good girl.

One of the perks of getting older is that after a certain age there are things you no longer worry about. taking the SAT's, losing your virginity, acne, being a good girl. True to course, one by one, these things have fallen by the wayside. I no longer fret over them. save one. being a good girl. The way I remember it, I was am. did the world just stop turning for a beat or two. I was born trying to be good. Always, I have worked hard at fashioning an image of myself that was simply, well, good. Of course I never wanted it to be known that I put a lot of effort into this. How lame would that be? I wanted it to look natural. like I was born that way. I wanted to just believe it. to hear the words..."she is such a good girl."

If I told you how many times in my life I have agonized over those words, you would shake your head and walk away. You wouldn't believe me. maybe look at me with pity. you would have better things to do.

The good girl of which I speak today has changed little from the one of days gone by. time may march on, but some things never change. in my book we all have our definitions of what this means. I was the girl who smiled, at everyone. if asked, would do my friends homework. tried never to say unkind, hurtful things. shared whatever I had. studied. never overslept. always did my chores. I was also rebellious, strong, stubborn and independent!  Did you hear me? Too rebellious. Too strong. Too stubborn. Too independent. I was a closet bad girl. a good girl seeped in denial. Even though I was not the best girl, I did try. never complaining. My good girl wheel never squeaked.

Because at the root, at the heart of my goodness was my belief that I alone, just plain old me, was not enough. I needed more. I needed the image, I had so carefully built for myself. I needed walls. I needed to be a little brighter. and a whole lot shinier. I was so afraid of being vulnerable. Afraid of just being. Life has mellowed me. chipped away at the armor. I can see the freedom in just being. of holding it in my heart and waiting.

When asked recently what was my greatest fear, I wanted to say falling off a mountain. roller coasters. heights. snakes. outhouses? the dark. getting pulled over? being lost in the forest. It's funny how talking about something makes it real. gives it life and power over you. I taught the people around me that I had no fears, and then, then I was secretly angry at them for believing me. Like it was some big secret. a covert operation. hush-hush. it killed me not to talk about it. But then, what's new? Hasn't this been the story of my life? Oh sure, it's entertaining. but also deep. and so dang personal. what? you mean life is not one long sunny day? I think about it in the shower, while drinking my coffee, driving to a dentist appointment. I dream about it. I covertly share bits and pieces with a lucky few people around me. my sister gets earfuls.

Many nights I sit gazing at the moon. listening to the wind whisper through the trees. I am thinking about all I have learned. everything I have done. the people that have moved in and out of my life. how it has all come together to bring me to this moment in time. this time in my life. What is my hope? what is my dream? a perfect blend of days gone by and those yet to come. of all my childhood memories blended with those of today. Because life is fleeting, beautiful and imperfect, I am at times filled that that old fear. that old dread of failure, of not being enough, of being less than perfect, of being punished if I am bad and most of all, most of all...losing those I love. So there you have it. why did I not just say spiders?

peace.

everyday half and half loaf

(go here for recipe)

dream a little dream with me.

 Nothing has frozen over. Pigs still can't fly. And we did not just muddle through a month of Sunday's. a.n.d...... I still do not like to fly. After all my puffing about, my face scrunching, my eye rolling. After therapy, drugs, and many prayers, just the thought of getting on a plane is still enough to seriously harsh my mellow.  (I believe the phrase I used was "!@#$%^&*"). It hasn't always been this way, I have a platinum frequent flyer card for Pete's sake. Fear has never been my comfortable sweater. I do not wear it well. It just does not fit right, yet at this point it is surprisingly capacious. When it began to change? I can only guess. But my love of traveling trumps my fears, so I pull on it. I zip it up. I roll it into a ball and stuff the promises into my pockets. But then Darling ~ you know what?

Here I sit, the first week of March behind me, feeling like I am ready for anything, everything, and maybe just a bit more. You know how it goes, winter, wide open, options all over the place, obligations nowhere in sight. Hunkered down for the duration. Everything going as planned. Except on those days when a particularly excellent vacation destination ignites a certain person's wanderlust. with the kindling of sunshine and the fantastic far off chance of visiting the ocean. swooning over and plodding through travel brochures in pursuit of the next great adventure. Surreptitiously, at first, so as not to cause a commotion. I marvel at the expanse of possibilities. Turns out I'm an easy sell, promise me salt air and I'm there. I know my purpose is not to zip up a party dress and dance my life away. still it calls to me, and I am compelled to answer. I hesitate to call myself a party animal. girl who wants to have fun? better, maybe. Live with intention. in the now. I am trying.

I have, at this very moment, no fewer than five trips in the works. I'm not sure what this says about me, exactly.  But I do know this, last week, there were seven. I am pleased to report that their fate was not the scrap heap, just victims of realistic thinking. Which in case you are interested, is not one of the things I do best. But, this works for me. This past week saw yet another rainy-snowy-gloomy-sunny mix, still stuck between not quiet and almost there.  Seriously?  enough  already. Seems to me there was a time when seasons turned by the calendar. Until a little more than a decade ago, when we flipped to zero, now all bets are off. Surely I'm not the only one who remembers this. Yet we've been sitting on the winter/spring fence all season. And, once again I spent time on the couch, in the middle of the day, hauling out the sick basket, while slurping miso soup and ginger ale. Frankly this is an episode I've seen one too many times this year. so with the cabin walls closing in, a change of scenery seems just the thing. what the doctor ordered. I'm done with the re-runs. I'm looking for a new ending. I need a trip.

I am a cross between a homebody and a wanderer. I can't decide which way to turn. I am a serious split personality. this is a condition that constantly messes up my business. messes with my head. many times I have reconsidered reconsidering and just continued to rock with it, because in the end, really it's all I've got. so I go with it. There are aspects of my life that remain relatively sane. this is not one of them. lately? I have been dreaming up places to visit like nobody's business. I've been planning for days on end the perfect get away. I have let myself be swept away by innocent thoughts, words and phrases. my travel plans are spread out like an Amish quilt. Dude! I can do this until the cows come home {p.s. they are still not here}.

It's funny how an idea takes on new shapes when it moves from your heart out into the air that you breath. It becomes real. huge. It catches the light, floats around and grows wings. It becomes true.  still...I just love a pretend vacation. I just do. not sure why. It is so easy. so uncomplicated. taking a trip. without leaving home? sign me the heck up! I can't stop taking spontaneous, wonky trips in my head.

So, yo. It's Vacation day.

of course it's not all that, but when that urge for blue crashes through the calm and flings it's promises across my heart, all of my intentions lose their color and shape. start to float away. I reach out to them as they whisper in the dark. Like the Calgon commercials of old, my mini vacations "take me away". They make me smile. goose-bump me up. I connect with them...they get me. My arm chair traveling has carried me through some stormy and uncertain days. It has provided me with a platform for my incessant wanderings. Otherwise, it might be some scary stuff, baby. Well, I've been to some wonderful places lately, and I could not be more pleased. Tickled would be more apt. If there is a problem on the horizon, I'm the girl with a travel itinerary. But always, always I return to this place, where my real life is lived.

Simple Soft Sugar Cookies

(go here for recipe)

Molly Mae.

I was having one of those days. one of those days where my heart felt so full that just the sight of a  puppie who turned eleven made me sentimental and swoony. All day long! Humor me one more birthday?  I know.  But eleven is a big one. especially when in doggie years you get  four for one. and with all that training behind you, you can focus on the juicy bits, like early morning walks, all-day napping and random acts of sniffing. Anyway, I'd like to do right by that face. I could honestly begin and end right there. She really is all that. spunk, twinkle and love. a party with a wagging tail. a diplomat from the planet Happy. loyalty is her middle name. all you need to know, really. She invited her BFF Abbey. they were both dressed to the nines. They slay me daily with their infinite cuteness. The entire day just flowed through me, like a song. it oozed love. we celebrated a life made extra pretty with pink balloons, cake and tulips.

Happy Birthday, baby girl!