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

i'm sad - this is why...

i didn't write yesterday.

but that's not why i'm sad.

when i woke up this morning, i found Cheyenne (Mouse Mouse), my 19 year old cat, hadn't left my side. not only had she not left my side, she kept trying to snuggle closer and closer. she hadn't slept with me for weeks, and likely months.

she's been sleeping on the couch and until yesterday, i just thought she preferred to sleep there because she was getting older, more fragile and sleeping next to me seemed more dangerous to her. but i'm starting to think that she was just keeping watch.

she also started this yowling around the same time she'd stopped sleeping next to me. terrible mournful screeching at all hours of the night. sometimes she'd do it during the day, but mostly, she'd do it between midnight and 4am. it was awful. i did research and it seemed to be related to her health and her age. but now. . . now, i think she was just trying to tell me something.

and yesterday, she stunned me.

yesterday we took her brother, Willie, of 13 years to put him to sleep. i brought her with me because i had read that maybe her yowling had to do with mourning. and sometimes, if you have an animal present when the other one passes, it helps them with the understanding about why they are going home alone.

i got Willie 13 years ago from a Montana no-kill shelter where he'd be for a year. i had been volunteering, helping to walk and train the dogs. every time i spent time training and walking dogs, before i'd leave, i'd go to the cat room and hang out with the cats for a half an hour. Willie would creep up every week and stretch his long body across my lap. he was timid and nervous, but never failed to make it to my lap. his left eye was like a blue marble and the reason he'd been there for the entire year of his life. the shelter told me that most people want a kitten or a perfect cat. one eye that didn't work was definitely a blocker to him getting adopted.

Willie and a beer - he never judged my Miller Lite choices

i convinced Alistair we needed a third cat. .  .we did not need a third cat. and Alistair didn't really want a third cat. we already had CJ, a pretty crotchety old man cat (he came with the Alistair package) and Cheyenne (mouse mouse is what i call her now since she squeaked), so another cat was not something high on the list of "needs" especially since Alistair was already in love with these two cats.

Willie was hard not to fall in love with, though. since his blue eye didn't work, he had depth perception issues and couldn't always see us coming and he'd drop his head any time we'd go to pet him. but he snuggled like no other cat. he loved being loved. and he'd roll over and expose his belly after only a few minutes.

Willie's totem when we visited Astoria and the Goonies hour

Willie wasn't his name when we got him from the shelter. it was Adobe. it was a dumb name and we decided on naming him after the Goonie Pirate - Willie - the one-eyed pirate from The Goonies; a favorite classic movie of ours. we'd call him Captain Willard and Willie-man.

about a year after we got him, we had moved to Seattle, he was running around in the house, likely due to vacuum terror, and he ran into something and, like most times he'd get spooked, ran under the bed. about three hours later, he hadn't come out - which was actually unusual. when we found him. . . his eye had burst. . . i know, it's gross, but apparently it had been swelling and that is why he didn't like us to pet his head. . . it hurt. we quickly took him in and had his eye removed and he became so much happier. . . and loved getting his head pet after that. in fact, he would shove his face into your hand any chance he could get.

eating pizza

if you didn't offer the doritos, there was a lot of swiping

he became a very healthy, happy addition to our family for the next many years. at his peak he was 20lbs. and i'd call him Fatty McFat Fat. . . he would eat Doritos, Dick's burgers and pizza. not that we gave him any of that. . . he'd steal it. there was this one time i had two slices of pizza on the table and i left the room for a minute. when i got back, my pizza was gone. i asked the other HUMAN in the house if he'd eaten my pizza as this was a pretty educated guess as to what was likely. after a short investigation, i discovered Willie under the table with a very large piece of pizza.



his favorite, though, was water bug; translation dungeness crab and shrimp. Alistair would get a whole crab at Pike's Place Market and he'd prepare the crab for me to cook but the entire t
ime he was prepping the crab, Willie would talk to Alistair in the kitchen. "feed me. feed me. feed me. feed me." Alistair liked to spoil Willie and that meant morning shrimp. lovingly purchased at Costco, thawed every day and cut up to bite size pieces for Willie. it took me a long time to get Willie to stop begging once i finally convinced humans in the house this was a bad idea. Willie eventually learned that my alternative of kidney friendly food was a better choice.

seriously - 20lbs. . . look at that crab scavenger

when we lost Alistair, he slept with me every night, curled up next to my neck. purring to try to make
us both feel better.


Mouse Mouse never seemed to like Willie. her domain was the bed and when Willie would try to get up in her space, she'd hiss. but the feeling seemed mutual. in the middle of the night Willie would trap her in the litter box room. there appeared to be no love lost between the two of them.



but a few months ago, Mouse started sleeping in the same proximity as Willie. hissing stopped. i didn't actually think anything of it at the time. Willie got sick. . . and i knew he'd be leaving us soon. just how soon wasn't clear. but soon.

then one night i caught Mouse snuggling up near Willie. it surprised me so much i took a picture.

and then the yowling when Willie was in the hospital for a week. she stopped when he returned.

she started again about a week ago. i think she was telling us it was time for Willie. he was sick and sad and we weren't doing enough. we'd been giving him IV fluid every morning and giving him any food he'd eat. on his last day, i woke to find him hiding in the bathroom, a place he'd been going to for a day or so. i gave him a little tuna, which he got up off my scarf and ate a little. i promised him it wouldn't hurt anymore.

so, i brought her with us. it was me, Mouse, Ciara and Cassidy. i was worried she'd be a big distraction but wanted her to know what was going to happen. so, she'd be prepared to be alone at home.

she was amazing.

she laid down next to him; curled up  and when they gave him the sedative, she got up, turned around and laid across him, like protecting him. everyone in the room was stunned. i moved her fearing she was causing him some pain by being on top of him, but she didn't move away, she snuggled in closer. a few minutes later, the doctor came in to help Willie pass. Mouse put her paws on this back legs, by his tail. i cried. hard. she knew. she knew exactly why she was there. the doctor asked me, "are you ready." through my tears, i said, "he's ready. it doesn't matter if i am or not."

animals are amazing. she knew it was time and she new to comfort him. and frankly, me.

on the way home, she didn't make a peep. and that night. she slept with me for the first time in months. no yowling.

so, while i broke my habit of writing. . . that's not why i'm sad. my family changed again. and it will again. and it will be ok. but today. . .today, i'm sad.

good-bye Captain Willie

adventures during the search for signs of intelligent life in the universe

i got goose bumps today. they came with a heavy side of joy and tears.

i folded six paper cranes, attached them to articulating straws and wrapped them into a bouquet. i put them in my purse, got in the car, started my audiobook and drove to downtown olympia where the State Theater of Harlequin Productions resides and where i would see The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe. 

the few blocks that surround the old movie theater turned production house is full of charm with its old record store, small diner cafes, and vintage clothing shops. walking into the theater you are met with kind people taking your tickets and letting you know where everything is while you are surrounded by red velvet. 

i took a picture of the program, updated my status, turned off my phone to see what adventure awaited me. 

i had a seat in the front row. to my left, was a season ticket holder who told me the history of Harlequin Productions and how they had started out in the black box of another theater until they could buy the one we were now seated in. she asked me where i was from and upon learning i had travelled from seattle, listening to my audiobook, she asked me, "what is the book about?" as i told you this week, i'm listening to Valis. i replied, "about a crazy person." she blew out air, responding, "well, that seems depressing." to which i laughed because, yes, it is a bit depressing.

the couple to my right complimented me on my converse shoes and how exciting it had been to have a pair "back in the day." they joked with me about whether or not they were near intelligent life, which i, of course denied, letting them know the search would continue should it have stopped by me first. they laughed and asked me what i did and i told them about my nerd herding in seattle and aspirations on being a writer.  

we wound ourselves into talk of the seahawks which turned into being part of the fan base as sort of a connection and how being part of the connection of any audience is part of the experience; even here, the theater we were about to see. the woman specifically said, it's all about "synchronicity." a term i have, of late, become very obsessive about. and is about to become acutely present. the man turned to me and said, "this may sound strange, but we are writers, too."

when i asked, he told me he has published some humorous short stories. he asked what i wrote, i told him i had published a short story, as well. he asked me what it was about. i told them it was a bit of a fantasy story, but really it was a fictionalized story about how i moved through the grieving process. when i asked what she wrote, she told me, she too, is writing a story about a grieving process. i asked him for the name of his book, and he wrote it down for me, right as the lights were going down for the show.

the show. the show was brilliant. perfect. moving. i am not normally a reviewer of shows and i know the convention is to tell you something about what the show is about and then critique it. i won't tell you what the show is about. i want you to trust me. go and see it - read what i have written above about my pre-show experience, and then experience this show. it was pure synchronicity for me. 

the part of the convention of which i will conform is the critique part. as a stage manager over the last 24 years, i often have a difficult time watching any show without noticing all of the technical elements as separate from the acting and most definitely separate from the writing. but in this case, everything worked together. a concept i've mostly forgotten. 

Terri Weagant's delivery of this material was funny, quirky, compelling, intense and athletic. she lived each moment. she can go from a midwestern housewife to an angsty teenager like flipping a switch; from prostitute to pondering homeless woman like water running over two well worn stones. The subtly with which she brings the opening character around through the story is delicate but not so quiet that you miss the "ah ha" moment (that actually happened out loud in the audience). she can bring you to the verge of tears but then pull you back while you wipe your cheek, unsure about whether the wetness is due to laughter or sadness.

the combination of sound design by Jesse McNeece and lighting design by Amy Chisman brings both humor and wonder as Terri flies between time and space.  My favorites here are the channels changing which is reminiscent of The Twilight Zone (a favorite of mine), the appearance of "space chums"(i don't want to give too much away here), and the sound that took me from one time to another that i can only equate to a good drum line - but that's not even right. but it was cool. and lastly, the stars. . .and honestly, that part was even cooler than i can explain because of the set design by Mark Bujeaud. He made a set that seemed too simple but was designed to be put together like the puzzle you are challenged to determine throughout the show. it was a perfect and clever metaphor.

and i must give props to the stage manager, Vanessa Postil, for, without her, space chums could not have arrived with precision, time could not have shifted, space could not be stretched. she must be tied to Terri very tightly for those things to come off so fluidly and exactly. 

and it gave me goose bumps.

and i cried. unabashedly, completely, proudly, sadly, and joyously.

i gave Terri the cranes, we hugged, we talked, we broke bread. it was awesome. it was a good day. i met a lovely little theater and breathed in art. i feel restored.