Thanking the UnThanked

Thanksgiving is one of my very favorite holidays. This could be due to the fact that I am not the one cooking the turkey and tending to the numerous needs it shockingly maintains for a non-living, non-lovely creature. High maintenance is putting it mildly. It may as well have every cosmetic enhancement-attachment known to man, drive a Bentley and have a Heffy...aka sugar daddy. Or maybe Thanksgiving is so cozily intoxifying to me because sweet potatoes(canned, plus brown sugar, orange juice, maple syrup, marshmallows, oven...done and done) and (store bought)flaky on the outside, gooey on the inside rolls(generally served heated and in a basket masquerading-believably as homemade) are not too much of a strain on my acute lack of domesticity. Maybe it is all the pungent scents that fill the house; the tart of fresh cranberries, the sugar-nutty scent of pecan pie, the smell of wood crackling on the fire. Perhaps it's the rediscovered Christmas Cd's caroling melodically in the background. It could be the thrill of the football blaring on the television, or the sun burning stubbornly through the chilled fall air. Maybe it is the crunch of gold, ruby and amber colored leaves under my boots. Whatever the reason? I am thankful for Thanksgiving. Of course the togetherness is nice and we are all thankful for the heaped blessings we have like home and family, friends,health, food...not to be mistaken for health-food...Just so we're clear...that is a curse and not a blessing. As I was sitting post consumption (no tofu or granola in site) in my L-Tryptophan induced dreamlike haze...my mind took a little detour.I started to think about some of the things I am thankful for...things and people that may otherwise go un-thanked.

Okay...so here is the list I generated on my brief, familiar trip to Random-ville.

1. I am thankful for the orange-red poppies that bloom in my neighbors front yard during the sweltering summer months. They may as well be shiny-the way they grab my gaze as I stroll past their house. Not quite sure that I have experienced poppies outside of the fiery field in the Wizard of Oz that lulls Dorothy and her Friends into a dreamy sleep. But this little patch of poppies, on this simple suburban street, in this two-horse town, in my little corner of the world...is beauty flower-ified. There is a quote that says "I would rather have flowers on my table than diamonds on my neck." I wouldn't be mad at either, but I definitely would rather have poppies in my neighbors yard than to suddenly develop a grassy green, soil-brown and wormy thumb. Although the poppies? They do gloriously beckon me to do so in their oh-so vivid "get some of us all your own" bursts of crimson and mandarin.

2. Okay so this is pretty lame, I realize. And I apologize for aiding the spread of consumerism like the small pox. I CAN resist Shmarshmucks MOST of the time. However, until the Starbucks Holiday Flavors arrive? Neither does the Christmas Season...officially. A friend of mine aptly describes their holiday coffees as "Christmas in a Cup".Be it gingerbread, eggnog, peppermint mocha...(the list goes on) have yourself alotta lattes...and you will be thankful too-EVEN if you have to make yourself an island of solidarity with your no-name joe, drunk black. Brewed via recycled filter, sipped roguely from your sad lil ugly chipped mug until next Christmas...as java penance for your herd-like Christmas coffee gluttony. Just Do It...now enter cheesy, quippy commercialism...sorry. I'm so sorry...

3. Chugga-chugga-choo-choo- Enter the goofy train. I am thankful for music and how much it enriches our lives...as a non-singer, non-dancer, non-musician...my life is still significantly enhanced and defined by music. With the passing of Michael Jackson this year-I took a little moonwalk back (chacoot, chacoot*Michael noise*) and thought about what an amazing musical legacy he left behind. Truthfully I was weepfully wistful, because from Thriller:the first record I purchased with my own dime (um those were big, black, vinyl round disky things that played in a spinny box with a needle dealy...records, not dimes. Dimes still exist)to the WIZ (which I adored and ahem...may have allegedly seen at the drive-in-"Ease On Down The Road")...Michael left a white glove-shaped mark on my young life. His was the first face(via poster) to grace my bedroom wall and his was my first big concert. Creatively...he was a gift to us all. And then? Patrick Swayze left us too. And even though The Outsiders was not musical (It was still Brat-Packed with teen angst and tear drops)-Dirty Dancing most certainly was. I will never be able to hear "Stay," "Cry to Me." "Do You Love Me?"...or anything else from that soundtrack without being instantaneously pulled into summer-recalling in living color being a long-legged gawky tween in cut offs and a tied white button down (just like Baby) and dreaming of a Johnny all my own. One that MOST assuredly would disallow anyone to "put me in the corner"...and would log dance with me on a whim. For a gazillion reasons-sentimental and otherwise-I am thankful for music-and the memories with which they enrich our lives.

4. There is an outdoor ice rink near my house. One that I have never set skate on. But there is something so Norman Rockwell about it- that it (like Tom Cruise when he was more Maverick-than Maniac) simply takes my breath away. Encircled in icy-blue twinkle lights in a courtyard dressed up to its' mistletoe in Christmas. Tucked into a side street decked in wreaths, garland and holly. There is even a shiny silver Airstream vending steamy hot cocoa. This wintry wonderland could not be more magical, well...if it were magical...Oh and it reeks (in a caramel-apply goodness kind of way)...of Serendipity. You can't go wrong there. If you haven't seen the movie? Don't admit it out loud. Order it from Amazon, don't bother renting.Merry Christmas from John Cusack to you.

5. Finally...I am thankful for laughter. The loud unchecked kind that shakes my babies' bellies. Because there is no other such example of pure, unabashed joy as the giggles that run rampant and take us over in waves. How frequently get entangled in the stresses and the troubles of the irrelevant trifles that we allow to occupy us...that we forget what it is to cut loose and laugh so hard that tears stream down our cheeks and the air escapes our lungs in jovial fits. What a delectable way to suffocate! Who couldn't use more laughter and whimsy? Serious is overrated. Silly is the new sophisticated...Or hadn't you heard? Regardless...

Alas, I find it quite pleasurable here in Randomville...so I am gonna' chill here...maybe get a little giggy wid' it...but you better be getting back. By all means, come and visit me here again. Consider it an open invitation...Next time? Bring your thank the thankless box and show me what ya' got in there. Deal?

Who Let The Wolves Out?

Warning: If you plan to see New Moon and have not? The following blog is soaked in spoilers...marinated to my own personal taste...You may want to hold off until after the movie, novel, or both...Then? Please, consume it raw...haha...okay...enough vampire references...for a second or two at least.

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Like gaggles of other Cullen-Cravers ranging in age from twelve to sixty two,and dieing to take a bite out of the latest installment of the Twilight Saga, I saw New Moon this past weekend. Of course the flick was proceeded by sushi, sake and screaming girls, of which-shockingly,I was not one. This is not to say-mind you,that once the theater got dark-I didn't gasp involuntarily. Nor will I swear that a suppressed squeal,or two might not have sneaked through my parted lips.I will neither confirm nor deny that a few throaty vamp growls broke loose from my throat...but this? ALL of this...is COMPLETELY appropriate behavior in a world where vamps have hair so fantastic that it puts 90's super models to shame. Where they slink and crouch around like Barishnikov in couture that fits like a sparkly diamond encrusted Italian glove designed by Versace. Oh...and the growling thing? Even more acceptable in the high temperature, shape shifting, volatile and impassioned world where wolves pounce, snarl and savor the flava of crimson eyed blood suckers with dreads...Oh!...And they can't be troubled with shirts as they are far too restrictive for their switchity-split,fast paced lifestyle. Welcome to Forks Washington, the cloud shrouded moss covered place where the mythical mingles with the locals and camouflages its magic with the mundane monotony of small town life.

The long and the short of it is...I entered the theater with a cherry coke and a cup half full of expectation (also a twinkly Twilight Saga tee and Cullen necklace that although unplanned,matched my friend Jen's). You see, New Moon is my least favorite of the four books in the Twilight Saga. This has very little(if anything)to do with the actual writing of the novel and volumes to do with what occurs, or doesn't occur between its covers. Where the sudden, fate driven, angst-ridden, forbidden and fiery, all-consuming "young"love of Edward and Bella take center stage in Twilight...-in New Moon, with the prick of a finger, the stumble of Bella, the snap of an arm, and the jump of a Jasper(the newest and least practiced"Vegetarian Vampire" in the Cullen family),the story takes a darkly, don't-bother-getting-out-of-bed anytime soon- dramatic turn for the depressing...With the words,

I promise that this will be the last time you’ll see me. I won’t come back. I won’t put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I’d never existed.
Edward Cullen, New Moon, Chapter 3, p.71


Edward abandons Bella to grasp feebly at the mere vapor of what she had believed to be her destiny. She is left shrouded in a pain riddled, doubt evoking darkness without an escape plan, a Snuggie to warm her,or so much as a pen light,to illuminate her path tangled with brush. Still she stumbles ahead, blindly, in search of her Edward.


With shaky legs, ignoring the fact that my action was useless, I followed him into the forest. The evidence of his path had disappeared instantly. There were no footprints, the leaves were still again, but I walked forward without thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking for him, it was over. Love, life, meaning… over.
Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 3, p.73

When she finally allows the realization that Edward has gone and taken with him, her hope and her need for air, Bella lets the deep, suffocating, darkness engulf her.

The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.
Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 3, p.84


Edward has decided for Bella, that she is better off without him. Providing her with only a few cryptic clues of his plan the days proceeding his departure. He leaves her in a fetal heap of raw, broken pieces on the forest floor. This is where Sam Uley,(sorry but I expected him to be more commanding and ferocious in the film) who we later find out is the alpha dog in a pack of Native American shape shifting wolves...sweeps up her emotional remnants in his massive wolfy paws and lays her out cold and crazy on Charlie's couch. Now I am not sure if it is Edward's calloused delivery of his half cooked plan, his shortsighted lack of consideration for Bella who allegedly brought his cold-dead heart back to life, or his foolish notion that while he will carry this "burden" eternally,she is shallow enough to forget him when he takes her photos of him and of his family, a few material items and the CD of the song he wrote her. Regardless the reason,I spent the rest of New Moon cursing Edward as if it were me he left screaming out in torture in the dead of night, rather than Bella. So from this point forward, I read and viewed with a mammoth, pretend vampy chip on my shoulder. Because, HOW DARE HE???!!!!(BOO) Pretend Vamp-Charmings should be forced to behave as such.

Oh right! The movie. I loved it. The over all production quality was better than that of the first. Found the changing of the guard-or director, as it were, in Harry Potter-esque fashion- to be a wise move. Seemingly bringing a fresh perspective to each novel in the saga appears to be a positive. The film introduced the pack of wolves spiritedly.They are both menacing and playful,comforting in their refuge and disconcerting in the threat they pose to the Cullens-whom we still love in spite of ourselves.Taylor Lautner is perfectly cast as Jacob Black,his smile bright as the sunshine he brings to radiate its warmth through Bella's bleak barely there existence. He naturally embodies Jacob's charisma and warmheartedness handily taking on the role of Bella's best friend/wolfy,playful man child. (Whoop, whoop...quick shout out for the Team Jacob girls-to whom I identify, and with whom I hang, but of which I am not).There were some mumbled concerns that the barely legal Lautner would be able to show the physical transformation that Jacob begins in New Moon and continues through Breaking Dawn, but hand Taylor credit, because it is due. The audience never doubts Taylor as Jacob. In addition, Kristen Stewart does DESTROYED really well. I would go so far as to say that her performance in New Moon may have had more bite(pun completely intended) than her Twilight portrayal of Bella Swan. What little we see of Robert Pattinson as Edward and Ashley Greene as Alice... along with the mere glimpses we are permitted of the other Cullens-leave us appropriately, thirsty for more. I've read all of the books. Hang on...they're coming....finely threaded and juicy with surprises. So while it is not going to get a warm embrace from Oscar, New Moon is all that it promises to be; romantic, heart wrenching, thrilling and full of imaginary deliciousness.

My list of criticisms is short. With technology being what it is, I would have fathomed that the wolf transformation could have been more...say...um...Grinchish or Tolkien-esque (sorry don't do tons of sci-fi-horror) and by that, I mean..."believable"...and perhaps a bit less Never Ending Story or Land of the Lost (the original) quality in the technological department. Admittedly, I giggled a few times. Presumably,watching your friends shape shift into giant wolves, should be alarming and disconcerting and not so much laughable to an eye watering degree. That is an issue in the area of effects, not in the performance arena. Also in the effects department, the Volturi looked more to me like they should be doing the little Star Trek wave, than sweeping frightfully at light speed across the room to drain you of life. In the book the Volturi are lavish, regal and traditional, they strike fear but yet arouse your curiosity and fascination...They are vampire royalty and wrench your respect from you with their mere presence. I didn't so much get that. Aro was sort of wussy and that whole scene seemed rushed. Why bring in a name like Dakota Fanning and not give her time to bring the face of a cherub, grip of a demon-Jane to life? She IS capable of doing so. Finally, the ending? Have to reread...but I could have sworn that was an Eclipse thing. I am sure they had good reason for rushing that along, cliffhanging suspense perhaps? Again, these are creative decisions and I am being nit picky. None of these things, kept the movie from being a vamp-stravaganza, wolf-tacular success. New Moon the movie, successfully brought New moon the novel to living, breathing, bounding, venomous life in it's transference to the big screen.


In conclusion, since completing the saga, it has been my opinion that Bella is a bit too quick to forgive and forget. Crazy glue doesn't work on hearts. Still she is so utterly amazed by Edward's return that she just can't stop staring...understandably of course, but with the delivery of a few well-timed lines?

So I thought I’d explained it clearly before. Bella, I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist. (Edward)

and...

After all the thousand times I’ve told you I love you, how could you let one word break your faith in me? (Edward)

also...

My heart hasn’t beat in almost ninety years, but this was different. It was like my heart was gone—like I was hollow. Like I’d left everything that was inside me here with you. (Edward)

Bella is all too willing to let the whole..."Edward shredded my soul and left me for stupid or dead" thing go. I am not sure how sound this is...How dare I question the realism of a vampire, wolf, ordinary girl love triangle?...Still, Edward vows:



I’ll earn your trust back somehow. It’s my final act. (Edward)

and how could you NOT let him at least TRY to make it up to you? No faulting Bella there, however, he should at the very least be in the naughty corner until book 3.

That is just my humble opinion...

You Say I'm Spoiled Like It's A Bad Thing...

At some point or another, we have all been accused of and/or have accused others of being spoiled.

Every single person that I know is at least a pinch spoiled. Naturally, we all like things to go the way that we desire for them to go...Where we want them to go, when and how we want them to go...It would be a tad strange in a "there might be a pill for that" or a "you look like you could use some rest" kind of way- if we savored inconvenience and relished discomfort...And so, in a sense,this "spoiled" thing is essentially in our hard wiring. Although, I am not sure that wanting things to go your way qualifies you as spoiled-or selfish even...I think that it may be the unbending expectation of getting our way in everything ranging from importante to minuscule,and our toddler-like reaction to that expectation not being met...that sends spoiled bubbling up (sometimes over) to various degrees. Hahaha...So...Do you sniff a mystery Scooby?...Not a mystery so much as a teensy confession that I have already justified...thank you very much.

In my super young, ultra-exciting, endlessly glamorous life (hahaha) I have known a lot of self absorbed, child-like, temper tantrum throwing, spoiled rotten people. Even if you have not known them personally, we all encounter these self serving little tyrants in our every day lives. Typically we find them waiting until the lane ends and cutting off a mile-long snake of cars who got over when they were instructed to...because their time is simply THAT much more valuable than the rest of ours. Perhaps they are pitching a fit at the Barista in the front of the line at Shmarshmucks because their "Why Bother" has half a percent of fat, or an ounce of caffeine, or perhaps their soy is not soy enough, or their vanilla not beany enough...Regardless, we stifle a laugh or cringe in discomfort for the object of their wrath...perhaps we pull up a chair and grab popcorn...and undoubtedly, we feel sorry for their mama...if they have one-that is...

Truly, thankfully...(I would do the cross thing and look to heaven if I were Catholic)... I am not that style of spoiled. I am spoiled in the sense that I have a difficult time denying myself or those that I love...the things that we want...Within reason of course...Not talking Italian sport cars, eight carat diamond earrings, or gazillion dollar entertainment systems...More along the lines of...a cherry coke, or a new lip gloss-maybe the Munchkins want an ice cream or the latest Disney movie...THOSE are the areas where my discipline is lacking and my resistance is futile. The smells good, tastes yummy, looks fabulous, sounds spectacular, feels oh-so nice...is hard to say no to...for me at least....And so I indulge myself and those around me...just a tad. Actually, that is not what I believe makes me spoiled so much as when I cannot for whatever reason- partake and share such things...I put on the sulk...Yep, a big ruby letter S on my sweater...unintentionally...and I don't wear it proudly at all-but still it slinks in and sticks around uninvited...just for a spell. Just until another opportunity for a little bliss pops up...and for that reason-I suppose, I am spoiled-I am just not so sure that I would have it any other way...except for the sulking. Maybe I should just go all gladiator and take what I want by brute force...then the sulk would have outlived its "usefulness"...If you knew me- you would be on the floor rolling in fits of laughter trying not to wet yourself...that visual is so laughably preposterous...

But? I know you are spoiled too...it's only fair. So, c'mon admit it-you can tell me. There are things in this world that turn you into Verruca Salt...What are they? Golden Gooses? Tell me already. Pretty please?

Surprise Me

Life is full of surprises.

At least, that is what the quote says. Not to say that it isn't so.We have all been caught slightly off guard when something didn't go the way that we had anticipated. Possibly we received an extra fortune in our cookie, or we left home without an umbrella and the sky opened up and flooded us head to toe exploiting our unpreparedness...Occasionally,life bowls us over with a twelve ton ball of tragedy or heartbreak that knocks us out of our shoes and flat onto our backs...leaving us momentarily still while we wait for the wind to return to our storm bedraggled sails...THAT cannot help but be a surprise, as there is just no preparing for that...Clearly pain is not the shiny kind of surprise-not the kind we would wish for when we lean wistfully over our butter cream iced, fondant embellished birthday cake and blow out our candles aglow with promise.

To a certain point, we have the sweet,familiar comforts to look forward to... the violet colored bloom bursting through the crack in the muted pavement, the smilingly familiar face of an old friend, paying an unexpected visit...But we stop holding our breath in the anticipation of discovering anything that is truly unique. "There IS nothing new under the sun"...I am sure that I have quoted this before...it is one of those things that gnaws at my thoughts when I lie awake at night. Although it is true-it is definitely thunder stealing, in a why bother?-sort of way. Tainted with sadness-right? Because more or less,surprise-drags delicious mystery right out the door with it when it goes. Living causes a sort of amnesia that erases the breathtaking wonder of our childhood...where every new idea, each daily discovery...made life magical.We greeted each and every sun soaked morning-just KNOWING that the day was fat with surprises, bursting with undiscovered secrets. If we only kept our eyes wide open, our minds vigilant, our hands out- each of our fingers spread, our hearts stout...We...like super heroes or fairies, or explorers...or whatever we could dream up to be that day... would bust the day open like a pinata and the sweet delicious reward of victory would pour down on us from a candy filled sky.

Somewhere however, after the big lessons have been learned-after we take a few spills, after we have surrendered our youthful idealism to the oppressive, unavoidable presence of reality...Without giving it any conscious thought whatsoever-we give up on the hope that there are still any genuinely sugary sweet surprises in store. The blind faiths that we once clung to begin to lose their brilliance. We have learned the hard way that we have to ask questions, a lot of them, many of them difficult, deep and dark. If we accept and believe and pour ourselves into people, ideas, beliefs, hopes... without questions? We not only prove ourselves foolish, but our hearts get scratched and dented in the process. And the body work on a scratch and dent heart? Is costly in both tears and time...after which the weak point remains...just waiting to split at the weakened seam. And so...we disbelieve. We protect ourselves from disappointment by assuming that life has no more surprises in store for us. It is just safer that way.

That is...until one day when we, our tired feet on the trodden trail...our eyes on the destination, our minds locked in on our goals...trip over an obstacle in our path...and fall...SPLAT...hard...face planting...pleasantly into something that at first we do not recognize. Our initial reaction is to be cautious-our wall immediately starts to rise...but we reluctantly wiggle around in it a bit, spreading our toes. Then we try it on for size, move around in it...see how it feels against our skin. We allow it to convince us to lie still and let it's warmth spill thick and gooey all over our insides. And when we cease our brief struggle against the hope whose face we had forgotten, we remember how amazing it feels when our eyes twinkle and our laughter rolls out of us unchecked. We exhale the sweet breath of anticipation of what tomorrow may bring and embrace the familiar thrill of once again viewing the world through those rosy tinted shades.Pink is SO our color. And as we get reacquainted with our companion-Surprise in any of it's brilliant disguises or forms...we are suddenly sublimely aware that tomorrow, should it drop our hand that it now holds comfortingly...leaving us devastatingly desolate in the dark...with the splitting sound of our heart seam...tearing open once again...it would be worth the bliss that we experience in this moment.

And we hope...that we will remember this giddy, all consuming, powerfully inspiring feeling. That it will get us through the aching storm that will likely follow and that in spite of the rain, we will keep being surprised...because it is worth the cost.

So please...even if I kick and scream...occasionally reveal my fangs...

Surprise Me

Come Back Tomorrow

Making our way through daily life is best accomplished with a strut, a bounce, a glide, a stomp...perhaps even a swagger-if you JUST can't help yourself...Pick your poison. But today? I was lucky to pull off a languid, slovenly,slide...That twinkly spark that keeps us all moving uniquely throughout the day leaving our stamp on our minor victories and minute interactions-was lost under the sluggish oppressive shuffle of the meager three and a half hours sleep I was able to squeeze in. Although it was a relaxing and generally lovely Sunday...from the time I opened my four hundred and forty nine pound eyelids on the inky bleak weather dripping in melty drizzle and blotted with the fallen leaves of summer...my lone motivation was to make it back to the comforting cradle of my beloved worn just right pillow and to be wrapped in the velvety embrace of my downy feather blanket that smells of lavender and yesterdays perfume-which was...Philosophy-Falling in Love-if you were wondering....or even if you weren't. Fair enough...but when I was staring at the wall as though it were a shiny slow swinging pendulum agleam with embedded emerald hued crystals and humming Summertime in the soul-soaked throaty voice of Billie Holiday...my sleepy mind drifted...heehee as it is prone to do...and landed on a caramel drizzled cloud of loftiness.


Actually I couldn't resist the word "loftiness"...but in reality- I was dwelling on sleep and the whisper from my weary body that she could very easily curl herself up and give the busied mind the strict instructions to pipe down and give my stubborn eyes the permission to blink just a little slower...lingering just a second or twenty two before throwing themselves back open in halfhearted protestation. Then like a feather on the gale of an aggressive autumn wind- my thoughts were carried to the endless opportunity of each day and the gift of the unknown and how it is our obligation to open the door when opportunity knocks at it. Be it the chance for a chocolaty, steamy latte on a chilly afternoon, or a new job opportunity, or a moment where a dream presents itself on a shiny silver dish and dresses up in crimson cherries, drizzling itself in hot fudge...handing you a sterling spoon...

Then? Whoosh-whisked away again-my mind surrendered to my current exhausted state and arrived at the necessary conclusion that just for today....should opportunity come knocking?

Rat-tat-tat..."Opportunity! Want me to fluff your pillows?"

I would hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle...with a handwritten note and a tip-politely requesting that Opportunity please come back tomorrow....

With that, I continued my struggle against the day and have now...completed the mission-which I had no choice but to accept...And with that Dear Reader...I can ignore the all consuming call of the bed no longer. Sweetest of dreams.

I need to rest up...I have a play date with Opportunity at two seventeen.

Foiled by the Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess,or previously wealthy, lovely girl orphaned by her father or her mother-sometimes both...She lived in a castle, great house, high tower. She roomed with fairies,her wicked stepmother,evil step sisters,or all on her own. She was sad and lonely, cursed, over worked, under payed, never appreciated. Add a glass slipper,pumpkin coach,poison apple,spinning wheel.Enter fairy godmother,wicked witch,little singing men,friendly talking animals, fire-breathing dragon,fearsome sea hag...The previously mentioned are interchangeable,but always without fail...enters Handsome Prince. Who just when the poor little princess, with nothing but her kindness and physical splendor to aid her is about to meet her untimely and tragic demise...sweeps in-often singing,frequently atop his mighty steed and slays said dragon,tricks wicked witch and often wakes her with his kiss. Then there is a big white wedding and they all live happily ever after...
The End...?????

To make myself clear, my imagination has more colors than any rainbow, more hues than a Croyola box of 64 crayons-truly. And I firmly believe in positivity and promise, in hope, in beauty and in love...and SO...I hate rain on this highly logical, flattering and deeply philosophical imaginary parade- I do...but I just gotta'....

Because this illusion, this fluffy, pretend, never going to happen-sparkly wand induced,blush pink fantasy is what we feed our little girls. It is what we were fed as little girls. And as sweet and as fantastical as it all may be...it is a pretty lie that we encourage them to believe. Little girls grow into big girls, big girls grow into women. Women that eventually will fall in love and will possibly get married. And even though most of them will never admit it-the expectation,the blue print for their life is at it's core based on a Prince Charming...and Happily Ever After. As I have mentioned previously,I am an avid viewer and passionate enthusiast of Grey's Anatomy.If you don't understand,I really can't explain it-it just speaks to me. Anyway, the shows'writer Shonda Rhimes says EVERYTHING better than I could ever dream of saying it. In this case, she used Meredith Grey to reveal the following wisdom on this subject...

“You know how when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales, that fantasy of what your life would be, white dress, prince charming who would carry you away to a castle on a hill. You would lie in bed at night and close your eyes and you had complete and utter faith. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close you could taste them, but eventually you grow up, one day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is its hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely cause almost everyone has that smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they will open their eyes and it will come true.


As a mother of a little girl, of course I want her to have hope and faith-to truly believe in the few things worthy of her unfailing devotion. I pray that she will appreciate inner beauty and find the goodness in the people that she encounters. Yet, when I hear her sing about beauty and princes and talk about weddings in her long, shiny princess dress-I am poignantly aware of the message these stories send. I am not the most modern of women. I am not bitter and jaded, this is not male bashing in the least. However, the issues with the fairy tale version of life are as follows; the princesses in fairy tales are limited to only their physical beauty, their lives are all miserable-lonely and sad until Prince Charming comes and rescues them from their desolate existence(even the name,Prince Charming,really?!?) Finally, the fairy tale-ends with the wedding...so about, two thirds of Princesses' life? Just....unaccounted for? Once she has achieved the lofty "goal" of marriage, she accomplishes nothing else worthy of mention? This is supposed to be a fairy tale not a tragedy.

How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself.
Anais Nin

At its core, this is what I hope to instill in my Baby Girl. She is beautiful and so is everyone else in their own unique way.It doesn't matter if the world agrees, or if she fits its mold. In fact, I prefer that she doesn't.Rarely does a true treasure fall from the sky...you have to dig for it.If she can find in herself and in others-a beautiful heart, a lovely soul, a thoughtful mind...her life will be rich. Inner beauty is the only beauty that truly counts. An ugly spirit,kills a pretty face-every time. No exceptions.I want her to use her head and her heart and not spend too much time worrying about her face, or her body. That said, I want her to take care of herself on every level, because it makes her feel fulfilled to be her best-to grow, experience, challenge, accomplish, and change.

She may not befriend dinner mint colored fairies or sing with musical animals, but I want her to discover for herself, that the world IS a magical, amazing place. I hope she greets it as such-her eyes wide, her arms open. And though she will inevitably encounter witches and dragons-I want her to muster the courage to battle and conquer them...and not wait for, nor rely upon someone else to do it for her. It is my wish that she waste not a moment waiting to be rescued by, or from anyone or anything. She is stronger than she thinks, she just won't know the power, strength, gifts and bravery she possesses until she dances through the fire. While trusting herself is crucial, trusting others is necessary to living a full life. Of course I want her to find love. First a love of herself-which requires that she first find out who that is, then a love of someone else. After which she should nurture a love of both-not losing one to the other. I hope she learns the difference between adapting and assimilating.May she take an active roll in her life and refuse to let it just "happen" to her. Life is made up of the little moments...let her find gladness in those and not wait at home for the "big" experiences to arrive.How much time is wasted in that way!I want her to know the bliss of a true surprise and I hope that she knows many-because it means that she has not become cynical. I hope she stumbles and falls sometimes-because if she doesn't, she is not spending enough time living on the edge.Above all else, I hope she is kind, forgiving, gracious,joyful and generous...with herself and with the world. Should she one day marry, I hope she realizes that is not where her story ends-but merely the start of another chapter in her book of life...there will be many more before her curtain closes. Speaking of stages-may she both take it and shine and give it up to someone else when she is not the best one for the part. I hope she asks for help when she truly needs it and offers assistance when others are in need. May she provide a crying shoulder to the saddened, much needed reassurance to the faint of heart,warmth to those left out in the cold, empathy to the misunderstood, strength to the weak, guidance to the lost, and a hand to hold onto to those reaching out. Let her surround herself with people who provide the same to her. Happiness is a choice-may it be what she chooses for herself. Finally, I hope Baby Girl has faith and never loses it-although it may seem to fail her at times...

That isn't too much to ask for her, is it? Never mind, I don't care. I want it for her just the same.

Back to Shonda Rhimes and Meredith Grey for a wrap up...


At the end of the day faith is a funny thing. It turns up when you don't really expect it. It's like one day you realize that the fairy tale may be slightly different than you dreamed. The castle, well, it may not be a castle. And it's not so important happy ever after, just that its happy right now. See once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you , and once in a while people may even take your breath away. -----


That said, I hope she takes her own breath away, writes her own story...and that it is rich with laughter, experiences, growth, love and, well...LIVING-in color and out loud. And that at the end of it all, she can look on it with a full heart and realize that she wrote it so much better than the shallow, short sighted fairy tales in which she once believed.


The End

Instinctively Impaired

I have always considered myself to be a fairly instinctive person. Throughout my life, I have trusted and often acted on my instincts. For the most part, they have served me well. My instincts on character judgment especially, have been primarily spot on. Until now. Over the course of the past two years or so, my instincts have misfired completely. I am not sure if it is a failure of my instincts,a side effect of my stage in life, or that the people (and there are quite a few at this point) that I have misjudged (erring in their favor)are conniving and deceptive, OR if they changed drastically during the time that I knew them and my radar was blinded to the change because they had since endeared themselves to me causing me to view them at their best.You know, in the way that once you really know someone...you are no longer capable of seeing them with just your eyes. Regardless, the result is that I not only have lost faith in my instincts, but as a person who really loves people...I have begun to lose trust in mankind as a whole. It is not that I think there is no goodness in the world, because I know that there is...it just seems to be getting harder and harder to find and more difficult still to believe. And for whatever reason, my heart has become as blind as my eyes. And now, when I think I have come into contact with true goodness, I have admittedly become guarded and jaded-refusing to take anything as it appears, or even as it initially proves itself to be.

Herein lies the conundrum. This loss of faith...is it wisdom gained through experience or is it an emotional and spiritual pendulum sway toward pessimism? Is optimism blind faith? My outlook, is generally sunny...yet I have to question if my heart, my faith, my hope would be better served, more conscientiously cared for- by a step up in security...a significantly more closely guarded optimism. How many times do either your judgment, or others, or a combination of the two...have to fail you...before you are foolish not to take a scrutinizing inventory of the way you do life's business and do some serious, possibly drastic restructuring?

At this point, I don't have any answers. Just volumes of philosophical questions. As a Dreamer, I suppose maybe I was in need of some grounding. I just feel as if I am tight rope walking the wobbly rope of hope and beneath me is not a net...but a pit of clouded, bottomless, despair. Everything happens for a reason, even if we are too close to the situation to see what that reason is. Even if distance...miles and miles, years and years, nights of sobbing inconsolable distance are required to see what that reason is...My concern is this- if an open heart and open mind are required to truly love, to empathize with and to know people. If being receptive, arms outstretched to life's experiences-is key to successfully savoring life's journey...yet every time our judgment fails us,we fail ourselves, our hearts fail us, or others fail us. Every time a piece of our heart is broken off carelessly, sometimes viciously, and tossed aside...The open arms, the open door, the open heart closes-just a little-sometimes if the injury is deep enough, the door slams shut...If we force the door open-are we fools? If we allow it to close in on us-do we turn cold? Where is the harmonious medium? Is there one? Maybe this too...requires distance. But how much time is wasted waiting for that distance to evolve? Fools rush in,"...Elvis said so...so how much time is too much and how much-not enough? How do we know? Are we to trust our feelings? Our instincts? After all, they are what got us into this mess. Admittedly our minds are not skilled at subtlety or lack of fact. So then what?

It is often heard that your mind, should tell your heart how to feel...and for some that may suffice...but for the ruby red,gushy, overflowing, throbbing,passionate, soft yet strong-hearted...the deafening of Hearts' pounding drowns the shouts of our minds to a soft often incoherent whisper...

For now, I reserve judgment...ironic as that may be. Taking a breather (when I remember how) to see if my instincts are still under warranty. I am going to pause for a long moment to lick my metaphorical wounds.Time to teach my mind to articulate itself better...to project more. Finally to give my heart some time to repair itself...to reinforce the weakened areas and come back stronger than before and to teach it to count to ten before jumping. Not all questions have immediately clear answers and that too...is something we have no choice but to resign ourselves to and accept."No one said life was fair" and "No one said we had to like it"... Think I will embrace and accept the disillusionment that I am finding impossible to avoid and then, hopefully cast it aside. I am not ready to give up, I hope that I never am...the human spirit is nothing if not enduring...and this too shall pass. I'm sure of it...even if the when and the how are so obscure they may as well be a Stanley Kubrick film. But shame on me if it passes without some deep introspection, evaluation and alteration.

Trust, hope and faith...all equated with love, But love and instinct perhaps, need to check in with reason and experience before taking action...For now I look to patience, forgiveness-(how much harder I find it to forgive myself for vulnerability,failure to protect myself, mistakes, and lapses in judgment-than to forgive others almost anything) and grace. I have never been a tolerant waiter, who is? So, while I refuse to sit on the sideline and watch-think a time out is in order.

*In my absence of true answers I turned to some greats to see what light they had to shed on trust...

You may be deceived if you trust too much,but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough.-Frank Crane

As soon as you trust yourself,you will know how to live.-Goethe

It is better to suffer wrong than to do it, and happier to be sometimes cheated than not to trust-Samuel Johnson

Just Because You Can...

"Nothing in life is free"...is a statement that we hear frequently. Perhaps it should be revised to state that "Nothing of true, deep, substantial, lasting value comes without a price"...Such is the case with freedom.

Freedom is this unblemished, indescribable,ungraspable,incomprehensible gift...it is vast,intangible and without boundaries. Contrary to the accepted meaning of "free" however, freedom is ANYTHING but. It has been and continues to be paid for with precious life, valiant sacrifice and truer honor than most of us have been in the presence of or could possibly appreciate in full. For Americans,our freedom is a birthright. Like most things that we don't personally have to toil to get, or strive to keep, or give of ourselves to earn-freedom is a "right" that most of us take for granted. Primarily because we don't know any different.Freedom surrounds us like the air that we breathe. Constant and unfailing as the sun that brightens our sky, smiling down on us as it drenches our skin and whose setting marks the passing of our days.The United States has come to represent and occasionally to be resented for our freedom(or at least for the perceived recklessness with which we utilize that freedom). The symbolic soar of the majestic eagle's wings spread wide,the right to vote for the man (and hopefully one day soon,the woman) who will have the final say on the all important decisions that eventually effect us all. The freedom to DO,and to SAY,and to BE as we please. How we adore ranting about the freedom we have to say this, or to do that! Free to read a controversial book, to burn our Country's flag in protest,the liberty to worship (or not) at the altar of our own choosing. Our freedom has been paid for and continues to be preserved...and to us it IS free for the experiencing and all too often, for abusing.

In actuality however, the freedom we relish-came at great cost. Seemingly,out of respect,out of appreciation and gratitude to those that paid the price of our freedom. Isn't there an unspoken meager price tag dangling from the torch of Liberty that reads simply, "Responsibility"? Is respect-in the form of tact and general taste too much to ask for in return for human sacrifice? Seemingly, it should go without saying that as American citizens each of us has a responsibility to conduct ourselves with some fragment of dignity. We have a responsibility to educate ourselves on the issues and to vote knowledgeably-to do what we can to make America a place worth fighting and all too often...worth dying for. Doesn't each of us bare an obligatory moral burden to not exploit the freedoms that others have won for us-to see to it that the blood of so many courageous men and women was not shed in vain? In the name of our FREEDOM-there are Mothers without Sons,Husbands without Wives, Children growing up without their Mommys and/or Daddys. I believe a treasure so precious and a sacrifice so profound is not to be accepted carelessly,or handled thoughtlessly. What little is asked from us in return for our lives as we know them. The lives that other people in distant places can only covet out of their starvation, deprivation and oppression.

Taking freedom for granted is not only relevant with regards to patriotism, but it seeps into our personal lives as well. There is a world of things that we CAN do-things that we have the ability and the resolve and the permission to do, but does having the right, make it RIGHT? In life, when we abuse our freedoms-allow them to run rampant and without discretion or regard for others...we typically have those freedoms revoked. Whether it be trust, or love, or the right to drive a car that is stripped from us...If we fail to regard the freedoms we have been given, there are always consequences- often life altering consequences.Though seemingly contradictory, having FREEDOM to do as we will...is a weighty thing. Just because you CAN (are free to) do something...doesn't mean that you SHOULD do it. I said it...I am AWARE than I am implying a degree of accountability here. If that is too much for you-this would be a perfect point for you to stop reading.I (of course) say that in the greatest love...just slip out the back.I will pretend not to notice...

Just because you have the liberty to say or to do something-doesn't make it worth voicing, or desirable or worthy for others to hear,to see,or to experience. Just because you have the ability and the "right" to insult your boss's poorly selected toupee, doesn't make it a sound choice for you to do so. As a grown up(hopefully) you know better. I assume that you have not arrived at this point in life without obtaining SOME sense of judgment. Not only would mocking his Trump-like coif dent his ego and possibly hurt his feelings, but he in turn, has the "right" to immediately dis-employ and kill the professional reputation of you and your unfiltered, now unemployed mouth.Similarly,when our Founding Fathers established that we should all have "freedom of speech,"I somehow don't think they had t-shirts with profanity and President bashing bumper stickers in mind. OKAY-so those things didn't exist then, but the point is there and somewhat valid, buried someplace underneath my poorly executed example. Furthermore, on a global,national and personal level-at what point does exploiting our freedoms infringe on the liberties of others? Of course, we are free to wear these things and plaster them on the back of our vehicles,to speak out against what we believe to be injustice. But for those that drive behind us or pass us on the street-reading said shirts/stickers is an involuntary act-it just happens. If that person is offended by explatives or harsh language, aren't their rights then, being disregarded? Naturally, we all have opinions on almost everything, well founded or not.Thankfully, we have the ability to voice those opinions in practically any manner that we see fit. Do we HAVE to be told as grownups that if you can't say, do, wear, apply something "nice"-worthwhile, or edifying...that it is often best not to say anything at all? If faced with the hesitant eyes of a young soldier headed to war, or the grief stricken face of a child from a third world country who is raising her siblings because her parents were ripped from her by disease...would our priorities be altered? Would our harsh manner soften, would the worthiness of our statements be reevaluated? I would like to think so...I know mine would.

As an reminder of Freedom's richness and our role in celebrating it,let us use Presidential elections as another example because it is still somewhat relevant.This past election and the two proceeding it, were fairly heated ones. Granted,if your candidate didn't win-you are entitled to disappointment-perhaps a week or two of verbal griping and possibly even pouting. You are free to voice that opinion however you choose.But when the campaign hangover comes to an end,let us not lose sight of the fact that even in our personal defeat-we are still victorious. There is some dignity maintained by the Presidential office. Shouldn't we support the Individual occupying that office because they were elected by our fellow Americans,in this Country where we are so blessed/lucky(depending on your perspective)to have been born.A place where every vote counts.Whether we agree or disagree,shouldn't we be happy to have choices when so many others do not? Even if OUR personal voice is not the one that rings loudest in this round, are we not still fathomless bounds ahead of numerous countries worldwide...to be able to speak at all? We speak loudly and often without fear of our safety, or the safety of our loved ones being placed in jeopardy...we have been granted a voice.


Certainly, we will not be pleased with every move an Elected Official makes and we have the liberty to say as much. Still, it seems that with regard to our political views,perspective often goes flying out the window at Andretti-speed.Every Flesh and Bone Individual is bound to do something we do not approve of, and yes...to make mistakes. Each of us fails habitually, sometimes miserably. Why should a Politician be any different? Does the title of "President" somehow render the Possessor infallible? Obviously,the accountability of our Elected Officials is much greater on a national level, than our own because of the deep ramifications their actions and behavior hold for so many. There are no small errors when one achieves that level of power. But before we don that uncouth shirt, or mount that hate inspired sticker...perhaps we should stop and think for a millisecond. Are we ranting and lashing out simply because we can? What is the PURPOSE of placing that sticker, or wearing that shirt? Are we truly hoping to enlighten someone? It has been my experience, that offending others and putting them on the defensive, is not conducive to opening their minds to a new perspective,or their hearts to possibilities. We are each free to say anything that we please, yes...but at what point does it become the din of the spoiled and the rantings of the ungrateful? How far do we go, before we are insulting those who paid our debt? Have we become so jaded, childlike and arrogant that we can no longer feel the need to act as adults and be accountable for our actions and our words? Think of all the wasted, empty, hurtful words we banter in the name of entitlement. By no means, am I suggesting that we keep silent...just that we practice tact and exercise maturity when using the voice that most of us have not earned for ourselves.

Yes, freedom is ours for the taking. But if a Stranger knowingly throws himself in front of a bus to save our lives- do we not then OWE it to our Benefactor to not only be responsible with our own life, but to live it in gratitude and with inspiration. It would be careless and insulting for us to achieve anything less than greatness with our new lease on life-purchased at the greatest cost for us(although unsolicited)by another.

I realize this one is a bit soap boxy, it is not my intention to preach, lecture or chastise. It is merely that daily I encounter situations and individuals (including myself) doing and saying things JUST because they can...and it makes me wonder if this behavior is not only frivolous but irresponsible. I am uncertain when qualities such as purpose,forethought,and accountability went out of fashion. I don't know when the tantrums of the few, began overshadowing the ambitions and principles of the many. I am at a loss as to why in order to be considered progressive and forward thinking, one has to have extremist positions and possess a touch of ex-patriotism. I somehow missed when screaming, red-faced and venomously...became an effective method of communicating anything. Truly neither left, right or in between is innocent of behaving a bit like a petulant three your old...screaming shrilly, fists flailing...JUST because you have a voice. Yelling is rarely the best way to be heard. None of us gravitates toward the obnoxiously loud person in life...the one constantly ranting and raving because s/he seemingly loves the sound of her or his own voice. Instead we are moved by the calm melodic tones of wisdom and of assurance. How much more receptive is each of us to truth no matter how harsh, when it is spoken to us in kindness, in whispers, in song, with respect...?

What this looks like to me personally? I am not exactly sure.I desire and aspire to live a gracious, intentional life. A life that brings joy and fulfillment,empathy, richness and assistance...laughter and love to those around me. If for no other reason, than because countless sacrifices have been made in the name of my freedom to do, say, and be the person-live the life that I choose. It is my wish that when life's-door is closed upon me-that I have celebrated, appreciated and put my liberty to good use...Not just because I can- but because I believe it to by my obligation and I accept it gratefully.

*To clarify these are often nothing more than lofty ambitions of mine. I am not in any way claiming to possess any, nevertheless all of these noble characteristics.*

Change We Must

This week has been an introspective one for me. I now find myself in the melancholy, soul searching haze that comes as an all inclusive deal with a confident and persistent intuition. At the risk of sounding like an under thought and over used political campaign...CHANGE is on the smog polluted horizon. There is a pungent crisp to the air, a vibration the sun gives off that runs through my skin, seeps through my bones, marinades my soul, and masters my mind. With the touch of a calculated Midas,the gift of golden reflection and the keen perception bestowed upon me by my just awakened senses-alert my being to the core that my jaded hibernation is drawing to a close. Squinting as I stride languidly from the shrouded fortress that has provided me with misguided comfort and a false sense of security for longer than I care to identify. I crouch-ears up, tail twitching-cautious, yet exhilarated by the hunt and nearly frozen in place by the shadowed unknown that lays in wait. Fight or flight instinct at full alert. My mind searching for the doors marked EXIT...my spirit digging it's claws down deep-prepared to be the last one standing.

As creatures of habit-often of bad habit,we tend to resist change. Uncertainty often carries the terror of the dream...the falling one. The one where without notice we are plummeted parachute and safety net free into the vast infinite air of the unknown. Never do we fall feather like with zen-like surrender...floating like an ivory feather dancing harmoniously with a warm spring breeze...waltz 2-3, waltz 2-3 until it fairy kisses the grassy green with its' billowy softness. No. We flail and grasp for any reachable stronghold. Groping blindly, at any vestige of familiarity. Nevertheless,gravity grips us in its' gnarled fist and yanks us toward what we believe to be certain calamity. Eyes showing nothing but white, we bolt upright, cold sweat beading our brow- into our reality. Still terrorized by the fear of the unknown that nearly swallowed us whole.

Still...change we must. The world doesn't care about your cold sweats and horror churned stomach...every moment things change...and if you attempt to stand still against it, you will blink one slow heavy lidded, burden wearied blink...and life will have skillfully stolen your queen and your game will be over.

Eleanor Roosevelt said "Do one thing every day that scares you." Change-frightens us all.Yet,there is no hiding from its' presence. I guess my final assessment is this, so often we cling, embrace, cleave to our current state-not because it is working for us, but because we are engulfed by the horror of the unforeseen. Still when you really give that anemic feeble theory the thought it deserves- We are all blind little cane-less, tail-less mice...all the more lost because we believe we know where we stand. Not to say that there are no certainties. How empty and bleak our existence would be without the steadfast belief, the innate hunger for that which is real and substantial and unchanging because in It is defined by It's perfection. But rather to say that stubborn, foolish resistance to change, or to be changed, or to cause change will inevitably result in regret,wasted time and a life unworthy of so much as an honorary mention.

Trembling in my new found steadfastness...senses heightened...courage puffing it's chest...Not only do I wait, but inwardly I search for the changes I have resisted. Those that I need to wrap myself around and those I need to be a force in (the kind to be reckoned with) ...Of course, being the uncontainable spirit, faintly couraged girl that I am...this won't be easily defined,acquired, accomplished or maintained. But then, what of substance is?

Change...When we are stirred from the safety blanket comfort we have hibernated in for far too long-roused by the aroma of what may, can and will be. As we fall toward the black pooled ground below, rather than being paralyzed by our lack of control-let's take a proactive, strategic view. Have our kicks on so we can hit the ground we will inevitably reach-running, our shields out and our swords drawn in preparation for the fight...and our arms thrown wide open in acceptance for the only certainty in life...

"Resistance is futile"

Because I Said So...

Even now, I cringe in remembrance..of asking my parents the unauthorized "Why?"

My inquiry being met with the vaguely ungratifying and final response:

"Because I Said So."

That was my signal that the conversation was over, that there would be no further debating or discussing. Finis...

Like a King's Decree...(the ones that were forever altering the measurement of a foot-ever consider the ramifications of that process? hahaha...No?!? Ahem-Me neither.)

" BECAUSE I SAID SO"
It WAS...it just HAD to be enough...even if an explanation or conversation would have received a heartier welcome-perhaps taught reason and mutual respect Even now,I wonder which of us was less justified in their actions,or lack there of. Was the conversation over because there was no reasoning with my child-like and later, my hormone-riddled logic? Or were my Parents so caught up in their authority that they couldn't see fit to provide what would likely have been a validating explanation. As I have previously stated, most reality lies someplace between the perceptions of our memories and the opposing extreme. Regardless, as an adult-I often think about how much smoother my life would be...if the universe took MY "I said so" as the final judgment. The result would be a bit bumpy, certainly splashed in vivid studio quality technicolor, a bit thrillingly and unpredictably risky...but smoother...At least for me.

If only I had the veto power of the definitive and masterful "Because I Said So"...I would use it sparingly...Mostly to better the world (solving conflicts, barbarism,dictatorships,illness,starvation,poverty,ending pain and suffering, curing disease...Items of consequence.Point made) but also to better my personal existence...just being honest. I would be a little selfish-but just a minuscule, nearly imperceptible pinch.

Starting with the obvious. After one clear, definitive line of explanation...(and an insinuated-Because I Said So)...ALL arguments would cease. Simple enough. Just imagine all the valuable time and energy that could be conserved that way...Enough time to sort and trash months worth of junk mail and suffer through two Springs worth of cleaning...OR to kick back and drink in the peace with the current issue of ELLE in one hand, sweet victory-tini in the other...I am most apt to select option B.(I am simply OVERFLOWING with surprise and mystery).

Also shush-ness on demand...*Imagining a little signal-like a sideways glance and dainty imaginary key toss-tink-as it falls into the depths of disappearance*

More problems solved by a Because I Said So...

The acceptance and embracing of fashionable lateness-up to thirty seven minutes...alright, let's call it forty two.

The increase of green lights en route to the location of my choice...Should go without saying, but this would ALSO necessitate the temporary absence of the men and women in blue- the ones with flashy-lights and sirens- not the rain or shine variety,uniformed in polyester shorts and white door-less Jeeps.Um...have you seen the white bee-keeper inspired hats? That is just cruel.

Coffee delivered to my door...scalding-steamy latte/or icy dew-kissed chilled frappuccino. Frothy,smooth- hot-or cold and made to order...via text.

Sinfully savory items like chips and salsa,Coca-Cola, pinot noir, fillet mignon, crispy,salty french fries,bubbly decadent chocolate souffles and pasta would be calorie and fat free...Why else? Um...Because I said so.

Money would not grow on trees, but rather-bushes...in the shape of roses and would smell as sweet (thanks Will.)Again, just in the effort of simplification. Economy catastrophe, rectified...lemon squeezy...

It would be against the law to charge more than fifty dollars for a pair of pouty pumps,sassy stilettos, strappy sandals, or brilliantly beautiful boots...to give a reason here, would be insulting your intelligence.

Bi-monthly Girls Night Out would be mandated. Bi-monthly shopping excursions, book store browses/mani-pedis definitely included in the mix -without necessity of official mention...BECAUSE...I sai-... don't really need to finish it, do I?

Music, art, theatre appreciation would be required. There would be a national media campaign...Culture-Get Some!...Basic sport knowledge is a given.

Chores like laundry,bathrooms,dishes,cooking,organization...anything considered a hardship for the Domestically Challenged...would only need to be done once...And then? Self-maintained...like...I can't think of anything...why must life be so high maintenance? Then I could focus my,attentions on more deserving endeavors like shiny, cushy, plush, savory and smelly,(in a good way..)

Dress code enforced. Regardless of where you live-sandals/flip-flops and jeans/shorts do not constitute Evening Attire. Sorry...

Closet space and vanities would expand as if maintained by adept carpenter man-pixies to fit my ever-changing needs...Also ANY mention of how many eyes I have to shadow, lips I have to gloss, bodies I have to moisturize/perfum and wardrobe, tootsies to shoe...Would be punishable by one week of chick flicks/Bravo/Style channel without complaint...Any sign of chagrin would result in an additional week of SHE-VO.

Boys worth keeping would sparkle with Cullen-like flair when bathed in the shiny canary iridescence of the noon day sun...("hideous" and shiny monster-like)and their sorry, ill-equipped opposition would show cloudy brown like the doody that fills them to their ears and sooner or later will spill out through their words and actions.

Every eating establishment would be required to have at least three decent red wines in house...reasonably priced. Oh and the home pour would be the national norm.

Naps and sleeping in would be worked seamlessly into the daily routine.

Complaining and whining will be tolerated under no condition and met with muted deafness and the arm...because talking to the hand is insufficient in this case...

Thinking outside the building-like the one that Elvis has left(not just out of the box)would be a decadent actuality.

Each of us would take for granted that we need to clean up after ourselves, both literally and metaphorically.

Only educated voters would be allowed to vote for the winners of political elections and reality shows...certified via online test? Can't be bothered with logistics now.

Kindness would be law...sarcasm taught,generosity and thoughtfulness innate, creativity,silliness/laughter and empathy not optional.

Dancing it out...would become the new national pastime.

Harry Connick Junior would tour monthly and my seat would be front, center and free of charge.

SERIOUS Fashion Violators would go to Style School (like traffic school) as their community service and would be aided by an expert glam squad...or Stacy and Clinton...whomever is on call that day.

Indulgence within reason would be encouraged.

Each individual would be committed to identify and share their gifts with those around them. And those who took more than their fare share of talent and ability would be forced to ration out the extra to the Gifted Impaired. Fair is fair...

As long as work was completed, vacation time and location potential would be infinite.

Everyone would have to read an average of a book a month and would need to select something not recommended by Oprah, Regis and Kelly,or the Ladies of the VIEW (anyone still watching that? Because...who's view,exactly? Also an assault to my sensibilities.)

Birthdays would be celebrated like they are in Katroo (via Seuss) with the addition of a Nordstrom Cosmetic/Fragrance counter and open bar...for partaking of and dancing on...of course...oh and live music by the band of my choosing.

Hair days would OBVIOUSLY be fantastic...so there would no longer be any need for the Good/Bad adjectives before "hair"...they would just be Hair Days.

Grey's would be on year round with only nine reruns allowed-to be aired on nights when I have other plans. Also, October Road would be brought back in the place of one of the 17 Crime Investigation Shows.

Sunny would not only be the constant weather forecast, but the only acceptable disposition.

If people lives come crashing down around them...cameras would not be permitted to catch the action for millions to view and judge in the name of sad and sadistic rubber necking...sorry, "entertainment"...?!?!

"Vegetarian Vampires" would actually exist-and live on my street...


List of Because I Said So's can be altered by me at any time without advance warning or outside permissions.

That was frivolously fun for me...hopefully amazingly amusing for you.

What would be on your list...Think about it.

Because I Said So...

Note to CJ:

This was merely the bouncy brain baby of your imagination-no one is required to take your whims(shiny as they may be) as law...

FINE!

So here goes-back to the dull monotony of reality and responsibility...and the "Because I Said So's" of the real world. Made and enforced (unfortunately) without my consent or approval...*Sigh*

Cool School...Frustration Lends Itself to Ridiculousness

We all like to delude ourselves into thinking that we are ultra cool. I am not sure that the word cool is still...well, cool...but whateva...We tell ourselves that at the very least we have moments of such profound coolness that they redeem our less-than-Stefani* moments. That is what we tell ourselves, but mostly we lie...

*Gwen Stefani is the female poster child for Cool. Mostly because she is a rocker chick, she always wears a flawless ruby pout and can femme it up in tube socks...As if that is not enough, she is a designer of not one-but two fabu clothing lines: LAMB and Harajuku Lovers. The fact that she is married to a fellow rock star really doesn't even make her cool-tribute list-like royalty marrying royalty-it is as it SHOULD be. Gwen is indubitably original, she is definitely shiny. Also she smells like bubble gum,or cotton candy-I am not sure which.(Alright,admittedly-I have never had the opportunity to smell her,and well...THAT would make for an odd introduction...but Gwen smelling like candy is simply a given)...

Other pillars of coolness include: Vince Vaughn,obviously Bogart,Harry,Elvis, Brando, Grant, Jack Johnson, Fitzgerald,JT,Hemingway,Sheryl Crow,SJP(Sarah Jessica Parker),Johnny Cash,Lauren Bacall, Coco Chanel,Elway,Vin Diesel,Lincoln,Katherine Hepburn,John Wayne,Pacino,Neruda,Bruce Willis,Plath, Scorcese (have to be cool to pull off hairy caterpillars for eyebrows), Nicholson,R.Pat(in his Edward-ness),Sakic,Bond (James-not Barry),Depp, Dillinger, Kat Von D,...- my list changes regularly, sure that comes as a shock.*Handing you a paper bag and a popsickle stick so you don't swallow your tongue.* You'll recover,I believe in you...because you are THAT cool. Right?

Which brings me to my point. There are always pesky naysayers out to chink our coolness armor...Frustration being one of the craftiest culprits...because well, there is NOTHING less cool than losing your cool...haha I am going to need a new word. Redundancy is uncool...I mean...unsavory..ish.

So here is the unsightly truth. Irritation leads to frustration, frustration runs head on into anger and anger is NOT at all pretty, it is definitely not um...chill(?).Hopefully you seldom get angry and when you do,you keep your ultra smooth composure. Ideally your blood only boils over noble causes and grave injustice as it should. For the rest of us-the spitefully flawed.Those of us belonging to the achingly human variety-who sometimes get angry over pointless, senseless things that are really not the reason we are angry at all...but we don't have time to delve into Freshman Psych right now, so moving on...But for those of us who breathe, live and feel...

When collective-ness and serenity check out -(and I hope for your sake that you only part with your unruffled exterior in the privacy of your own home,in a sound proof windowless room-where there are no witnesses)...and miffed-ness ensues. At that moment when we are fully aware of our ridiculousness but all reason and sound judgment have made a Starbucks run ...Like an out of body experience where your Gwen/Vince Self watches (nonfat, sugar-free peppermint mocha in hand)in stifled horror as your Emotional and Ill Composed Self shamelessly and undemurely unravels.

Personally, my Little Red Monster (or Courtney Love) staggers out dirty blond-HOLE-style in search of blood...crack...whatever Courtney hungers for. Havoc? It is at this precise moment,that my inner Gwen leaps from the shadows. Deftly, she takes Love down exhibiting her great skill. Calmly,Gwen drags her back inside by the roots of her platinum, over-processed hair-while Courtney kicks and bites...(nothing to see here.)But not before Courtney makes herself heard in a lightening fast tantrum type outburst.Torn couture and all...

Blink-Hopefully you will miss it.

Usually little stacks of mishaps and irritations bring Red (Cort) out to play/battle depending on your demeanor..The refuse burning stench of things I chose to overlook but secretly and unintentionally held onto*...pile up and eventually pour over...

*Boys-fairly sure your kind is generally not guilty of this brand of behavior...but if you haven't yet worked out the figures...Womankind is infamous for it. We inwardly hang on to the little things we outwardly let slide. Which is why when you give us a grunt to a question or a request that we make of you, or leave your glass in the sink...we occasionally unleash a laundry list of every minuscule thing that you may have done to perturb us over the course of our other wise Reagan-esque lives together...We know it's not COMPLETELY fair per-se...it's a wiring thing. Just give Glam Gwen a sec to bind and gag Crazy Courtney. Then tread softly and keep a low but tempered /attentive profile for a day or so-(think Noah,Edward or Lloyd)Your welcome...got that down?*Knuckles* Got your back. For now...I may turn-so always best to sleep with one eye open. Heehee*

Okay so I am going to come out of my Secret Ridiculous Chamber and let you take a quick peek at Courtney (looking like about seventy three bucks)...So...over the course of two days post holiday (which just seems to make everything tougher to take)...

1. Boy5 locked my Baby Girl in his room..."just because". Let's just say that the extent of my tool knowledge is lefty lucy, right tighty...Luckily she was calm and I was channeling my inner Stefani-because it took maybe thirty minutes to get her out. After trying cards, knives, jimmying the lock with a meat thermometer (of course trying futilely to walk her through the unlocking process)...I took the doorknob off with my itty-bitty set of screw drivers. Felt just like MacGyvr... only with better hair-and no flannel.That was a beautiful thing because the next recourse was to kick the door down Stalone-style...in strappy sandals.
2.I picked up the same toys from the same spot (front and center of the house for the twenty-second time in the same day. The Monkeys only think it is funny because they don't know that next time-Miss Love is busting out a Hefty for the job. Problem solved.
3.The cleaning and sanitizing of mystery puddles (spare you the gaggy details)
4. Having to file a restraining order with the Bully Police to keep my kids from bringing one another to a premature close...think Eminem and Sasha Baron Cohen-minus profanity
5. The swamp cooler went out on one of the first 95+ degree days of summer we have had...the VERY one when my daughter was held captive in Spidey's hideout...

I will stop there...Not crazy about complaining,(fully aware that the human race has ACTUAL problems) but suffice it to say that Courtney was clawing her way out-minus a shoe of course.

So at the exact moment that I escape downstairs and close the door to the laundry room to give Miss Love a brief moment of riotous misbehavior with her name written all over it in smeary hot-pink lipstick...I yank clothes out of the washing machine (not as therapeutic as one would hope), hurl them at the open door of the dryer and repeat...then I went to stand and banged my head hard and fast on the wood shelf placed maliciously over the washing machine...*Vision blurred* Final score:Gwen 10-Courtney 1...hahahaha...See? Anger invites and encourages ridiculousness and sometimes results in a big, fat,throbbing headache.

According to the Tao of Gwen/Vince...(insert name of chosen Cool Guy/Girl here)...

Coolness is a virtue...Perspective, fresh air,counting to 10 or 10,000 whatever it takes, cardio, stomping/dancing/running/jumping/kicking it out...

SMILE (ruby red pout in place) in the face of Life's day to day mocking of your existence...

It all helps...and anytime your Inner Stefani is able to keep your Inner Love locked quietly up in solitary rehab(Fellas sub inner Vaughn keep inner Bale/Crowe from bail, community service, fine and assault charges)...you have won one in the name of COOLOSITY...

Allow your cool head and even cooler hair-to prevail.

"Blessed are those who laugh at themselves, they will never cease to be amused." Author Unknown

Ten Indulgences... aka, Pretty,Guilty, Little Pleasures

The word "indulgences" reminds me of History class and Martin Luther...but lets not so much explore the purchasing of souls from purgatory via the Catholic church BECAUSE well, that would be an odd, boring, uninformed topic of convo. Also, I am not Catholic...Rather let's explore the guilty pleasures we allow ourselves that add sweetness (dulce, si?) or shine to our daily existence. I imagine this is probably what would typically come to a person's mind when "indulgence" is mentioned...but I wouldn't know much about that. CLEARLY. Perhaps you indulge in certain foods or beverages,activities,behaviors,movies...the company of shady or adventurous friends possibly?...Could really be any myriad of things.Indulgence could also be depicted as SSB (Secret Single Behavior- via Sex and the City= rituals you engage in when flying solo). So in the spirit of indulgence...here is my top ten. I apologize as some of these are redundant. Admittedly I am all about the small luxuries...not the picture of discipline and deprivation.Yadda, yadda- well covered territory...Could be another reason for my lack of Catholicism.

1. Lip Gloss...let me just add here-eye shadow and mascara. Lip gloss is the only one that I refuse to face my public without(that's a joke-laugh)...but what makes it an indulgence is the fact that it is a small item that brings me infinite bliss...I kid you not...I am not overstating (for once)What else smells decadent, often tastes like frosting, plumps, tingles and comes in endless shades from radiant ruby to pouty plum? Twenty dollars or less is a small price to pay for uninhibited lip bliss. Eye shadow satisfies my undiagnosed bipolar make up moods and mascara in blackest black is a glam necessity. Yet every time I think I am in love with my mascara-a new brush,brand or formula comes along. Tiresome, really. Sorry,but I have to give a quick shout out to lotions and potions... as they fit here as well..."Can't Get Enough of You Baby" (Now I am quoting Smash Mouth lyrics..WHAT happened to them? Hangin' in a bar somewhere with Sugar Ray and Spin Doctors-eatin' fish tacos, drinkin Mexican beer? I like to think so...oh-add Robert VanWinkle to the equation).

2. Reality Television- Everyone claims to hate it, but I (not so)secretly think you're all in the RTV closet...IF I WERE the only one watching- it wouldn't be all that's on the tube...From Idol, to DWTS, Project Runway to ANTM...I am mildly addicted. And I find the lack of mental commitment intoxicating. Keep Fox and CNN for yourself - my TV brings me shallow uninformed joy. I can catch the news in two minutes on the Google homepage and not feel like poking myself in the eye with the remote. To clarify: I am not celebrating ignorance. I just think that it is possible to stay informed without delving in the depressing and sinister ...

3. Coca Cola and if I REALLY want to indulge? Cherry Coke with real cherries...there are strict rules involved. Maybe rules is wrong. Standards? Will spare you the details. This is a controlled habit because I gave up diet years ago. Too many chemicals. So I reward myself periodically for things like Wednesday or making out of the house on time(or within seventeen minutes of on time). *I have to tag on red wine and martinis-extra dirty,extra olives here...namely because I am not a lush and don't want my occasional liquor indulgence to have it's own entry.* Definitely guilty pleasures as well-taken in moderation. Not to be savored together. Strongly, truly ill-advised. Never tried it-just CAN'T be a good thing...

4. Dancing it Out- I say this all the time...just makes me feel better about almost anything. If you have questions on the Cathartic Funk movement sweeping the nation- you can peep at my Dancing it Out(courtesy of Grey's) blog.

5. Two hour baths. These are much harder to come by...but when I have uninterrupted ME time...this is what calls my name the loudest. Favorite music, alternating bubble gum, classic or historical fiction/biography novel, fig scented candle and scenty bubbles...quite possibly my favorite guilty pleasure...One or two steamy hot water refills necessary. Plus I can indulge in other listed items simultaneously...multitasking at it's prune toed best (such an odd phenomenon-really).

6. Music,books and stationary. I worked for a short time at Barnes and Noble...but I had to give it up because my book addiction was swallowing my already meager paychecks whole. (Employment by Sephora, MAC, or Nordstrom would be even less lucrative. I would have to pay THEM every two weeks to support my habit). Ideally I want a cozy library in my house at some point (preferably with huge windows and a fireplace). Comfort and assurance in being surrounded by literary greatness. Also, Cd's. Have to giggle at this...I am mocked regularly for hanging on to the whole disc thing. Call it nostalgia, call it distrust of technology- but if my I-Pod is stolen and my computer crashes...(and knowing me, both are possibilities if not likelihoods)- I will still have my music, backed up with the original disc for insurance purposes. And you, Smarty Pants? Play your cards right- and if you beg and do the "You were right-I was wrong" dance (in cute boots of course)- I just MIGHT let you borrow my CD's.

7. Pathetic how much I talk about this...but Coffee HAS to make the list. I guess the guilty part of it is the five assorted flavored creamers I have to dress it up. You know,accessorize. Coffee's destiny is not only to coat your spirit in a liquid fountain of soothing, melty warmth...there IS that. But it also has to taste delish and look fantastic. I have a team of coffee mugs ranging from polka dotted to retro Central Perk to ensure my coffee looks its java-y best. Like a glam-squad for Joe. Where did that name come from? I just like to say that...oh just me and joe...doin' our thing. Chillin'. How we roll...ANYWAY...

8. Chick Flicks...that makes me so unique (just like EVERY other girl) Among my current favorites? Anything by Cameron Crowe, starring John Cusak or Johnny Depp, Audrey Hepburn...musicals...Steel Magnolias,When Harry Met Sally, P.S.- I Love You, About Last Night, Before Sunrise,Singles, Twilight, Definitely, Maybe...and now Notebook is edging it's way onto the list...I just saw it this year for the first time. Haven't met a lot of dramas or romantic comedies I didn't like. Insert knowing nod here. I am aware *hanging head in sad disillusioned generic shame*. I will be purchasing my PREDICTABLE tee tomorrow...at least I can get it in red with sparkle in an effort to redeem myself from a lifetime of sameness.

9. Have to follow that with something that not EVERYONE does... aside from the obvious chips and salsa, hot and sour soup addiction...I season and spice everything. I am a chef's worse nightmare. I blame my mother's flair for the ordinary when it came to cooking...but I adore Taco Bell hot sauce,(ESPECIALLY now that the little packets resemble comical fortune cookies)green Tobasco, Cholula, that spicy Asian chili sauce with the squeezy bottle and green top...you name it...I have applied it to something unexpected. One of my favs? Popcorn with Frank's Red Hot...just drizzled and shaken. Soggy anything is unshiny. I am just saying...

10. Accessories...shoes, earrings,bracelets, necklaces, scarves, hats, sunglasses, belts...the list is endless...There are limitless possibilities! Reinvention, mood enhancement, glamourization...I am a strong believer in the theory (that I think I just generated) that you could wear a potato sack (not that there would be ANY point in that) if you dress it up (in my love...kudos Madonna without an inexplicable British accent) razzle dazzle it...with a little bling...even if you bought it at Target...or GAP (no one has to know and so what if they did?;)).

Thanks for indulging me (another bad joke)-

When I started this list I thought that it would be pure drudgery coming up with ten indulgences...but I could have gone on...lucky for you I am operating under preset parameters. Regardless, guilty pleasures...we all have them, whether they be behaviors, interests, edible, musical...tiny tingly indulgences we steal away for ourselves. Simple pleasures that keep us energized. Markers that keep us from losing our flair (and our sanity) to the daily hustle and bustle...let's start a petition to lose the "guilty" from the "pleasure"...seems undeserved.

So...that is my list.Hopefully it was slightly more fascinating than a dissertation on the nailing of the 95 Theses. Share yours? May make my next list...

Had a CRAZY Dream...

Dream-sperts (I am not certain there is their official title-but why Google it when you can just make it up your own self...how educated am I?) say that we dream every single night...and that if we want to search for relevance in our dreams we should document them and then consult "reputable" dream resources. It is said that our dreams utilize a portion of the brain-subconscious that we do not use during our waking hours (some say as much of 90% of our brains lie dormant-there are days when we could all use that brain mass-Yes? Not just speaking for myself here am I?Is this not a democracy...). Dreamologists (I did it again) also say that a chunk of what we dream about is something we came into contact with over the past forty-eight hours of living...So there is that as well. As a non-expert seems to me that a lot of that IS relevant- but also what you consumed before bed-be it pinot noir, vitamins or chicken wings...and waking up mid sleep=crazy(ER) train dreams.

Keeping all of that in mind...take out your notebooks...oh Freuds in training. Analysis required please.

So last night- I nodded off at one a.m.- and then was awakened at 2:30 a.m. for spider check...(periodic part time position-inquire within) after which, I went back to sleep on the couch this time-should the creepy crawlies return. It was then, nestled uncomfortably against the remote that I had said CRAZY dream...

The sun was just reaching it's mark in the morning sky ...the birds were sing-squawking outside my window...let me just add here that for whatever reason- the birds 'round here are in insane abundance...a bit more Hitchcockesque than Snow White animated blue birds. Taking my set queue I drag myself from the embrace of my cloud-like sinky bed and face the day utterly against my will.

Coffee in hand I shuffle to the bathroom and make the usual preparations

...you know the drill...shower-lotion-potion-dress-
Apply my NATURALlook with the skilled stealth of a liner brush wielding ninja...nothing too exciting so far...

Anyway donned in a technicolor off the shoulder moss green sun dress I don't own but should- I dry my hair and style it...Here it is...are you ready? *hands shaking*

I look my reflection over for final approval reacting with chagrin at the end result...

and so- I pull out an electric shaver and proceed to buzz cut the offending side of my hair at the temple. Imagine Edward Scissorhands with razors for fingers...

That's the end...

I didn't LIKE my hair so I said "What the heck-I will SHAVE it OFF"...(Not recommended even if conducted by trained professionals)

ME- baffled and shaken (not stirred)...you...giving me answers to my CRAZY dream?

Ready, set...analyze.

Heart for RENT-It's Musically Delicious

~Sigh~ I just got back from RENT.

Aside from the living I have yet to do the dreams to fulfill, the goodbyes to say, the mistakes to correct, the babies t raise...and... well anyway-ASIDE from ALL that I could die now...

I could pass from this life as a shiny, enraptured, tingly, big kneed girl (Serious dancing injury. Not professional- but EVERY bit as well deserved. I tried to help JT bring sexy back...instead I ended up with elephantitus of the knee...pretty AND typical.. haha...MOST importantly-TEMPORARY. Please let the Doc be right on that one thing- I am not partial to the unsightly-especially in the center of one of my longest limbs).

I LOVE RENT!-the musical...( not real life rent. Promoted (?) to a mortgage...don't so much love that). I JUST DO...let me lay it out as simply as I can for those of you who don't speak musical. RENT is to musicals what that first turn your head, twist your tongue, day your dreams crush was to your freshman year. RENT is that high school boy or girl that filled the lunchroom with coolness (Edward style) and your tummy with butterflies. The one that didn't make much sense upon the first encounter(which didn't matter cause they glam'd you with their you don't know any better than to turn and run-ness) but then once you start to hear the tick and watch the tock...you realize that it is too late. You're hooked.

Similarity ENDS there- because at least for me (sophomore year) it was a quick painful fall from that point to where I could actually see the void through the creep.

But not RENT it goes from razzle dazzling (that is from Chicago-more musical lingo. Taking notes?) to singing your soul...(we ALL want that- even if noone told you yet. Oprah will get around to enlightening you. Give her a chance. Um...I am lying. Don't listen...)and as a result liquifying you into melty idealistic romanticness and submitting you into the ugly cry. Which you can hide (not at all) discreetly by smothering your mouth daintily with your hands...the rest is why God gave us MAC and Dior...

Tiny bit of background. RENT is a Pulitzer prize, multi Tony award winning rock opera (including Best Musical) based on the friendships and romances of a group of twenty-something Bohemians set on Avenue B in New York City's lower east side in the late 1980's.These young artists must not only face the harshly difficult reality of being relevant as artists and sacrificing adult comfort and luxury for their art, but they must also learn to survive and succeed at life and love under the crushing oppression of AIDS (as if there wasn't enough existing adversity!) The music and lyrics were written by Jonathan Larson who sadly, suddenly and poetically passed as the new bloom of his efforts was just beginning to open. The concept of the play was adapted from Giacomo Puccini's opera La Boheme about a group of young artists who must find their place in the face of Tuberculosis...there are numerous plot parallels to the opera. Musetta's Waltz, a song from La Boheme is mentioned directly and Goodbye Love is closely paralleled to the opera as well. In the song-La Vie Boheme- Bohemia is the daughter of Mother Earth and the song celebrates full out catchy rocker style- the contributions in the form of poignancy and flavor that artists and their work have brought to living. Imagine lots of costuming, MTV style choreography (pre stupid non reality-reality shows) high kicks and flash. Heaps of catchy yet deep lyrics- guitars and drums,...romance in every form imaginable and SO much sassy it makes your head spin. I must apologize for failing RENT miserably at this point.

Oh oh oh! but I have to shout out here that in addition to clearly knowing the craft part of his work- Larson knew his setting. He wrote about New York...it doesn't get better! He incorporated real locations like the Life Cafe from his own life in NYC. Mark and Roger's living conditions closely mirrored Larson's own with the fire in the trash can, bathtub in the middle of a large one room apartment etc. Oh and like Mark, Larson's girlfriend also left him for a woman. All this mayhem and chaos is fun and fabulously rocklicious and soulful. If RENT tours your city (it closed as the eighth longest running show on Broadway after a treasured twelve year run)see it! RENT is currently touring with the two original leads playing the roles of Mark(Anthony Rapp)and Roger(Adam Pascal)one of the best bromances in history. Pinkie swear...Before you go-do a little research and buy and learn the soundtrack.

This is stellar advice;) (attained through personal experience) for any musical goer (novice or otherwise)-for any show. This eliminates catch up and when the plot is expressed in song because REALLY- what in life isn't? Your culture cash will be better spent and you will appreciate and relish the performance indescribably more. Especially with regards to RENT...You will still catch the gist of Damn Yankees even if you never google or download it...you just won't fully appreciate Whatever Lola Wants...RANDOM! Call my name and I shall appear!

I leave you with this...RENT is best known for Seasons of Love. All the songs are fantastic! My personal play-list:
One Song Glory
Light My Candle
Out Tonight
Another Day
La Vie Boheme A and B
I Should Tell You
Take Me or Leave Me
Without You
Goodbye Love
Halloween
I'll Cover You (reprise) I ESPECIALLY love this SAD-BEAUTIFUL one makes the heart on my sleep drip love...it JUST does...
Your Eyes

Mmmmmm...so instead of dying in my Bohemian musical ecstasy enhanced daze just now...I think I will just drift off now with visions of the RENT cast rocking in my head. Wishing you the same. Share the LOVE!

I Don't Want To Do List

Today is a gloomy summer Monday. Those should be forbidden. Anyway in the spirit of the weather...I am disgruntled...heehee...just like the way that word sounds and I don't even work for the post office. But still, I'm a tad disgruntled. I have been living life on the slacker side as of late so I have an untidy pile or two of undesirable tasks piled up in the corner...shrieking for my attention. I don't do well with shrieking...unless I am a party to it and it is in celebration of something shriek-worthy. Under less desirable circumstances,I would typically just avoid/flee from the shrieker (source of the insidious shrieking). In this case,I am risking getting my grown up card yanked... so I guess I will have to go with option two. Rather than avoidance I will beat it down Ali style (which means I get to mock, taunt and curse at it until it is down for the count...while remaining shiny. I'm Gonna'Knock You Out. Huah! Sparkle... Things are starting to look up.) So here is my list of victims...

1. Stripping. *buckabuckawowow*...(wait for it, wait for it...) The Beds...Not a huge deal, but just like the laundry I am far more skilled at the washing and drying part...Not a Martha at folding, hanging and hospital corners...Think her cellmate had potpourri made of orange peels and cinnamon from Tuesday's prison lunch? Just wondering...White collar crimes are bizarre that way...Remember the Sesame Street song? "One of these prisoners is doing her own thing...one of these inmates doesn't belong"...and poor Martha is in the bottom right quadrant attempting to crease her jump suit with the side of a laceless shoe...next to Maude the homicidal trucker under Yasmin the Black widow...diagonal from Butchy the mulleted woman who keeps chewing her face. Anyway...the beds. Platform free. Reserve those for Wednesday afternoons when it's hailing. Allegedly...

2. Packing...as in send myself packing. to the left, to the left...everything I own in a (suitcase) to the left. Love that song- but flick me if I ever attempt to purchase another Beyonce Cd (in the spirit of J-Lo's-three quality song limit per cd)hooray for single song purchase on I-Tunes and the movie crossover thingy for saving their careers...Think I have mentioned this all important life lesson previusly...Actually I am packing for a wedding(for which I will indubitably pack the wrong shoes or the wrong underwear...cursed by the Lack of Options Plague) and my Munchkins are staying with family so I have to pack them too. I abhor packing...I am so bashing the mommas of the smurf sized travel bottles while throwing elbows at the garment bag and sucker punching my army style rolled wrinkle free clothing (if there is such a thing I don't think I would own it because it probably also includes an adjustable waist...things clothes shouldn't posess for $500 please Alec. Btw...that rolly trick doesn't work for me either)...In the same spirit I need to go through all the kiddos clothes and pack up everything that they have outgrown. That one is going to have to shriek in my ear a bit longer...both monotonous and sad...sniff sniff- they grow like adorable little mutants at lightening speed. Or in New Moon speak- like werewolves. If it's not a vampire though, it's JUST not worth it...just ask Bella. Forget it what does she know? Ask me! Teehee.

3. Start my intensive Summer Workout Program. I really DO need to get going on this...my fascinating,alluring and tempting options are get up at the plumber's crack of dawn armed with taser to ward off the coyotes and walk REALLY far (and probably get lost) because I don't run unless I am being chased or challenged. Even then my she-go still only does sprints. Gutsy not stupid. Even I am not crazy enough to marathon...OR I can stay up extra late and work out then...this is much more likely to occur. Rather than walking fast and fighting wildlife at midnight I will engage in yoga and cardio training in the form of the twenty or so various dance related workout DVDs (Curse of the Grown Up Cheerleader)in my possession-ranging from Carmen Electra to the Core Dance Training set I got conned into by Len Goodman and insomnia...Regardless...I may lose the "intensive" part...but the Summer Workout must go on...I am apologizing in advance to my hair which I will soon be sleeping on directly after washing...I will make it up to you somehow. New hat? New do? New product? We'll work out the details later...

This is just the tip of my To Do iceberg. But I have to start somewhere..."Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow?" Mark Twain. A procrastinator after my own heart.

*Deep breath- in through the nose, out through the mouth. Sniff...hooooo*
Okay! Ready..."Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee-ish"

Just as soon as I finish my second cup of coffee...