an "OF COURSE!" The icing on the cake (the star on the tree?) is that these last two gifts came from a local merchant. Much as I love shopping online, it does my heart good to shop truly local...

Is it looking forward to the end of the day, when I can pick up Grif, make him dinner, play with him, watch him, laugh with him (and read to him -- he's crazy about reading these days) all before he goes to bed whereupon I will dive into rolling out the four cookie doughs in my fridge waiting to be baked?

Is it the phone call I'll get from Jim as this day closes, from a different city, probably in a different time zone, where I'll get to tell him all these magical, minute details that happened today?

I'm still not sure. It's all of these things. It's none of these things. It's something deep inside that I can feel is finally aware, awake, alive with the holidays. Which are about giving. And receiving. And being thankful. And being hopeful. And all about just feeling the season -- being here, in the present, to feel feel feel the season. Which, thank the universe, I am today.

Trying to be here

So, it was a rough weekend. And as is my habit (and one that I'm trying so very hard to break), for some reason I cannot let it go. I truly believe I have (unfortunately) inherited this from my mother -- this inability to just let it go, to just let things roll off my shoulders, to just forgive the hurt and the irritation and the anger (yes, anger), to not dwell on it or wallow in it or hang on to it. To. Just. Let. It. Go. My mother cannot do this either, and it's the one thing that I can recognize as having already become like her in....

One of my dear friends left me a message this morning, and at the time it made me feel so much better -- so thankful that the universe knew I needed a kind word, and that I got exactly that from her. Exactly. But the lightness was short-lived. And now I find myself struggling through the afternoon, dreading the evening, exhausted already (again). Dejected. Defeated. And so, I take a moment (this moment) to search for...something. Peace? Distraction? Answers?

After a halfhearted attempt to read some of my favorite writers' daily musings, I remembered something I had already read last week on the Painted Path....it resonated with me then, it resonates even more with me now. Julia writes:

this too shall pass,
be here now,
be patient,
accept what is,
find the gifts,
be gentle with yourself

Be here now. Accept what is. Find the gifts. So easy to say these words today. Not so easy to really believe them. And this makes me sad/frustrated/mad/annoyed that I cannot take all that I know and love and am thankful for and focus on that instead of this gloomy, dreadful sadness that has filled (that I have let fill) my whole day.

To be here...I'm closer to that, just by getting this out of my mind and setting it free to the world at large. Purged. Expelled. Be gone, sadness and regret and anger. I'm done with you all.

To accept what is...a little easier, since I know that certain things about this weekend, specifically the people involved, will never change. And really, that's ok.

To find the gifts...I only have to think of my loving, amazing husband, who saw this whole mess coming and was dreading it himself, but still comforted me and was patient with me and showed his overwhelming love to me at exactly the right times. More gifts from my sweet, sweet, laughing (walking) blue-eyed boy, and my amazing friends who gave (and always give) so much of themselves (with exactly the right words) when I'm down and defeated.

So today. Not yesterday. Not this morning. I'm here. I'm accepting. I'm finding the gifts. At the very least, I'm trying to be so very gentle with myself and forgive the fact that I've somehow wasted most of the day in gloom and anger and regret and sadness. I'm not that person. I will not be that person. This too, I shall make pass.

For Kris -or- A post within a post

I'm a writer. I've always been a writer. It was that statement exactly, on the night I met my husband and after a bit of small talk about what we "did," he actually said to me: "But you've always been a writer, right?" I truly think it was that innocent (but oh so very insightful) statement that made me turn and look -- really look -- at him. And think, "hmmm...now that's interesting, how did he know that?" It could even have been what made me start to fall in love with him...

I digress. Blogging. And Kris. That is what this one was about. And the fact that for so very long, even though I knew about blogs and blogging (which have been around since '95!), I had ignored them -- and their function, their power for one such as a writer. Perhaps even deliberately (earlier this year, a friend of mine had asked me with a touch of scorn in his voice, "you're not going to start one of those mommy blogs now, are you?" I scoffed, and answered with complementary, condescending scorn, "Pfffbbb, no, of course not!").

My friend Kris changed that. Completely, suddenly, after one innocent (and yet again oh so very insightful) statement. I had written her a quick note about a picture of her lovely grandmother, who had recently passed away. Her one-line (dare I say life-changing?) response was, "Girl, if you're not writing for someone besides [your employer] -- at least a blog! -- you should be." And I sat back in my chair after reading it -- totally struck still -- and knew she was right. So this one's for her. And here's what sparked it all....

I saw a picture of my husband's grandparents a few years ago. It has lived in my memory ever since -- it's so provocative, almost the very essence of the word. And it was this picture that I thought of when I saw a very similar shot of Kris' grandmother....and here's what I told her:

There’s something to be said for seeing pics of our parents and grans with they were young -- especially folks of a certain age who grew up with those black and white/sepia-toned shots, and a certain style of clothes, a certain mindset about life -- shots like these blow me away.  I think it's because we are so accustomed to only seeing our rents/grans as “old,” and it always floors me to really see how truly beautiful or handsome they were when they were young -- ESPECIALLY during those times between the 40s & 50s…they all look like James Dean or Rita Hayworth -- and they make it look real, convincing, and somehow totally unattainable for you and me. It makes me love them even more somehow….

When I first saw this photo of Jim's grands, I honestly could not stop looking at it. Look at them -- she's got the model walk, her hat, holding her hand just so...he's got that star-struck look on his face as he gazes at her, hand fashionably in his pocket, like he just stepped out of a spread in GQ. The beauty, the undeniable glamor of this photo, the unconscious grace -- these are things that the people of our generation can never duplicate. Not totally. That art has been lost somewhere as the world grew up. And this shot wasn't posed -- they were just caught on the street. On film. What luck for us...

So, Kris. Thank you. Thank you for making me think of this photo. For making me remember that I was a writer. For helping me expel my prejudice against blogs in general. Thank you for giving me the (needed) literal kick in the bum to start being a writer again. Thanks for reminding me to write. This one's for you.

I'm listening...

There are times when I don't think I'm a very good listener. I forget details -- the names of friends' friends, upcoming events they told me about, plans they've made that are important to them. I forget to ask, I forget to follow up, I forget -- and I wonder now if it's not that I have Mommy Brain (although that is a wonderful excuse), but that I so often don't take the time to listen. Really listen.

Right now, I'm listening (and getting distracted by) a fly buzzing in the window behind me. Listening to the buzz of conversation around me without really tuning into it. Trying to listen to the music from my earbuds instead of the satellite radio station I am tired of but that is blaring just a little too loudly. I used to joke that I had "bartender hearing" -- back when I was a full-time bartender, it was my job to listen to whatever the guest wanted to talk about (bad day, failing sports team, significant-other trouble, sports in general, did I mention sports?) while simultaneously and effectively keeping the bar clean, making drinks, taking orders, washing glassware, watching for the next guest, stocking liquor & beer, making change....you get it. It was a weird mastery of multitasking -- and I was good at it -- listening, responding, but all the while four steps ahead with the next drink, the next customer, the next....

I've lost that ability. I think. Maybe I still have it -- I've just lost the ability to really focus on the first part: listening. Again, it's easy to cry "Mommy Brain," but I think it's more that I need to slow down. Grif's dishes can wait. So can his bag, or his laundry, or the show I DVR'd which is currently on pause while you talk to me. So can my own thoughts about my story that is so similar to the one you're telling me right now. Is there something really that important that I can't just slow down, look you in the eye, and listen to what you are saying right now? Ok, I can think of a few things, but most of those involve stitches or the hospital...I think I even forget to listen to myself -- no time, no time! -- and perhaps, if I slow down, I will hear that I'm tired, or that I'm alright, or that I am, in fact, happy.

I want to slow down (but wait, don't I need more time to do that?). No. I can slow down. Slow down and listen to my husband when he goes on and on about the "options" that he is so interested in. Slow down and listen to Griffin when he's playing, laughing, sleeping. Slow down and listen to you, my friend, whenever you talk to me. Slow down and listen to that strong, amazing voice inside that cries "yes, you are" and "yes, it is" when I need to feel better, happier, hopeful, thankful. Slow down and listen. Listen to the universe telling me that everything is surely unfolding as it should be. Slow down, take the time, and listen. I'm quiet now. Quiet. And listening.

In other words

I've decided today to give thanks. To make a list (well before the obligatory turkey day). And to truly feel thankful for all these things -- taking a moment to celebrate each one, revel in it, smile at it, shed a tear (if it warrants it), and just be truly, honestly, completely, wholly thankful.

Today, I want to be full -- full to bursting -- with thanks.

I'm thankful for my good, good life.
Thankful for my strength, my beauty, my breath.
For my healthy, glorious, gorgeous son, Griffin.
My loving, giving, silly husband.
My wonderful circle of friends and soul-mates.
My crazy, fantastic family.
My dear parents.
My warm, colorful house.
The Jeep Wrangler I had for 17 years.
My reconstructed knees.
Pictures of Griffin -- laughing, making faces, caught on film.
Hot, bubble-filled, hour-long baths.
My talking dog, Kota, gone almost one year now...
The way-cool summer hat we found for Grif that he wore constantly.
Concerts with my husband.
Sleeping in with my husband.
Naps on the couch with (on) my husband.
Books.
Nectarine pie.
My little farm in the woods.
My son's blue eyes.
Lavender.
Earl Grey tea.
Sunny days and fresh powder on a ski trip.
Music. Music. Music.
Rich, decadent food (notably Raclette, my special fish, my dad's ribs, my mom's Mexican food).
Burnt-orange, harvest full moons.
Hippie skirts and tie-dye tops.
Finishing a 60-mile walk for breast cancer (and raising over $3,000 for the cause).
Afternoon coffee field trips and lunches on the playa.
Crystal-clear memories of my wedding day.
The power of words.
Roller coaster rides.
My singular mind, body and soul.
Yoga.
Movies.
The crash of the waves.
The smell of the ocean.
Winter sunsets.
The look on my son's face when he sees me.
The smile in my husband's eyes when he sees me.
Long lunches.
Long trips.
Three-day weekends.
Love.
Hope.
Peace.

And most of all, I'm thankful for lists like these that help me let go of my sad, selfish, melancholy thoughts and remember what is truly so very, very good about this life of mine. And revel in it. With my whole, thankful heart.