The Hair of the Dog

I haven't written a post in a while.  Honestly, I didn't have much that was interesting or exciting to write about and then, well, there's that thing we call work. On a positive note, I had embarked upon a new relationship with a wonderful hunk which is going swimmingly.  So let's just say, I've been preoccupied.  And I'm happy to report that my family and friends are (reasonably) happy and healthy and I have some upcoming fabulous trips on the calendar, so life is good.

Except for the fact that I'm in the beginning throes of perimenopause at, what I understand, is an early age.  Which is all a bunch of horseshit, but the good news is, I'm learning how to curb at least some of the effects.  Natural remedies for hormonal roller coaster rides (and yes, these cause both hair flying in all directions and crazy looks on your face), sleep deprivation during the night and wanting to sleep during the day and the latest...  hair falling out of places you really would like for it to remain and sprouting in places you do not.  And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where I put my size 10 foot down and said "NO MORE!".  Now while I am pro the occasional Botox prick and face and body goo that plumps, smooths and rejuvenates, I do realize that we cannot stop aging.  We can take all of the healthy measures to fix and preserve for as long as womanly possible, but age just happens.  Damn it.  But when I found a near bald spot on my head and had to keep an industrial supply of Liquid Plumber in stock (and the gorgeous boys in the commercials were not coming to fix anything for me and I had to do it myself, which was no fun), I simply had to find a cure.  So, I've done my research and seen a doctor or 4, and am now on a regimen of enough pills, sprays and lotions to treat an elephant, but I feel much better and normalcy is falling back into place.  Whatever that may mean.

So this is a Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing.  I hope I do now, for the sake of my sanity and vanity.  And let me tell you, I've got a combo remedy that's better than the Hair of the Dog, and instead of him coming to bite my ass, I can turn around and bite his.

Birds, Horses and Feathers

I love diversity, simply put.  I relish in hearing others' ideas and thoughts even though I may not agree or believe or want to live the way someone else does, but almost every time I encounter a new person or a new thought process, I learn something.  About that person, about lives different from mine and about myself.  I just spent yet another glorious weekend experiencing music with a menagerie of robust, talented, gorgeous women (no offense men, you are too) and met some new friends and spent time with some I already knew.  I swear, if I could live my life doing THAT, I'd be a happy camper.  Probably a drunk, but happy nonetheless.

On this trip, I was pretty much odd woman out - they have all traveled and known each other for some years, and I was a first-timer.  And for one with my personality, that can be dangerous skies to fly in with a flock of other women of the like - it's like sticking us all in an aviary with a bird feeder full of booze and expecting perfect formation in flight at all times and no flying feathers.  Impossible.  Luckily, we were all smart enough to know when to fly out and flap our wings and maybe take a nap.  Or lay an egg.

However, some people are not that smart.  They literally have bird brains and I, unfortunately, encountered one the other day.  Let me begin by saying, I really don't give a chicken shit what people think of me.  Of course, you must treat people with kindness and respect - I never want to or mean to hurt a person's feelings and if I do, will be the first to recognize and make amends whether you're family, friend or stranger.  But as far as who I am at the core, well that cake has been baked.  So I'm talking with this person I'd just met and we're sharing life stuff - kids, family, career, places in life, stories - and this person, we'll just call them "Horse's Ass", took a liking to me... and I to them... until...  they noticed my tattoo.  Gasp.   To make a semi-long story really short - because it became really short after Horse's Ass said (with a look of disgust) "Why would a beautiful, successful woman like you scar her body like that?".  At which point I took notice of how big, crooked and buck Horse's Ass' teeth were, but did I ask said person why they never considered braces?  NOOOOO, I did not.  I simply answered:  "Because I'm a woman who expresses herself in ways you would never understand and is not fearful of being different.  And just because I am not like you, does not make me scarred, it simply makes me different."  Their jaw dropped open and let me tell you, Horse's Ass had horse breath too.

So we've had birds and horses in this story, and here's the moral:  Birds of different feathers can flock together, our feathers just may be of different colors and fly in different directions.  But a horse's ass is always a horse's ass.

This is a Doing What I Know.

Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: I'm Giving Up and Giving In

Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: I'm Giving Up and Giving In: Recently, I celebrated a birthday.  I must tell you, this was the best ever.  No surprise party, flowers sent to my doorstep, and I didn&#39...

I'm Giving Up and Giving In

Recently, I celebrated a birthday.  I must tell you, this was the best ever.  No surprise party, flowers sent to my doorstep, and I didn't see the first red balloon - I did, however, wear a tiara one night.  It was the best because I was surrounded by such incredible people for several days - new and old friends (and I don't mean old aged, just that I've known them for eons), near and far, in person or by message or phone, my family - I was surrounded.  These folks celebrated with me and made me feel like the the Queen I've always aspired to be (here, I jest, quit rolling your eyes).  I felt loved, plain and simple.  Not a shabby birthday, I must say.

So just yesterday, I went to Bed Bath & Beyond and had a chat with the lady that showed me where the plastic ice cube thingy-bobs were.  Of course, I had to explain WHY I needed them (which, by the way, is because my ice maker produces crappy tasting ice cubes which has been a real problem for me and my vodka sodas), so we had some fun dialog.  And then she looks at me and says, "You know, you have a real shine and energy around you that not many people have."  Which made me tear up, obviously.  Who wouldn't?

Here's what bubbled up from my BB&B visit:  I'm Giving Up and Giving In.  I'm giving up the notion that what much of the external world deems to be "perfect" (whatever in the hell that means) is just that, external.  And I'm giving in to simply being the shine and energy that exists within me.  Did this realization come with age?  No, it came with time.  I believe you can only zig-zag around so much trying to hit all of those points of perceived perfection - be they where you are in life (fill-in-the-blank) and where you want to be in life (fill-in-the-blank) - before you wear yourself slap out.  Don't get me wrong, people - I am NOT giving up my quests for a rockin' bod, finding the Hunk of my life, continued career successes, knowledge, spiritual bliss and  life's great expansion.  Nor will I give up Botox, that is just ludicrous.  But I think I'll stop the zig-zag and just look straight ahead and look forward to what is in front of me.  And it looks damn good.

This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew.

Live Your Talent and Live it Loud

I'm just back from my latest trip.  Hold on, let me rephrase - I've just returned from an experience.  I took this trip a couple of years ago with my daughter and both of us emerged changed.  I went by myself this time (she couldn't make it because she has a new, fantastic job - Halleluja!) and as those who know me, I travel by myself often but I was a bit trepidatious this time.  A fellow Rock Boater (I'll explain that in a moment) convinced me to take the jump and I'm so glad he did.  I came back enlightened, full of hope and flush with new friends.  I did a couple of things I normally wouldn't (don't ask 'cause I ain't gonna tell) that brought me out of the careful box I had wrapped myself in some time back.  I repeat:  I'm so glad I did.

So allow me to explain The Rock Boat (here is some pro-bono promotion guys, hope you don't mind):  It is a cruise that goes 4 days from somewhere to somewhere, but that's not the point.  It is a magical, floating music reverly.  There are 30ish musicians that play day and night - some you'll know, some you won't.  You can't possibly see them all, but you sure do try your damndest, and those you can't see, you'll meet or hear about, find their music, fall in love with it and make plans to go see them another time.  You make friends and many of them will stay in your life for years and hopefully forever.  Listen to me ladies and gents, Hunks and Sisters - go on line and look it up.  Check out the lineup from the last cruise and listen to the artists' music and just like meeting new friends that you never would have, you'll open yourself up to talent you never would have.

But this is not about The Rock Boat, it is about the message that was impressed upon my soul:  Live Your Talent.  The talks I had, the stories I heard, plunked me into a fantastic place of awe.  And it comes down to people with unimaginable talent doing what it takes to realize their dreams and allowing us to become the audience of these dreams - to make us laugh, cry, shake our asses, remember, imagine, share, be inspired, believe, love.  Most people don't have musical talent - I happen to have some but I never followed through with it and there are days I regret it.  But we have other talents and I don't give a hoot if it's song, painting, speaking, listening, writing or making cupcakes for your child's class (fill in the blank) - whether it's in your work or your play - Live Your Talent, live it loud and let it sparkle.  Because I'll guarantee you a fistful of dollars - hell, I'll guarantee you TWO fistfuls - there is at least one person out there that needs what you have to make them smile, give them hope, inspire them, to fill a spot that's missing in their heart.  And you will light something in them, however minute, that they needed, that they desired, that they've dreamed of but didn't know how to wake up and live it.

This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew - this has inspired me to live my talent.  I've ignored it and is begging to come out and play.

Mujeres, Muchachos, Moving and Merriment

I'm going to squish the last couple of months into one writing with some highlights and then look forward to some new stories and enlightenment for the coming year.  Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed what I've experienced over the past couple of years, but I'll be straight with you, I'm slap wore out and tired of vagabond-ing.  I'm ready to settle in to a life.  There, I've said it.

Mujeres - My Mom and I took a trip to an island off of the Mexican coast called Isla Mujeres, Island of Women.  Probably the best laugh we had was when we were shown to our room and there were 2 swans made of towels on the bed that appeared to be kissing and, get this, rose petals scattered over them and the bed.  Now I knew this place probably catered to love bugs when I booked it and they told me there were no rooms with double beds, but COME ON - rose petals?  Pre-coitus birds?  Talk about rubbing the salt in the wound of a single gal.  Then to add some jig to the jag, we went to get the massage that was included in the hotel package, and when I told them I really preferred NOT to have a couples massage with my MOTHER and requested a separate room, they told me there would be an extra charge.  I think I said something to the tune of, "Come on, Mom.  Let's go get rubbed down."  We laughed a LOT on this trip and I will cherish the memory forever.

Muchachos - Unfortunately, I have no steamy stories of new hunks as I remain hunk-less.  Actually, I've come to realize I've been too busy and preoccupied to even consider a new hunk until as of late.  So this is about my Dad.  I know "muchacho" means a young man in Spanish, but I don't know the word for older dude, so this will have to suffice.  Let me preface this story with some info - my Dad is legally blind and can't hear a damn thing without his hearing aids.  Poor man was dealt with some shitty cards, but he still golfs (and as I understand it, hit a hole-in-one the other day; I wasn't there to witness the feat, but I guess I'll have to go on faith), tools around on his golf cart and keeps up a great lawn.  Nothing keeps him back.  Anyway, his task while Mom and I were in Mexico was to dog sit the pipsqueaks.  No big deal to those of us that can see and hear, right?  Add into the equation that Wiley, my rescue pipsqueak, is slightly neurotic and considers everyone a stranger until he deems you otherwise.  So getting him on his leash to go outside to do business was going to be a challenge for my Dad.  But by God, they made it happen and had no issues.  Guinness, however, the one we had no worry about, decided she was going to hide one day and my Dad spent an afternoon in panic thinking she had been carried off of the deck by a hawk.  After asking Wiley where she was and getting no reply, he spent the rest of his afternoon with a flashlight looking under beds and finally found her nestled into a corner.  She can be a real bitch sometimes.  When we returned from our sunning and funning, Dad and dogs were fine.  His dog sitting days are probably over, however.

Moving - It just sucks.  I don't give a rat's ass if you hire movers or not, it is exponentially more painful than having a pap smear, mammogram and Brazilian wax combined.  Times 2.  And that's all I have to say about that subject.

Merriment - Here we are on Christmas and I am by myself due to getting sick.  Thank LBJ (think The Hangover, not politics) for antibiotics and I'm on the mend, but I still missed out on seeing dear friends, my brother & family and what is always some of the most amazing time I ever have the pleasure of spending.  I don't believe I've ever spent a Christmas Eve totally alone, but I did it yesterday and I'm still cruising this world, so I know it's do-able.  (The pipsqueaks might be offended as they were my company, so don't tell them I wrote that.)  But today, I've been invited to the Gaybors for a cookout on the new grill they bought one another and my beautiful daughter is coming over to eat leftovers with me, so all is definitely not lost.  I refused to allow Christmas Eve to be a complete bust, so I baked a stuffed turkey, cooked green bean casserole and homemade gravy (there is NOTHING better than comfort food when you're sick or sad, or both).  I listened to the music of the season, watched movies and allowed, once again, the combined 25 lbs. of dog that live here to take over the couch.

Is my life exactly full of all of the magic and fulfillment I desire?  Honestly, no.  But is what exists  in the experiences and the people I am blessed to have filling it NOW enough to keep me hopeful and smiling?  No doubt about it, yes.  This is a Doing What I Know.  Merry Christmas!

Ships, Soap and Sunshine

Recently, I read a quote that was Shared on Facebook that disturbed me.  The skinny of it was that too many people bail out of relationships - be they marriages, family or friends - when the person with whom we are in said relationship shows their true colors during their time of dire need, desperation and despair.  And that we should "serve" and "be" with someone "in spite of their filthy heart."  It then goes on to speak of Love being patient, kind and deliberate, sacrificial and so on.  Then mentioned is recognizing the "darkness" in another person and not following your impulse to "jump ship".  Okay, really?

Now I realize that this author's meaning and how he or she believes and relates to what they wrote is very personal and can be construed in many ways by different people.  I get that.  How we absorb and translate every writing is personal.  For instance, I translate a "filthy heart" and "darkness" as attributes of a person I want nowhere near me. If I discover that an individual chooses not to and/or is incapable of putting some soap and water to their heart and chooses to stay in the dark and not find some sunlight, you're damn straight I'm jumping ship.  That's like choosing to remain on a scurvy-invested vessel instead of hopping on a lifeboat and paddling away.  No matter how difficult.  We can only lend someone a bar of soap and a bucket of water so many times.  We can lead another person to a patch of sun, but we cannot make them bathe in its light.  We can try and teach our family member/friend/lover/spouse/fill-in-the-blank how to scrub and seek out the warm, sunny spots, but we cannot force them to believe they can do it on their own.  I find it challenging enough to do this for myself every day.

The years have delivered me knowledge and realization, with much more to come, of course.  What I do know is surrounding oneself with as much fabulous as you can muster and eliminating that which makes one feel non-fabulous as much as possible has had a tremendous impact within me and my outlook as it comes to this life.  Have I jumped ship prematurely in the past?  I'm sure I have.  Will I do it in the future?  I sure hope not.  Has someone(s) chosen to haul off the Ship Laura?  You betcha.  But I'll tell you one thing, I'll fight a helluva battle before surrendering.  This is a Doing What I Know.

The Wonder Woman Syndrome

I have made great friends with my daughter's Gay-bors.  They are a fantastic couple with whom I plan on being friends forever and ever, Amen.  They have nicknamed me "Wonder Woman" - one reason being that they think I look like Lynda Carter.  The other, because I was beckoned to help Steve move a 175-pound (probably exaggerated, but what the hell) cement pineapple a few weeks ago.  Steve has recently gone through back surgery and in addition to this, is a perfectionist and couldn't stand his pineapple being in the wrong place on the front walk, so he caught me coming in from a run and asked me to move it to its correct location.  So in my sweaty state dressed in running attire, he said, and I quote, "Wonder Woman, you not only LOOK like her, you are also built like a brick-shit-house!"  I'm still not quite sure how to take that, but I suppose I'll lean toward a compliment.

Then yesterday after dropping my vehicle off for a check-up, I decided to walk around instead of sitting in the smelly garage waiting for my car.  As I was traipsing down a busy road, I noticed a bicycler coming my way and moved to the inside of the sidewalk, thinking I was following rules and being polite.  As he continued toward me, he started to aggressively wave me over to the OUTSIDE of the sidewalk right next to the oncoming cars.  I'm sorry, but what the HELL?  In order to avoid being cremated by a car, I simply stepped further to the inside and onto the grass to completely avoid him.  As this lug-head passed me, he asked, and I quote "What the 'F' is wrong with you????"  (To note, he actually used the full usage for 'F'.)  After I dropped my chin off of the sidewalk and popped my eyeballs back into their sockets, I started to contemplate:  did this lug-head see me as Wonder Woman and believe that I had the powers to move over and risk being forced into oncoming traffic, but be capable of reflecting the cars unharmed?  I certainly didn't have on my gold cuff bracelets that afternoon, but maybe he sensed it.  MAYBE he was Superman and he just figured I would see this with my superpowers and intrinsically know that he was on his way to rescue a baby and its mother from the train tracks that were over to the left.  Probably, he's just an everyday lug-head with no manners and a strong case of the pissed-offs.  I'll go with that one.

My stream of thought continued throughout the day and night - do I emit the Wonder Woman vibes so much that people don't realize that I do have a vulnerable side as well?  Is one of the reasons I remain hunk-less because men are afraid of the superpowers that exist in my gold bangle bracelets and that if they tick me off, I will clash them together and throw laser beams into their eyes and burn their retinas or another important part of their body?

All of the women in my life have Wonder Woman-esque qualities - we love, live, defend, protect and leap high buildings.  We move cement pineapples.  But do we show our vulnerability enough to really be known?  Do we give Wonder Woman a chance to sit on the bench and take a break from the game and watch from the sidelines?  And maybe get a mani/pedi while we're sitting there.  I've found a tremendous amount of balance in my life as of late in many silos of life, but I'm beginning to think that this is not one of them.  I'm going to find some Wonder Woman episodes to discover how Lynda aka Diana Prince dealt with the whole situation.  I mean, she had Steve Trevor as her hunk - what were her secrets?  When did she give her vulnerability a chance to shine?

This is a Not Knowing What the Hell I'm Doing.  But I'm gonna figure the damn thing out.

Finders Keepers

Most of us have had that dream.  You know the one.  Okay, pervs, minds out the muck!  The one in which you are back in time and in a situation and you're now older (and hopefully) wiser and everyone else is still at the same stage of life in the past.  And you say with your dream voice "Holy crap, I know how to handle this/what to do/what not to do/fill-in-the-blank!  I know what is right/what will make me a better person/what will not tarnish me/fill-in-the-blank!"  And you do it and it makes you soar.  I always end up flying in those dreams, but hey, that's just me.  So as I round out my journey out West, I thought of this recurring dream.  And it makes me soar.

Here, I have experienced beauty and adventure.  Solitude and friendship.  Discovery and learning.  I had the opportunity to step away from a somewhat chaotic (albeit great) life and was able to become centered.  It felt as if I was one of those magnet paperclip gadgets and all my paperclips were strewn around and I couldn't seem to attract them to the place they were supposed to be. But then the magnet was replaced with a new one.  And those paperclips couldn't help but be attracted to the re-magnetized gadget.  And they moved to the center.  I became centered.

So now, I head back to a place I've been before, both geographically and figuratively.  And I've missed both terribly - the region, my daughter, beloved dogs and the proximity of family and friends.  I go back as a very different person.  Not just from the latest adventure out West, but from a long progression of realizations and changes that have been occurring for some years.  Change is inevitable and sometimes a couple of the paperclips will escape, but let me tell you something, honey...  my magnet is strong.  And I have become older and wiser - I have forgiven myself for the fill-in-the blanks - so the aforementioned dream is now a reality for me.  With strength and the occasional snippet of solitude, comes serenity.  I found it and I'm keeping it.

This is a Doing What I Know.

Oh (Boy,) Canada...

My latest excursion was to Canada.  The purpose for the trip was multi-faceted, and of course, one of those facets was adventure.  And what an adventure it was.  Let's just put it this way - I'm pretty sure I've been red-listed in that country.  On my way in, I was sent to some thing they call the "Secondary Screening" place after being interrogated by an extremely bitchy woman at the customs desk.  Now, I know I can be a smart ass - I've known this for years and my Mom would probably say it started around Kindergarten.  But generally speaking, I turn to smart ass tactics only when provoked by someone who is exemplifying behavior of the like, stupidity, or just downright meanness.  I don't just take it off the shelf for the sake of shits & giggles - there is a reason behind it.  So this woman starts firing at me with stupid (see, there you go, she asked for it) questions and I answered with smart (ass) retorts.  Let me tell you folks, don't do that in Canada - they're snake-venom mean.  I'm not sure if this woman didn't like my face or found my perfume offensive or what, but that bitch was on a Not Gonna Let Laura In Mission.  At the end, I got into the country, but it was questionable for a few moments.

So there's the start - here's the middle.  I ate some wonderful food, drank great wines and was in the presence of yet more awesomeness of Mother Nature and her friends.  I had a gracious host who introduced me to some of the wonder of what is Canada.  This trip was not life-altering as the others I've taken while on my adventure out West.  However, it did remind me that when considering a potential hunk (which my gracious host was qualified for until around some time during the second day of the trip) and playing in the game of dating, that you must wear your helmet, keep your eyes wide open and make sure you know your opponent's strategy.  And when a flag is down on the play, pay attention to it - it's there for a goddam reason.  This all being said, the Potential Hunk and I had a nice time and I'm better for the experience.

And the end was just as entertaining as the beginning.  I was nice to everyone.  I followed instruction.  I was a soldier in line.  Then I gave my boarding pass and passport to someone who glances up at me with a raised eyebrow and proceeds to underline SSSS under the "Remarks/Observations" section of the boarding pass with hot pink.  Here we go again.  I continued to follow rules and smile, but it did no good.  I had to go through some machine AND get patted down.  They finally let me through, but I swear to the Big Guy, those people were out to get me. I've never had the desire to be featured on a poster, but I have a feeling that my mug may be somewhere hanging on the wall in the Toronto airport.  I hope they got me during a photogenic moment.

This is a Not Knowing What the Hell I was Doing - in more ways than one.  But I learned some things.  If I decide to go back to Canada and the Canadians will let me back in, I now know how to handle the situation.  And I was reminded that in the Dating Game, we should stick to our playbook, watch for those flags and someday, we'll get into the end zone.  We're all throwing down flags and can't be all things to all people and we have to play in the same game at the same time.  Eventually, those of us playing in the Dating Game will find the right teammate, wear the same jersey and scream TOUCHDOWN!!!!

Getting to the Center

I just went on an amazing trip with my brother.  It was not the drug-induced kind, although at some points, I felt particularly high.  One night, I walked to the center of a labyrinth and found a crystal at the center.  From what I've read, there are many meanings and cultural origins of the labyrinth - what I took away and what it meant to me was this:  I'm following a circular path that is lined with some direction, but in order to follow it to THE center, I have to trust MY center where my heart and soul live.  And then, you make it back out to the beginning and do it all over during those times we need to find our center, place a hand on a crystal and feel the magic again.

We also made it to the center of a vortex - I thought I was going to keel over trying to keep up with my brother (the sonofabitch is younger than I am and has longer legs), but success was had by all.  Standing between the beautiful enormity of art created by Mother Nature made me feel magnanimous and insignificant, all at the same time.  It imposed upon me the realization that as individuals, we can bring one another so many things - love, joy, pain, sorrow and everything in between and surrounding that (much like a labyrinth).  And that also as individuals, we are but a minute pinpoint that exists on this earth and I was summoned to absorb the fact that in the grand scheme of the universe, we are but that... a pinpoint.

I needed to learn that my joys and struggles and those of the people I know and/or love can be found in the center and celebrated, understood or solved, as it so applies.  And that we are like the tip of a pin that makes a prick in the universe and creates a tiny hole - but through that hole, a light can shine through and expand to places much bigger than us.  So this is a Doing What I Thought I Knew.

Casinos and Conundrums

So my last adventures have been in casinos - this was not by design, mind you.  I got a last minute deal to Vegas a couple of weeks ago, had no plans, so there I went.  Then the following weekend, Boz Skaggs was playing at a local casino, so I went.  It was awesome - both trips.  I spa'd in Vegas, won $100 (and I have no idea how to gamble) and discovered that there are topless pools at most resorts there.  No, I did not partake.  Vegas is a shit storm and I was in the middle of it until about 11 o'clock both nights I was there - met some crazy people, had offers to fly out of town the next day internationally, had offers to do things I didn't know existed on this earth, pretended my hearing was lacking while smiling, and then I went to my room and went to sleep.  Pretty much the same thing at the local card-slinging joint.  But I got to see Boz, and that was definitely worth it.  And I met a potential hunk with whom I have been on a date since then.  Apparently, that's not going to work out since I haven't really heard from him since.  A text or two - but at my age, you either call me and ask me for another date, or I pretty much figure you're moving on to the next best thing you believe to be out there.  Or, I scared him in some way shape or form, which has been known to happen.

So here is the conundrum as we've already covered the casinos:  Why are so many people so afraid to express their true feelings and intentions AND/OR why do so many people express feelings and intentions that are not true?  This is bubbling in me not just from the casino experiences of late - this is bubbling from the people I meet and the people I know in life and the fact that I've spent more time on my own than usual - which is saying a helluva lot, because I know what mega-alone-time means.  And this gives me MUCH too much time to ponder this crazy thing we call life.  But I suppose that's been the point of my West Adventure and one of the reasons the Big Guy placed me on this earth. 

So this is a Not Knowing What the Hell I'm Doing.  I need to make sure I'm doing and expressing what is true to me, and to make sure I'm connected with and choose to bring people into my life that do the same.  And that is sometimes a really hard soil to toil. 

Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: Flying Solo with Butterflies

Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: Flying Solo with Butterflies: One of the reasons I chose Arizona as a place to explore for 6 months was the ease of getting in your car or hopping a cheap flight and expe...

Flying Solo with Butterflies

One of the reasons I chose Arizona as a place to explore for 6 months was the ease of getting in your car or hopping a cheap flight and experiencing places I've never been or haven't experienced enough of.  I've now been to San Diego - one morning, I put on my running shoes, grabbed my phone and credit card and walked the city for 8 hours.  It was amazing.  I just got back from a last-minute excursion to the Grand Canyon.  Words just cannot describe.  Not just the beauty, but of what happened to me while I was there - all the way through my soul and into the middle of my heart.

Traveling by one's self can be liberating and a helluva ton of fun.  You do what you want to do when you want to do it - no one is late or bitching or having a breakdown because their hair doesn't look good and/or their ass looks big.  Since I've been hunk-less for so long, I barely remember what it's like to travel with a man, but I do remember they don't like shopping so much.  And I love to shop.  This all being said, I love to travel with other people - as long as they don't get on my last nerve.  My daughter and a handful of my friends are the ultimate joy with which to explore - we go with the flow and take it all in while having a freaking blast.  And you don't get looked at like you're plagued with a mental illness or a flesh-eating disease when you tell the hostess that there is just one for dinner.  And I swear to the Big Guy Above, if I hear "how is it that a woman like you is traveling alone?" one more ass-slapping time, I'm going to poke someone's eyeball out.  I really won't do that or I will be dubbed certifiably insane and probably get in some trouble with the law.  What I really do is answer:  "Because I can."

But for all of the people this weekend who looked at me funny sitting by myself, eating dinner while listening to a guy play a brilliant guitar and singing Willie and Kris or the couples and groups I passed on the hiking trails, I'll make a bet of a trillion dollars, none of them experienced what I did.  I was sitting on an outcropping of rocks, reflecting on life and a gorgeous, yellow butterfly started fluttering around me.  I wished it to land on me, because somewhere I've heard that is good luck, but she flew away.  I continued on my hike and I was literally thinking about how I wished she had chosen me as her landing pad when I saw her (or her twin) fluttering in front of me and I said outloud "Well there you are..."  And do you know what?  She came to me and landed on my stomach, drank some sweat from my bellybutton and flew away.  And I broke down in tears and thanked the universe for allowing me to be a part of such beauty and for keeping me in awe of what this life offers.

This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew - because my life after this has been altered in such an inspiring way.

Whack-a-Mole vs. The Groundhog

Having cocktails with one of my BFFs the other day, we came upon what I think is a hilarious interpretation of dating.  We are comparing ourselves to rodents, which doesn't bode well from a complimentary standpoint, but it's a knee-slapper, nonetheless.  Here it goes....

My friend is like the Whack-a-Mole.  If you don't know what that is, just think back to the carnival days and that game you played by which you were given a mallet and would try to whack the mole on the head each time it poked out of a hole.  Then, it would sink back down and re-emerge from another hole - and you would try and whack it again.  This is my friend in the dating world - she sticks her head out of the ground, finds some hunk (or male mole) that she is attracted to and vice versa , they go out on a date (or 4) OR have a flirtatious encounter(s), it doesn't work out for one reason or another (i.e. she gets whacked on the head), and then she goes back under.  Then, as nature would have it, she sticks her head back out only to be lightly boinked by the mallet, and, well, you get where I'm going with this.  But God love her, she keeps poking that cute head up with those brown eyes and doesn't lose the faith.

I, on the other hand, am like the Groundhog.  Every once in a while, I emerge from the down under to check out the scenery, smells and general vibe of the universe.  I take a look around, sniff, open my senses to the hunk that may be sniffing around me, and if I don't like it and my Groundhog hairs are standing up all over my body, I get the hell out of dodge and back to my safe haven and don't come up for a while.  Thankfully, the world is not relying upon me to end the winter season - I'd probably have a lot of enemies.

I suppose you could liken my quest to find the hunk of my dreams to waiting for the glorious Spring season and making sure everything is going to bloom and there's not a bunch of dog shit around my Groundhog hole that I may step in when I come out.  I'm not sure what you'd liken the Whack-a-Mole to - perhaps playing the game until you win whilst not getting too many bumps on  your head.  Either way, this dating adventure is just that, an adventure.  No matter what hole you're coming up from or going back into.

This is a Doing What I Know.

The Clueless Has Landed

I've spent my first few days in Arizona for the first time on my own and I've learned a few things.  I'm better off going on a run to figure out where everything is - the other day, I figured out I've been driving around my ass to get to my elbow to get to groceries stores (here, you can buy vodka in the grocery stores along with wine and I find that glorious) and the drug store.  But hey, I found a Trader Joe's, so that was okay - even if it was 17 miles away.  I've also learned that there is a sundry of great shopping and eating that doesn't require me to get in a car to get to - simply put, dangerous.  I've learned to put sunscreen in the crown of my hair.  I'm imagining some ugly flaking in the near future.  I've learned that drinking as much water as is required especially when exercising makes one less inclined to drink as much booze as normal or eat as much which is great for weight loss AND hydrating the skin (which, by the way, in combination with really great lotions has my skin looking better than ever, so here's a big raspberry sent out to the naysayers who said I'd dry up like a Papyrus greeting card - my skin is brown and plump - so there). 

When I embarked upon this adventure, I wasn't running from anything, but rather to a space in which I am able to discover more about who I am at this stage of life.  Stepping away from the pattern and place I've created for myself and into a bit of the unknown is what I've needed to begin to center myself and start to ask:  How do I become the absolute best version of me?  As a mother, a daughter, a family member, a friend, a professional, a contributor - ultimately, what the Big Guy designed for me when he decided to throw me into the womb of my Mom.  I imagine Him saying:  "Alright, Cindy, here are your ingredients, let her bake for a while and make sure you take her out of the oven at the right temperature and texture 'cause she's got some work to do." 

So, I am in throes of experience, learning and cleansing myself of all the negativity, internal and external,  that even DARE to get in the way of me turning out to be the perfect recipe I was intended to be. I just ain't got time for that.

This is a Not Knowing What the Hell I'm Doing - but man, I'm gonna have a ball.

Tunnels

I went for a run on a gorgeous trail along the Saluda River today.  I should call it a run-walk as I have to slow it down a few times along the way, but I'm going to say I did some HIIT (High Intensity Interval Training) to make myself appear more athletic and cool.  So, I did some HIIT today and at the end of one of the toughest legs of the trail, there is a tunnel.  It's more of an enclosed, wooden bridge, but I think of it as a tunnel.  I've learned through my runs on said trail that after this tunnel, it is time for me to slow my roll.  And I found myself chanting "To it and through it", "To it and through it".  I did this, in order to concentrate on two things:  steady, deep breathing and not throwing up.

At the end of this tunnel, I began to walk and meditate.  This is probably why I'm not good at the meditation thing - I'm always in motion unless sleeping or drinking wine.  And hell, I have one of those wine glass holders that goes around your neck devices, so I can even jet around while slurping grape.  Anyway, I was thinking deeply and it came to me...  our lives are paths with tunnels.  We see them down the way and if we can get to it and through it, we make it to the other side.  Perhaps sometimes we're throwing up, but through it nonetheless.  The tunnel may represent something scary, traumatic, uncertain (fill in the blank), but if we make ourselves get to it and stare into the opening instead of zigzagging from side to side in front of the damn thing and exhausting ourselves, we can get through it.

No one knows how many tunnels life's path is going to construct. It'd be like guessing how many cottage cheese dimples we're going to end up with and where.  So we better become practiced in being in the tunnels that may be dark, echoing and with shaky boards as we're walking across, but by God, we can get through them to the other side and the sun will be shining on our bodies and we'll be able to run some more.

This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew because I've done more than my share of zigzagging.  Time for the To It and Through It as much as I am able.

Roll Me Away

Today is my 45th birthday, so I felt I should write something.  I'm a bit at a loss due to a week-long intake of cold meds, extreme work clutter, the bug man making a tremendous amount of noise outside of my office and well, damn it all, having a brain that is 45-years old.  As I try to write this, my brain  went to a thought stream around the bug man - "Why is he making so much noise?  I thought their job was to wander around and spray chemicals?  When will he be finished?  Will his boss notice if he never shows up for work again if I strangle him?"  So this may be tough, but here goes...

I'm 45 years old, presently living in my daughter's house, work for myself with no stable paycheck, have no potential hunks in my life and am about to move across the country away from all my peeps, including my obsessively-loved dogs.  My friends and family tell me they envy me.  Hell, even strangers I meet tell me they envy me.  Some are probably being honest, but I bet when I walk out of the room, my Mom, Dad, Brother and a smattering of my friends say:  "What the hell is she doing?  Should we have her committed?"  But it's happening and I'm so excited I could bust an internal organ from giggling so much.

It's scary and exalting all at the same time.  I will explore, be lonely, have fun, probably eat and drink too much, rebel, revel, and most importantly, learn.  Learn about who I am, who I was, who I can be, who I want to be...  and all by myself.  It's not that I haven't moved before or experienced being alone - Jesus H. Christ, I've done that more often than I like to admit.  But it's a different time and situation.  I've spent many years planning and living my life around the people (and dogs) I love and let me tell you something, it's been worth every joyous and/or stressful and/or heartbreaking minute.  These minutes have made me who I am and I pray have had impact and meaning on those with whom I've spent them.  In my opinion, that is the making for an awesome existence on this earth.

So, in closing, I will quote my imaginary lover's words, especially when I speak of travel and adventure, Bob Seger:
"I could go east, I could go west,
it was all up to me to decide"...

This is a Not Knowing What the Hell I Am Doing.  But rollin' just the same.

My Bitches

To those of you who read this, I apologize for being gone.  I've actually had some inquiries and it seems there are those crazy Bitches out there who are enjoying this compilation - a couple of Dudes too.  Who'da thunk it?  Before anyone gets pissed, I use the terms "Bitches" and "Dudes" with lots of love and respect. 

Basically, I was abducted by Bitches.  That's right - the last month I was captured by lovely, crazy women from all over the country - and it was fantastic.  Those of you that need to get your minds out of the gutter, please do.  I have not flown to the Vagina Side of the Moon.  I still want a Hunk in my life.  Simply put, I have spent some incredible time with Bitches from all over the US, all walks of life and owning all kinds of stories.  And it has made me realize and qualify some important things:

1.  Bitches rock.
2.  We know how to have a lot more fun than Dudes without taking our pants off unless we are skinny-dipping.
3.  We can drink Those with Penises around the block and STILL wake up in the morning and take care of whatever business we have.  And then go run around the block again.
4.  Our brains and livers are like sponges - they retain everything until squeezed (aka detoxed), become empty and then need to be filled up again.  Otherwise, Bitches just get bored.
5.  Bitches may fall down and skin our knees, maybe even crack a skull or two, but by God, we stand back up, slap some Neosporin and a Band-Aid on and we're good to go.
6.  I love the Bitches in my life more than words describe.

So, sorry for my absence, but I was busy.   My Bitches beckoned.

This is a Doing What I Know.

Valentine's Day Eve Eve Eve....

Suffice it to say, I don't have a big Heart for the big V-Day at the present moment.  I'm sans-hunk or any real prospects and the only male lovin' I'm getting right now is from Wiley.  He is my dog, weighs approximately 13 pounds and is very hairy.  He does, however, gaze at me like I'm a Goddess, squeal when I get home and snuggle up to me at night.  There you go.

I would love to love Valentine's Day.  I love celebrating Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas without a hunk.  Hell, I love any beautiful day without a hunk.  But this season just slays me.  And it has been made into a Season, not just a Day.  Diamonds, flowers, kisses, hands-on-the-ass....  for at least two to three weeks before the dreaded February 14th hits the calendar.  It makes us single chicks feel a bit, well, let me just say it....  ENVIOUS and/or FOREVER HOPEFUL!  And I would imagine it makes those chicky- mamas out there with a man in their lives feel one (or more) of the following:

1.  Absolutely loved and cherished (we single women envy you)
2.  Anxious because you don't know what the hell to expect (we single women fear you)
3.  Bored because you just don't care (we single women don't want to be you)
4.  A combination of one or more of the above (we single women don't know what to think)

On February 14th, I am going to pretend it's just another day and ignore the flower delivery trucks passing by my house - or maybe I'll egg them as they go by.  That would be fun.  But then as the work day ends, I'll get the warm-fuzzies (after a glass of wine, of course) and feel the desire to treat my household to a nice dinner and probably a goofy Valentine's Day treat.  Dogs included.  Maybe I'll even get one of those fancy balloons to liven up the joint a little.  Because I do have hope, I have a boatload of love in my life right now and I will meet that hunk that makes my toes curl and adores me as much as Wiley does...  I really do believe this.  Even if I won't have any damned flowers delivered to my door on 2/14.

This is a Doing What I Know.