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Things Happen

This year has been a wellspring of new friendships, a renewal of some unexpected old ones, and the coffin for others. What a difference a year makes?!

Friends who come and go and come back are not new to me. When you move around as much as I do, it becomes almost second nature. Making new friends gets easier. Losing friends becomes easier too. And, when I occasionally check in on my net friendships, all seems comfortably in the Black. Until this year...

The last 12 months have seen some heavy hits. My sister and I continue to be estranged and some very dear friends of mine have exited my life, some in a painful way. Libras are notorious for obsessively craving popularity and acceptance. It is a trait I both loathe and love about myself. Validation by acceptance is a powerful high and equally sickening low. To be pushed away is devastating to me.

I've not been the instigator of this year's exodus but I have allowed it, as one should in my opinion. Perhaps it is because I too have required a relationship Ctrl+Alt+Delete. It is interesting and uncomfortable to be on the receiving end but I understand and respect the process.

Luckily, I strongly believe things work out as they should inevitably. Things happen. That's all they ever do.

Mom's Birthday Wish

Like so many of my favorite things all year, my Mom's birthday is in October and she asked for a song dedication. I couldn't think of a more lovely thing to wish for but it did catch me off guard.

I've been busy this year and haven't been writing much. Blog posts are very spontaneous for me and are usually written in just a few minutes when inspiration hits. Typically, a request like this wouldn't be possible on the fly. Luckily, there is not another person in the world that is more inspirational than that woman.

We do this without trying.
All the time.

My awe is visceral. She's amazing as a mom, to be sure. We also appear to share the same brain. We regularly say/do/buy/point at the same things with near spooky similarity and timing. It is such a blessing to have a thoughtful, personally-invested, like-minded sounding board that I can speak to with utmost honesty. She is the best best friend a person could have.

She effortlessly charms everyone who she comes across. I see it when she visits me in Texas. She is a fan favorite with all my friends and everyone, even some strangers, look forward to her visits. When I go home to Nebraska it is clear that no one has more fun. My friends from former homes continue to stay in touch with her. She's a wild one, without question.

And she's hot. I mean, really. Like gorgeous. Like MILF to nearly every person I know, young and old. The magnetism of this person is incredible. We are all helpless against it. And, it isn't just her physical beauty that makes her irresistible to all. She has a way. A vibe. An aura. If you know her, you know it.

Happy birthday Mom! A little thrown together and not very eloquent, but so, so true. I hope you like your birthday song!

Who's On Your Zombie Apocalypse Team?

Airplanes are fantastic places to have wondrous, strange conversations. On a flight earlier this year, a very fun friend told me about her plan for a zombie apocalypse. I was a bit thrown because I realized I had no plan for such an event. My emergency training is limited to a blanket in my trunk in case I get stuck in a blizzard. The likelihood of that happening in central Texas is not high.

Weapons are generally useless on the undead and I'm not really good with sharp objects or explosives anyway. My choice in footwear typically prevents running swiftly or being at all nimble. I'll have Olive with me so quietly hiding is also out. I explained all of this to my friend and she looked concerned. Because she is hilariously honest, she politely informed me I would not be on her zombie apocalypse survival team. She did, however, suggest I pull together a group that would supplement my shortcomings (and one that would have me).

Cataloguing my skills along with my needs in a crisis has been an interesting process. I'm tough, luckily, and also capable. But, worrying can get the better of me and my patience runs thin. I can think quickly and creatively but my execution is nowhere near MacGyver. I can climb really well and I always sense which direction is North. I may briefly collapse into inconsolable tears. So, we've got some pros and some cons.

Comfort was the first thing that came to mind. I'm likely to die (fighting, mind you, but ultimately nonetheless). Big, strong arms around me are a must. These will have the added bonus of being multi-purpose (lifting heavy stuff, swatting away pickaxes, carrying my lifeless body to a raging bonfire and dance party, etc). If the arms come with a beard in which to hide my face, all the better.

Next, I'll need a COO. When stressed, I often just want to be told what to do by a smart person. In times of catastrophic death and destruction, intelligent direction in a kind tone of voice could really come in handy. This person will come equipped with maps, illumination, wet wipes, and a brilliant plan of action (and a Plan B). They will be so well prepared that I will effortlessly place my care into their capable hands. This is something I do not do easily so this person will need to be the most ass-kicking, name-taking individual around.

I will also need laughter. I've been known to wallow, giving undeserving people and situations attention and time, which is a big bummer and tends to have negative cyclical effect. There is one thing alone that prevents or stops this for me and it is good company. I wish I could say that I am able to cure myself of Bell Jar, but I'm just not. I rely on others for this and I do so without guilt or shame. Someone who cusses a lot and does interpretive dances with me at 3am would be great in this role.

If my Dad could come, that would also be really awesome. He is better than MacGyver. True story.

I am now accepting applications. While the responsibility quotient is high and the likelihood of survival is low, I can promise a memorable exodus if it comes to that. I can also promise my all because if there is one thing I'm not giving up easily, it is this beautiful life. Serious inquiries only, please.

Not Enough Lifetimes

As my favorite month comes to a close, I have the usual feeling of dread. October has it all. Beauty, weather, music, pumpkin. My birthday has now come and gone. The rein of the indulgent Libra is ending. I'm not ready.

I found myself in a cab the other night, wickedly cursing 2am as if it had just kicked my dog. I didn't want it to end.

Years ago, when my Grandpa was sick, I laid my head on him and he touched my hair. My plane was leaving that afternoon. We both knew I wouldn't see him again. I wanted more time.

My Mom kept pointing out babies in headphones at the legendary Austin City Limits Music Festival. "You'd have such a cool kid," she kept saying. And I would, undoubtedly. "Don't miss out," she warned. Roger that. But that means I wouldn't get to be what I am now. I wouldn't get to do what I do now.

I could have been a dancer or a lawyer or a fashion designer. I could live in Spain. Spain sounds lovely. But, then I wouldn't be here, now.

I have come to the conclusion that there are just not enough lifetimes in this lifetime. There are so many things to do, so much beauty and fun. There are so many people. Listing the things I've done seems impressive at times, but lately it seems to just scratch the surface. Is this what getting older feels like?

If there could just be a few more, a little longer, another at least. Then I could get it all done.

Instructions for ACLife

Originally written for the Fall 2014 Austin Locale ACL Edition.

What’s the best way to survive Austin City Limits Music Festival? Everyone has a recommended list of groceries to haul around, a survival kit of sorts. It always contains a sampling from the shelves of CVS spanning all manners of hygiene, first aide, feminine products, and skin care. I agree with all these lists, though aside from baby wipes you probably won't use any of it.

Here’s the truth of the matter:  ACL, like life, depends more on what you do than what you bring. You will require a plan. Let’s begin.

First, assemble your team. You're going to need good people, the kind you can trust with your cash, your liquor stash, and your ride home. These folks must be musically coherent, obviously, but more importantly must have impeccable resilience, stamina, and good sense. You don't want to end up babysitting a weeping drunk or sitting outside the EMT tent twiddling your thumbs. Sharing memories with your BFFs is lovely, however, ain't nobody got time for divas, jerks, or wimps. Select only those you know you’ll still like on Monday morning.

Next up, logistics. Determine a meeting place outside the festival grounds (at least 1/4 mile or more). Use the time walking to Zilker Park to compare schedules, hydrate (intoxicate), and get to know each other. As the festival engulfs you in a loving embrace, you may find this is the last time you are able to meaningfully connect with these folks all day so use your walk wisely.

Also determine where to meet after the festival. I suggest the same place you left off to keep everything straight amid the dizzying mixture of THC, alcohol, people, and darkness. Make sure out-of-towners write down the address on paper. Your phone will be long dead by then so you'll have to rely on others, possibly even law enforcement, to find your way so be prepared.

We're getting close now. I can almost feel it. Eat something substantial before heading out into the bright, hot, musical sunshine; this is not the time to jump on the kale bandwagon. Slather on that SPF and chug a coconut water. If you have a living will, make sure your mom knows where it is.

Ducks in a row? Ok. Grab a map and off you go! It is nice (and safer) to have a comrade but there is no need to cling to the same ship all day. You're no barnacle. You're an insatiable, fearless music pirate out to claim your booty while swilling the whiskey you snuck in. Let music be your compass.

Devour your 3 days like you did the latest season of Orange is the New Black, entirely and unabashedly. Put your palms up and let the vibrations fuel you if you feel tired. Don't treat your fellow music devotees with disrespect. Stand awestruck at the talent that exists.  Blow a kiss to the skyline of our pretty city. Make new friends. Follow your plan loosely...you never know what luck you may have or magic you may uncover. 

At the end, however near death, if you feel euphoric, exhausted, and ready to buy your early-bird ticket for next year, you did it right. It isn’t what you had. It isn’t what you forgot or lost. It was what you did that made it good. And, much like in life, it was what you did that you’ll remember.

Slow Cookers and Other Snail-Paced Things

The passage of time is simply sensational. It heals, grows, dissolves, ages, marinates, ferments, and a whole heap of other amazing things. And you don't even really need to do anything for time to work its magic, though some tolerance can help time pass in your favor.

Many of my favorite things take time. I love a slow cooked anything and a glass of wine with an old friend. I love the anticipation of plans made in advance. I love looking through my scrapbooks. All of these things have a common vital component. 

Many people think of time as a thing you can't get back and they see this as a problem. Sure, but who would want it? The trick is to spend it and keep it like you know you can't get it back. It rewards you in return.

I was in Steamboat Springs recently. I had been skiing, drinking, listening to live music, smoking a tiny bit of that newly-legal green stuff. I paused briefly, really enjoying a moment, and realized the band was playing a song that had, just 12 months earlier, meant the opposite. It was a song of heartbreak, the usual painful country lyrics. One word seemed to resonate: salvage. That word had felt so negative and hopeless 12 months prior. Now it felt triumphant. This year, as I looked around at my incredible group of new friends, dancing and singing along with Turnpike Troubadours, with my new man's arm around me, a wave of gratitude for time and its constant movement forward swept over me.

My mom told me of a young person in my hometown who killed himself recently. How sad? We talked about how people don't always grasp that the enormity of a current situation is actually only a tiny fragment of the original. Making irreversible decisions without letting some time pass is a big, big mistake.

So often we simply need to wait a bit for everything to get worked out. And the extra time we allow makes it far superior. Like a nice 15 YO Scotch or a Golden Anniversary cake...hell, even a happy hour at the end of a hard work day, enjoy every minute, the process (as best you can) and the outcome.

Now, please remind me of this sentiment around the 20th hour of my painfully long flight to India. I said I love time, I never said I had patience.