Life-Size Bobble Head

I have a great friend, very talented and fearless. When I'm afraid I can't do something, she is the first to remind me that I am strong and amazing, gives me a squeeze and then a little shove. And then cheers when I am done - GOLD STAR, she says. She encourages me to jump into the crowd, trusting they'll catch me and will do so herself just to see if she's brave enough (she's brave enough for most of us).  And she is someone I admire and who inspires me; my personal courage role model. She sets goals and achieves them.

The last few years, she's been setting biking goals, pushing herself more each year. She has a goal, this year, to ride 59 miles through Deception Pass on the Bike MS ride this weekend (see her story here). And while that is an admirable goal in and of itself, it isn't all she has for a goal this year.  This year she wanted to push her fundraising goal a little more as well. And I want to help her for all the times she's given me that little boost I needed when it seemed to hard to get through.

So, I am. 

I am holding an auction for a CRAZY AWESOME costume.

Time to digress, for context, so hang with me.

Many of you know (and if you don't, here you go), I spent the last 10 and a half years working for a company called Expeditors.  I met many wonderful people there and had great memories and a lot of hard work. One of the most memorable parts of working for Expeditors is Peter Rose, the much beloved former CEO. So beloved, one year, many years ago,  bobble heads were created of the CEO. These bobble heads were coveted and scarce and a sighting was rare. 

Until Halloween 2014. . . For Halloween 2014, my very talented friend actually created a  LIFE SIZE VERSION of PETER ROSE.  And it was AMAZING. 

And now, this LIFE SIZE PETER ROSE, can be yours!  

All you have to do is bid (by private messaging me via Facebook or via the blog).  The bidding starts at $100 and all the proceeds will go to Melinda Thrasher's Bike MS fundraising goal. The bidding will be open through tomorrow night.

If you can't bid, but want to support both my friend and this amazing cause, please do. Every dollar counts and I know Melinda would be grateful for your contribution. Just click on the link above and donate!

Thank you all for reading! And let me know if you want to bid!!

Raise your fist with me

Over the new year weekend, I received an email from a friend who used to work for me years ago and was starting the following Monday to work for me again. But it wasn’t about work. It was about who she thinks I am.

It was an email with 41 words and a link. But the most important thing about the email was that she thought this was a thing I would/should (probably more would than should) do.

The end of my 2015 sucked ass. I got sick and spent the weekend before Christmas in the ER and was down for the count for two weeks. I couldn’t leave my bed or my bathroom. Colitis sucks, people.

And then at the beginning of the year,I lost my last cat, my 19 year old companion. I’d lived with her longer than I’d lived with anyone else, even my parents. So, shit was bad, and I hated everything and felt like I hadn’t done anything last year. It was awful. . . But this thing. This thing happened.

It was called www.yearcompass.com. I didn’t look at it over that weekend, but then I looked at it Monday morning, the first Monday of the month, January 4th. How was I going to shape my year? And dude, like I said before, I did SHIT the year before, so there is no reason to look back. I didn’t even write a blog about what I had accomplished for 2015 over the weekend because it seemed like I hadn’t done anything. And I always write something about the year before. And I was sure I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. But then on Monday, the 4th, I read about this booklet.

I told my friend that I would totally do this and would she do it with me and could I write it out and share it with her and would she share hers with me. We agreed.

The next 4 days I spent time doing this “The Year Ahead” booklet. But the first page taught me everything I think about myself is wrong. I am not lazy. I am not terrible. I am not a loser. The irony of these words does not escape me. I mean, every year for the last few years I write the same thing. . . “I’m so lazy. I don’t do anything. But wait. I did do things. Lots of things. Why do I always think I’m such a slag?”

This past year, 2015, is no different.

The first page tells you to consider the following: “Go through last year’s calendar week by week. If you see an imporTant event, family gathering, friendly get-together or significant project, write it down here.”

I didn’t have enough room.

I finished a tarot class
I started a writing group, where one of the writers finished a book
I met Gloria Steinem and Alice Walker at my writing conference
I saw Rose’s Pawn Shop
I stayed overnight with Simon playing games and telling stories about the slumperflurfer that lived under the couch and needed carrots - and every time it got carrots gave a kissing fit to laughing boys
I saw Amanda Fucking Palmer in Vancouver (I’d never been) with all of her TED TALK friends!!
I played smashputt!
I did Lauren’s hair and makeup for prom. She wanted to be cinderella and had a dress to match
I walked a marathon
I went to the women’s world cup
I attended a women’s conference and was inspired; meeting Gloria Steinem and Alice Walker (who does that???)
I stage managed Gary’s 50th birthday and had the fucking time of my life and loved on Gary and Rodney
I orchestrated a winning sock drive for homeless
I watched ET with Ciara. . . Watching movies with her is a healing experience.
I had two bouts of anaphylactic shock that left me on the couch for three total weeks - but it didn’t kill me - so fuck you antibiotics
I finalized my divorce
I went to see March4th and loved on Shannon and Shelia
I attended Derek and Kristin’s wedding, re-connecting with my soul twin Kelly
I lost 20lbs
I told a story as part of an event about my amazing familyship with Ciara
I got Colitis
An employee came back to work for me
I took a road trip to Montana in a corvette
I went to Florida in JULY to hang with my family. And it was amazing and fantastic, reminding me that despite my closed offness, they heal me.
I lost my Willie
I visited Alistair’s family for Doug’s 70th birthday and was reminded how much I belong
I celebrated my and Jennifer’s birthday with oreo cakes
I rooted for the Green Bay Packers at a playoff game with the Seahawks and kept all my friends
I discovered Kat Robicoud
I hired a life coach
I hired an assistant
I stage managed The Lion in Winter and could not be prouder of this production
I wrote more than 50K words.
I asked for help


There were 8 more pages that asked me to relive my most important events, accomplishments, avoidances, challenges, risks,fears,favorite things, people that helped me and that I helped, made me realize what I needed to forgive and let go, and helped me boil my last year into a book title with three themes: learning, change and asking.

The book title to 2015?

The Fool’s Journey.

Don’t judge. If you get it, you get it. If you don’t. Look up the Fool/Tarot.

And then came the planning for 2016.

I am not a planner. . . Not in anyone’s imagination.

But, despite this depression (getting colitis and being in the ER during the week of Christmas and your birthday and then losing your 19 year old cat a two weeks later will totally fuck with you and help you right into the darkness of depression), it gave me hope. It made me smile. It inspired me.

The first thing it asked me was this: What does the year ahead of you look like? What will happen in an ideal case? Why will it be great? Write, Draw, let go of your expectations and dare to dream.

My answer?

Hopeful. Full of family and travel and writing and friends and change. I will leap. I will step off the sidewalk to see what it is like off the path. I will give myself, all the way, to the universe. I will hide nothing, be shamed by nothing. I will close my eyes, throw back my head and my arms out wide to let the universe fill all the space with no apologies. And when I fall, I’ll get back up by asking my loves to give me a hand.

And then I remembered I was going to share this with another person. It was terrifying and I realized I had committed to telling another person of all my failures. But then I looked at my dare to dream statement. How could I NOT share this with her. I had declared my unabashed vuneralbility. I would start out the year being a fraud if I didn’t share it with anyone.

And so I will live it. I believe that stating these things to me. Stating these things to you will inspire, compel and propel me to that. And I’ve shared that statement of dream to many people. Close people and not close people. I want to be free to declare myself always. And so I do.

I am brave
I am courageous
I am vulnerable
I am fragile
I am strong
I am fallible
I am trusting
I am trustworthy
I am worthy

I give myself to the universe.

I believe the universe will give right back.

I know that I can lift my fist in the air and say
Fuck yes.
I am here.
I love.
I am loved.
I see you.
We are connected.

AND I SAY TO ALL MY PEOPLE (you know who you are - I love you):
FUCK YES
YOU ARE HERE
I AM HERE
WE LOVE EACH OTHER
WE ARE LOVED BY EACH OTHER
THANK YOU FOR SEEING ME
WE ARE CONNECTED

Here is to 2016.

p.s. I share with her tomorrow. And I’m not afraid. oh, and here are some pictures https://goo.gl/photos/AVsD66XPUbshyHhFA

it was rough and amazing. cuz that's how life is. . .

and it’s that time again. time for me to put goals out there and then promptly not meet them. i’m a great beginner, and a terrible finisher. this time last year i decided i was going to “live the Ray Bradbury way.” it was my hair brained idea that i could read something every single day of the year. and to add to it, i also said i’d read a whole bunch of other shit and go to a bunch of shows and visit the library - oh, and of course, write a whole bunch. on the blog, not on the blog. . .oh, the goals i had.

i don’t think i made it to the library one time. i almost went last month when my parents were in town, but i am not sure that would have counted at all.

i feel like i failed. . . again.

i looked back at how many postings i did in 2014. and it’s less than 2013 (which was less than the year before that). . . and i wonder why on earth i can’t keep up a writing habit. i love to write. it makes me feel right, normal. the gap in the middle of the year makes complete sense to me.  so - here’s what happened.

at the beginning of the year, i had just moved back into my house. i had moved out (this was the second or third time) because of a major disagreement of how a marriage should work. i had high hopes, i posted 5 times in january. that was amazing for me. at least once a week i posted something. 

in february, i went to mexico to a writing conference and - it was an amazing time.  i was inspired. i felt renewed and invigorated and i thought i would write and write and write.

San Miguel Febuary 2014

however, my return was ruined by the fact that another marriage disagreement (of major significant factors) occurred. details don’t necessarily matter, but know that i don’t deserve what happened. i have enough self esteem to know i am a good person who deserves an equal partner willing to participate in life. and not just in my life. in their own life, too.

i wrote a blog posting in march about how i needed to forgive myself about what i hadn’t done. and it’s true, i did need to forgive myself. i was depressed. so depressed it was hard to get out of bed every day. i had tried very hard to write, to read, to be inspired, but it was hard. when your marriage is dissolving before your eyes, it’s hard to focus on much else. it would be short sited to not look back at that and think - shit - she should forgive herself - she did all of that during a very difficult time. 

that time lasted for a long time. my breaking point was in the middle of may (probably at the beginning of may, but i hadn’t found enough courage to do anything). there is a quote by Meg Cabot -

“Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the judgement that something is more important than fear; The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all.”

it’s a quote i’ve told to others, on many occasions, to help them know they are more important than any fear they have. so hypocritical of myself. it’s always easier to give others advice - you can see the problem so objectively when it isn’t you. but this time i had to see my own problem. it was hard and it was terrifying. but i had decided that i was more important than my fear. more important than my fear of loneliness, more important than my fear of being hated, more important than my fear of thinking i could never find my center, more important than the my fear that i deserved this unhappiness and disrespect.

i didn’t leave my house this time. it’s my house. on June 1^st, i got my space back. my house and safe place. i was mercifully and terrifyingly alone. i thought it would be enough to break the depression. but it didn’t get better. it got worse. and along with it came some other scary things. 

i woke up one morning, in july, without being able to put a hair tie in my hair. i couldn’t grab things correctly. and i knew this mean there was something wrong with my neck. and i had been through this. two and a half years ago i had my disc removed and my spine fused to get rid of this problem only to find out that well - there are these canals that were being pinched by the disc but that are now narrowing so. . . disc or no disc, my nerve was very angry. two neck injections later and i’m better. . . but. . . just better. it comes and goes.

a month after that i woke up and found  this crazy creeping red thing going up my arm.  i waited all day because it didn’t hurt or anything, but after work i went to the doctor and she sent me straight to the ER. they promptly said i had a blood infection and needed antibiotics - oh - and hey - i guess i’ve developed an allergy to that antibiotic (WHAT?). they sent me home with two OTHER antibiotics and said if the red moved outside of this marker line they drew on me to come back in the morning. and it had.  and they gave me another antibiotic that i promptly and painfully found out that i’m terribly allergic to. only to be told to take the antibiotics they gave me in pill form. WHICH I AM ALSO ALLERGIC TO and had to go into the ER for a THIRD time in 48 hours to get treatment for anaphylactic shock. it was fun. and they have no idea what the blood infection was. and all of that led to more depression. so much so that my best friend came into my house to make sure i was ok. i wasn’t returning phone calls or text messages or emails.

blood infection

then came the panic attacks. i was receiving emails and letters from my estranged husband. each and every one caused me to have an alien bursting from my chest episode. i could hardly work and would cry at the drop of a hat. i needed to file for divorce but the mere thought of having to think about him made me spiral into these horrible panic attacks where i felt like my chest was going to explode and i would end up in a lake of tears. it was crippling. i spent a lot of time hiding in my house. avoiding things. avoiding places. avoiding people. going to work was an enormous effort. and i would be so exhausted when i got home i would just want to sleep. and while i could fall asleep, staying asleep never worked because if i woke up for even a few minutes, i would start thinking about what i had to do. that would become completely overwhelming.

and so it went for months. and months. then my friend moved in for a couple of weeks. it was amazing. i felt like i had a purpose. i had to get up every day. i had to make sure the house was clean. i had to be a good roommate. and i wanted to do things with her. having her live there was sort of like having a booster shot of b12 those celebrities get when they are overwhelmed with their schedules. but if you have ever read anything about that kind of thing. it’s very short lived. it gives you a boost, but it isn’t a solution. and that is sort of what happened when she moved out. i fell back into the old habits.

but the healing has started. i think it’s started because i finally filed for divorce and asked that all communication go through my lawyer. there are few emails here and there that still give me panic attacks, but for the most part, i find myself doing things like going to the grocery store regularly. cooking. walking. seeing my friends instead of watching endless amounts of investigation discovery. it’s not perfect and i haven’t quite figured it out, yet. but it sure as hell is better than i felt the first part of 2014. 

and how did i do in 2014 with the Ray Bradbury way? Actually not to feakin’ bad for not finishing. i didn’t have goals for the entirety of all the things i’m about to show you, but i am going to use it. i’m going to improve on what i did. 

Category	# of items	% of goal completed
Poem	30	8%
Short Story	31	8%
Novel	22	183%
Essay	15	8%
Show	25	208%
Story Idea	8	15%
Film	7	13%
Blog	10	100%
Non-Fiction	5	100%
Written Short Story	2	4%
Writing	25	48%

a quick % explanation

• Poems, short stories, and essays were out of 365 (one a day)
• Novels were out of 12 (one a month)
• Shows were out of 12 (one a month)
• Story ideas were out of 52 (one a week)
• Films were out of 52 (one a week)
• Blogs were out of 10 (mostly because i didn’t give it any goals. . . so anything more than 1 was good)
• Non-fiction was out of 5 (because i didn’t have a goal and shit, i did five, so fuck - yeah!)
• Written short stories was out of 52 (one a week - that was ambitious, wasn’t it?)
• Writing - in general i wanted to write every week. . . so, this is out of 52 (at least once a week, right?)

The funny thing is that i was pretty disappointed in myself when i saw how “little” i wrote. so, i went back through all of my writing over the last day, blogs, journals online and written long hand, and letters. oh, the letters i wrote. i actually wrote more tun 40,000 words. that can seem like a lot or a little, depends on who you are (an author might say that is shameful, a non-author may be amazed). the point is, if i say (which is pretty reasonable and accurate) that i didn’t write enough, i should call myself a liar. most paperback books have between 250 and 350 words per page, i wrote the equivalent to a 114 to 160 page paperback book. while it’s not the next american novel - shit - that’s a lot of pages. it’s a lot of words.

not sure if you care, but there were some amazing things I saw, read and wrote. here are some highlights:

• poem - Anna Akhmatova - Drink my soul, as if with a straw. Ciara gave me this author. she's amazing.
• short story - Neil Gaiman - the goldfish pool and other stories. a sad tale about how hollywood just forgets.
• essay - Cynthia Ozick - A drugstore winter - lovely lovely sad story - so reminiscent. 
• novel - John Scalzi - Agent to the stars - just fun. and funny. love this novel.
• shows - too many i love to name - Amanda Palmers book tour (me and a friend sang and cried like there were no tears left on the planet - it broke us open), Blood Countess (my roommate was amazing), Rose's Pawn Shop (best song ever and a great boy introduced it to me), It's a Wonderful Life - omg - I can't pick and there are 21 more. . . .
• Non-Fiction - Kathi Diamont - Kafka's last love. i left her seminar with mascara down my face. amazing.
• writing - well, everything i ever wrote my mother. it's more inspired and amazing than anything i've ever published. 

it helps me think, every day, i’m not horrible. i’m not less than. i am good. i am trying. and some day i’ll get there. i don’t even know where there is, it’s just not here. and i think if i keep striving to be better than now, better than here - that’s something. the second i stop caring, then you need to be worried.

the most significant thing that happened this year (yeah, something more significant than divorce and blood disease happened) is that i turned 40. it was amazing. my parents came (they won't let me show you pictures, but they were adorable and everyone loved them). i had the best time and here's one of the many many days i celebrated. so - onward to the next 40, because, fuck - life can only go up, right?

caching my life force tokens

today was a reminder of how much i still have to grow as a person.  i believe days like today happen soley to knock me off my high horse. . . and was karmically capped off with Facebook telling me i am Darth Vader...

and actually, i'm not totally destroyed - which is sort of new.

but also, days like today also remind me how much i love what i do and how much i love the people around me and really, how much they love me back.


first - i have to say that i'm especially sensitive today to being irritated due to the healing of my most awesome tattoo - it itches so badly that i am concerned i might actually commit homicide if someone looks at me the wrong way - which would really be a waste of a homicide. . . if i'm gonna play that chip, i probably should make it count (for those of you that don't know me well, please note this is not actually a real concern). and part of this easily irritateable state is due to my (not public so don't ask me) endeavor to actually quit smoking. but didn't tell you that.

second - due to the most awesome best friend, i did not sleep a lot last night as i was out late belatedly celebrating my birthday at Aragona (i'm gonna have to write about that too).

third - i even PREDICTED yesterday that i would fail epically in a meeting today. and i did. epically.

fourth - i had to change my password - which, means i had to actually think - annoying

fifth - in and effort to give someone i work with a good surprise, i managed to lock him out of everything and make him a whole bunch of extra work without even notifying him that i was about to totally mess up his stuff - and then going to lunch and not noticing his calls - and he genuinely was happy to handle the chaos i created because i listened

sixth - i picked a fight with my boss without even meaning to

seventh - i sounded all "know-it-all" today - and wow, that girl is a bitch.

eighth - accidentally sending my back tattoo to the 11 year old daughter of one of my co-workers. . .she must have been terrified. . . and that could have gone all kinds of bad


BUT - so much happened too, that counteracted that shitty stuff.

exhibit a) Tiffany brought me chocolate because i was feeling so badly.

exhibit b) Julie came by after saving up the banana laffy taffys for me, which probably means she had to fend off very sugar crazed technologists

exhibit c) randomly going to lunch alone because i could not live without a burger and meeting Jason, Eric, Chris and Trish and having a wonderful time.

exhibit d) my boss coming to me and telling me how i might have approached today better and complimenting me on my ability to recognize my own failures

exhibit e) Scott asking me (after so many years) if he could glean any of my lessons about my current reading/writing goal (and he's a totally ridiculously scandalously talented and funny writer)

exhibit f) Melinda and i setting up lunch to talk before she finishes her book

exhibit g) getting tweets from Alexa about how i help inspire her (she has no idea how cool i think she is and to get those tweets is pretty fucking mind-blowing)

exhibit h) getting Darth Vader on Facebook (i mean seriously, i'm not so secretly fucking psyched that i'm vader - duh)

exhibit i) being passionate about my team and my work and still getting outraged at the inhumanity of it all when i could just be jaded

exhibit j) being ok about my failure today. i mean, at least i knew it would be a trigger and how i would be. and now, i can figure out how to not do that next time.

exhibit k) my actual ability to breath and not be pissed off that mindful breathing works. . .

exhibit l) coming home to a full fridge full of things my husband got for me specifically because i love these things (like beer and cheese - yeah, i'm so from wisconsin)

i'm glad that life isn't really like a video game and life force tokens can be cached rather than limited to 5 and crash over the bank of all the following days.

i'll leave you with something else that made me smile. . . a picture from 5 years ago when i was stage manager of an opera in New York.  dude, that was fucking awesome.

battling the nothing

i keep thinking that it'll just end. the depression. but it sometimes i think it gets better and sometimes i know it gets worse and i have a hard time figuring out what is keeping it from going away. and i ignore myself and even the depression, like it will just get up and walk away from me.

i'm afraid of my computer. i haven't written in two months and it's killing me. i have tons of things going through my brain and a hundred ideas of things that i want to write down, but if i even look at my computer i get a knot in my chest right at the breast plate. i don't blog. i don't post on facebook. i don't write tweets. i don't share. i don't talk. i fall into the hole and i don't even think there is a light up there.

sometimes it's because i have several things i promised i would do and i'm not doing them.  it's not the only thing, nor even the biggest thing, but it is something that makes me fall further down the hole. sometimes it's the fact that i am not talking to important people in my life. . . and i'm not - i'm ignoring them too. . .

do you know how long it took me to write that sentence? 10 minutes. i could lie and say it's because i was distracted by another movie i'm watching, but if i'm being truthful, i don't want it to be true. and why do i not do these things? because getting out of bed is hard. really hard. then making it through the day at work is harder. and then i'm exhausted when i get home. i barely make it to 8:30 when i'm home. barely. . . i go to bed. i sleep. and sleep. and sleep.

sometimes, if i wake in the middle of the night and one of those things i'm not doing comes up in my brain, i spin. out of control. . . and then i don't sleep. i just hate myself. i think of all the ways it could just go away - and these are not good things. they are destructive and . . . final . . . cowardly . . . cowardly in all the ways they could be cowardly.

do you know how embarrassing it is to say any of this? do you know how embarrassing it is to feel any of this? i'm ashamed to feel this. i'm ashamed to not be doing these things. i'm ashamed to admit it to you and, really, i'm ashamed and afraid to admit it to me. but i know if i don't, it will eat me. it will be like the nothing.  do you know the nothing? i learned what it was when i was 10 and felt it the first time when i was 32 and even more now that i'm 38. . .

i know this is weird, but suddenly, i realized how much The NeverEnding Story can help explain this. . . maybe this seems childish - but don't children often speak the truths adults talk around?  so, here is how i feel.

Atreyu: But why is Fantasia dying, then?

G'mork: Because people have begun to lose their hopes and forget their dreams. So the Nothing grows stronger.

Atreyu: What is the Nothing?

G'mork: It's the emptiness that's left. It's like a despair, destroying this world. And I have been trying to help it.

Atreyu: But why?

G'mork: Because people who have no hopes are easy to control; and whoever has the control... has the power!

my world was dying, i was dying - i was forgetting my hopes and dreams and the things i wanted to do and be and getting out of bed was harder and harder and harder. the nothing had control. and it was so dark. 

and then. . . 

Bastian: Why is it so dark?

The Childlike Empress: In the beginning, it is always dark.

i asked for help. . . and i was afraid . . . but then, there were these people that care about me. people that tell me how much i mean to them and how much i've helped them and affected them. people that want to help me - they were patient. . .

Atreyu: What will happen if he doesn't appear?

The Childlike Empress: Then our world will disappear - and so will I.

Atreyu: How could he let that happen?

The Childlike Empress: He doesn't understand that he's the one who has the power to stop it. He simply can't imagine that one little boy could be that important.

Bastian: Is it really me?

Atreyu: Maybe he doesn't know what he has to do!

Bastian:  What DO I have to do?

in the same way i cared about them, they helped me see that i needed to care about me. and talk to them. and ask for more help. and not be ashamed. this part is hard - i am often ruled by shame. so much so, that i've had a lot of time to think about that word, shame. what does it mean? why do i feel it? why can it control me?

At the end of The NeverEnding Story (for those of you who have not seen it), Bastian starts making wishes - wishes for himself, wishes for his friends, wishes for a better world.

I don't know if I'm making wishes, but I AM doing things.  I'm getting up. I'm talking to my friends. I'm sharing with you. I'm walking. I'm writing.  I'm slowing doing the things I haven't been doing. These seem to be like Bastian's wishes. So - the light is brighter the closer I get to the top. And I don't feel so empty or awful or as ashamed (I'm still working on that one).

I wish I had words for the people that have helped, but I'm not sure I do - if I could take the feeling in my heart for them and give it to you so you can feel it too - that would be easier than trying to explain. I've said things to them like, "my heart has grown three sizes," or  "fuck yes - this," or "wow, thank you." I've cried to and with them, I've tried to give them gifts that explain how big my heart is and how grateful I feel for them.  I don't know if any of these things are adequate - but I will keep trying. I know they would all say that I do not need to, but the good thing about having control is that I get to decide.  I get to decide to never forget how wonderful the people in my life are. I get to decide to get up tomorrow and say - YES - and maybe I'll even get to ride a dragon. . . 

a magical universe

I've been avoiding writing all day.  Pretty successfully, if I don't say so myself.  I've been actually avoiding writing for about a week (or more).

If I were a new mother, it's like I have Mastitis and until the blockage is removed, my boob is gonna really hurt. If I were at work, it's like there is a backlog of messages waiting to clear but can't until I move the file in error.  If I were Dr. Sheldon Cooper and didn't think through my friend formula, I'm stuck in an infinite loop until Howard gives me a counter for my looping structure.  If I'm opening a show, it's like tech week. . . until  opening night.

And today the universe was magic - it's a bit long, but I think it'll make sense and this fulfills a promise I've made to tell you about why I'm writing.

I have written in journals for a large portion of my life, but really only in journals.  You have recently seen that I'm branching out and writing fiction.  I've wanted to be a writer my whole life (my journals tell me so and I'll explain more on that later) but I guess I took a different path.  Then this whole internet thing happened and I started reading blogs - lots of them.  It made me think - hey, I can do that.

sampling of some of my journals (some purchased, some gifted)

So, I originally started this blog to write, but more importantly tell my friends and family back in Wisconsin what Alistair and I were up to. It was fun.  I wrote about our "escapades" - our outings to the mountains, the Blue Angels scaring the cats, letting my sister know how her daughter was doing while she was out here, Alistair's cancer scare, you know - life.  As I go back through the posts from back then, it's clear I was "journaling", but instead of doing it in a book, I was doing it online.  I wasn't really forming thoughts or arguments or doing anything really creatively significant.  It was more just facts.  But I was writing!

Then Alistair died.  The last post before that happened is actually of the last Sunday I ever saw him; he went back to school the next week. It was actually almost the last time I wrote for a year. I wrote two more times before I stopped.  Here are pictures from that last time - I think it helps you understand why I didn't write for a year.

This first one is from 9/7/2007 - It's what I had to write down to know what to do when I got to Montana - I wrote it on the plane.  It's the only thing I wrote until the night before planning the funeral.

That night, I woke up at about 2am and had a terrible physical reaction.  I locked myself in the bathroom with Alistair's iPod (the police gave it to me that day) and started writing feverishly.  What I was writing came directly from Alistair's iPod.  I was writing every song from the 25 most played songs  on the iPod and the 25 most recently played songs. I was terrified that I was going to lose what he had been listening to and writing it down was the only thing that could make it real and make it so no one could take it from me.

This last picture is of the rest of the journal.  It's empty. I stopped writing.

A year later, I wrote two entries on the blog.  One was of me just missing Alistair, and the other was about how I was avoiding thinking about Alistair.  But at least I wrote something.  There are no other journal entries or writings of any other kind anywhere during that time.  It took me about 6 more months before I wrote again.  And then I just slowly started.

I wasn't writing to be a writer at that point.  I was writing to . . . connect . . . to work through my stuff. . . to feel.  And that's sort of where the journey of being a writer emerged.

Through the course of writing about my struggles, I started sharing it with people that were having some of the same struggles - mostly physical struggles (I was having neck and back problems).  I shared my neck and back pain writing with someone from work.  She ended up reading the whole blog.

One day, she came to me after a meeting and told me the stories I shared had touched her deeply and that I was a good writer and should consider doing it professionally. It meant the world to me for two reasons.  1) It was the first time anyone had said that to me in my adult life and 2) She is a deeply private person and isn't the type to share how affected she is by their personal stories.  Her compliment hit and sank into a place I had never really allowed myself access.

I didn't do anything about it for another year other than continue to post.

That's when the universe became magically connected (as it is wont to do).

If you spend any time with me or spend any time reading my Facebook or twitter feeds, you'll know I'm unnaturally obsessed with Amanda Palmer.  But everything about her - her music, her blog, her art, her words - moved me.  She said the things I had been trying to express.  Her unabashed openness, vulnerability, and talent pushed me to ask myself, "what are you afraid of?" She taught me to not be afraid.  She just did a TEDtalk about The Art of Asking - watch it, she talks about vulnerability and what it can do.

At the same time, Terri Weagant and Jesse McNeece and I were working on Cabaret in 2012 and we spent a lot of time together - working, talking, drinking, inspiring.  Jesse said to me (and I'll paraphrase because my memory isn't that good, but the sentiment is exactly what he meant), "doing art isn't hard, you just have to be brave enough to just make a decision and start."

Terri and I kept talking about doing a project together and we had many nights where we talked about what that would be.  I shared with her my passion for writing and she introduced me to the Artist's way which unblocked a huge damn in me.  And then she made a crazy suggestion.  She asked me to go back and read my journals - the early ones - the ones from when I was in middle school or high school.

my The Artist's Way book

It was FASCINATING.  And completely hilarious. But it told me something very important - I had wanted to be a writer since I started writing in journals.

So armed with Amanda's permission (well, really mine that she helped me see), Jesse's quote and Terri's nudge, I made a decision to start - and just wrote.  and wrote. and wrote.  Not all of it was posted, some of it was.

While I was in Turkey with Mikal, I started thinking about taking a writing class.  Very seriously thinking about taking a writing class - so seriously that I asked my best friend, Ciara, if she thought it was a good idea.  I also asked if we could ride together for class (she teaches at University).  She was hugely supportive of the idea and helped me write my admission letter AND I don't think I could have gone to that first class without her being there on the way.  She also has been sharing ridiculous resources with me (she's defending her PhD this year in Comparative Literature - so SCORE!).

And then there is my mom.  When I told her about this, she sent me a book about writing.  Her inscription made me cry (I'm not sharing that because I'm keeping it for me when I need it). But to know she supported this endeavor filled up my soul.  She's always been supportive, but this one was different for me.

a magical inscription that brings me strengths lies within

And so - now I write fictional stories.  I've shared one of those stories and people have been very encouraging.  I'm still terrified that I'm not good, so there are many that I haven't shared.

Brittany and Nate have also played key roles in my success in this journey.  They read my stories.  They love them all (however undeserving that may be) AND they give me feedback to make them great.

And Jen brings me smiles when I'm stuck.  I demand pictures for my soul and she delivers (like today).  She and her family are a respite from my real life (both work and writing) and there are several free write pieces I've written about their bundle of joy.  He makes me smile and unlocks my playfulness (which I need because a lot of my pieces are pretty dark).

And then, this morning I was having a conversation with Mikal and it went something like this:

Mikal: what's wrong?

me: I am avoiding writing and it's hard to do anything because I'm so scared I'm writing the wrong thing and then I'm just scared I'm not doing any writing.

Mikal: Sometimes just starting is the hardest thing.

He's wise, my husband.  And a huge supporter of my writing. Without him, I wouldn't have even asked Ciara if it was a good idea.  He listens when I need to read out loud.  He gives me his opinion and allows me to ignore it.

Crazy universe.  I love that you are magically connected.

So, I'm now unblocked, I've moved the file in error, I'm not stuck in an infinite loop, and the show has opened.

me at an AFP concert with Ciara: photo credit Terri Weagant

thank you magical universe

How many miles? Holy ravioli!

Today is the day before I walk a marathon. . . and I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.  I think if my mom were here, she'd be commiserating with my husband as if I were dressing for a huge event, like Prom.  I'm really crazy when it comes to these types of events and although I'm normally pretty normal, on big event days (like, let's say, company holiday parties, prom, and marathons. .  ), I'm way crazy - like 4 cups of coffee crazy.  And today isn't even the day. . . So I'm going to write to you all with the hope I become less crazy.  And you might want to settle in because this is a long one.

How long is that, you ask?  Um. . . 26.2 miles.

I was trying to remember when I said I'd do the marathon.  I knew it had been captured via email, or I'm sure I would have gotten out of so much exercise.  I went looking for the email, and started laughing out loud from the exchange.  I'm going to re-print the excerpt here because it's cute and gives you a glimpse into how fantastic and supportive Ciara is.  This exchange happened while Ciaracat was away in Europe during July and I was missing her.  We'd been emailing back and forth for about a week on this chain and I was espousing my laziness (and she hers) . . . and then she asked me this. . .(oh, btw - ciaracat is funny and for context - Suz is ciaracat's best friend since childhood - she's also an all around most fantastic woman)

 ---------------------

From ciaracat to me:

You don't want to sign up for the marathon in November do you?? Suz is going to come up and do it. And I'm really nervous. But excited about having a new goal an something to train for.

I love you. And hope

You're not too

Lazy to see me. 

From me to ciaracat:

Ok. . . so. . .committing to a marathon

we're walking, right?

I'll say yes IF we are just walking - but I'm gonna need to seriously get off my ASS!!!!

and I won't be too lazy to see you. . . I promise. 

 (btw - the sun agrees with you)

From ciaracat to me: 

Um YAH we’re walking. Have you EVER known me to even run after a bus???

Crack bird mama!!

That would be amazing.

For the record I have not started my training yet so...!!

From me to ciaracat:

I was just checking. . . I mean. .. dude. . . a marathon is just so (well, what's the word?) . . . so . . .daunting.

but yes, I will do it!  send me links (again) so I can officially be accountable for doing it.

From ciaracat to me:

Honey. It Is huge. And I will NOT think anything if you think it's too much right now. Seriously. I'm shitting my pants for roping Suzanne in to it!! For me there's no Going back!! So!! Don't worry about feeling not ready yet!!

If you want to look up more the info is just at Seattle marathon 2012. Don't have the link handy at the mo. 

Love u!

From me to ciaracat:

No worries, will do some official googling. . .

and it isn't too much in fact, it might be just enough right now.  I need to figure out something to work for!!

----------------------

And actually, when I check the dates on these emails, I see that she asked me that EXACTLY four months ago today - HOLY CRAP - only 4 months ago???  How is that possible?  I can't believe I actually trained to be ready for this thing in only FOUR MONTHS????  

How long is that, you ask?  Um. . . 26.2 miles and at the end of this journey I'll have gone more than 100 miles.

I have to say, it's been a most amazing journey. 

I was born with a club foot (it sounds worse than it is) and was actually a Forrest Gump kid, complete with a brace contraption that had a leather belt around the waist, two metal pole like things down each side of my legs and a metal plate between the two shoes.  I think there is only one picture I have with it and I can't say I remember spending a lot of time in it.  At age 5, I had surgery to fix my foot permanently.  I had a wonderful doctor (in 1979!) and he did such a good job you would never know today that I had this "disability."  In fact, I used to run pretty regularly as a kid.  I was on the track team and ran hurdles and relays.  Don't get me wrong, I had my fair share of troubles.  I sprained my foot many times and had several stress fractures (it's my right foot and as such I used it as my lead leg as a hurdler. . . that's a lot of stress).  I did stop running sometime in high school after a particularly bad injury that required a visit to a doctor who said, "you're running?  you shouldn't be walking let alone running."  Of course, I'm paraphrasing what I remember about that day and it probably wasn't that bad. . . but that is how it felt.  The thing I DO remember most about that day at the doctor's was afterwards, my mom and I left the office quietly and on the way to the car she says, "well that calls for a snickers bar"- mom is awesome and knew chocolate would cure all at age 16.  I stopped running after that but don't worry, I have not been a total lazy hack. 

With all of that history, I knew, as did Ciara, I needed a good pair of walking shoes.  We went to Road Runner Sports in Green Lake to get tested.  They take a picture of your gate and also a pressure test of your feet (see, my right foot looks like I don't put any pressure on the ball of that foot).  20 minutes later, I was out the door ready to take on our walking goals.  

Ciara and I started out just walking a couple of miles at a time which didn't seem so bad and we'd done that so much anyway going down to baseball games and concerts in Sodo.  We went around Green Lake a couple of times, but, we decided after the second time, if we had to do any length of time we'd get bored going around in circles and planned city trips from then on.  It was through that kind of thinking that I learned so much about my awesome city!

we were ready to do this thing!

so many people!

It wasn't long after I said I would do the marathon, I did my first 10K (which is officially 6.21 miles in case you need the conversion - I usually do).  I hadn't walked any more than 3.5 or maybe 4 miles at this point and so I was really nervous.  This first race was the Lake Union 10K and I walked it with Trish West - a most amazing woman who had never done this before either!  I have to say, 6 miles seemed SO MUCH LONGER than I had ever walked before.  But it was cool to walk down the middle of highway 99.  There were so many people and I was afraid of being last even though that was silly.  I've included a picture of the 5km mark.  I remember going - OK - half way to go!!!!  Dang, that last half was rough!  But we made it (and we weren't last!).

half way. . . half way to go!

I did it!

After that, it was clear more training was needed (duh!).  We did my first 7 mile walk from Capitol Hill to the U-District on the Burke Gilman trail where we ended with beer, chips and salsa.  This became a theme - beer and food as our reward, cuz, let's be honest, why else do something so crazy without rewarding yourself!  I had never really walked around on the Burke Gilman before and it was beautiful.  They have this sculpture where you can pretend you are a picture and, of course, there are the boats and views of any bridge over the lakes.

Ciara and I did our first 10K together about two weeks after my first and then one week after, we walked 7 miles.  This time the actual length wasn't so bad!  I was nervous though, because I remembered how long that last half of that 10K seemed.  The cool thing about this 10k (it was Seattle Marathon's 10k), was that we went under the highway 99 bridge in downtown Seattle!  So cool.  I cried pretty hard after this one for a couple of reasons.  First, it was really cool to cross the finish line with Ciara (she's inspired me so much and I was so grateful to have her with me), secondly, they had military folks down there giving us ribbons as we crossed the line (how can you not be grateful at that?) and lastly, and really most importantly to me, Mikal came down and cheered us on and drove us home!

Then I went to Turkey and stopped "training" in the traditional sense. . . well, let's be honest, I only trained in so much as I walked every day, but not hard, not fast, and I stopped a lot - to eat, to admire ridiculously awesome sites and to lie on the beach. . . so - for two weeks, I was on intermission. . .

Upon my return, I had signed up for the Lifelong AIDS Alliance walk on Capitol Hill - it was only a 5K and I roped my step-daughter into it.  She was nervous at first, but we ended up having a great time, walking 3.1 miles and giving to a great cause.  Lauren swears next year we'll be the Tummy Wombat Family and get a bunch of people to be a team, dress up all crazy like and have another great time. Who doesn't like walking down the middle of the street, going through red lights, and making traffic wait for you?  

It was now time for the big leagues.  Ciara and I needed to train a little bit harder and a little bit longer.  We signed up for a half marathon in Vancouver, WA called the Girlfriend's Half Marathon and it was only three weeks away.  We started by scheduling every Saturday a walk of some large amount of miles.  We walked to Shilshole marina which was my first 10 mile walk.  The best part was meeting one our friends at Zayda Buddy's in Ballard.  Beer, tator tot casserole and pizza were the rewards.  So amazing. . .

Two weeks later, we were in the half marathon.  To think I hadn't walked 13 miles before and that I would do it that day was a bit daunting.  We didn't talk much (I think it was mostly me. . . ) when we first got there.  There were more women than I had seen in one place, EVER.  Before the race we waited in line with about 1000 (and I am NOT exaggerating) women to go to the bathroom and met a couple of older women we saw later on the course.  They were really sweet and took our picture before we started.  I found it exciting, later that day, to wave and say good luck as we were passing them on the way back.

We also met Betty.  She was our godsend, I think.  She must have been at least 65 (though, who knows these days) and as Ciara and I were cheering ourselves on to get to the Miller Lite at BW3, Betty struck up a conversation with us about what to eat before and after the walks.  She's been on (wait for it) SIX (yes, that is the number 6) marathons!  We walked with her for the next bit in the marathon before we were passed by her (we did stop, to be fair) and then we passed her later on!  She and her friend told us how to train for the marathon.  We learned we shouldn't be walking as fast as we want to during the actual marathon - it's about putting in the miles and getting your body ready for the actual length of time you'll be out there.  We felt so much better after meeting Betty.  I'm not going to lie, the last three miles were excruciating!!  Betty also taught us to change it up a little while we were walking, so now, when  you see me and Suzanne and Ciara walking, we sometimes do this weird dancing thing or we do high knee lifts when it gets tough.  Go ahead, laugh, it works. . . and I'll keep looking like a moron if it keeps me from wanting to die on the course. 

We were never alone on the course because there were so many other women and (as you can see in some of the pictures) everyone was was excited to be in the race and were really supportive of each other.  We would cheer for the runners coming back the other way and for each other when it looked like we were having a rough time.  Complete strangers would clap for us and cheer us on.  I probably cried on the course about 5 times.  It was completely amazing. 

The last 3 miles of the course were pretty rough.  I thought I was getting a blister and, as I mentioned earlier, I never walked 13 miles before, so the end was really really hard.  But we made it and I was so excited I picked Ciara up and twirled her around.  I only asked later if I hurt her (luckily I hadn't!)!  And as we crossed the finish line, there was a receiving line of officers and volunteers handing out water bottles (with water in them, thankfully!!) and medals!  My first official MEDAL!!!  We could not wait to reward ourselves with some beer and chicken wings.  

Unfortunately it was a Sunday which meant lots of people and football. . . service was less than desirable for two really hangry (yes, hangry) peeps that just walked 13 miles and spent more than 1350 calories!  BUT, when the food came, it was SOOOO good.  I don't think Ciara and I talked to each other until after we inhaled food.  The worst part of the trip was actually the ride/drive home.  I am grateful Ciara was driving because it was a THREE HOUR drive and it poured the ENTIRE way home.  Talk about a sucky end to an awesome day.  We did make it home safely and both fell into bed exhausted but so happy about our accomplishment!

The next weekend was 16 miles.  Honestly, Ciara and I were freaking out because 16 miles is SOOOO long and we remembered how hard the last 3 miles were the week before.  But the funny thing about "training" is that. . . well. . . it works. The other thing that we noticed was that it didn't seem so long this time.  For this training session, we walked to and from Alki Beach.  We saw some cool stuff on the way to Alki - there was the skate park under the expressway and the shipping canal. It's amazing that this city has all these crazy walkways to connect different parts of the city.  We crossed to West Seattle and on the Alki side, we saw the beautiful trees and of course, Seattle!

When we got across to West Seattle we kept commenting on how NOT hard it was.  After much discussion, we have a theory (and it's possibly total bunk, but it's our theory and we're sticking to it). When we were in Vancouver, WA, a city neither of us know, it was hard to gauge how far we were and how far we had left.  Here in Seattle, we know the city, and we knew how much longer we had to go and how far we'd been.  It really made it easier. But again, those last three miles really sucked, especially since we decided to come back up through the Pike/Pine corridor and there were people and stop lights.  This dramatically impedes your progress when you are trying to get home.  Our worst mistake for this 16 miles was not choosing a place to drink beer and eat food for afterwards.  The mac and cheese I made for myself just wasn't as satisfying as I wanted it to be.

The following week was only an 8 mile walk.  I believe we were scheduled to go on Saturday, but after much imbibing by both Ciara and myself (independently from each other - we're not always bad influences on one another), we postponed until Sunday. . .we both needed some . . . rest.  But the next day - IT WAS ON!  And man, it seemed like NOTHING compared to what we had done the two weeks prior.  That week, I saw the sculpture park which I had never seen before.  It was beautiful to walk down on the water and across the Amgen bridge and up a Queen Anne trail (though there was much cursing Ciara for this particular path - but we needed to do some hills because the actual marathon has a bunch of them).  I found that after the hill, much to my dismay, I was energized and refreshed.  We were supposed to go up the big Denny Hill on the way home, but I totally bagged out and went to GameWorks to meet my family and have fries and beer.  Ciara is a better woman than I.

Then there was the 20 miles.  The coolest part about this 20 mile walk was that we were doing it with Suzanne - thanks to technology!  We had a three way text going on and were cheering each other on!  It was a bit grey here in Seattle (and 70 degrees for Suzanne in San Fran) and we were expecting some rain.  We had only had a little taste of bad weather during the 16 mile week on the way back from Alki - it freaking hailed on us.  I think there is a picture of it. . . hailed. . . seriously? right?  So, we were hoping we'd get some rain on our 20 mile walk so we would know what it could be like on a really bad day during the marathon.  

not discouraged by the amount of miles!

The walk itself was beautiful.  One of the things Ciara and are continually amazed by is the awesome neighborhoods here in Seattle.  There are awesome parks and houses and you would never know they were even there!  Most of the pictures from this walk day are from Ciara (she's definitely on the ball when it comes to recording our walks and could probably be the source for any walking magazine if they needed pics!).  

we laugh at the rain!

For some reason, neither Ciara nor I were very pleased around the 10 mile mark.  My ankle hurt and I had wrapped it so. . . this was a little discouraging.  Then we got "lost" in Seward Park (aka we took a forest trail rather than going around it on the paved trail).  We discovered having crap kicked up on the backs of your legs sucks more than getting wet - sucks WAY more. . . But we got through it and mostly didn't have any rain until we got to Beacon Hill and then it started to rain a little bit.  Our theory about "knowing where we are going makes the miles seem not so bad" actually held up until we saw that we had 2 miles left and Capital Hill looked . . . so . . . far. . . away. 

Our plan was to have Mikal drive us to The Hurricane where we would eat and drink.  Ciara and I were so tired we barely spoke  (it's tougher when no one is cheering you on) while we shoved food and beer down our throats.  I am not sure either of us tasted it.  We looked pretty funny too. . . talk about two old women trying to get in and out of the car - it was pretty funny.  The 20 miles was too much for my ankle though, but thanks to a great doctor and two cortisone shots later, it is as good as new.

who knew there was the path all the way back to downtown

Seward park is beautiful

we didn't have a membership, so we kept walking

ridiculous, no?

I had never been this far to I-90 except when I drove on it

so pretty!

the rocks hate Ciara

caught in the act!  there is no sitting on this trip!

we could see the city - it just seemed so far away!

ahh

The two weeks after the 20 mile walk felt like 10 minute jaunts.  And we even did four hills!

So - it's less than 12 hours away now and I cannot think of anything else.  Yesterday, Suzanne, Ciara and I went to pick up our packets. . . I have an official number 19063 and a shirt.  I'm very nervous but we have amazing support in our best friends and partners (thank you Tori and Mikal!).

I am about to walk an entire marathon. . . 

How long is that, you ask?  Um. . . 26.2 miles.

yeah -  holy ravioli - see you at the finish line - I'll be the one hugging her two friends and crying.